Francis was not just the Bishop of Rome. He was the pastor who showed us how to have an adult faith. How to follow Jesus even when life gets complicated. How to embrace our doubts rather than fear them. His first word into his papacy were "God never tires of forgiving us." And he made it clear: bad Catholics were welcome. Strugglers were welcome. Sinners were welcome. The Eucharist, Francis taught, was not a prize for the perfect but "medicine for the sick." For a generation raised to believe that holiness was synonymous with flawlessness, Francis offered something radically different and deeply freeing: a Christianity rooted in the grace of mercy. In his every move and gesture, Francis embodied the heart of the Gospel. His famous pectoral cross, a simple image of the Good Shepherd carrying a lost sheep on his shoulders, wasn't just a personal emblem. It was his mission statement. He was the pope who left the ninety-nine to go after the one. For those of us who have ever felt like the one—the doubtful, the sinful, and the disillusioned—he was our Pope. His legacy was not built on grandiosity but on the small, stubborn acts of love and tenderness he encouraged in each of us.
From the start, Francis dared to be different. He carried his own bags. He paid his own hotel bill. He didn’t live in the Papal Palace but in a humble motel room. These simple actions weren't about public relations; they were about reminding us who we are called to be: servants. He made it clear that the Church isn't a museum for the virtuous but a field hospital for the wounded. As his casket disappeared into the Basilica, I noticed something striking: unlike what happened at John Paul’s funeral, the usual chants of "santo subito"—"sainthood immediately"—never rose up. Francis never sought canonization. He didn't want a pedestal; he wanted us to get closer to Jesus. If the Francis revolution has begun, it is not a matter of monuments. It is a matter of memory, mercy, and movement—and it is our responsibility to carry forward his message that resonated over the past 2 years: to accompany the lonely, to show compassion to the poor, and to hope for an end to war and conflict.
No comments:
Post a Comment