It is 6:08 pm when the smoke rises white from the chimney of the Sistine Chapel — but we are not in St Peter’s Square. Instead, we’re a few kilometres away, across the Tiber.
The bells of a parish in Rome’s southern district of Garbatella begin to ring, and a couple walking their dogs notice the unusual sound. One of them looks at their mobile phone and says aloud: “What, there’s a new pope?” The other nods. “And who is he?”
There is no answer yet. Instead, the only place to be is St Peter’s Square, where the 267th pope will soon appear on the basilica’s loggia.
Within minutes, the streets of Rome become congested, and the Lungotevere becomes a never-ending river of cars. People on the sidewalks look confusedly at their mobile phones as a group of Missionary Sisters of Charity crosses the road towards Ponte Fabricio.
By 6:30 pm, reaching the Vatican at all seems like a feat, and there is still no word of the exact time when the new pontiff will be announced with the traditional declaration, “Habemus Papam”. Fifty minutes after the white smoke, the faithful crowd are still pressing through metal detectors to enter the square.
We are inside, too, under a clear sky, with 150,000 people who have arrived at St Peter’s in less than an hour. The atmosphere is joyful but also heavy with expectation; those who have made it are looking for the best places they can get. Behind Bernini’s fountain, a group of nuns wearing blue robes breaks into festive song.
Mobile phones are all at the ready, but nobody can connect to the internet.
“Are we living in the moment, then?” asks Tania, who also arrived as soon as the news of the white smoke broke. Next to her are Chiara and a friend, taking test pictures of the loggia to see if they can capture such an important moment.
While waiting, Tania still hopes that Cardinal Zuppi will appear on the balcony, or failing that, Cardinal Pizzaballa.
The fountain’s water muffles the chattering, chanting, sighing crowd until the moment everyone is waiting for: the curtain of the loggia opens, and the proto-deacon, Cardinal Dominique Mamberti, recites the traditional Latin announcement. And then, at last, the new pope is revealed.
He is North American Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, and he has chosen the name Leo XIV.
From our position, his name cannot be heard clearly despite the loudspeakers. A young priest manages to pick up “Robert”, but no one expects that the new pontiff is Prevost, the first pope in history that hails from the US.
Hamebus Papam
History is in St Peter’s Square, and those present sense it: the phone signal is still dead, no one can get online to confirm who the new pope is, and for a moment, among some of the faithful, there is a ripple of concern.
The minutes between the proto-deacon’s announcement and the new pope’s arrival seem almost interminable. “Leo XIV? Wow,” someone says. News begins to bounce from one person to another, but without the aid of the internet, no one is sure.
Then the curtains of the loggia open again, and Cardinal Prevost greets the crowd in Italian.
“Peace be with you!” he says. “Dearest brothers and sisters, this was the first greeting of the risen Christ, the good shepherd who gave His life for the flock of God. I, too, would like this greeting of peace to enter your hearts, to reach your families and all people, wherever they are; and all the peoples, and all the earth: Peace be with you.”
These are Leo XIV’s first words, but the audio is not yet at full blast, and it is hard to make out what he’s saying.
Everyone is incredulous — but also smiling. The prayer dedicated to world peace, the applause, and even the chorus of “pope, pope” fade as the Hail Mary is recited. The loudspeakers are no longer needed: St Peter’s Square becomes a living prayer, as the sun sets and a half moon takes its place.
Spanish and South American flags waved along with the applause that greeted Pope Leo XIV’s first speech. “Se me permiten también una palabra, un saludo a todos aquellos en mi querida diócesis de Chiclayo, en el Perú”, the pope said in Spanish, greeting “all the people of my beloved diocese of Chiclayo, in Peru”.
“That is the strength of the Church,” smiles a young African priest, “that it takes you by surprise like this.”
The square empties slowly; the party is still here, and no one wants to leave. Near the colonnade is also Don Giulio, priest of a parish in Rome’s Tor Bella Monaca neighbourhood, with friends and faithful gathered around him. He recounts how, as soon as he saw the white smoke rise, he jumped on his scooter to get to the Vatican as quickly as possible.
The heavy traffic did not deter anyone today. “The Lord wanted us all here,” says Giulio, smiling at the many young people still present.
“Something like this would probably only happen if Italy won the World Cup,” he concludes. “Indeed, it would be even bigger”.
