27 April 2025

The funeral of Pope Francis was a spectacle on a massive scale. The setting of St. Peter’s Square with its view of the basilica and the solid, immoveable, grand colonnades on either site. The mathematics of symmetry and scale, the choreography of  the participants, the red stoles and vestments  were impressive.

At the heart of the service was a liturgy which is replicated in every Roman Catholic Church when a devout member dies - the Requiem Mass with its scripture readings, eucharist, commendation and all the rites associated with it – the censing of the coffin, the sprinkling with holy water, reminder of our baptism.

The Pope had chosen to be buried in a simple wooden coffin like most of us. He could have had three, the one enclosed in the other like a set of Russian dolls. The simplicity of the coffin was a moving reminder not only of the Pope’s inevitable mortality but ours too.

There was variation. There was a big chair and a wee chair for different people. There was bread and wine for those who had been ordained and bread only for the laity. The Eastern Catholic Church sang their prayers in Greek and not Latin echoing similar chants to those heard in the Islamic world.

By far the biggest different was the size of the congregation and its composition – believers and non-believers, people of different faiths and none, world leaders, monarchs, ecumenical representatives all recognising the late Pope’s  goodness and giving thanks for a life well lived in a complex and brutal world.

On Easter Day, Francis blessed the congregation in St. Peter’s and took a final trip in his popemobile. ‘Am I strong enough?’ he asked his nurse. Arriving back in the Vatican, he said to his nurse, ‘Thanks for taking me back to the Square.’ His indefatigability was impressive. His ministry in the public square memorable.