The Downside community is united in mourning the loss of Pope Francis. He was a beacon of hope and a tireless advocate for world peace. His boundless compassion, humble nature, and warm smile were a source of inspiration to us all.
In the whole school Mass two days after his death was announced, Father Michael Patey shared his reflections on Pope Francis’ life.
“I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Have you ever felt like that? It’s like the emotional version of a rainbow – sunshine and rain all at once. It’s confusing, isn’t it? You’re happy and sad, hopeful and heavy, all at the same time. That’s how I feel this week. Because for the Church, these days in April 2025 are filled with two very different emotions.
On the one hand, we’re in the middle of the Easter Octave – eight days of pure joy, like climbing the notes of a musical scale: doh, re, mi, fa… all the way up to alleluia! We celebrate because Christ is risen from the dead. That’s the truth that changes everything. Jesus’ resurrection means sin, suffering, and even death don’t get the last word. The stone was rolled away from a tomb – and was rolled away from the heavy places in our hearts. That’s why the Church is singing alleluia every day this week.
But then came the rain. On Easter Monday, Pope Francis died. The man who has led the Church for 12 years – who smiled with his whole face, who knelt to wash the feet of prisoners, who opened his arms to the lonely, the poor, and the excluded. So while we celebrate the Easter octave, we also begin the novemdiales – nine days of prayer after the death of a pope. In Rome, bells are tolling. Masses are being offered. Cardinals are gathering. And we, the Church around the world, are invited to pray for the soul of Pope Francis, and for unity as we await a new successor of St. Peter.
Easter joy and funeral grief. Sunshine and rain. It reminds me of one of the most moving stories in the Gospels – the road to Emmaus, which we heard. Two disciples are walking, heartbroken. Jesus has died, and with him, their hope. A stranger joins them, walks beside them, and listens. Only later do they realise it was Jesus all along – risen, alive, and walking with us in our sorrow. That’s where many of us are this week – grieving Pope Francis, but still walking in Easter light. And even when we don’t recognise him, Christ walks with us. Pope Francis walked with so many people during his life. And I wonder – if he had been a student here at Downside, what would he have been like?
His first name is George. We knew him as Francis. Names linked to Barlow House. He loved chemistry and would’ve done well in the labs. Theology would be a close second. He couldn’t sing, so probably not in the Schola, but you’d find him serving Mass well. He had a soft spot for the poor, so you’d see him serving with St Teresa’s community. And as a former nightclub bouncer he would definitely have helped out at the Fifth Form social.
Pope Francis loved Our Lady deeply – he’d be part of the Sodality each Thursday night. And how fitting that he’ll be buried in the great Basilica of Our Lady in Rome: Santa Maria Maggiore. He supported San Lorenzo FC in Argentina, but he might only have made the C team here. And I think he would have been first in line at house reconciliation – because that’s actually how his calling began. As a teenager, he went to confession, encountered the mercy of God so deeply that he decided to give his life to Christ. He became a Jesuit, made vows, became a priest, then bishop, then pope. All because of a single moment of grace.
Pope Francis showed us that being holy doesn’t mean being perfect – it means being real. He was humble. He was human. He was close to people – just like Jesus. You’ve all heard about the Benedictine Values of our school. Pope Francis lived those values so naturally, it’s like they were part of his DNA. His humility and reverence showed in small things – living in a simple apartment, taking the bus, bowing on the night of his election to ask the people for their prayers. He knew leadership wasn’t about being important – it was about service. He embodied teaching and learning. He taught powerfully, but always listened. He paid attention to people who are often ignored – the poor, the young, the wounded. He believed everyone has something to teach us if we take the time to listen. He lived with quiet personal discipline – prayer, daily Mass, a deep trust in God’s mercy. That’s what gave him his peace. Through his stewardship of gifts, he reminded us that the Earth is sacred. In his encyclical letter Laudato Si’, he asked us to care for creation like it’s a gift – because it is. He wanted a cleaner, fairer world for those who will come after us. He worked hard at building communion – not by forcing everyone to agree, but by creating space for dialogue. He made the Church feel like a family, not a fortress.
His concern for the individual was beautiful. He didn’t speak to crowds – he saw people. A prisoner, a grieving mum, a sick child – he made time for them. And his heart for welcome and listening reminded us that the Church should be a home. He listened not to judge, but to understand. His dream was a Church with open doors – and open hearts.
So here we are – in between tears and laughter. Alleluia and requiem. But maybe that’s exactly where faith lives – in the in-between. We grieve Pope Francis, but we trust the promise of Easter. Like those disciples on the road to Emmaus, we’re still walking. Still talking. And still discovering that Jesus is closer than we think. Pope Francis once said, The Lord never tires of forgiving. It is we who tire of asking for mercy. So don’t be afraid of sorrow. Don’t be afraid of joy either. Feel it all. Because Jesus is risen. And Pope Francis – our friend, our shepherd – is now walking the final road home, in the light of the Resurrection. Eternal rest grant unto him O Lord. And let perpetual light shine upon him.
May he rest in peace. Amen. Alleluia