Homily by Archbishop Charles Jude Scicluna
“Woman, why are you weeping?” (Jn 20:13). This is the question that the angels—and even Jesus himself—pose to Mary Magdalene. It is a question we must also answer today. Why are you weeping?
A wise man once said that sorrow and mourning, especially in the face of death, are the price we pay for love. When someone we have truly loved is no longer with us, our grief is a natural, almost instinctive expression of that love. Yet, in the light of the Risen Christ, the cry of our loss is transformed into the hope of life everlasting.
Miserando atque eligendo
If I were to summarise Pope Francis’s life and mission in just a few words, I would choose three expressions. Allow me to say them in Latin first, as he himself taught them to us in Latin.
The first phrase is the motto he chose for his pontificate: Miserando atque eligendo. It is an excerpt from the Venerable Bede, reflecting a profound and radical moment of conversion in the life of the young Jorge Mario Bergoglio, which occurred on 21st September while he was still in Buenos Aires. That day was the feast of Saint Matthew, a day that is dear to us as well. On that day, we read the Gospel account of Matthew’s call. Commenting on this passage, Bede wrote: “He saw him through the eyes of mercy and chose him.”
From his earliest days in Buenos Aires to his final moments as Pope, Francis was an apostle of divine mercy. In 2016, he declared the Jubilee of Mercy. He preached what he called lo stile del Vangelo (the style of the Gospel) expressed in three simple yet profound words: proximity (to be close to people), compassion (to experience with) and tenderness (that expresses what you hold dear).
Evangelii Gaudium
The second phrase is Evangelii Gaudium—The Joy of the Gospel—the title of the programmatic document that opened and guided his pontificate. Pope Francis was worried that, for many, the message of Jesus had become associated with restriction, displeasure and imposition. However, from his own experience, he knew the Good News of Jesus to be liberating, bringing peace and the joy of one who is immersed in the mercy of God and committed to righteousness.
Indeed, the words gaudium and laetitia appeared repeatedly in his writings. His message was one of hope, drawing the people of God into contact with the mercy of the Father and the joy that the Gospel brings.
Dilexit nos
The third phrase is Dilexit nos. This is the title Pope Francis chose for his last major document, the encyclical about the Heart of Jesus which means, “He loved us” (Rom 8:37). This expression also encapsulates the man himself. We were blessed to have been part of the family of which he was the shepherd and able to say he loved us.
In his will, published only yesterday, the Holy Father asked that only one word be inscribed on his tomb: Franciscus. But if we were to add two more, they would surely be dilexit nos—he loved us. For his gaze, his concern for the suffering, and his tireless presence among us all reveal the heart of a shepherd who loved his people.
A testament of tenderness and mission
Today, I turned again to what he had told us when he had visited us. Upon returning to Rome, at the General Audience of 6th April 2022, he offered the world a reflection on his journey. “The Maltese,” said the Pope, “welcomed the Apostle Paul and his friends ‘with unusual kindness.’ I chose these very words —unusual kindness— as the motto of my journey because they indicate the path to follow, not only to face the phenomenon of migrants, but more generally, so that the world might become more fraternal, more liveable, and might be saved from a ‘shipwreck’ that menaces all of us. For we are all —as we have learned— in the same boat, all of us. Viewed from that horizon, Malta is a key place.”
The Pope gave us three words that should be inscribed in our hearts as his testament of love: dilexit nos.
Firstly, he described us as a compass rose, “where peoples and cultures meet; it is the perfect place from which to observe the Mediterranean area from a 360-degree perspective.” He said that Malta has the vocation to provide an environment for dialogue, a place where nations meet, and to be an instrument of peace.
Secondly, he urged us to welcome the brethren among us, those who live among us though they were not born here. Today, 20% of Malta’s population is made up of people who were not born here, but their children are born here.
“Certainly, welcoming them must be organised — this is true — and supervised; and first, long before, it must be planned together, at an international level because the phenomenon of migration cannot be reduced to an emergency; it is a sign of our times. It should be read and interpreted as such. It can become a sign of conflict, or a sign of peace. It depends on how we take it; it depends on us.”
“For this reason, as Bishop of Rome, I went to confirm that people in the faith and in communion.”
