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Riaan de Villiers | Rest well Pope Francis, a prophet who shifted the church | News24

Riaan de Villiers

22 April 2025

In this tribute to the late Pope Francis, Reverend Riaan de Villiers writes that we may not agree with everything he stood for, yet he shifted tone, opened doors, made space at the table. Not perfectly. Not completely. But undeniably.

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The Pope is dead. And the world feels even more bare and in grief. Quiet.

Pope Francis — a man of soft words and kind eyes — died the day after Resurrection Sunday. As if to say: his final sermon would not be spoken from a pulpit, but lived in his frail, broken body — pointing to Jesus and echoing John the Baptist, “There is the Lamb of God. Who will heal the world.”

We offer deep sympathy to the Catholic Church, especially here in South Africa. Our own kind-hearted Cardinal Stephen Brislin, a fellow servant of the global South, has long mirrored Francis’ pastoral heart — steady, humble, and rooted in justice.

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As the Catholic church mourns the passing of their beloved Pope and prepares to choose a new shepherd, we dare to pray: may the Spirit surprise us again. May the next Pope — perhaps even from Africa — continue what Francis began: to remind us that the Church is not an instrument, but a body. A body that moves, embraces, weeps and speaks — especially on behalf of the suffering.

A message of Francis

I remember having the privilege to visit Rome in 2018. I wandered the halls of the Vatican with mixed feelings — a Protestant and descendant of Huguenots, mindful of bloodstained history. But something about Francis made it easier to breathe there.

He lived in the smaller guest house. He travelled by bus. He spoke of mercy, not triumph. On that same pilgrimage, I visited Assisi, birthplace of his namesake. On the road there, I met Argentine priests. I shared my admiration for the Pope. To my surprise, they responded with visible discomfort. They didn’t all appreciate his reforms. Not everyone loves a prophet — especially one from your own hometown.

READ | Pope Francis has died, Vatican says in video statement

In December 2023, I joined a solidarity visit to the Palestinian church. In Jerusalem, the Pope’s representative shared with us the heartbreak unfolding in Gaza. Their parish, he said, had been seriously damaged. He told us about the 85-year-old organist of the church — a woman beloved by all. After a string of airstrikes, she wanted to check if her home and garden were still intact. Everyone pleaded with her to stay. “But how do you stop an old lady from watering her garden?” the priest asked. And according to his account of the tragedy, she was shot by an IDF sniper just 400 metres from the church.

She lay bleeding and wounded for four hours and died. Her body could only be recovered four days later for burial. These are the ones Francis never forgot — the invisible saints of Gaza, Sudan, Ukraine and every violent corner of the globe. Those with no voice, no protector, no place to run.

This was not a political statement. It was a cry from a wounded shepherd. He never stopped praying for the world’s pain — even when he was the one dying.

This Easter, as Christians gathered at the Church of the Resurrection in Jerusalem, restrictions on access were harsher than ever before. While powerful politicians hand each other golden pagers as gifts, Francis remained faithful to a different gospel. He never strayed from aligning his compass to the love of God. He spoke softly, but his words carried weight.

And in a world decorated in gold — the Oval Office polished, the pages of prosperity preachers glinting — Francis reminded us of something older and deeper. Like the story of St Francis of Assisi, who once gave away the monastery’s golden candleholders to poor travellers in need. “The monastery will be fine,” he said. “But they need it more.” That is the gospel. That is the kingdom.

Pope Francis, like his namesake, understood that the Church is not an institution, nor a registered NPO. It is a movement. A Body. A living organism that grows by love, in love, through love. A body that embraces, that cries, that bleeds when one part is wounded. That speaks truth to power. That says: “No. Stop. No more,” when the world clings to violence.

The graceful Lamb

Francis met with US Vice President JD Vance and his family during his final hours on Earth. On the same weekend that the Pope’s official representative in Jerusalem was harassed, obstructed and placed behind a fence by Israeli police. Their worldviews seem miles apart, but Francis greeted the family with warmth and hospitality and the children with Easter eggs. A living parable of grace. Because that is what the lamb of God does: breaks bread with enemies, offers joy where suspicion reigns, and embraces the stranger with open arms.

And we — Protestants, Catholics, sceptics — we may not agree with everything he stood for. Perhaps we wrestle with the institution he represented, and rightfully so, as we should struggle for truth with every institution that claims to represent us. But think for a moment:

He shifted tone, opened doors, made space at the table. Not perfectly. Not completely. But undeniably.

Paul writes: “Some plant, others water, but God gives the growth. Francis knew this. He did what he could. Now he has joined the cloud of witnesses. And we remain. To water. To plant. To speak peace in a world that worships war.

Who will now speak with the voice of the Lamb?

Perhaps Cardinal Brislin will rise as a shepherd with a South African soul — shaped by struggle, softened by mercy, steady in faith. Whether or not he is chosen, we know the Spirit is still breathing. And we, the Body, must move. Must speak. Must love.

Rest well, Francis. Your voice was soft, but it thundered in heaven.

– Reverend Riaan de Villiers leads the NG Kerk (Groote Kerk) in Cape Town.

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