An Irishman's Diary

Nothing quite prepares you for St Peter's Basilica in Rome. All the photographs, all the film in the world could not do it justice. They eliminate that vital sense of scale. "Magnificent," said a friend, "but is it Christianity?" And he mused at how far from such splendour was the stable in Bethlehem. Another companion was more sanguine. "It is the oak which sprang from the acorn," he said. "It is the oil the woman poured on the feet of Jesus, which made the apostles protest and prompted Him to say that the poor would always be with us and He only for a little while." Proving, once again, that there is a Biblical quotation to support every argument.

Being in the presence of so much tumultuous history is very moving, not least when you consider the human cost involved. Indeed, the very construction of St Peter's itself played a direct role in the split which has divided Western Christendom for five centuries and plagues us daily on this island. The levy imposed to pay for it was the straw which prompted the great reaction against Rome, led (in 1517) by Martin Luther.

St Peter's is really a living monument to the papacy, with its enormous and elaborate representations of popes past. Pope John XXIII is the most recent to be commemorated there - by a huge relief in black, about 30 feet high. His predecessor, Pope Pius XII, stands towering over a side altar, the only pope in St Peter's with spectacles.

Tourists and confessions

Tourists from all over the world wander about the place, as nonchalant and curious as tourists tend to be everywhere, while confessions are being heard in various languages at confessionals along the walls. When we were there, a young priest stood with an elderly man to one side, and gave him absolution.

Some side chapels are closed off, by huge drapes, for private prayer, while the embalmed remains of popes at rest are visible through glass in the front part of some side-altars.

Also behind glass is Michelangelo's Pieta. Near the great doors marking the entrance to St Peter's, it was sealed off after a man attacked it with a hammer over 10 years ago. He knocked off one of Mary's arms, which was re-attached later. What is most remarkable about this much reproduced and imitated sculpture is that its creator was just 24 when he chiselled it from a piece of marble.

A sure way of realising one's own great insignificance is to behold the list of all 264 popes high on a wall just inside a great side-door to the basilica. Realising the tiny space taken by the popes who lived during one's own life is like seeing time in infinity.

Outside, St Peter's square is not as big as it appears on television, and the stone in its circling collonade, as in St Peter's itself, looks older. TV eliminates the pockmarks left by centuries of weathering and decades of pollution. Pope John Paul II gives a general audience in the square most Wednesdays. It was bitterly cold that particular Wednesday and I overheard some speculation about whether or not the Pope was fit enough to appear. Would he or should he endure such chill for the two-and-a-half to three hours an audience takes? But most of the 25,000 people waiting in the square seemed to have little doubt.

Media people had been allocated seats near where the Pontiff would sit under a canopy on a plateau mid-way up the steps of St Peter's. Among the present was a large crew from the American NBC network. They had spent the morning plotting camera angles on surrounding roofs for the Pope's funeral.

Norwegian boys' choir

Also there were a camera crew and reporters from the city of Trondheim in Norway, which was celebrating its 1,000th year. A boys' choir from the Nidaros cathedral there had been allocated seats in front of us, near the papal chair. They had not yet arrived and Trondheim's media people were getting worried.

A group of schoolgirls from Moscow sat in front of us. They practised their singing under the firm eye of a very prim, energetic, young Miss Jean Brodie-type. At the far side of the square an orchestra from England was practising Beethoven's Ode To Joy, while a battalion of Chilean police took their seats behind them, and a German brass band pumped out what sounded like a good old Munich beer-hall medley.

Immediately behind us there was a wildly excited bunch from northern Albania, led by a busy little nun who became suddenly worried that we might block the Holy Father's view of their national flag. She had draped it over a crowd barrier behind us. At her desperate behest we cleared a space so that the Pope would see their black eagle on a rose-coloured background. The Albanians then offered us their cameras pleading that we take their photographs, which we did, falling over the Moscow girls choir as we stepped back to get everyone in the picture.

A line of purple-clad figures crossed the bottom of the square. "Cardinals," someone said, but it was the Nidaros boys' choir arriving at last to take their seats. Then they too added to the din, as a conductor rehearsed them.

A great cheer went up at about 10.30 the Pope John Paul appeared in his white "popemobile", which crisscrossed through the crowds as he waved. He looked frail, stooped, and small.

After taking his seat beneath the canopy he read about devotion to the mother of God in Italian, Spanish, French, English and German; he also greeted a group of Polish-Americans in Polish. He read slowly and deliberately, finding it difficult occasionally to hit hard consonants.

"My God, how many languages are there left in the world?" wondered an impatient and freezing American journalist as he read on. And as he finished his address in each language, he greeted named groups from the appropriate countries, including Brazil, Peru, and Puerto Rico, as well as those listed above.

Two Irish groups

There were two Irish groups there, one from the Rosses in Donegal and one from ParteenMeelick in Co Limerick. Both roused the heavens when their names were called out. Only the Italians made as much noise. The boys from Trondheim sang on cue when he mentioned them but the girls from Moscow missed theirs. He named them, Miss Brodie hesitated, and he moved on to the next group.

And someone forgot to tell him about our Albanians, because he never mentioned them at all. They were disappointed, but felt some consolation that he could see their flag throughout the entire audience. They then asked us to take more photographs of them, a consolation not to be denied.

Afterwards, while the crowds dispersed, invalids and young couples in wedding dress were brought to meet the Pope. Some visiting groups, such as the two choirs and the American Poles, lined up on the steps of St Peter's to meet him. He stood against his chair, the hand holding its armrest shaking involuntarily as he greeted those brought to him. He then came over to meet relatives of the invalids and sundry other people.

His flesh may be weakening, but no one could doubt that his will and charisma are as potent as ever.