Today, millions of people will watch the funeral of Pope Francis taking place at the Vatican. The ceremony, expected to be attended by thousands of people and world leaders including Prime Minister Keir Starmer and United States president Donald Trump, will take place outdoors, in front of the Saint Peter’s Basilica. Afterwards, the Pope’s remains will be buried in the Basilica of Saint Mary Major where he will have a simple burial, as per his wishes set out in his testament: “The tomb should be in the ground; simple, without particular ornamentation, bearing only the inscription: Franciscus.”
These are the final wishes of a modest man who, despite his apparent simplicity, played a gargantuan role in reshaping his Church, while rejuvenating the meaning of faith in the lives of believers and non-believers alike.
A working-class Argentinian man who grew up in a Buenos Aires barrio where he had prostituted women and immigrants as neighbours, Pope Francis witnessed poverty and hardship firsthand. Perhaps it was this upbringing that imbued him with a passionate commitment to social justice.
Pope Francis, the first Latin American pontiff, was a down-to-earth leader who inspired millions of young people to reconsider what it means to have faith in something greater. Ensuring the future of his church fell squarely within the remit of his job. The fire he helped light within the souls of so many young people might be his most important legacy.
In 2013, early on into his papacy, he stated: “If a person is gay and seeks God and has good will, who am I to judge him? Who am I to judge?” It set the tone for his pontificate.
The Pope often spoke up for those who were sidelined. In his last public appearance on Easter Sunday, the day before he died, he said of the Israel-Gaza conflict: “I express my closeness to the sufferings…of all the Israeli people and the Palestinian people. I appeal to the warring parties: call a ceasefire, release the hostages and come to the aid of a starving people that aspires to a future of peace.”
The protection of Christians worldwide fell squarely, of course, within the remit of Francis’s job. But the Pope’s commitment was so unyielding that he spoke on the phone, texted or video called the Catholic parish in Palestine almost on a nightly basis, to check on how they were coping under the nonstop bombardment. This is a practice he continued even from his hospital bed during his two-month battle with pneumonia.
In November 2023, Israel Defence Forces snipers killed two Christian women (a mother and daughter) inside Gaza’s Holy Family Church where families were seeking refuge from the war. Seven more people were wounded. Following the news, Pope Francis said: “I continue to receive very grave and painful news from Gaza. Unarmed civilians are the objects of bombings and shootings. And this happened even inside the Holy Family parish complex, where there are no terrorists, but families, children, people who are sick or disabled, nuns.”
Later, the Pontiff said: “This is what wars do. But here we have gone beyond wars. This is not war. This is terrorism”. A year later, he went a step further: “According to some experts, what is happening in Gaza has the characteristics of a genocide. It should be carefully investigated.”
These were strong words about an incendiary topic. But his unwavering position, which was bound to earn him countless detractors, was the mark of a man who understood his faith to be rooted in helping others, rather than simply preaching.
Today, the world bids farewell to a remarkable Christian who connected with people across the world and hopefully inspired them to consider how they too could use their positions to advocate for the most vulnerable and marginalised among us. For Catholics, this a moment of great sadness. But it is also an opportunity to celebrate the life and legacy of a pontiff who taught the world the most important principle of Catholicism: that faith is a practice, not a noun.
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