“None of us can ever forget how in that last Easter Sunday of his life, the Holy Father, marked by suffering, came once more to the window of the Apostolic Palace and one last time gave his blessing urbi et orbi.”
This wasn’t a statement made this week; this was said twenty years ago, by Cardinal Ratzinger in the homily at John Paul II’s funeral.
I was studying in Rome in 2005, and the events of this week have brought back a rush of memories. Like this week, twenty years ago, John Paul II died during the jubilant octave of Easter. We were supposed to be celebrating the great feast of Easter, and the only Pope I had ever known was suffering his passion.
But the day after he died, the Mass in St. Peter’s Square could not be a Mass of mourning because it was the universal feast of Divine Mercy. The world tells us to weep and mourn at death as if life is over; John Paul was teaching to rejoice at new life beginning.
I waited in line for hours to pray at his body while it lay in state in the basilica. I was in St. Peter’s Square for his funeral. He was the only Pope I had ever known, and I was struggling with my emotions. How could I be sad when he so clearly was no longer trapped in that body that had become a cross? Cardinal Ratzinger preached a powerful homily that revealed to mixture of emotions in his own heart: “our hearts are full of sadness, yet at the same time of joyful hope and profound gratitude.” In his homily, he reminded us of the power of Easter hope and resurrection.
It’s a lesson we need to learn again. I saw Pope Francis a few months ago, shortly before he went to the hospital. He was clearly suffering physically. But I also could tell he was suffering emotionally–for a man who wanted to so desperately be with his flock, his physical suffering was preventing him from being the Holy Father he wanted to be.
The last week, we were surprised when he made an impromptu visit to St. Peter’s to visit a favorite altar, when he popped up at St. Mary Major to visit his favorite chapel, and when he drove around the piazza on Easter as if the doctors had not told him to stay in his room and rest. We shouldn’t have been surprised. The Pope wanted to spend every last ounce of his pontificate with his sheep.
Today, he would tell us not to weep and mourn, but to rejoice at life beginning.
Photo by Joan Watson
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