In this series of Walking with the Church, we journey with the People of God and the whole world as we mourn the death of Pope Francis.
On December 31, I concluded nine years of service as an official at the English language section of the Vatican Secretariat of State. Although I didn’t interact with Pope Francis often, I’ve had a chance in these past few months to recall several of those encounters, sometimes professional, sometimes humorous, always blessed.
Two of the most touching typify his reverent, listening heart, which grounded him firmly in reality: his silent, prayerful spirit on the one hand and his effusive love for the family on the other.
For about three or four years on August 21, the feast of Saint Pius X, I noticed that Pope Francis would attend the 7:00 a.m. Mass at Saint Peter’s Basilica, which was offered at the saint’s tomb. On one of these occasions, I happened to be walking toward the back door of Saint Peter’s just as the Pope was coming out of Casa Santa Marta where he lived. Since we were both heading toward the basilica, we fell into step with each other. Of course I greeted him, but I could see his lips moving in prayer. In fact, I don’t think he even heard me, because he didn’t respond. When we reached the basilica, there was a group of young priests standing by the door. We couldn’t miss them, so Pope Francis paused his prayer and greeted them as if he had all the time in the world. Then he continued on, deep in prayer.
Another time on the feast of Saint Pius X, the area around his tomb had been cordoned off. Several chairs were set up, because the security staff knew that the Pope would be coming to attend the early Liturgy. I found a seat, and when he arrived, he sat right in front of me and settled down to prepare for Mass. A German couple, who had come on pilgrimage with their four young children, did the same. After Mass the father hesitantly approached the world’s Pastor and sat down next to him. They immediately struck up a quiet conversation. Soon the three-year-old came over to show the Holy Father the pictures he had been coloring and drawing, and Pope Francis enthusiastically examined each one. Smiling, Mom stood apart with the baby in her arms, preserving in her heart the memory of her little flock and their Shepherd.
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The magisterium of Pope Francis, his body of teaching, consisted of gestures, not just words. This was his pedagogy. To adapt a commonplace in the media world, this medium became his message. Through it he constantly called the Church, the members of the Body of Christ, to deeper discipleship. These two incidents, so simple that any of us could do the same, urge us to develop a culture of encounter that he himself demonstrated time and again, in the way he stopped with people, made time for them, and allowed even the little children to come to him.
On September 23, 2016, in his morning meditation, Pope Francis used the Gospel scene of Jesus encounter with the widow of Nain whose only son had died and was being buried (Luke 7:11-17). It was an meeting between Jesus and a mother right there on the streets of Nain. The Pope commented: this is “something unusual.” In fact, “when we go into the street, every man thinks of himself: he sees, but does not look; he hears, but does not listen”; in short, everyone goes their own way. And consequently “people pass each other, but they do not encounter each other.” Because, Pope Francis clarified, “an encounter is something else” entirely, and this is “what the Gospel about the widow of Nain proclaims to us: an encounter between a man and a woman, between an only son who is alive and an only son who is dead; between a happy group of people—happy because they have encountered Jesus and followed him—and a group of people who weep as they accompany the woman,” who is a widow and is on her way to bury her only son.
“ ‘And he drew near and spoke. He said to her: Do not weep.’” In this way, “Jesus, with his compassion, involves himself with that woman’s problem. ‘He drew near, he spoke and he touched.’ The Gospel says that he touched the coffin. Surely, however, when he said ‘do not weep,’ he touched the widow as well. A caress. Because Jesus was moved. And then he performed the miracle”: that is, he raised the young man to life.
If we “go and do likewise,” our gestures, too, will bring the grace and consolation of Christ’s life everywhere.
Image by manfred Kindlinger from Pixabay