BY REV. MR. JEROME HARDY

I was fortunate enough to be among a group of chanters who were to sing several parts of the Coronation Mass along with the Sistine Choir. There were about twenty of us from the college, and for us this constituted a sort of “official” participating in the ceremony. During the Mass and the coronation ceremony after it, several of us were no more than 20 feet from the papal throne, separated from it by a single rank of the Swiss Guard in their bright orange and blue uniforms. From this vantage point, we were able to follow every detail of the magnificent panorama which unfolded before us.

The news services and weekly magazines have already painted the ceremony in vivid detail. It would be repetitious to go into a description of the ceremony’s procedure: It would add nothing to list the many note worthy dignitaries present in the tiered banks of the diplomatic section. Instead of that, I want to talk about an element of the celebration which really impressed me—the tens of thousands of people who stood in the Square and their reaction to the crowning of the pope.

Crowds in St. Peter’s Square are unique in all the world. They push and shove and mill around with an unpredictable congeniality. They are alive to every move made by the principal they came to see. They are a constituent element of every St. Peter’s ceremony, not merely “a cast of thousands” that happens to be around.

At its peak, the Square can hold in the neighborhood of 200,000 people. On the day of the coronation, it was a sea of faces that ebbed and flowed and spilled over into the Via della Conciliazione, filling this broad avenue that runs from the banks of the Tiber to the edge of the Square. For more than three hours, they stood, answering the responses, singing the Credo, and uniting themselves with their new Holy Father in his Coronation Mass.

But the thing that struck me most was the realization that these people were, for the most part, the same people who, only three weeks before, had stood in the same Square during the death vigil of another pope, John XXIII. I had stood side by side with them during those four days of waiting, and I learned a lot about their devotion to the pope. Then, they were silent, drawn faces with eyes fixed on the corner window of the papal apartment in the Vatican Palace. They were sons and daughters on watch at the bedside of their father, and their hearts were the hearts of those who knew they were losing him. They answered the periodic medical bulletins broadcast into the Square by Vatican Radio with an even deeper silence. They could do nothing but share the ordeal by their presence.

Now, it was different. As we stood in the Square, anyone could have sensed the joy and festivity even without knowing what was taking place; the people were generating it. They were watching again, but this time it was to catch a glimpse of their new Holy Father. When Pope Paul finally came into view after the cardinals and prelates had made their entry, the crowd broke into spirited applause and cheering. The pope responded with vigorous, animated waving and a wonderfully warm smile reminiscent of his predecessor. I still feel a little hesitant about cheering during a liturgical celebration, but on Coronation Day it was simply the most spontaneous and natural thing to do! There was a sense of pride and possessive security, a feeling of family well being that could not be denied voice.

If anything, Pope Paul encouraged the crowd. There, up on the portable throne which was bearing him toward the basilica from the Square, he would lean far out of his seat to speak and wave and bless. His gestures and mannerisms were not those of Pope John; but it was clear that his heart was like John’s, a heart for the people.

This triumphal entry set the tone for the remainder of the early evening celebration; the parts of the Mass sung by the people were charged with the same spirit. Nevertheless, the recessional actually surpassed these earlier manifestations.

Then, as Pope Paul wearing the splendid new tiara given him by the people of Milan, began to move form the Square toward the Vatican Palace, the cry rose up, “Viva il Papal” “Viva il Papal”—“Long live the Pope!” With that the crowd surged toward the barricades along the processional route to get a glimpse of the newly crowned Pontiff. When we saw this, three of us jumped into an open area near the diplomatic section, found ourselves only six feet from the portable throne, and walked along next to the Holy Father for a few moments until we were cut off by a barricade and the Swiss Guard.

Then it was all over. The people did not leave right away though; they waited there in the Square for the possibility of the pope coming to his window once he was within his apartment.

If was not mass hysteria that whipped these people into a frenzy; it was, I’m convinced, the manifestation of a deep reverential love for the pope who as head of the universal Church is also the Bishop of Rome, their bishop! If at the death of Pope John one could note a feeling of personal loss and insecurity on the part of these people who kept vigil in the Square, it was only too clear on the day of Pope Paul’s coronation that their sadness had been completely displaced by the joyful realization that once again the chair of Peter was filled, that once again “Habemus Papam,” “We have a Pope”!

Editor’s Note: The author, Jerome Hardy, is a student at the North American College and is the archdiocese’ only seminarian now in Rome. He is the son of Mr. And Mrs. Jerry Hardy of St. John the Evangelist parish, Hapeville and was educated at St. John’s, at Marist, and at St. Mary’s Seminary, Maryland. Mr. Hardy will be ordained in two years.