Millions gather for pope's memorial

VATICAN CITY — In death, as in life, he mesmerized the world. Pope John Paul II was laid in a plain cypress coffin Friday and eulogized on the steps of St. Peter's church in a grand funeral that drew millions of pilgrims and leaders from all corners of the earth.

The Polish-born pontiff, whose death April 2 ended the third-longest papacy in history, was then buried quietly in a marble crypt below the basilica, the place of rest for many of John Paul's predecessors through the ages.

In a long ceremony of resplendent ritual and emotional homage, priests blessed the pope's remains and celebrated his life before the global elite that often courted him and the common folk who adored him.

The funeral Mass was punctuated by frequent applause, a sign of respect here, and signs and chants demanding John Paul be declared a saint: "Santo Subito!" "Sainthood Now!" Others waved the red and white flags from the pope's homeland and chanted "Polska, Polska"; still others chanted his name: "Giovanni Paolo!" "John Paul!"

All of this might seem unusual for such a solemn occasion, but it pointed to the popular appeal of the 20th century's most influential pope.

German-born Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, the powerful dean of the College of Cardinals and a close confidante of John Paul, led the service, which opened with Gregorian chants and closed with the peal of church bells. He remembered the youth who came of age in Nazi-occupied Poland and the sharp intellect who chose the priesthood in Krakow.

"Today we bury his remains in the earth as a seed of immortality," said Cardinal Ratzinger, often mentioned as a candidate to be the next pope. "Our hearts are full of sadness, yet at the same time of joyful hope and profound gratitude."

At the conclusion of the public portion of the ceremony, 12 white-gloved pallbearers lifted the wooden casket to their shoulders, strode to the massive portals of St. Peter's Basilica, then turned back toward the crowd to allow a final goodbye.

Inside the church, cardinals in blood-red vestments formed an honor guard in the nave. Each removed his skullcap as the coffin was carried past, then into the grottoes below.

"It was total silence," Cardinal Roger Mahony of Los Angeles recalled afterward. "And after the Holy Father had passed by and everybody had left, we (cardinals) turned to go back to take our vestments off, and no one said a word."