“Well, we just lost him.”
It’s never reassuring to hear those words from a fellow Secret Service officer, but given the circumstances on one particular day, they were conveyed in a sort of tone of peaceful resignation.
In the midst of his highly anticipated 2015 U.S. tour, Pope Francis found himself shaking hands and mingling with the poor of the nation’s capital, the clients of Catholic Charities DC. It was a stark departure from his schedule of Masses and diplomatic addresses to world leaders.
It’s hard to pick just one defining moment of Francis’ 12-year papacy. For me, a reporter covering his trip, as well as those greeting him, it was a day that we’ll never forget.
It was the second full day of his whirlwind tour. He had just addressed a joint meeting of Congress and was about to jolt to New York City to address the United Nations General Assembly. Before he left, he headed to downtown Washington, D.C., to address the parishioners of St. Patrick’s Church in Gallery Place and have lunch with the homeless and others helped by Catholic Charities of the archdiocese.
I was in the back pew of St. Patrick’s Church when suddenly the sanctuary buzzed to life and a forest of smartphone cameras appeared. Francis walked right in and headed up the main aisle of the sanctuary. As was his custom, he stopped in front of the Blessed Sacrament in the side chapel for silent prayer before heading to the ambo. Grinning from ear to ear, slightly embarrassed by the paparazzi, he motioned for us to sit down.
He spoke to us on the theme of homelessness through a translator. I can still recall his point that St. Joseph had to find shelter for the Son of God and the Blessed Mother. God was close to the homeless in their plight. Looking at Francis, he was very much speaking heart-to-heart to every person in attendance, making it clear that he more than empathized with them — that he, too, as the Vicar of Christ, was walking alongside them and bearing their burdens.
Then he headed next door to the luncheon. Catholic Charities had provided tables of food adorned with tablecloths and floral centerpieces. They were doing the work the Lord asked: “Rather, when you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you” (Luke 14:12).
At the reception, described as a “mosh pit” for the Holy Father, Francis lost his security detail. The honored guests — those recovering from addiction, immigrants, those struggling to find housing, people with mental illness, single mothers, and victims of domestic abuse all mobbed the pope. He was with those on the “peripheries” of society, as he so much liked to talk about.
The homeless population of D.C. — anywhere, really — can feel invisible as commuters and tourists walk past them. We’re all in a hurry: to get to the office, catch a train, get back home to our families. Some of us are jaded. There are no shortage of sad cases of persons with severe mental illness, or those down on their luck who ask for help. Like the Levite in the parable of the Good Samaritan, we “pass by on the opposite side.”
Yet we can’t ignore our homeless brothers and sisters. We know all about Christ’s admonition in Matthew 25 — if we don’t serve the poor, we go to hell. And even just a basic conversation with them, to listen to them, to recognize their humanity — can give them back the sense of dignity they, by nature, are entitled to but are denied on a daily basis.
With Francis’ passing, as perhaps with the passing of any father figure, the memories flow forth bitter and sweet.
No father is perfect. And yet father’s funeral is a time for prayer and petitioning God for mercy, not airing grievances. There is a sinister trend in our post-Christian culture that encourages individuals to air their grievances in public when a corpse is not even cold, perhaps to feel better about themselves or as a twisted form of therapy; to uncover their father’s nakedness for the world to see.
The world needs more of Francis’ genuine witness to the Gospel that he showed on that sunny September day in 2015. That is the memory I will take from his legacy: a celebrity who shut down the city of D.C. for two days, yet one who took the time to meet with the outcasts on the peripheries who, in turn, gave him a hero’s welcome.
Eternal rest, grant unto him, O Lord.
