📷 Palm Sunday in St. Peter’s Square
Anticipation, ritual, and observation in Rome
On March 29, 2026, we woke early to attend Palm Sunday Mass in St. Peter’s Square—one of the few things that had made it onto our “must-do” list before arriving in Rome.
In the months leading up to the trip to Italy, the Vatican’s website was clear: no tickets required were required to attend Palm Sunday Mass. But once we arrived, we got conflicting advice. Both our Airbnb host and a tour guide at the Vatican Museums insisted we wouldn’t get in without one. That the ticketless portion was a noon delivery of the Angelus blessing given by the Pope from a window in the Apostolic Palace.
We decided to chance it and show up anyway, just in case. Worst case scenario: we wouldn’t get in, in which case we’d just go find a café.
It was the right decision.
The morning was cool and clear, and the collective anticipation was palpable. The lines grew as the sun rose. There was an energy in the crowd—quiet and respectful, but unmistakable. We expected a long wait, but the gates opened sooner than expected, and we moved through security quickly, slipping into our seats along the inside edge of the 14th row.
Close enough, as it turned out, to be about six feet from the Pope as he processed in. We were quite proud of ourselves.
Around us, we met travelers from Singapore, Saudi Arabia, the Philippines, the U.S. Some Americans behind us a couple of rows behind us celebrated the first American pope by wearing head-to-toe stars and stripes.
When the bells rang, the square shifted. Conversations quieted. Necks craned.
These photos aren’t about the Mass itself, but about what its like to attend it. I tried to capture everything surrounding the moment—the ways people watched, waited, and worshipped.
Naturalist’s Notebook
Notice
A Catholic Mass is carefully choreographed, but watch for small gestures within the larger ceremony— are people holding onto their palms? Lowering their phones or raising them? Are strangers making room for one another or holding onto their spot defiantly? When does the crowd become a community?
Listen
Listen to the square at different scales. Notice the sounds closest to you—a whispered prayer, a conversation, the rustle of palms—and then the sounds that fill the square: music, prayer, thousands of voices responding together. How does noticing the scale of the sounds around you change your experience?
Ask
What makes a large public square feel like a shared space, even if just for a few hours? And how do you think the experience differs for a pilgrim, a local, a tourist, or someone simply there to observe?
