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Rome, April 24, 2005 Thoughts on the Day of a Papal Installation Given that you have seen the television coverage and heard the news analysis of this hallmark day in the history of our Church, these are thoughts, hopefully from a different slant, as I am privileged to bear witness. First, reverence should not be overlooked. There were two moments in the Mass when the crowd of more than 350,000 fell silent in an instant. The first came between the laying of the pallium, the placing of the Fisherman's Ring and the beginning of the Nicene Creed. The faithful applauded loudly, as if to give affirmation, to Pope Benedict XVI placing the Ring of the Fisherman and all that it means on his finger. He allowed the cheers and calls of “Benedetto!” to float over the Square briefly. Then he intoned the Credo, “I Believe.” As one, the crowd left the chanting behind and began the list of what we hold in unity. It has been overlooked in the press reports but Benedict hoped for both prayer from his people and unity in the Church. The second time the Square was stilled came at the Consecration. It was the silence of believers. All of the splendor of the Renaissance captured in the facade of St. Peter's, stood suspended in time, when the two Swiss Guardsmen closest to the altar, halberds in hand, saluted and then dropped to one knee, seemingly allowing the pope to be unprotected in the Real Presence of the Lord. A second observation is that any mention of Pope John Paul II stirs the crowd. It is a message that should be heeded. People tenderly touched the photographs of Pope John Paul II in the shops near the Vatican. His pictures are still outselling the current pontiff's, even on the day of his installation. Should a Church still mourning rush to election? There is no modern need to prepare an encyclical, post an interdiction, or sign a treaty, or rent the bingo hall. Couldn't we wait? What would be wrong with a longer interregnum where cardinal electors interacted with the whole Church about what the whole Church needed? Couldn't we find a way to say that loss is loss, each life unique, and people are not interchangeable before we rushed head long into finding a person to wear the white? Third, what about understanding that comes through a shared language? I stand at the beginning of the sixth papacy of my life. I learned the words and music of the Credo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei of today's Mass in St. Peter's Square as a child in the reign of Pius XII. There are now two generations who are missing this link to unity. I looked over at Pope Benedict XVI as we both sang the medieval chant that said we believed in one, holy, catholic and apostolic church, one baptism for the forgiveness or sins, the resurrection of the body and life everlasting. The Amen made it so. It brings me to a fourth consideration. When cardinals enter a conclave swearing to make an unfettered choice and believe that their choice is in the highest and best interest of the Roman Catholic Church, why do they do it in a language that is not their own. As the princes of the Church laid their ringed hands on the Scripture on Monday of this week and said Latin words, I thought then, and think now, when the words are this important, one must feel them with every ounce of being to the finest particle of the soul. It is not possible if the language is not one's own. Read it in Latin - for old time’s sake, fine. Say it and mean it in the language that carries the soul's weight. When my thoughts were the heaviest, the Spirit intervened with a small sign that seemed to pop up from no where. It read: Will Papa Polka? We all have our worries. |
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