The Last Pilgrim: Rain, Bronze and the Quiet Closing of a Jubilee
The rain came like an insistence—a steady, silver curtain that turned cobblestones into mirrors and umbrellas into a moving constellation outside St Peter’s Basilica.
Inside, the air smelled of wax and wet wool. Voices rose and fell in a dozen languages. Some carried the tired, triumphant hush of people who had walked for an intention; others laughed with the lightness of those who had simply wanted to bear witness. And at the center of it all stood the Holy Door—an ornate bronze portal usually bricked up, now open for the final time in a year that drew millions.
“We waited ten years to make this pilgrimage,” said Marta Kovács, a nurse from Budapest, wiping rain from her forehead. “When I crossed that threshold, I felt like something heavy inside me eased. You cannot explain it. You have to walk it.”
Numbers that Stir: 33 Million, 185 Countries, One Year of Passage
The Vatican announced that more than 33 million people visited Rome during the 2025 Jubilee, coming from 185 countries to take part in 35 flagship events that marked a once-in-a-generation Holy Year. The statistics read like a map of faith in motion: roughly 60% of those pilgrims came from Europe, 16% from North America, and the rest from across Africa, Asia, and Latin America.
For Catholics—and for curious onlookers around the world—the Jubilee was more than an itinerary. It was a ritual of repair. By tradition, passing through the Holy Door grants the faithful a “plenary indulgence,” a symbolic form of pardon that is meant to encourage reflection and renewal. Tomorrow, the basilica’s bronze door will be ceremonially closed, ending a chapter that began when Pope Francis first opened it a year ago.
A Rare Two-Pope Jubilee
This Jubilee will be remembered for other historic reasons. It unfolded across the waning leaves of one pontificate and the opening pages of another. Pope Francis, who opened the Year, died in April, and the papacy passed to Pope Leo XIV, the Church’s first pope to come from the United States.
“This year has been, in a way, a ‘middle world,’” observed Andrea Gagliarducci, a Vatican analyst. “There was continuity, but also the inevitable sense that a new chapter was being prepared.” The overlap of two pontificates during a Holy Year is extraordinarily rare—the last time a pope died during a Holy Year was in 1700.
Faces of the Jubilee: Youth, Canonisations and a Global Pilgrimage
Amid processions and prayer vigils, the Jubilee staged moments both intimate and spectacular. A festival for young Catholics filled parks with music and conversation; a canonisation heralded the Church’s first saint born in the millennium; parishes around Rome opened their doors and their hearts.
“We tried to make room for every story,” said Archbishop Rino Fisichella at a press briefing that summarized the year. “From the young person who came with a backpack and a dream, to the elderly pilgrim who arrived to give thanks—Rome welcomed them all.” His words echoed in halls still warm from gatherings, and in neighborhoods where parish volunteers offered directions, coffee, and kindness to strangers.
What the Numbers Hide—and Reveal
Large figures can flatten the human texture of an event. But look closely and the Jubilee’s data become intimate: 33 million footsteps, 35 major ceremonies, countless conversations held under octagonal loggias and against the backdrop of a city that has been a theater of faith for two millennia.
- 33 million pilgrims touched the city in 2025.
- Pilgrims came from 185 countries to attend 35 headline events.
- About 60% of visitors were European; 16% came from North America.
Rome—Spruced Up, Strained, Reimagined
Streets that normally hum with local life were swept into procession routes; monuments like the Trevi Fountain received careful attention and cleaning as part of a civic effort to welcome visitors. Mayor Roberto Gualtieri called it “a boom year” for the capital, saying the Jubilee offered a chance to prove Rome could host the world.
But not everyone shared that celebratory view. Local shopkeeper Gianluca Moretti, whose family has run a tabaccheria near Piazza Navona for three generations, said the influx brought strains as well as sales. “We love the pilgrims,” he said. “They bring life. But when buses line up and the tram is packed, people who live here get squeezed. The question is: who benefits, and who pays the cost?”
Critics warned that a city already grappling with overtourism would be pushed to its limits. Public transport—beautiful in its antiquity but patchy in peak hours—sometimes groaned under the load. Yet other Romans found new reasons for optimism: sticky notes of gratitude on neighborhood noticeboards, volunteer groups springing up to offer language help and first aid, and streets buzzing into the night with small concerts and impromptu prayer circles.
Transitions of Power—and of Purpose
Pope Leo XIV, Chicago-born and relatively new to the Vatican’s highest role, is now tasked with translating the momentum of the Jubilee into a clear direction for the future. Since his election, he has published documents that had been prepared under his predecessor and kept promises to continue certain diplomatic trips, like journeys to Lebanon and Turkey that were in Pope Francis’ plans.
“The Jubilee’s end is not an end to renewal,” a theologian at the Gregorian University told me. “It’s the point where ritual has to meet governance—where gestures of welcome become policies and structures that either sustain or squander the goodwill generated this year.”
What Comes Next?
As the Holy Door is sealed, questions remain. Will the influx of faith and curiosity translate into lasting changes for the Church? Will Rome, refreshed in places and frayed in others, capitalize on new attention to tackle long-standing urban problems?
And for you, the reader: what does it mean when millions gather—across borders, languages, generations—to seek renewal? Can a ritual year tilt the balance of a sprawling institution toward empathy and structural reform?
Closing, and an Open Invitation
Tomorrow, at the appointed hour—5.30pm local time—the last pilgrim will step through the Holy Door, sealing a year that felt for many like a pilgrimage of the world itself. The bronze will close. The candlelight will drift down to the cobbles. And in the quiet that follows, Rome will keep its scars and its new polish, its questions and its small, stubborn miracles.
“We came to be seen and to be healed,” said Sister Amara, a volunteer from Lagos, as she folded wet vestments after a wet procession. “I do not know what the next day holds. But I know I will carry what I learned here home. That, perhaps, is the Jubilee’s truest work.”
