The Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls in Rome is packed, and the coffin carrying the body of Chiara Lubich is about to be brought in. It is preceded by a unique procession of people: a little girl, a mother, an elderly man, a bishop, an engineer, a woman religious. These are the people who have been chosen to represent the diverse world that is Chiara’s movement. The crowd opens to make way. It’s a beautiful, serene, peaceful, orderly crowd.

Chiara’s people.

Suddenly the church bursts into a long applause. The coffin has entered the main aisle. Along the walls are mosaics, both ancient and modern, portraying all the popes. In the pews below, representatives of all the cities that gave Chiara honorary citizenships hold up their colorful banners. They all payed Chiara lasting homage.

Before the Mass begins, representatives of various Christian denominations and the world’s great religions take to the podium and address the congregation. In simple words, they try to convey the depth of their relationship with Chiara. It’s as if St. Paul, the apostle of dialogue, openness and evangelization, has thrown open the doors of his basilica to Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists and Christians, so that all might testify to a charism that reignites the flame of God’s love in people and cultures throughout the world.

The coffin is on the floor in front of the altar. It is entirely bare except for three red carnations and a small Gospel, tokens of remembrance of Chiara’s “yes” to God on December 7, 1943.

Around me people cry softly: men and women, politicians of all types, Chiara’s family members as well as the members of her other family, her spiritual children. Even Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, the Vatican Secretary of State, is emotional when, during the homily, he mentions Chiara’s “crazy dream:” to carry the whole world in her arms to the Father. “May they all be one.”

There is joy, too, among the hundreds of concelebrating priests, dozens of bishops, and 16 cardinals; among the more than 8,000 people crammed inside the church; among the 25,000 strong that stand outside in spite of the workday and the threat of rain.

After a final commendation, the coffin sits alone for a few seconds, as if suspended in silence. Chiara is alone with her God, her love; she is alone in the crowd, as so often happened. For Chiara, fellow human beings were always the most treasured way to God.

Suddenly Kiko Argüello, founder of the New Catechumenal Way, approaches, kneels, and kisses the coffin. A dam is about to break. Another priest approaches, kneels, and kisses the coffin too. Another does the same, and another. Soon all the concelebrants, in their white vestments, gather around the coffin, several deep, to take their turns at paying their loving respects to Chiara. It is a scene no one could have imagined or planned. Mary shines forth as priest after priest kneels in front of the coffin of this woman.

A bishop from Brazil tells me, “Look, the Marian profile of the Church joins the Petrine. John Paul II and Paul VI, who followed and loved Chiara the longest during her earthly journey, are surely rejoicing together in Heaven!”

Finally, the pallbearers—representatives of Focolare members from different continents— carry the coffin outside the basilica. The crowd erupts in another emotional applause. Thousands of people hold the special issue of Città Nuova that all participants received. From its front cover, Chiara looks at her “people born of the Gospel.” She looks at them, loves them and smiles.

Full Story published in Living City (May/June 2008), the Focolare Movement's monthly magazine of religion, dialogue and culture