The morning of the funeral Mass for Pope Francis dawned crisp and bright over St. Peter’s Square. The familiar luminous facade of the basilica and the centuries-old stones underfoot seemed to draw us in as we came to pray for the soul of the departed Holy Father.
What struck me most was not the solemnity alone, but the presence and spirit of so many young people. They came from every corner of the globe — waving flags, singing softly, clutching rosaries. Many had come for a canonization but stayed for a funeral. Even in a time of mourning, their joy was unmistakable: a powerful sign that the life of the Church continues, rooted in Christ’s promise that the Church endures through every storm. Their hopefulness gave the whole gathering a character of quiet resurrection faith.
The funeral liturgy itself was noble and solemn, with the grandeur and beauty of the Catholic tradition on display for the world. The prayers and readings called us back to what matters most: trust in the mercy of God and the confident hope of the resurrection. The wooden coffin, unadorned, testified to the Christian truth that we bring nothing into this world, and we take nothing with us — only the love we have shown and the mercy of God in which we place our hope.
Throughout the liturgy, the universality of the Church was quietly but powerfully on display. Flags from dozens of nations rippled in the breeze. Soft weeping could be heard in many languages. It was a reminder that the Church is a home built not by human hands, but by the Spirit, gathering people of every race and tongue into the household of God.
Relying on faith
One moment, in particular, moved me deeply: the final commendation, offered by the Eastern patriarchs. Their prayers, chanted in ancient melodies, rose above the crowd, giving voice to grief and faith that transcend rite and language. It was a reminder that the Church is larger than any one figure — a communion that spans centuries, cultures and continents, united in the mystery of Christ’s love.
As the bells of St. Peter’s tolled and the coffin was carried into the basilica, a profound sense of peace settled over the crowd. In this moment, grief was transfigured into gratitude: for the enduring mission of the Church, for the promise of the resurrection, and for the life of service that, however imperfect, points us all back to Christ.
The quiet fidelity of the Church’s prayer carried the day — prayer that has seen the rise and fall of empires, prayer that will continue until Christ comes again. Even as we mourned, we were reminded that the life of the Church does not depend on one man alone but on the enduring faithfulness of God, who raises up shepherds for his people in every generation.
Thank you, Pope Francis. Rest in peace.
