12 hours Ago By Roxane B. Salonen
The pope’s last breath was taken while much of the world slumbered peacefully. Eighty-eight years of an incredible life’s journey, and in a moment, it was over — or so it seemed. The hope of the Christian, of course, lies in the postscript.
My husband jolted me awake at 4:30 a.m. that Easter Monday morning, flashing an article with a headline announcing the stunning death.
Barely cognizant, I mumbled something incoherent before nodding off again. A couple hours and a few gulps of coffee later, I caught up with the news and began pondering its close proximity to the Church’s climactic celebration of Easter. I wondered, was this a beautiful message from heaven or a devastating blow to the earth? I opted for the former, owing partly to having realized the pope’s death coincided with something lovely in my life: the birth of my 84-year-old mother, leading me to recognize the Providential hand.
I saw Pope Francis in 2013, his shy smile marking the moment he stepped out onto the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica to wave hello. I traveled with the Fargo diocese in 2015 as a writer to record the World Meeting of Families in Philadelphia, catching several glimpses of our new pontiff.
The first happened in the evening hours as the popemobile began making its way along the periphery of a large, long-waiting, encircled crowd, a white figure within the vehicle glowing brightly. A few days later, we received the Eucharist consecrated by his hands — hands anointed by Christ himself through the Church, which Jesus founded to bring us himself after his tortured death. Throughout the years, Pope Francis has been to me both comforting and, at times, confounding, but I’ve found myself backing away from the clamor of opinions, knowing that in the end, God knows the heart.
It’s refreshing to be able to leave his legacy in those capable, divine, hands. And now, we wait in wonder. I suspect many surprises lie ahead for the Church in the coming months.
Because my husband and I booked a fall trip to Rome just days before the pope’s passing, we wonder if one such surprise, for us, might be praying with our new Holy Father in St. Peter’s Square just months from now. Catholic or not, many feel the weight of this death — the passing of the vicar of Christ on earth.
Indeed, as a descendant of the first pope, Peter, he represents an entity pointing us all to heaven, contrasting and converging with the surrounding, wounded world. What can we learn from this impactful death? Perhaps, most notably, its clarion call signaling our own certain demise, challenging a review of our own life’s direction. Jorge Mario Bergoglio, may you rest in peace.
Our prayers are with your eternal journey, and for a worthy soul to take up the staff and stole to capably lead the Christian church, and all the world, into the places where heaven and earth collide..
