Caption Pope Francis visiting Saint Mary’s Pro Cathedral, Dublin, during his visit to Ireland in August 2018 for the 9th World Meeting of Families (Catholic Communications Office archive)
- Homily by Bishop Paul Dempsey delivered at the Memorial Mass for Pope Francis RIP celebrated in Saint Mary’s Pro-Cathedral, Dublin, and attended by members of the diplomatic corps
Homily
The 13th March 2013 is a date many will remember. The world waited in anticipation as the bells of Saint Peter’s tolled, announcing the arrival of a new Pope. It was, I believe, one of the most watched television moments of all time. Then we heard the name ‘Bergoglio’ who would take the name ‘Francis.’ A couple of moments later, he walked out onto the balcony in his simple white cassock greeting us with the simple; ‘Buonasera.’ There was a sense that this was something different. After a few words he bowed his head before us and asked for our prayers. Silence descended upon the square in a profound moment of prayer. After he gave his blessing, he retired with the words to the crowd; ‘Goodnight and rest well.’ Yes, Pope Francis had arrived!
Since his passing on Easter Monday, there has been so much media attention around his life and legacy. Our gathering this morning is not about that, it is simply an opportunity for us, as he requested on that first night of his Pontificate, to pray for him.
However, a time of grief is also a time to remember. Today we remember how Pope Francis touched our hearts in his role as shepherd over the past twelve years and how he challenged us to be missionaries today. He was a man who did not want to be eulogised, but there are aspects and qualities of his life and ministry that challenge me, and I think challenge us all as we remember him in this time of mourning.
Firstly, his humanity, his humility and his humour.
Even though Pope Francis led a global Church, his simple humanity endeared him to the hearts of so many. In one of his first interviews, he described himself as ‘a sinner,’ he very much aware of his own woundedness. The many, well documented humble gestures, pointed to a man who chose the simple when grandeur was the norm. His great sense of humour was captured in many a photograph, that full, hearty laugh, which is so important on life’s journey. These qualities enabled him to connect with people of all faiths and none and contributed to him being affectionately known as the ‘People’s Pope.’ These were the obvious outward signs so much associated with Pope Francis, but of course there was a far deeper side to him.
For me, Pope Francis was a holy man. Holiness can conjure up a certain image for us, perhaps a somewhat detached, other worldly sense. For me, the most profound definition of holiness comes from the early Church theologian, Origen, he described holiness as ‘seeing with the eyes of Christ.’ I believe we can apply this understanding of holiness very comfortably to Pope Francis, a man who tried to see people and the world through the eyes of Christ. This informed his life and ministry and formed the very essence of his being. Holiness for him was not about perfection, it was about presence. This enabled him to be radical in his approach, understanding ‘radical’ in its truest sense as a ‘going back to the roots.’ Pope Francis was ‘radical,’ not in a sense of breaking with tradition, but rather he wanted to go back to the roots of the Gospel, to the encounter with Christ and share that encounter with the world in a joy filled, merciful way. We witnessed this from the very beginnings of his pontificate. His first trip in July 2013, was to the island of Lampedusa, the gateway for migrants from Africa to Europe. So many had lost their lives on that journey in the hope of finding a better life in a new land. Pope Francis presence announced to the world, in its ‘globalisation of indifference,’ as he called it, that migrants are people with a story, a dignity, they are not merely some statistic that we can ignore. (The chalice we are using today is from Lampedusa, made from driftwood of a refugee shipwreck.)
Within weeks of his election, for Holy Thursday, instead of washing the feet of priests in Saint Peter’s, he went to a local prison and washed the feet of prisoners, men and women, some of Christian faith and others from different faith traditions. From the beginning he was showing us that real leadership kneels in service before the other. The Church he believed in was a Church that walked with the wounded, a place where the forgotten would finally be seen. Compassion was more important than condemnation, and mercy came before any judgement. This signalled a Pope who was reaching out to the peripheries.
In his final message, Pope Francis stated that ‘Society’s greatness is found in how it treats the most vulnerable.’ He wanted a Church of the poor, for the poor. It was this that motivated him to raise awareness about the current and impending climate crisis facing the world.
Sometimes, I believe, his message on the environment was misunderstood. For Pope Francis, care of creation, as a gift from God, was not some fashionable ecological fad, but rather a moral, real ‘life issue,’ especially when the lives of those living in the poorest of nations were being threatened by those in powerful positions, exploiting the earth’s resources in the name of self-interest. His groundbreaking exhortation ‘Laudato Si,’ published ten years ago this year, was and is a prophetic statement in the area of climate justice. The document established bridges between the Church and the world at large, especially those who may not profess Christian faith.
The vision of his Pontificate brought the Church from a eurocentric base to a global one. This was most evident when he encouraged us to take the synodal pathway. For Pope Francis the Church, in line with the Second Vatican Council, was the ‘People of God,’ we all belong. He wanted a Church of ‘communion, participation and mission.’ He wanted the Church to refocus on its primary task of going out in a missionary sense, preaching the Gospel in the reality of today’s complex world. I was very struck at the image of the gatherings in Rome last October and the previous October. The participants from the global Church; men and women, ordained and lay faithful, people with different views of what direction the Church should be going, reflecting in many ways a wounded Church. Despite the differing views they sat together and listened to each other in a respectful, prayerful space. They were also encouraged to speak with ‘parrhesia,’ with ‘boldness’ and not to be afraid. In that space they were invited to discern where the Holy Spirit is calling the Church at this time. As I watched, I thought how this was a powerful witness to the leaders of nations today. We live in a complex world, we witness division, war, aggression, all motivated by self-interest, if only we could sit down together to listen and understand each other, as Pope Francis encouraged us to, what a different world we could have.
In recent months and weeks, we could see how Pope Francis’ health was failing. Day-by-day his physical weakness became more evident. However, his quiet determination saw him appear on the balcony of Saint Peter’s on Easter Sunday to pray for peace in the many troubled areas of our world, to call for a cessation of war, to wish us a Happy Easter and impart his blessing. Then one last round of the square. Early next morning, Easter Monday, we woke up to the news that he had returned to the ‘Father’s house.’ What timing, in this ‘Jubilee Year of Hope,’ he held on just long enough to hear the ‘Alleluia’ one last time, to witness the Church rejoice in the Resurrection, its ultimate hope, before quietly letting go and entering into the promise he spent his life proclaiming.
The Gospel today recalls that intimate moment between Jesus and Peter, the Lord asking Peter three times does he love him. Peter in turn affirming that love three times. Through Pope Francis’ life, witness, and faith he affirmed his love for Jesus. He was a humble man, who lived the Gospel, a shepherd who walked with the poor and wounded. He was the one who reminded us that the second name for God is ‘Mercy.’
His faith was marked by a closeness to Mary. In 2018, during his visit here to Saint Mary’s Pro Cathedral, he spent time before the image of Our Lady at the side altar. The chair he was seated upon, poignantly, sits empty today. No doubt Our Lady was there to embrace him as he went home to God.
I started these words reminding us of Pope Francis’ request on 13 March 2013, to pray for him. He bowed his head before us in silence. Today we bow before him, we bow before his life, his witness, his humility, his service, we bow before this ‘pilgrim of hope.’ We pray for him and commend him to God’s mercy, a mercy he proclaimed and preached so beautifully. As he left the balcony that evening in March 2013, he turned to the crowd and said, ‘Good night and rest well.’ Today, in turn, we say to Pope Francis; ‘thank you, goodbye and rest well.’
