The elements seem to have conspired to make Rome's sky shine in all its splendor these days. At noon it is a radiant blue and in the afternoon a golden light envelops the air. Anyone would say that the city is in mourning for its pontiff. The eternal beauty of the caput mundi is a challenge to the expiration of life and a reminder that death does not have the last word, as we celebrated in the recent Easter liturgy.
At around 8:30 a.m. on Wednesday, April 23, St. Peter's is witnessing the same machinery that, with almost mechanical perfection, is deployed in the basilica every time a great liturgical ceremony is being prepared. The order service controls the entrances and exits, the choir rehearses, the journalists work on their reports, but this time the tone is different.
Today the church is empty, there are no faithful. The arrival of the Pope is expected in thirty minutes, but on this occasion he will make his last entrance carried in a coffin. In a few hours the central aisle and the transept, in front of the altar of confession, will be filled with people who will come to give their last greeting to Francis, the Pontiff come "from the end of the world".
In the faces of the Vatican workers, usually cheerful and cheerful, a more serious gesture can be perceived. Orphanhood is a subtle mantle that rests on the countenance of those who cross these days the doors of a temple that stands as the heart of Christianity.
The transfer procession
At 9:00 a.m., the ceremony for the transfer of the Pope's coffin begins in the chapel of Casa Santa Marta. The cardinals occupy the bench. The Swiss Guard guards and wraps the Pontiff for the last time. The Cardinal Camerlengo, Kevin Farrell, presides. The choir sings several antiphons, the celebrant says a prayer and the procession begins, which will leave Santa Marta towards St. Peter's Square and will enter the basilica through the central door.
The Pope asked not to be veiled on cushions or velvet, but in a simple coffin of wood and zinc. At his flank procession some religious, members of the Apostolic Penitentiary, carrying candles. The cardinals lead the funeral march, followed by bishops and monsignors, priests and religious, and lay faithful, in a representation of the people of God.
The procession with the cross enters. The morning light filters through the windows and the entrance door. Mixing with the incense, it creates a unique atmosphere. The procession walks down the aisle while the litany of saints is sung. Men and women of God of all centuries, origins and charismas. Francis and Ignatius of Loyola, the two giants who have guided Bergoglio throughout his life and ministry, and who will have received him on his arrival in glory, are invoked almost simultaneously.
After the litany of saints, Farrell incenses the Pope's coffin, which has been placed in front of the altar of confession, and sprinkles it with holy water. The paschal candle is lit on one side of the box. A candle that represents Christ, the "star that knows no twilight," as sung in the proclamation of the holy vigil, a powerful symbol of Christian faith in eternal life.
The ceremony continues in the final part with the recitation of the responsory and the reading of a fragment of the Gospel, in chapter 17 of St. John, which includes some words of the priestly prayer of Jesus that today acquire a special consonance: "Father, I will that where I am, there be also with me those whom you have given me". After some intercessory prayers, the Our Father, a concluding prayer and the singing of the Salve Regina are recited.
Sister Geneviève's farewell
The first people come forward to say goodbye to Francis. Among the cardinals and purpurates, the figure of a petite woman can be seen. She is a nun dressed in a simple blue veil and a gray skirt below the knee. Her hair is gray, but she moves with agility. She carries a hunting green backpack on her back. They make a gesture to invite her to leave, but someone recognizes her and takes her to the coffin.
She is Geneviève Jeanningros, an Argentinian nun, a Little Sister of Jesus, who for more than 50 years has been living in a caravan in the community of carnival and circus performers at Luna Park in Ostia Lido, on the outskirts of Rome. His pastoral work picks up the legacy of Charles de Foucauld, of "going where the Church struggles to go". Every Wednesday Suor Geneviève attends the Pope's general audience accompanied by circus performers and LGBT people. Francis affectionately calls her the "enfant terrible". Now she is moved like a child as she bids her last farewell to her father, compatriot and friend.
