No Tears. Crowds with No Mourning . A Green Pallor with a Waxen and Distorted Face. A Report from on the Ground at St. Peter's in Rome.

Rome is crowding up with mobs of people in the days before the funeral of Jorge Bergoglio. The streets are full of the people and Novus Ordo religious, nuns and small streams of Franciscans, who can be seen flowing down all of the main arteries of the city. There is absolutely no sign of mourning. None. What is occurring in peoples' hearts cannot be known by mere sight, but normally the emotions are revealed by external acts. Tears. No such thing is happening in Rome on the day before the funeral of a man currently being lionized by the press and granted a pass by almost all. The world, which includes the "Catholic" world, is treating him like an old grandfather who was nice to people and who was concerned for the poor. I do not sense any love for Francis here amongst the people gathered in Rome. On several occasions, in the last few days, there has been literal dancing in the streets by youth who were rapping, seemingly unaware that the flags of the Second Italian Republic, the Vatican City State flag, and the EU circle of stars were at half-staff. Rome as a tourist city, especially in the week after Easter, was unchanged in tempo, attitude, and demeanor. All having having fun and all the shops were open. In the Church of St. Alphonsus de Ligouri, one block from St. Mary Major, there was a picture of Francis, placed in the front of the sanctuary, in front to the Pascal Candle and surrounded by a purple cloth. Apparently black  is not even allowed to surround the portrait of a dead man who most of the world accepted as Roman Pontiff. The Chinese "mass" of singing, constant singing, and casual chat by the "celebrant" in front of the table with a book in the middle of it, which was taking place a couple of days after Bergoglio's death, did not bear witness to the slightest touch of sadness, solemnity, or reflectiveness. It was also, thanks to the virtual banning of the Latin Mass, totally unintelligible and incomprehensible to anyone who did not understand what I took to be Mandarin Chinese. But I don't know. Neither did the occasional person sitting in the pews. This was the fruit of the life of Jorge Bergoglio.