Paul Wood has narrated this article for you to listen to.
Steady rain during the day stopped just before Monday’s evening prayers for Pope Francis in Saint Peter’s Square. A line of cardinals sat on a platform, an ageing politburo in black and scarlet. A couple of thousand of the faithful and the curious stood below. Vatican gendarmes, wearing kepis and carrying sidearms, directed people to their places. The Swiss Guard were not on duty. Their gaudy, striped uniforms would anyway have been too exuberant for the occasion, a tenth night in hospital for the Pope, dangerously ill with double pneumonia at the age of 88. Floodlights illuminated the great baroque façade of the most famous building in Christendom. Cobblestones glistened; fountains shimmered. There was a nasty chill in the air. I stood at the back, behind a group of elderly nuns with sky-blue habits, white veils and pursed lips. The nuns made the sign of the cross and the crowd recited the rosary prayer for the Pope’s health. Even an atheist like me could be moved by the strange and beautiful words. ‘Hail Mary, full of grace… pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.’
The next day the Pope seemed to be getting (a little) better. The Holy See press office said he’d slept well, got up, had breakfast, and had done some work. He called the Holy Family parish in Gaza, as he’s said to do most days. Of course, the Vatican has a reputation for being extremely secretive about papal health – under previous popes, its press office made the Biden administration look open and honest about such questions.
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