Pope Benedict reaches out

IT was hard to know which shone the brightest, the searing sun on our backs, the scalding giant arc lamps of the TV cameras or the beatific smile on the face of Benedict XVI.

Brighter still was the glow of the 350,000 pilgrims who descended yesterday on St Peter’s Square for his installation as the 265th Pope and leader of over one billion Catholics.

Many had been here just over one week ago for the funeral of John Paul II, a solemn and sad occasion held in the wind and rain. But this was a joyous moment and it seemed only fitting that the sun should rise to the occasion.

From early morning they came with their plastic bags of sandwiches and drinks, trundling along in the hopes of getting a vantage point. Some had even camped overnight along the myriad of little streets leading up to the Vatican.

Crossing over the murky waters of the River Tiber, most of us made slow and exhausting progress on foot. We had little choice: from early morning the city streets had been closed off to traffic save for the official cars that brought visiting dignitaries to St Peter’s Basilica. Every now and then police motorcycle outriders would herald the arrival of a diplomat or world leader, blue lights flashing and sirens screeching as they tore through the cobbled streets at speed.

But even the diplomatic entourage had to bow to certain realities of everyday Roman life. Close to St Peter’s, dozens of gleaming black Mercedes, some bearing presidential or royal standards, suddenly shuddered to a halt. Onlookers watched as world leaders - including King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia - sat in dignified repose in the middle of a traffic jam. It was a day of presidents, priests and patriarchs at an inaugural outdoor Mass that mixed centuries-old pageantry with prayer.

It was also a day of hawkers and gawkers. Some accidental pilgrims were tourists who had happened to choose this time for a holiday in Rome and just got lucky. Among the faithful were dozens of peddlers with souvenir stands stocked up with Pope Benedict XVI memorabilia and postcards. But mostly it was a day for the pilgrims.

Among them was Manuela Macher, owner of the Cantina Tirolese, a Bavarian restaurant near the Vatican favoured by the Pope during his years as cardinal. She is horrified at the pontiff’s depiction as an unyielding Rottweiller and was anxious to point out the new Church leader is a modest man with a dry sense of humour.

“He likes to drink an occasional German Weissbier and he can be very funny,” said Ms Macher. “Once, someone lost his dog and put up a sign: ‘Has anyone seen this German shepherd?’ “He came in and said, ‘No, no, it’s not me. I’m here.’ It was really funny.”

Just then, the Pope emerged onto the steps of the basilica behind a procession of cardinals and paused briefly to wave to a sea of onlookers. Applause echoed around the square, decked with 20,000 flowers in the white and yellow of the Vatican, and the crowd held aloft a multitude of national flags that shimmered in the sunlight.

Marking his elevation to the papacy, a cardinal placed around his neck a stole of white wool, embroidered with red crosses - the pallium which used to be worn by Roman emperors and now symbolises a Pope’s pastoral authority.

In the press gallery, hundreds of cameras clicked in unison as the pontiff received the Fisherman’s Ring, which carries his papal seal and will be smashed following his death.

The Mass was punctuated with the soaring voices of a choir singing psalms and not even the clatter of a helicopter overhead could drown the Kyrie Eleison.

“My real programme of governance is not to do my own will, not to pursue my own ideas, but to listen, together with the whole Church, to the word and the will of the Lord, to be guided by Him so that He himself will lead the Church at this hour of our history,” the Pope said in his homily, read in Italian.

After the Mass, he was carried in the now familiar Popemobile, clutching the hands of well-wishers who kept up a steady crescendo of “Il Papa, il Papa”. There was genuine warmth and affection between the Pontiff and his people. It seemed that, after days of enduring his depiction as an unyielding Rottweiller, the new Bishop of Rome was finally emerging as their German shepherd.