Death can hardly fail to be uppermost in people’s minds – with Good Friday and its liturgical account of Jesus’s terrible death on the cross only a few weeks ago; and the thousands being killed every day in the dreadful wars by which we are surrounded; and the death of Pope Francis on Easter Monday.
Seeing the Pope only hours before he died being greeted by cheering tens of thousands in St Peter’s Square brought out some very mixed reactions and emotions.
He was there against the advice of his doctors – admirable and very brave of him, and wonderful that he showed such strong independence of spirit right up to the very end.
What sprang to my mind were the words near the conclusion of John’s Gospel: ‘I tell you most solemnly, when you were young you put on your own belt and walked where you liked; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and somebody else will put a belt round you and take you where you would rather not go.’
How many of us would choose, let alone consent, to being driven round so publicly when we are so close to our end? And is it right? I know for various reasons that I would not want this to happen to me.
However, modern society has become far too squeamish about death, and too often condemns the dying to invisibility in the wards of hospices and hospitals.
This can’t be right: there is so much to be learnt from being with the dying, not least an awareness of our own vulnerability.
But at the same time death is an intensely private matter: something that no one else can do for us. Ultimately, death, with its final closing of the door, happens to us when we are totally alone.
Pope Francis’s independence of spirit showed itself in a splendid denial of convention when he went out onto the balcony overlooking St Peter’s Square just after he had been elected.
Inside the room, a Vatican official approached him with a magnificent golden and bejewelled cope. He refused to have it put on him, saying 'The carnival is over,' and went out to greet the vast crowds dressed in a plain white cassock.
This very early statement in his papacy showed Pope Francis to be a man who meant business, and who had no interest in grand trappings.
He was a controversial figure, not least because of his directness in forcibly expressing what he thought wrong: in general, our wanton destruction of the planet; and in particular the excessive gossiping taking place in Vatican circles.
His warmth and his capacity to listen to ordinary people will surely guarantee him a place in many hearts.
