Rest in Peace, Papa Francis (1936–2025)
Pope Francis’s compassion and humility were a guiding light for Christians around the world. He didn’t just talk about love and justice - he lived it. He spoke up for the voiceless, challenged power, and reminded us that true faith is rooted in kindness, not cruelty.
He was the one who started washing the feet of prisoners, women and the disfigured, to show a loveless world all the places where love can become alive.
While the world mourns the loss of this kind and gentle soul, some in this country have chosen to spew poison instead of prayers. Case in point: Marjorie Taylor Greene - conspiracy theorist and self-proclaimed Christian - shared this sentiment:
“Today there were major shifts in global leaderships. Evil is being defeated by the hand of God.”
Let’s be clear: wearing a cross around your neck doesn’t make you a Christian. Shouting your beliefs doesn’t make them true. Hating people who don’t look, love, or live like you? That’s not Christianity. That’s ego dressed up in dogma.
My takeaway on her? Huge ego. Low IQ. Zero EQ.
Pope Francis may have been gentle, but he was never weak. Remember the time he slapped the hand of a woman in a crowd who yanked at him, nearly knocking him off his feet? He stood firm - physically and morally. He wasn’t afraid to call out world leaders when they strayed from compassion and justice. Maybe that’s why she called him evil - because he had the guts to challenge the powerful, to speak out when others stayed silent.
He didn’t mince words with the American administration either. In January, before chaos overtook the country, Pope Francis offered a hopeful message to “The Don”:
“The American people will prosper and always strive to build a more just society, where there is no room for hatred, discrimination or exclusion.”
The Don clearly didn’t get it.
In February, the Pope wrote again:
“The act of deporting people who in many cases have left their own land for reasons of extreme poverty, insecurity, exploitation, persecution or serious deterioration of the environment, damages the dignity of many men and women... and places them in a state of particular vulnerability and defenselessness.”
Again, it went over his head.
And then we come to Mascara Man - the one who converted to Catholicism in 2019, not out of deep faith, but likely because it suited his image. He spoke about ordo amoris - the “order of love” - arguing that moral duties belong first to child and family, not to strangers from distant lands.
Pope Francis wasn't having it.
“Christian love is not a concentric expansion of interests that little by little extend to other persons and groups,” he said.
“The true ordo amoris that must be promoted is that which we discover by meditating on the love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception.”
When Mascara Man requested a meeting, the Pope sent his second-in-command instead. He received a lesson in compassion. Did he learn anything? One can only hope - but hope often feels futile in the face of ego.
Their final meeting, just days ago, was telling. The Pope shook Mascara Man’s hand, avoided his eyes, and didn’t dignify his hollow pleasantries with a response. Hours later, Pope Francis was gone.
What I find remarkable is how this holy man could use even silence and body language to speak volumes.
He lived the words of his namesake, Francis of Assisi:
“The deeds you do may be the only sermon some persons will hear today.”
And what a sermon he gave. Not with pomp, not with pride - but with simple, unwavering love for the least of these.
Rest in peace, Papa Francis. Your voice may be silent now, but your message echoes on.