The Final Prayer for Pope Francis

Today we say goodbye to a pope who showed great mercy, stirred controversy, and carried the heavy cross of leading a divided Church.

Today, we bury Pope Francis.

It feels strange even writing that.

Whether you loved him, struggled with him, or found yourself somewhere in between, there’s no denying he left a mark—not just on the Church, but on the world.

When he first stepped out onto the balcony in 2013 and simply asked for our prayers, it was a powerful moment. Here was a man who didn’t posture or play politics. He spoke with the kind of humility that the world desperately needed to see in a pope. Over the years, he reminded us again and again that the Church is supposed to be a "field hospital," not a country club for the self-righteous. He challenged Catholics to get out of their comfort zones, to smell like the sheep, to walk with the broken.

There’s a lot to admire in that.

Francis made mercy the center of his pontificate, and that’s no small thing. In a world addicted to outrage and division, he preached forgiveness, tenderness, and accompaniment. He wanted to remind people that the door of the Church is open—that God’s love isn’t just for the polished, but especially for the wounded.

But it would be dishonest to pretend there weren’t problems too.

Francis often spoke in ways that left Catholics confused—or worse, unsettled. His casual remarks about civil unions, salvation outside the visible Church, and other sensitive topics created ripple effects he didn’t always seem to recognize. In a world ready to twist anything for an agenda, clarity matters. And too often, it felt like clarity was missing.

I don’t think he intended harm. I believe Pope Francis loved Christ, loved the Church, and wanted desperately to bring more souls into the fold. But love alone isn’t enough when you’re called to guard the Deposit of Faith. Sometimes a shepherd needs not just compassion, but the courage to draw clear lines in the sand.

Some faithful Catholics felt abandoned under his leadership. Those attached to traditional expressions of worship—especially the Latin Mass—often felt dismissed or criticized, painted as rigid rather than respected. That hurt. It caused division inside the very Church he tried so hard to unify.

And yet here we are today—grieving a man who carried an almost impossible weight on his shoulders for more than a decade.He wasn’t a perfect pope. No pope ever has been.

He was a complicated shepherd for complicated times.

At the end of it all, Pope Francis never stopped asking for prayers.

Today, I offer mine:Prayers for his soul.Prayers for a Church in need of healing.Prayers for the next shepherd who will inherit a Church that is beautiful, battered, and still the Bride of Christ.

May God, in His infinite mercy, receive Jorge Mario Bergoglio into His eternal embrace. May He forgive whatever faults he had, crown whatever good he did, and complete whatever was left unfinished.

And may the next chapter of the Church’s story be guided by truth, clarity, courage—and always, charity.

Rest in peace, Pope Francis.

You asked us to pray for you. Today, we do.