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On the morning of April 21, 2025—Easter Monday—Pope Francis passed away in his Vatican residence. He was 88 years old.
Just one day prior, on Easter Sunday, the Holy Father delivered what would be his final public blessing. Seated in a wheelchair, his voice was weak but his message was firm: a call to peace, compassion, and justice. For many who watched—especially across Black communities where faith traditions run deep—the timing felt profound: a last appearance on Resurrection Sunday, a passing the day after. There are no coincidences like that—only meaning.
Pope Francis, born Jorge Mario Bergoglio in Buenos Aires, Argentina, made history from the moment of his election in 2013. He was the first Jesuit pope, the first pope from the Global South, and the first to take the name Francis—a nod to Saint Francis of Assisi, who was known for his dedication to humility and the poor. True to that legacy, Francis made it clear that his would not be a papacy of excess. He chose to live simply, walked among the people, and called on world leaders to put the needs of the vulnerable first—whether migrant, prisoner, or unhoused.
In cities like Chicago, where Catholicism and Black spiritual life intersect more than headlines suggest, Francis was regarded with cautious hope. He didn’t radically transform the Church, but he shifted its posture. Where previous pontiffs spoke from a place of authority, Francis spoke from among the people. He didn’t claim to have all the answers; instead, he asked the right questions: Whom is the Church really serving? Who has been left behind?
Of course, his tenure was not without criticism. Survivors of clergy abuse questioned the Church’s slow response. Women in ministry continued to be denied access to leadership. And while Francis signaled openness toward LGBTQ+ individuals, official doctrine remained unchanged. Yet his tone, gestures, and consistent emphasis on mercy were not lost on those watching closely.
In Black communities, we understand the weight of leadership—and the exhaustion that often comes with it. To see a global spiritual leader show up on Easter Sunday, visibly worn, and still choose to bless the people—that mattered. It spoke to the kind of faith that isn’t about performance; it’s about presence, about finishing the assignment even when the body is tired.
His passing leaves the papacy vacant during a time of global unrest and institutional reckoning. Whoever follows him will inherit not only the rituals of the Church but also the unfinished work of bringing it into deeper alignment with justice.
For now, Pope Francis leaves behind a record of humility, service, and spiritual courage. He didn’t fix everything—nor did he pretend to—but he led with intention and met the world where it was, not where he wished it would be.
And in the end, he gave his last blessing on a Sunday dedicated to resurrection and slipped away quietly the next morning.
Some would call that divine timing.