Palm Sunday Papal Mass
every single mass is a miracle, an incredible moment when heaven and earth meet, when the saints and angels we can't see worship around the altar right next to the priests we do see, when we kneel in front of Jesus Himself lifted up before us and sing along with the choirs of angels, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of hosts". but at some masses, that otherworldly sense is stronger than others, and the Palm Sunday Papal Mass was exactly such an occasion.
just like the papal audiences, the papal masses require a free ticket. i wasn't sure exactly what to expect, apart from knowing it would be a long outdoor mass so i had the backpack ready with the girls' notebooks, mass magnet set, water, snacks, hats and sunglasses. to make sure the girls weren't at the end of their rope before mass even began, we headed down to St. Peter's at the last possible time that we thought would be feasible for us to make it through security and find a seat. of course, the lines for security even at that point were fairly long, so by the time we made it through, the mass had just started. we each selected our own olive branch from the piles dotting the perimeter of the square, and thankfully we were able to find seats together. we got our programs and the girls were given beautiful wooden rosaries. and then the real fun started!
the Palm Sunday mass opens with a procession like none other. hundreds of lay people with olive branches came first, followed by acolytes, deacons, and finally bishops and cardinals bearing intricately braided palm fronds. they formed a ring around the obelisk in the center of the square. according to archaeologists, this particular obelisk dates to about 2000 BC. it was first erected in Heliopolis, northeast of Cairo, and later moved to Alexandria. it was brought via ship to Rome around 40 AD and erected again in the circus built by Caligula for bloodthirsty sports, just outside the sacristy of the modern St. Peter's Basilica. this was the site of Peter's martyrdom under Emperor Nero, and it is likely that this obelisk was one of the last things he saw before being crucified upside down. in the 1500s when the new St. Peter's was being built, the obelisk was moved to its present-day position in the piazza and embellished with Christian inscriptions and symbols to signify the triumph of Christianity over pagan religions.
here, at the base of the obelisk, Pope Francis opened the mass with a blessing for all the branches, and then read the first reading. you can see him in the photo below, standing on the platform between the cross and the obelisk, wearing a red robe and a white cap.
then the entire procession moved back up the aisle to the altar on the steps of the basilica, and mass continued. the traditional reading of the Passion narrative, with different narrators reciting the parts of Jesus, the disciples, Herod, and Pilate, was even more moving with the choir singing the responses of the crowd. in particular, their refrain of "Crucifiggilo! Crucifiggilo!" ("Crucify Him! Crucify Him!") sent shivers up my spine.
then there was another moment that brought me to tears. traditionally, when the narrator says the words, "And then He breathed His last," the congregation kneels for a moment of silent reflection. of course there are no kneelers in the piazza, and to my pampered 21st-century American self, even kneeling on the hard floor of a church always seems quite penitential (like, hey look! I'm not even using a kneeler!). i wondered if people really were going to kneel on the cobblestones.
i need not have questioned. without a moment's hesitation, the entire crowd of forty thousand people dropped to their knees on the rough ground. after about ten seconds, i thought, "okay, now they're going to continue on with the narrative and we'll stand up." no. there was complete silence, minus an occasional cough or the sound of a baby talking from across the piazza. and still we knelt, the edges of the stones digging into our knees, a slight breeze ruffling our hair. now are we done? no. the stillness, the silence, the posture of reverence and physical discomfort continued longer than it has ever been observed in any Palm Sunday mass i have attended to date. we were surrounded by people from all over the world, people who speak all different languages, but who all worship the same God who died for us. and the least we could do is kneel in a public piazza for Him.
finally, mass continued with the prayers of the people, each petition read aloud in a different language and the mass parts sung in Latin, the language of the universal church.
the distribution of Communion was a bit chaotic with everybody trying to move around, but at least it was easy to spot where the Hosts were being distributed -- just look for the umbrellas in the Vatican City State colors!
at the conclusion of mass, Greta kept asking if the Pope was going to ride around so she could see him (since she missed seeing him at the papal audience we attended). we said we didn't think so and started to slowly make our way towards the edge of the piazza. suddenly, a roar went up from the crowd and sure enough, there he was! we were too far back for me to see him that well, but Greta got a bird's-eye view and was absolutely ecstatic.
