Dear friends,

The past thirteen or so days have been marked by significant events that have rocked the world to its core. First, though expected, was the horrific death of our Lord Jesus Christ and his glorious resurrection three days later on Easter Sunday. Just as the Christian world was rejoicing and celebrating this centuries-old momentous event, Pope Francis died the next day on Easter Monday.

Pope Francis's passing on Easter Monday has sparked spirited reflections on the significance of his choice of day of death. By departing on the day after Easter Sunday, many commentators opined that he ensured that the celebration of Christ's resurrection remained the focal point, rather than his own passing. Many agreed that this act embodies the humility and simplicity that defined his papacy. It was never about him. He shunned public display of power and pomp during his time in that most powerful office in the world, choosing to live simply and travel ordinarily.

Throughout his ministry, Pope Francis also emphasized the importance of compassion, mercy, peace, and service, especially towards the poor and weak. His commitment to these values inspired countless individuals around the world, Catholics and non-Catholics alike, to examine their attitude towards those on the periphery, as he called them. As a result, since his death, many tributes and some rather controversial comments have been made about him, but one tribute that moved me the most was written by a Hindu by the name Vinod Sekhar. Vinod’s words reflect very eloquently who, many people believe, Pope Francis was and the values he embodied. Allow me to share part of what he wrote:

“I only met Pope Francis once. It was brief. Just a few moments in a crowded room filled with dignitaries and seekers, some there out of duty, others out of belief. I was neither Catholic nor there on some divine pilgrimage. I was just a man in need of a little hope. And somehow, in that fleeting encounter, I received it.

It’s hard to explain without sounding overly romantic, but when you’re in the presence of someone truly good—not performatively good, not “publicly moral” or selectively kind—but genuinely, deeply, relentlessly good… something shifts in you. You feel lighter. You feel braver. You feel like humanity, for all its wounds and wickedness, is still worth fighting for.

That was the gift Pope Francis gave me. And I imagine, from the tears I’ve seen today and the aching silences of millions across faiths, races, and borders, that he gave that same gift to many. Today, we mourn not just the passing of a Pope. We mourn the loss of one of the strongest chess pieces humanity had on this plane of existence.

He was a man who made kindness radical again, who reminded the powerful that humility was not weakness, who spoke of love not as doctrine but as duty. He was not just a religious man. He was something far more rare — he was universally spiritual.

I am a Hindu. My God wears different names. My prayers come in different rhythms. But I would have followed this man through fire. Because of his belief in God, he carried a belief in all of us. His eyes didn’t see denominations — they saw dignity. His voice, always soft but never weak, carried the weight of truth even when it unsettled the comfortable. Especially when it unsettled the comfortable.” This is how a Hindu perceived him, what about you?

As we continue to mourn him, may his humility and willingness to serve others, especially the poor with compassion and love, continue to guide the Church. Let us also pray that in the few days ahead, the Holy Spirit will gift us with another good shepherd who will not only continue the legacy of Pope Francis but also effectively address the current pressing needs of our Church and of humanity. Pope Francis, we love you. May your soul rest in peace.

I love you!

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