Pope Francis: Snake are a farewell – suddenly it becomes quiet

Thursday morning, 10.45 a.m.: Pope Francis has been laid out in St. Peter’s Basilica for more than 24 hours. It drizzles easily, maybe the queue is therefore not as frighteningly long as it looked on the television pictures. But under the cloudy sky there are also questions about this farewell ritual. Isn’t it strange that a deceased is looked at by thousands of strangers? And why do you do that at all?

A young Italian dares to explain: “It comes from the Middle Ages. You had to show people that the Pope is really dead. And maybe that he was not murdered. That his body is unharmed.” But no, the mother of the teenager does not agree. “It is a Catholic ritual of farewell …” – it doesn’t get any further. A radio journalist keeps her a microphone in front of her face: whether she can say that again, but please in the very sentence. Like right now? The woman is confused. “Please say: ‘The attitude of the Pope corresponds to a Catholic ritual …'” But no, the lady doesn’t want to say anything anymore.

Meanwhile, the jagged moderator of “Telemadrid” is moving on from the left. She just heard someone talking to someone who was. “We maybe? We’re from Malaga,” reports a middle -aged woman. But the cameraman has already targeted three other protagonists, who are now being flipped and filmed out of snake. “Can we go back to our place afterwards? We’ve been waiting for so long!” Of course, no problem.

There is a peculiar atmosphere above Via della Concilliazione, the wide boulevard that leads to St. Peter’s Basilica. Monteors are already screwing the gigantic screens and camera cranes together, which will be broadcast the major event next Saturday: Pope Francis, who takes his last trip, from St. Peter’s Basilica to the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore. In the side streets there are police officers with metal detectors, the emergency services: snipers on the roofs, drone defense, a flight ban zone above the city center. In between you meet people like sister Mary from Kenya. She says: “I am here because I want to be with Francis. And if it is only a few seconds. I hope that his legacy will be preserved.”

Around 11:15 a.m., our small waiting community is gradually approaching the safety locks in the column course of the St. Peter’s Square, television cameras are no longer allowed. The Spaniards have chatted, it’s about recipes for tuna salad and the advantages of WhatsApp groups: “Grandma now gets everything without us having to call them!” But the Pope is not forgotten either. They had booked the Rome trip for a long time, the women say, a long weekend after Easter. “It is a gift to be here right now. A gift to be able to say goodbye to him.” Then the pocket control comes and you lose sight of yourself.

New queue section, new companions-somehow this standing around also feels as if you are driving together for a very long time. “We are from Ostia and she?” “From Germany.” “Ah, we know Munich. Very nice.” The families from the Roman coastal town of Ostia have their children with them, they become a bit quenching when a big swing pilgrim can prefer to hike past us towards St. Peter’s Basilica. “Why are we not pilgrims?” Asks Matteo, the son. His father is enough for him a piece of broken cucumber: “We are believers, but not pilgrims. We come to visit because we want to say goodbye to Papa Francesco.” Matteo thinks. “I have never said goodbye to someone I don’t even know.”

Shortly before twelve, it suddenly progresses enormously quickly. The nice couple from Denmark would rather talk about Friedrich Merz than about the Pope. Is Germany a little more, well, political courage? In any case, the mood in Denmark is very combative: “Trump and Greenland! Just Crazy!” But the world situation has to pause, the holy gate is ahead of us, please continue quickly.

Behind the door threshold, every conversation ignores involuntarily. At best, a delicate, polyphonic whisper can still be heard how quietly rustling leaves. The mom, the golden domes, the whole solemn splendor, the presence of the past – it captures everyone. Wooden barriers form an approximately five meter wide gear, the organ plays behavior. In the end the coffin is.

People go forward in silence, they follow their cell phones stretched up like a compass. A few meters before the exposed Pope is over: no photos, numerous guards warn. Franziskus’ coffin is made of light oak, struck with red velvet. A short kink, a quick cross. The believers do not have much time to pause, but everyone understands it. “We are just so many who want to send him a last greeting,” whispers a woman and urges her husband to continue.

Outside, the world is back in one fell swoop: the tour groups, the photos take the children, the children, who are now finally allowed to eat a roll. It was barely more than an hour and a half that it took place. Sister Mary sits on the marble levels on the ring -shaped column, her blue hood shines from afar. She is not sad, she says. Only grateful to have felt Francis’ presence: “He is with us and will always stay.”