Requiescat in Pace

+ Enlarge

Pope Francis was “my” pope.

I was baptized as an infant and have practiced the faith for most of my life, with a hiatus during my 20s, but up until I took this job 15 years ago I never cared much about Church hierarchy. Sure, I knew there was a pope sitting on the Chair of Saint Peter, but I couldn’t have told you what he said and wrote.

That changed when I started having to decide what articles from Rome should be published in the pages of this newspaper. Other factors were in play, as well: I needed to be able to have intelligent conversations about what was happening at the Vatican, papal pronouncements often affect what’s happening in the local Church, and both bishops I’ve worked for frequently quote the Holy Father.

When I began as editor, Pope Benedict XVI was the Vicar of Christ. His formidable reputation as a theologian scared me, and I never would have read anything by him if I hadn’t been forced to. It wasn’t just news stories; a couple of years ago I undertook a master’s in theology that required me to study several of his encyclicals. To my surprise, I was actually able to comprehend them without difficulty. That led me to his “Jesus of Nazareth” trilogy, which I thoroughly enjoyed, have read a couple of times and recommend to anyone who wants to understand what the Catholic Church teaches about the person of Jesus.   

Much as I appreciated Benedict as a teacher and leader of the faith, however, I never warmed to him. To me he came across as “God’s Rottweiler,” a nickname he was given when as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger he was head of the Vatican’s Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith.

Francis, though. I think I started falling in love with him the first time he came out onto the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica. Despite the solemn occasion, he was able to joke a little, saying, “You know that the duty of the conclave was to give a bishop to Rome. It seems that my brother cardinals went almost to the end of the world to get him. But here we are.”

After a few more remarks, he said he wanted to ask a favor: “I ask that you pray to the Lord that he blesses me.”

I was flabbergasted that the pope would ask us to pray for him, I was shocked by the photo of him going to pay his hotel bill himself after he was elected, I was amazed as story after story depicted him as a humble man who strove to live the Gospel values and urged others to do the same. He asked governments and individuals to show compassion to immigrants and refugees, then brought asylum-seekers to the Vatican. He advocated for peace and sent ambulances filled with medical supplies to Ukraine. He allowed children to interrupt him when he was talking. He told priests to get out among their flocks and “be shepherds with the smell of the sheep.” He urged “the whole human family” to care for the Earth, “our common home.”

This everyday language was also used in his formal documents, which makes them relatively easy to read.

 Did he have his faults? Yes, but for the most part I appreciated his pastoral approach, which allowed him to ask with all honesty, “Who am I to judge?”

Through it all he acknowledged the hardships of this world, yet he focused on joy and hope. “Do not be men and women of sadness: a Christian can never be sad! Never give way to discouragement!” he said, and even as I mourn his passing I pledge to take his words to heart and follow his example.

Marie Mischel is editor of the Intermountain Catholic. Reach her at marie@icatholic.org.