2nd Sunday of Easter

In a rare display of unity across the world this week, people of all races gave thanks for the life and ministry of His Holiness, Pope Francis, whose steadfast witness endured to the very end. In his final hours, he continued to carry out his pastoral duties - despite declining health and against medical advice. True to the compassion and humility that marked his papacy, the Holy Father insisted on making his traditional Holy Thursday pilgrimage to Rome’s Regina Caeli prison, one he undertook every year of his papacy, stooping in the manner of Christ at the Last Supper to wash the feet of prisoners of all religions.

Just days later, he appeared for the final time before the faithful in St Peter’s Square to offer the Easter blessing. Though the light in his eyes had dimmed these past few weeks, it was evident he trusted in a greater light awaiting him beyond this life. The time for him to ‘go home to his Father’ arriving sooner than anyone expected.

The Holy Father’s unwavering belief in a loving God – a God who calls each of us to an eternal destiny - offered inspiration to millions across the globe. In those final days, he reminded us that death is not the end of everything, but the beginning of something infinitely more glorious. He spoke of old age as a time to be embraced, to be lived with grace, not with resentment or fear because the death to which it inevitably leads is simply a gateway to new life.

Pope Francis embodied the hope of resurrection in a deeply personal way. It was my fortune to encounter another such person 27 years ago. In taking up a new post I got to know a Catholic Naval Officer called Chris.

Chris was around thirty at the time, married, with a twelve-year-old son. Not long after meeting, he shared with me his story which has always stayed with me. A year or so before, Chris had been diagnosed with cancer from which he was then in remission. Though not a particularly religious person, not long after the diagnosis, he was granted the grace of a vision in which he experienced a profound moment of divine reassurance in which God infused within him the knowledge that he had nothing to fear - not even death - for what awaited him was not darkness, but the fulfilment of every longing in life.

From that night forward, Chris lived without fear. He spoke of knowing only love - pure, overwhelming, and eternal love. So compelling was his testimony that I invited him to speak at Sunday Mass in our small chapel where his words reached hearts in a powerful way. People at that Mass still talk about Chris today and the effect his testimony had on them.

A few months later, I was crossing the parade ground one morning with Chris and he seemed to have a bad cough which he was going to get checked out the medical centre. It turned out the cancer had returned this time, in a more aggressive form.

Chris refused further treatment and, in the months that followed, as his body began to break down, Chris became an even more radiant witness to the reality of faith. He was not bitter, nor afraid. He was filled with an expectant peace - grieved only by the thought of leaving behind his family.

He told me one day: that if God offered to take away the cancer but also take away that revelation of divine love that he had received that night, he would refuse. That glimpse of eternity, that knowledge of being deeply loved by God, meant more to Chris than life itself.

His ordinariness and the fact that he had never been an overtly religious person made Chris witness even more extraordinary. He wore his faith lightly and that sense of authenticity, that grounded humility, made him all the more compelling to those around him - especially to his Naval colleagues.

The last time I saw Chris was at his home. It was a warm summers day, and he was sunbathing in the back garden, hardly looking like a man nearing death. He made his final confession that day, and I anointed him for the last time. A few days later, he died peacefully having showed no fear throughout his last illness, only peace, love, and an unwavering belief that he was going home.

His funeral was both solemn and joyful. The church was filled with uniforms - friends and colleagues who came to honour a man who had touched their lives. We grieved with family but, amidst the sorrow, there was a profound sense of peace.

We all knew: Chris hadn’t simply passed away. Like the Holy Father this past week, he had crossed into another world - one he had been given the immense privilege of glimpsing while still here on earth. It was as if the thin membrane between heaven and earth had momentarily become even thinner, that glimpse of God bringing, in a very real way for Chris, the hope signified by this paschal candle.

A hope which focusses our minds in this Easter season on the truth of Our Lord’s resurrection. On the promise that death is not the end, but a passage into a new life with God. And it is in this belief, so central to our faith, that we find a blueprint for living. Please God, Easter helps us to see this is not simply a theological truth but a deeply personal belief which holds the key to a fruitful and happy life. 

Pope Francis’ final days were filled with the spirit of resurrection. He offered the Easter blessing, and then quietly slipped into the arms of the God he had served so faithfully. Today, in this Mass, we give thanks for his life and his ministry. For the way he refocused the Church’s attention on the needs of the poor and the vulnerable. For the love he showed to the world.

We pray that his extraordinary legacy will continue in the Church of the future which will begin when the senior Cardinal deacon says to the world once again ‘Habemus

Papam’.

The joy of the Easter season is reflected in the new life blossoming all around us in the world out there. In his last ‘Urbi et Orbi’ Pope Francis left comforting words for those who are bereaved and for all who celebrate the resurrection of Christ.

Sisters and brothers, especially those of you experiencing pain and sorrow, your silent cry has been heard and your tears have been counted; not one of them has been lost! In the passion and death of Jesus, God has taken upon himself all the evil in this world and in his infinite mercy has defeated it. He has uprooted the diabolical pride that poisons the human heart and wreaks violence and corruption on every side. The Lamb of God is victorious! That is why, today, we can joyfully cry out: “Christ, my hope, has risen!”