Dear Members of the Georgetown Prep Community,

I was surprised this morning, as many of us I assume were, to learn of the death of Pope Francis. After all, the news from the Vatican these past few days has been more positive: he visited St. Peter’s the other day, blessed the crowds, held the Angelus, stopped in a prison on Holy Thursday, and even yesterday rode through the Piazza in the Popemobile, stopping to bless small children for Easter. But I was reminded that he has always been a pope of surprises. When my students at Fordham Prep came to me and said a Jesuit had been elected pope, I refused to believe them.

The first Jesuit pope; the first Latino pope; the first pope whose priestly formation took place entirely in light of the Second Vatican Council; the first pope to be formed in a religious order in 146 years; the first pope in nearly a century who was not a Vatican insider; the first pope to place random calls to people he had heard might need some cheering up; the first pope to pay his own hotel bill after he had been elected; the first pope in 719 years to have a retired pope living next door; the first pope who got his start as a bouncer. The list goes on and on.

Over the next weeks we will certainly hear about this pope’s accomplishments: his magisterial teaching and encyclicals, Evangelii gaudium, Laudato si’, and Fratelli tutti among them; his care for migrants and refugees; his solicitude for prisoners; his inclusion of women in the Synod; his apologies for the exploitation of indigenous peoples; his attempts to address the sexual abuse crisis; his courage in the face of the pandemic; his care for the environment; his encouragement to the shepherds to “smell like the sheep.” And we shall certainly hear of the failures of his pontificate as well.

A dear friend who once served as Provincial of the New York Province of the Society of Jesus once quipped that they shouldn’t canonize popes too quickly. “If you’ve been in administration”, he said, “invariably you’ve had to make hard decisions, which usually means choosing the best of bad options.” No doubt, this pope, like any other, had to make hard choices, and some did not come out well. But no pope is perfect; in fact anyone who wears the shoes of the fisherman is bound to be as human as Peter was from start to finish.

And this is where we acknowledge the great grace of God: not that the pope, nor any of us, is perfect, but that God chooses to work with us and through us nonetheless and even joyfully. As one of my favorite memes runs: God only works with imperfect people. He can’t find any of the other kind.

Many of us will remember Francis’ visit to the United States in September of 2015. During that visit, he greeted a contingent from Georgetown Prep personally. When my predecessor, Fr. Scott Pilarz, identified himself as a Jesuit, Francis grasped his hand warmly and said, “Please pray for me.” Actually Francis said that quite often, whether at audiences or at the Angelus, or in private conversations. I heard it myself when we attended an audience last December on our Ignatian Pilgrimage to Rome: “Please pray for me.”  In fact, those were among his opening words at the dawn of his pontificate.

So it seems good to me that that is how we best remember Francis, a man who was asked to stand where Peter once stood, in the middle of a fractious world, hoping to offer Good News, the Gospel. We’ll pray for him. I think he’d like that.

Sincerely in Christ,