if you ever find yourself in Rome over a holy day and want to attend a papal mass yourself, you can request tickets by emailing the Pontifical North American College (visitorsoffice@pnac.org) or read more here.
just like the papal audiences, the papal masses require a free ticket. i wasn't sure exactly what to expect, apart from knowing it would be a long outdoor mass so i had the backpack ready with the girls' notebooks, mass magnet set, water, snacks, hats and sunglasses. to make sure the girls weren't at the end of their rope before mass even began, we headed down to St. Peter's at the last possible time that we thought would be feasible for us to make it through security and find a seat. of course, the lines for security even at that point were fairly long, so by the time we made it through, the mass had just started. we each selected our own olive branch from the piles dotting the perimeter of the square, and thankfully we were able to find seats together. we got our programs and the girls were given beautiful wooden rosaries. and then the real fun started!
the Palm Sunday mass opens with a procession like none other. hundreds of lay people with olive branches came first, followed by acolytes, deacons, and finally bishops and cardinals bearing intricately braided palm fronds. they formed a ring around the obelisk in the center of the square. according to archaeologists, this particular obelisk dates to about 2000 BC. it was first erected in Heliopolis, northeast of Cairo, and later moved to Alexandria. it was brought via ship to Rome around 40 AD and erected again in the circus built by Caligula for bloodthirsty sports, just outside the sacristy of the modern St. Peter's Basilica. this was the site of Peter's martyrdom under Emperor Nero, and it is likely that this obelisk was one of the last things he saw before being crucified upside down. in the 1500s when the new St. Peter's was being built, the obelisk was moved to its present-day position in the piazza and embellished with Christian inscriptions and symbols to signify the triumph of Christianity over pagan religions.
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| here you can see the transition between the people carrying olive branches (right side of photo) to the prelates carrying palms (left side) |
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| holding up our branches for a blessing |
then the entire procession moved back up the aisle to the altar on the steps of the basilica, and mass continued. the traditional reading of the Passion narrative, with different narrators reciting the parts of Jesus, the disciples, Herod, and Pilate, was even more moving with the choir singing the responses of the crowd. in particular, their refrain of "Crucifiggilo! Crucifiggilo!" ("Crucify Him! Crucify Him!") sent shivers up my spine.
then there was another moment that brought me to tears. traditionally, when the narrator says the words, "And then He breathed His last," the congregation kneels for a moment of silent reflection. of course there are no kneelers in the piazza, and to my pampered 21st-century American self, even kneeling on the hard floor of a church always seems quite penitential (like, hey look! I'm not even using a kneeler!). i wondered if people really were going to kneel on the cobblestones.
i need not have questioned. without a moment's hesitation, the entire crowd of forty thousand people dropped to their knees on the rough ground. after about ten seconds, i thought, "okay, now they're going to continue on with the narrative and we'll stand up." no. there was complete silence, minus an occasional cough or the sound of a baby talking from across the piazza. and still we knelt, the edges of the stones digging into our knees, a slight breeze ruffling our hair. now are we done? no. the stillness, the silence, the posture of reverence and physical discomfort continued longer than it has ever been observed in any Palm Sunday mass i have attended to date. we were surrounded by people from all over the world, people who speak all different languages, but who all worship the same God who died for us. and the least we could do is kneel in a public piazza for Him.
finally, mass continued with the prayers of the people, each petition read aloud in a different language and the mass parts sung in Latin, the language of the universal church.
the distribution of Communion was a bit chaotic with everybody trying to move around, but at least it was easy to spot where the Hosts were being distributed -- just look for the umbrellas in the Vatican City State colors!
at the conclusion of mass, Greta kept asking if the Pope was going to ride around so she could see him (since she missed seeing him at the papal audience we attended). we said we didn't think so and started to slowly make our way towards the edge of the piazza. suddenly, a roar went up from the crowd and sure enough, there he was! we were too far back for me to see him that well, but Greta got a bird's-eye view and was absolutely ecstatic.
if you ever find yourself in Rome over a holy day and want to attend a papal mass yourself, you can request tickets by emailing the Pontifical North American College (visitorsoffice@pnac.org) or read more here.
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