“All those who put their hope in God place their feeble hands in his strong and mighty hand;
they let themselves be raised up and set out on a journey.
Together with the risen Jesus, they become pilgrims of hope,
witnesses of the victory of love…” (Pope Francis, April 20th, 2025)
Yesterday I was fortunate to visit the body of Pope Francis at Casa Santa Marta and to spend a few moments of silent prayer. I was struck by the simple wooden coffin. By the peaceful look on his face. By the enormity of what one person can achieve when they practice what they preach with unshakable conviction.
As I stood in the presence of this amazing man, a man who I was blessed to meet twice during his earthly life, I couldn’t help but recall the significance of the witness he gave.
He was a man who carried such great responsibility and yet served with simplicity and grace.
A man capable of standing with the world leaders as well as the most abandoned and forgotten.
A man who paid the price of being different and yet stood silently in the face of criticism.
A man who prayed unceasingly for peace.
A man who had a phenomenal trust in God, even in the darkest moments.
A man who preached a Gospel of inclusion where the Church has a place for everyone.
A man who reminded us that he could not judge anyone, nor should we.
A man who helped people to believe in the Church again, a Church founded on the Gospel.
A man who reminded us that true holiness isn’t about being perfect, but about being present where the people are.
A man who constantly asked others to pray for him.
A man who from the beginning wanted simple shoes and at the end is buried in a simple wooden coffin.
Unceasingly Pope Francis opened the door of his heart, and in turn the Church which he led, to be different. He disrupted systems and comforted outcasts. He spoke boldly on justice, embraced the disabled, welcomed migrants, made space at his table for the homeless. He didn’t just talk about mercy—he embodied it. He helped the Church to embrace its truly identity as a place where the last could be first, and the forgotten, finally seen.
Yes, in life, as in death, he was not afraid to be different, even when it cost.
I’m still overwhelmed at the way Pope Francis died. When we think that just a few weeks ago he was discharged from hospital, where he came so close to death on multiple occasions. On Holy Thursday he went to visit the prisoners at a Roman jail as was his usual tradition. On Sunday he made his final appearance at St Peter’s Square, raising his feeble hands to greet the people, where his last words to the crowds were wishing them a Happy Easter.
Perhaps in his last public appearances during his final days he wanted to remind us of what is important. The poor, the need to live with simplicity and humility no matter who you are, and the message of hope in the Risen Christ.
Now as we pray for the successor of Pope Francis, perhaps just to pray is not enough. Perhaps if we truly wish to honour the memory of Pope Francis now more than ever it’s our turn to take our personal responsibility to carry on the lessons that he has taught us, so that long after the events of this week have concluded, his passion for the poor, his merciful heart and his unwavering witness to the joy of the Gospel might live on in us.
