Today, on April 21^st, Easter Monday—a day that celebrates resurrection, hope, and life renewed—the Catholic Church mourns the passing of its humble shepherd. Pope Francis, born Jorge Mario Bergoglio, has died at the age of 88. His final breath, drawn on a day marked by Christ’s triumph over death, feels laden with a poetic symmetry: a life spent in the service of faith, ending as Christians around the world reflect on the promise of eternity.

His death marks not only the end of a papacy, but the closing chapter of a transformative era in Church history. Known for his compassion, simplicity, and deep commitment to social justice, Pope Francis led with humility and walked with the people—especially the marginalized, the forgotten, and the poor. His papacy wasn’t defined by pomp or power, but by his gentle strength and radical love.

But now, as the Vatican’s bells toll and millions fall into silent prayer, we are reminded of something even deeper than legacy. We are reminded that not even the most faithful servant of God is immune to the human condition. Pope Francis—like all of us—was fragile. He suffered, he aged, and in the end, he returned to dust.

His recent hospitalization foreshadowed this moment, and even in his final days, he bore the weight of suffering with grace. It was a profound reminder that holiness does not mean invincibility. That even the Pope, Christ’s representative on Earth, walks the same road as every sinner and every saint. And perhaps that’s what made him so beloved: his humanity.

In a world often divided by power and politics, Pope Francis showed that faith could be soft-spoken yet unshakable. That the Church could be both ancient and alive. He reached out to atheists, embraced refugees, warned of climate catastrophe, and spoke of mercy more than judgment. He reminded us that the Church is not a museum of saints, but a hospital for sinners.

His passing on Easter Monday feels like more than coincidence. It is as though he waited until the world had heard the Easter message once more—of hope, of life eternal—before letting go. His final act, in its quiet solemnity, reflects the deepest truth of Christian faith: that death is not the end, but a doorway.

Now, the keys of Saint Peter will pass on. The seat of the Bishop of Rome will once again stand empty. But the light Pope Francis kindled in the hearts of millions will not fade. His legacy will live in every act of kindness, in every step toward peace, in every voice that speaks for the voiceless.

Rest now, Papa Francis. You have fought the good fight. You have finished the race. You have kept the faith.

May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Penned By:

Rtr. Tanuri Dissanayaka

Co-Editor 24-25