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Extraordinary Moment of Prayer in Time of Pandemic
Presided over by Pope Francis
Sagrato of St Peters Basilica
Friday, 27 March 2020 at 6:00 p.m.
That day when evening came,
he said to his disciples,
Let us go over to the other side.
Leaving the crowd behind,
they took him along, just as he was, in the boat.
There were also other boats with him.
A furious squall came up,
and the waves broke over the boat,
so that it was nearly swamped.
Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion.
The disciples woke him and said to him,
Teacher, dont you care if we drown?
He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves,
Quiet! Be still!
Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.
He said to his disciples, Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?
They were terrified
and asked each other,
Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!
(Mark 4:35-41)
For weeks now it has been evening. Thick darkness has gathered over our squares, our streets and our cities; it has taken over our lives, filling everything with a deafening silence and a distressing void, that stops everything as it passes by; we feel it in the air, we notice in peoples gestures, their glances give them away.
Hands on the Helm of History
Preface
There is nothing stronger in the world than the prayer of the just person. The person who prays has their hands on the helm of history. Saint John Chrysostom, Bishop and Doctor of the Church between the fourth and fifth centuries, is the one who wrote this. At that troubled and difficult time from many points of view, that great shepherd taught that the true motor of life in the world is the praying heart: the helm of history is the hands of those who know how to turn their gaze to the Lord with profound faith and great humility.
Can we define any moment in the flow of the worlds history as easy? Perhaps not. It certainly was not so for the first months of 2020 when an unpredictable pandemic affected almost all of humanity. During that time, precisely in the late afternoon of March 27, the Holy Father Pope Francis, repeated through words and gestures the deeply-rooted convictions of this ancient Bishop and Doctor: The person who prays has their hands on the helm of history.
It was for that purpose that he convened the Church and, in a certain sense the entire world, asking that we lift our eyes all together to the Lord of time and of history to first of all consider the mysterious course of existence through the heights of His Word, finding there meaning and hidden grace; then, to implore His help and mercy at a time of great human, material and spiritual affliction; finally, to bless the course of all humankind, inspired by the logic of the civilization of love.
The person who prays has their hands on the helm of history. We have all learned this anew, observing the Holy Father as he ascended the steps of Saint Peters Square, drenched with rain. We saw in him the man in prayer ascending toward God to stand confidently before Him, as the guide of a vast number of people and a faithful intercessor. We also learned it anew listening to the word of Truth and Life from the Gospel, and in the silence with which that Word became Light in our manifold darkness. We learned it once again looking with emotion on the Miraculous Crucifix of Saint Marcellos Church and the icon of the Madonna Salus Populi romani (Protectress of the Roman People) eloquent and evocative images of the salvation offered to us by the One who died and rose for us and of that maternal care that tenderly bends over every type of human pain. Finally, we learned it in the Eucharistic adoration and in the great Urbi et Orbi benediction, when the Savior of the world touched all of humanity with a loving caress capable of redeeming, consoling and offering hope.
That late afternoon, Saint Peters Square was empty, deserted. Incredibly deserted. And as quiet as ever. And yet, right there, the entire world was gathered, called together by a man dressed in white who, once again, repeated words to everyone without exception that were strong and persuasive, and with the humble power of images: The person who prays has their hands on the helm of history.
He then reaffirmed it once again as he took his leave of the place of that huge prayerful gathering silently and alone as if to say to himself and to everyone along with the Psalmist: I lift my eyes to the hills from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth (Ps 121:1).
Msgr. Guido Marini
Master of Pontifical Liturgical Celebrations
PART I
THE STATIO ORBIS
Introduction
Part I
What happened on March 27 in Saint Peters Square?
Something both simple and huge happened. An extraordinary moment of prayer united the world. The images were powerful, dramatic. Many asked themselves questions regarding what they witnessed. But the most important thing that happened was not visible to the naked eye.
In various ways many sought a response, but in the end did not find one. We will, in fact, never understand the power of that moment using traditional methods of analysis. That would be like trying to understand poetry using the metric system.
We live at a time in which we risk being blinded a short-sighted, myopic time. We are not capable of seeing essentials: a world transfigured in pain, the discovery of our own fragility, the need to look beyond, and to turn to God.
There are never answers to poorly asked questions. So, the focus of the question needs to shift. Where does the need to pray arise? Wherein lies the extraordinary quality of March 27? In the liturgy? In the camera angles? Or in the truth that it represented?
For weeks, it seemed that an evening had fallen without the prospect of daylight. For weeks, the world looked to Rome, to the Pope, to find answers in his words that did not focus on the number of victims. For weeks, Pope Francis had opened the doors of his little chapel, Santa Marta, to the entire world so that everyone could pray with him during the Mass and listen to his explanation of the readings. For weeks, he too had asked himself how to accompany this desert-crossing using symbolic actions capable of bearing light on it: his solitary pilgrimage on the Via del Corso to visit the Miraculous Crucifix, praying before the icon of Salus Popoli Romani, the recitation of the Our Father on the part of all Christians on the day on which many Churches recall the Annunciation to the Virgin Mary and the Incarnation of the Word. This was how the idea of an extraordinary moment of prayer took shape.