It is an iconic moment of popular piety by Catholic Ireland that eclipses the epic concerts of Bob Dylan, Neil Diamond, Leonard Cohen and even Westlife.The scene is the International Eucharistic Congress held in Dublin in June 1932.
The renowned tenor John McCormack gives a memorable rendition of the mystical music of Panis Angelicus by composer Ceasar Franck.
The location is not the Point Depot: it takes place at Mass in the "Fifteen Acres" of the Phoenix Park -- and is attended by one million devout people worshipping Jesus Christ whom they believe is present in a monstrance containing the Blessed Sacrament.
On that gloriously sunny Sunday 76 years ago, the papal legate, Cardinal Lorenzo Lauri, the personal representative of Pope Pius XI, was entranced, as Count McCormack, dressed in the robes of a Knight of Malta, looked up to an specially erected High Altar, and delivered one of the greatest triumphs of his career. This was the exact moment which symbolised the bonding of Roman Catholicism and Irish nationalism.
The Irish came in droves by bus and tram to pay homage to Christ the King. They were commemorating the 15th centenary of the coming to Ireland of the national Apostle, St Patrick. Among them by plane, train and steamboat from around the world were the sons and daughters of the diaspora representing the Irish race's spiritual empire.
This forgotten event is remembered nostalgically by only a few surviving octogenarians. It defined the identity of the Irish Free State, which 10 years earlier won freedom from Britain after centuries of national struggle, before tragically plunging an island already partitioned from Protestant Ulster into its own bloody civil war.
The event is a timeless cameo of the manifest public enthusiasm of the vast thronging crowd for the Catholic faith of their ancestors which had survived the severest days of persecution during the penal times.
Aware of the significance of Ireland's hosting of the Congress (which began in France in 1881) for the first time, the Archbishop of Dublin, Edward Byrne, declared: "I am the spokesman of the whole Irish nation."
His claim went unchallenged by the head of government, Eamon de Valera, the gunman excommunicated during the War of Independence by the Church, who still desired Ulster Protestants to join a united Ireland. Instead, 'the Chief' competed with the Archbishop by being more Roman than the Romans.
Dev followed the Mass in uninterrupted reverence. Just as Cardinal Lauri was about to proclaim a blessing, a voice boomed out from a radio link to Rome: "Attention! The Holy Father is about to address you."
De Valera beamed with pride. In a record three months, his organisational skills had directed the installation of a radio mast in Athlone that should have taken nine months to complete. His rehabilitation with Mother Church was assured.
The clear voice of Pius XI, from his apartment in the Vatican, rang out in Latin, pronouncing an apostolic blessing, the first time that an international congress was directly addressed by a pontiff. "There was a catch in each one's throat, and every eye was moist. Over the whole multitude surged a tide of pride, and gratitude, and exultation," the Congress chronicle records.
This bonding of Rome and Ireland lasted a further three hours as Cardinal Lauri, holding the blessed sacrament led a procession to O'Connell Street Bridge for a solemn benediction. Column after column composed of eight men and four women, with boy scouts and girls in communion dress, confraternities with banners, along with ranks of cardinals, archbishops, bishops and priests, Lord Abbots, brothers and nuns, ministers and councillors -- all in the colours of the rainbow -- and surrounded by trumpeters, cavalry horsemen, soldiers and gardai, marched reverently at a slow pace to the sound of a military band. On their way, they sang hymns such as Faith of Our Fathers and the Ave of Lourdes, interspersed with loud cheers of "Long live the Pope!"
On O'Connell Street Bridge, Cardinal Lauri, vested in a cope presented by the weavers of Dublin, imparted a plenary indulgence absolving the nation from its sins, and with monstrance raised high, declared: "The Peace of Christ in the Kingdom of Christ." Dublin was like a vast outdoor cathedral. Christ was ruler.
Christendom in Dublin became the title of a book by the celebrated English Catholic writer, G K Chesterton.
It gives a vivid insight into the religious fervour surrounding the Congress, but also casts light on how the poor in one of the world's worst slums were as devoted, if not more so, than the Dublin 4 set.
Chesterton tells how Sean T O'Kelly, the future President, was asked by the Cardinal of Paris, Jean Verdier, to show him the poor.
The Prince of the Church duly distributed Congress medals and badges among the poor of Dublin's slums. The poor were "better pleased than if he distributed sixpences", Chesterton wrote.
Archbishop Byrne, who had been embarrassed by the Legion of Mary cleaning up Dublin's notorious brothels, lauded the poor for decorating their hovels with papal bunting and religious statues.
The middle class embraced the legate and the ecclesiastical establishment as if they were a substitute for British royalty. During the six-day Great Congress, from June 20 to June 26, there were social events at which the grandees of Irish society mingled with princes of the church. On Tuesday, June 21, 23,000 people filled the grounds of Blackrock College.
"In the brilliant sunshine the wonderful gathering of ecclesiastics with their various robes of scarlet, purple, brown, grey, white and black and the immense and dignified multitude of laity representing everything that was best and most Catholic in Ireland, made an unforgettable picture," the official Congress chronicler wrote.
The garden party was followed by a reception in Dublin Castle, where de Valera formally welcomed Cardinal Lauri in a speech which enunciated a concept of Irish nationalism rooted in St Patrick's bringing of the faith from Rome to Ireland.
De Valera would have been less flattered had he known that when the head of government and his ministers first approached the papal legate, he was taken aback because he thought they were special branch officers incognito in their long coats and hats.
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