To the Band of Brothers: Papal Edition

I was sure the next Band of Brothers would be on some post-resurrection reflection inspired by a reading at Mass or an unexpected experience while walking around an empty campus during this Easter break. Like a batter standing in the box, waving his bat over his head, staring down a pitcher, waiting for the fastball to come sizzling across the plate, I stood there staring God down. Instead, the Lord threw a nasty curve that caught the outside corner.

The Pope died.

Not exactly what you would expect for a Monday when your mind continues to revel in the joy of Easter Sunday and your stomach is still trying to digest the 12 Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs you ate (one for each apostle) to celebrate it. I confess the news of the Holy Father’s passing did not come as a surprise, considering he was sick for such a long time, but it still rocks the Catholic soul when I read the news. Like the death of an elderly father or grandfather expected at any moment, it caused the heart to flutter. In this case, it was a holy mixture of sadness and peace that can only come from the Holy Spirit.

Jorge Mario Bergoglio was elected pope on March 13, 2013. I remember ringing the bell at our Jesuit school in Dajabón, Dominican Republic, where I had just completed my first year as rector. There was a lot of excitement in the tolling of that bell. He was the first Jesuit pope, the first from Latin America, and the first to choose the name “Francis.” I admit that, at first, I thought he had chosen the name because of St. Francis Xavier (the default “Francis” for any good Jesuit), the patron saint of missions, only to find out later that he chose it in honor of the great saint of Assisi. There was beauty in that choice and it sent a clear message that this man was going to focus much of his attention on the poor and marginalized.

Pope Francis spent his 12 years as the Vicar of Christ focusing his attention on speaking up for those who didn’t have a voice. In a world that places so much attention on the rich and powerful, the movers and shakers, he redirected our sights to the forgotten and those pushed to the margins. Like Jesus, who sat and ate with those whom people didn’t want to sit and eat with, he visited the sick, washed the feet of the imprisoned, fed the homeless, defended the migrants, and decried the injustices of war and violence. He opened the Church’s doors to sinners and reminded us we are all in the same boat. He assured us that the compassion and mercy of Jesus are far greater and more powerful than any obstacle human selfishness can create.

Of all the things Pope Francis said, the one line that most impressed me was delivered in 2013 at his first Chrism Mass. He said to all bishops and priests of the Church: “This is what I am asking you – be shepherds with the smell of the sheep.” In other words, a priest’s vocation to holy Orders does not raise him to a lofty position divorced from the reality of God’s people. Instead, it is a vocation to be so entangled with the life of the sheep you take on their smell.

Pope Francis lived that. Every time he stopped his motorcade, to the chagrin of his security detail, and got out of his Fiat to shake hands, kiss babies, and bless the sick, he was taking on the smell of the sheep. When he celebrated Holy Thursday Mass at Rome’s Regina Coeli Prison and washed the feet of 12 inmates, he was taking on the smell of the sheep. When he visited the island of Lesbos in Greece and brought back to Rome with him on his plane 12 Muslims who had fled the civil war in Syria, he was taking on the smell of the sheep.

But now, the “smelly” shepherd has died. God’s timing was perfect. After courageously making his way to the famous window in the Papal Palace to give his blessing to hundreds of thousands of pilgrims and the world on Easter Sunday, he passed Easter Monday morning. A beautiful reminder that while suffering and death are still a part of our reality, it is the resurrection of Jesus that gives us our only hope. While we are left to celebrate the empty tomb throughout these eight days of Easter here on earth, Pope Francis gets to celebrate it with Jesus.

So, what now?

The Church finds itself in a time called “sede vacante.” In other words, the “sede” or chair of St. Peter is vacant. We will begin the “novendiales,” or nine days of mourning, on the day of the Pope’s funeral. Then, a date will be determined to start the conclave when the cardinals of the Church are locked into the Sistine Chapel and, during a time of intense prayer and discernment, Masses and homilies, the voting begins. It is a beautiful practice that has guided the Church throughout its whole history. While there are fantastical theories of what actually goes on, what we know for sure is that amid all human frailty, the Holy Spirit descends and guides the Church.

This is a special time for our Church. It is a time when the whole world, Catholics and non-Catholics alike, await the white column of smoke to issue forth from the roof of the Sistine Chapel to announce, “Habemus Papam” (“We have a pope!”). What does God have in store for us? Who knows. But what we do know is that what is in store is a new shepherd who will continue the legacy of those great men who have been a shining example of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Therefore, don’t simply pray for the repose of the soul of Pope Francis. Pray now for the cardinals who will meet in Rome. Pray they allow the Holy Spirit to touch their hearts and minds. And pray the new pontiff smells like sheep.

Auspice Maria.