Pope Francis, pastor to the world

May your memory be a blessing to us.

Dear Pope Francis, your strong and loving heart has given out. I am heart-broken at your passing. Although I knew you had been quite ill, for some reason I hoped you would keep going, at least for a little while. It’s up to the Church and to all of us now, to continue without you.

It’s hard for me to express what you have meant to my faith life . . . from that first evening in March of 2013 when you appeared on the balcony at the Vatican in your simple white cassock and zucchetto, saying, “Brothers and sisters, good evening!” and asking for our blessing. Your humility and wonder at the cardinals having to go “to the ends of the earth” to find a Pope, the first pope from Latin American, charmed me.

From the first months of your papacy, your actions inspired and challenged me: The way you declined the trappings of the papacy – the ornate robes and palace lodgings; your visit to the island of Lampedusa in the Mediterranean to call the world’s attention to the plight of migrants; Your decision that first Holy Thursday to wash the feet of poor prisoners – including women and Muslims.

Your clear commitment to God’s mercy and love, your humble yet determined actions, gave witness to all the world.

You gave me new words to understand my faith – words like “encounter” and “peripheries.” and breathed new life into words like “joy” and “mercy.” You gave me a new image for the Church - “a field hospital,” and for bishops - whom you felt “should be like shepherds who have the smell of the sheep” on them.

Your faith called all of us back to Jesus’s teachings about love, acceptance and service, especially to the poor and excluded. You refused to judge and said the church must welcome “todos, todos, todos!” All, All, All! You challenged Catholics and the whole world to care for the earth, our common home, in your encyclical “Laudato si.” You called us out of our self-centeredness to consider all men and women our brothers and sisters in your encyclical “Fratelli tutti.” You critiqued an economic system that delivered wealth to “the few,” the well-connected, and condemned “the many” to lives of desperation and poverty.

Your Synod on Synodality gave me new hope for the Church and for my role in it, as a woman and as a lay person.

Of course, not everything you said and did delighted me. I had my disappointments and disagreements with you, and I wished you would move faster in some areas. But all in all, you gave me back faith in the Church.

In a way it is fitting that you died on Easter Monday. We will have to go on without you, as the Disciples had to learn to go on without Jesus.

The final interactions between Jesus and Mary, and Mary and the disciples, following the Resurrection bring you, and what you tried to teach us, to mind. Here is how the scene played out in the 2018 film “Mary Magdalene” which I watched during Holy Week:

After seeing Jesus, Mary hurried to where the disciples were staying.

Peter: Mary, you were with him?

Mary: To the end. Peter, as the sun rose, I saw him. He was there, and all his pain was gone from him. He was there. He is not gone. Even death cannot hold him.

Peter: A dream?

Mary: Not a dream. This whole time we have been looking for a change in the world, but it’s not what we thought. The kingdom is here, now!

The Apostles: . . . but how can this be?

Mary: Because The Kingdom is not something we can see with our eyes. It’s here within us. All we have to do is let go of our anguish and our resentment and become like children, just as he said. The kingdom cannot be built through conflict. Not by opposition, not by destruction. It grows with us. With every act of love and care. With our forgiveness. We have the power to lift the people just as he did. And then we will be free, just as he is. We have the power to relieve their suffering. It is up to us. The world will only change as we change.

Then Mary left the disciples and returned to Jesus, to be with him one more time.

She recalled a conversation they had had when she first joined his ministry, when she asked “What is it like to be one with God?” At the time he only responded with, “No one has ever asked me that.” She asks him again, “So, what is it like?” He looks at her and gives her a beautiful, joyful smile, and laughs. Mary returns his smile with delight.

Pope Francis, I believe you are now with Jesus, one with God. I picture you in his presence with a beautiful, joyful smile. Your suffering and struggle are over. Your work is done.

You have changed me. You have changed the Church. Thank you. May you rest in peace.