FOR ALL THE MAGNIFICENCE OF THE setting, it was a simple ceremony: conducted for the most part in Latin, the lingua franca of the universal Church, but with most readings and prayers in the vernacular, some read by women. It was not an overtly traditional Mass: for the first time in history, the long-form Roman Canon was not used at the funeral of a pope. Though he had championed the right to celebrate the Tridentine Mass, this was a post-Vatican II liturgy. The young Joseph Ratzinger had, after all, helped to shape the Ecumenical Council and held firm to its promise of a “new Pentecost”.
Pope Francis presided, enthroned before the coffin of his predecessor, though his own physical frailty was such that most of the offices of the Mass had to be celebrated by the Dean of the College of Cardinals. As the coffin was carried back into the basilica to its final resting place in the crypt of St Peter’s, the Pope bowed his head before the mortal remains of the Pope Emeritus and prayed silently. The way is now open for Francis too to resign.
It felt like the end of an era, not only for Catholics but also for Western civilisation. Coming less than four months after the equally moving obsequies of Queen Elizabeth II, this funeral was our last farewell to a generation of leaders whose lives
