Tears, prayers in St. Peter’s Square as Augustinian from Chicago is installed as Pope Leo XIV

VATICAN CITY — It wasn’t the moment Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle placed the gold Ring of the Fisherman on Pope Leo XIV’s finger.

It was a few heartbeats after that, when the 69-year-old, Chicago-born pontiff, the 266th successor to the throne of St. Peter, looked down at his hand.

In a split second, the gravity of all that the ring signifies seemed to hit him. He pulled his hands pressed prayerfully together away from his face, turned them sideways to examine the new piece of jewelry, raised them back to his chin and lowered his gaze.

He looked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders — for better and worse — who was trying mightily not to let emotion get the better of him.

Some of his brothers and sisters from the Augustinian religious order who were seated near the front of the congregation in St. Peter’s Square — an estimated 30 nuns and 60 friars, according to order’s vicar general, the Rev. Joe Farrell — allowed the profundity of the unfolding scene to move them visibly.

There were tears. And there were prayers.

“The whole part of putting on the pallium and putting on the ring really hit me hard,” said the Rev. Joe Roccasalva, 35, an Augustinian priest who grew up in Chicago’s Beverly neighborhood and now serves at one of his order’s schools in Oklahoma.

Did it seem to him like the ring moment struck the new pope, whom he’s known for 13 years, equally hard?

“Oh, 100 percent,” Roccasalva said. “It’s just remarkable to see someone I know as the pope.”

A stole and a ring — with huge symbolism

Early in the papal Mass of inauguration, a new pope is presented with two objects that symbolize the role he has assumed as pontiff.

The first is a pallium or narrow stole, woven from sheep raised by Trappist monks from the Abbey of the Three Fountains in Rome, symbolizing Jesus Christ — the Good Shepherd — who doggedly pursues his lost sheep and when he finds them, drapes them around his shoulders and carries them safely home.

The second object is the gold signet Ring of the Fisherman, which evokes St. Peter, who was a fisherman when, according to the biblical accounts, Jesus invited him to abandon his nets, join his ministry and become a “fisher of men.”

Popes have worn variations of the fisherman’s ring since the 13th century and a unique ring is made for each pope and broken upon his death. Pope Francis, who as a Jesuit took a vow of poverty, chose to wear a fisherman’s ring that was gold-plated silver and had previously belonged to the secretary to Pope Paul VI.

Leo has chosen a gold ring emblazoned with an image of St. Peter holding keys (to the kingdom of heaven) and his fishing nets, according to the Vatican.

On Sunday morning, the outdoor Mass in St. Peter’s Square, attended by an estimated 200,000 pilgrims, began with words (in Latin) from the Gospel of St. Matthew: “You are Peter … and on this rock I will build my church.”

When Leo appeared for the first time before the Mass began, standing up in the famous open-top white popemobile as it pulled into the piazza in front of St. Peter’s Basilica shortly after 9 a.m. in Rome (2 a.m. in Chicago), several members of his religious order, the Augustinians, many from the Chicago area, sent up loud cheers.

“Augustino!” a few sang at the top of their voices.

“Viva, Papa Leone, viva!” countless others in the immense crowd shouted as the popemobile made its way through the square and onto Via della Conciliazione — the boulevard that leads away from St. Peter’s toward the Tiber River.

Others stood on chairs craning their necks for a better view, holding up their phones and cameras.

The Rev. John Lydon, 69, the Augustinians’ formation director who lives in Hyde Park and was Pope Leo’s roommate for a decade in Peru, stood on a chair facing away from the basilica, holding his phone and a GoPro camera, eyes trained on his old friend.

Lydon’s lips moved almost imperceptibly, as if in prayer.

A few feet away, as the popemobile passed nearby, the Rev. Homero Sanchez, pastor of Chicago’s St. Rita of Cascia Parish, stood and cheered. But then he sat down, the black hood, or capuche, of his liturgical robe pulled over his head to protect it from the blazing Roman sun. It looked like he was praying.

When asked if he was worried about his friend, he said, simply, “No.”

During his 12-minute homily, Leo talked about the weight of the task before him and how he wishes to approach it.

“I have been chosen without any merit and, with fear and trembling, I come to you as a brother who wants to be a servant of your faith and your joy, walking with you on the path of the love of God, who wants us all united in one family,” the new pope said.

“Without closing ourselves in our small group or feeling superior to the world, we are called to offer God’s love to everyone, so that unity can be achieved that does not cancel differences, but enhances the personal history of each person and the social and religious culture of each people,” he continued. “Brothers, sisters, this is the hour of love!”

After the papal installation Mass ended at noon, Sanchez elaborated on his thoughts and emotions about the day.

“He is the pastor of all now and that was really moving to me,” said Sanchez, who has known the new pope since 2008. “It’s so personal. He’s our Augustinian brother. … We know who he is.”

Sanchez communicated with Leo just a few hours after he was elected pontiff on May 8.

“I sent him a text message congratulating him, and he just asked us to pray for him,” Sanchez said.

What was his prayer for his friend on Sunday? “That he would be open to the Holy Spirit,” Sanchez said. “He’s the pope, but he’s our brother, so of course I am going to pray for him every day.”

‘Someone pinch me’

Kevin Blindauer, a public defender in Will County who was ordained as a permanent Catholic deacon in 2016, and his wife, Gysel, an insurance adjuster, held two banners in St. Peter’s Square during the papal Mass that made them easy to spot. His read “CHICAGO” and hers was a flag from her native Peru.

“I keep saying, someone pinch me — this is, like, real work of the Holy Spirit,” Kevin Blindauer, who serves as a deacon at Mary Seat of Wisdom Parish in Park Ridge, said as thousands streamed out of the Vatican piazza.

“Having this connection with Chicago, and my wife’s from Peru … where he’s a citizen. Did you ever think the pope would be from Chicago and Peru? I feel like the mission is just starting.”

At ease in the popemobile

Lisa Solava and Denise Utter, both 60 and from New Lenox, watched “Father Bob” — as he’s been known for years — ascend the throne of Peter with all the pomp and circumstance, smells and bells of the highest of high church occasions.

Beaming with pride and love for their friend of more than 20 years after the Mass concluded, Solava and Utter were struck by how, even with all the papal trappings and the weight of history, Leo still seemed very much the man they’ve always known.

When he zoomed by in the popemobile, Utter said, “He just looked like himself, completely at ease.”

“That’s him,” Solava added, “Wherever he is, whether it’s cleaning sewers in Peru with his wellies on or at some fancy fundraiser … he always fits the situation.”

“Wherever he is, he is,” Utter said, lifting her arm to show the tattoo she has inked along her right forearm that reads, “aqui y ahora” in Spanish. It means “here and now,” and she got it in Barcelona to mark her 60th birthday, as well as to “place ourselves in this moment and remember that God is here and now.”

Cathleen Falsani, the Sun-Times religion reporter and columnist from 2000-2010, has been covering the installation of Pope Leo XIV for Chicago Public Media.