Lastly, he gave us the word evangelisation. In Gozo, at the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Ta’ Pinu, he reminded us: “The joy of the Church is to evangelise, to spread the word of God.”
Just this past Easter Saturday, I had the grace to baptise 19 adults in this Co-Cathedral. Seven languages were used during the celebration: Albanian, Turkish, Chinese, English, Maltese, French and Malayalam. All of these were adults who live among us and who met Jesus through us, despite our imperfections. Today, missionaries may perhaps no longer depart from our shores, but Malta still has the vocation to evangelise. Pope Francis’ word to us is a word of courage.
Firm in the face of the mystery of death
I tried to look up what Pope Francis says about death, because this evening we gathered here to pray for his soul. In 2016, he gave us a beautiful catechesis on hope. This Jubilee Year of Hope, we are publishing in Maltese over 30 such catecheses. The final two speak of death and heaven.
He said: “Other civilisations, before our own, had the courage to look it in the eye. It was an event recounted by the elders to the young generations as an inescapable reality which obliged man to live for an absolute ideal. Psalm 90[89]:12 states: ‘teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom’. Numbering one’s days makes the heart become wise! The words bring us back to a healthy realism, driving away the delusion of omnipotence. What are we? We are ‘essentially in vain’, says another Psalm (cf. 89[88]:47); our days go by quickly: even if we lived 100 years, in the end it would seem that it was all a breath. So often I have heard the elderly say: ‘my life has passed by as a breath…’.”
“Thus, death lays our life bare. It makes us discover that our acts of pride, of anger and of hate have been in vain: totally in vain. We realise with regret that we have not loved enough and have not sought what was essential. And, on the other hand, we see what we have sown that was truly good: the loved ones for whom we sacrificed ourselves and who now take us by the hand.”
“We are all small and defenceless before the mystery of death.” Pope Francis was too, on that Monday morning, at 7:35am. That day, at 5:30am, he suffered an attack; at 6am, he said goodbye to his nurse, fell into a coma, and died after ninety minutes.
“However, what a grace if at that moment we safeguard in our heart the little flame of faith! Jesus takes us by the hand, as he took Jairus’ daughter by the hand, and repeats once again: ‘Talitha cumi’; ‘Little girl, arise!’ (cf. Mk 5:41). He will say this to us, to each one of us: ‘Arise, rise again!’.”
In the general Audience of the 18th October 2017, the Pope said: “I invite you, now, to close your eyes and think about that moment: of our death. Each of us think about our own death, and imagine that moment that will come, when Jesus will take us by the hand and tell us: ‘Come, come with me, arise’. There, hope will end and reality will abide, the reality of life. Think hard: Jesus himself will come to each of us and take us by the hand, with his tenderness, his meekness, his love. Each one repeat Jesus’ words in your heart: ‘Arise, come. Arise, come. Arise, rise again!’.”
“This is our hope in the face of death. For those who believe, it is a door that is thrust open wide; for those who doubt it is a glimmer of light that filters through an exit that is not quite completely closed. But for all of us it will be a grace, when this light, of the encounter with Jesus, illuminates us.”
“If we believe in heaven,” said Pope Francis the following week, on the 25th October 2017, “death ceases to frighten us.”
These days, many are sharing their experiences with Pope Francis on social media. One Spanish journalist posted an excerpt from an interview he had conducted with the Pope several years ago. Among the questions, he asked: “Are you afraid of death?” Pope Francis replied simply: “No.” Listen to his reason.
“If we believe this, death ceases to frighten us, and we can also hope to depart from this world peacefully, with so much confidence. Those who have met Jesus no longer fear anything. We too can repeat the words of the elderly Simeon; he too was blessed by the encounter with Christ, after a lifetime spent in anticipation of this event: “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation” (Lk 2:29-30).
At that instant, at last, we will need nothing more; we will no longer see in a confused way. We will no longer weep in vain, because all has passed; even the prophecies, even consciousness. But not love: this endures. Because “love never ends” (1 Cor 13:8).”
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord. Let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace. Amen.
✠ Charles Jude Scicluna
Archbishop of Malta
Mass readings
First Reading: Acts 2: 36-41
Responsorial Psalm: 33: 4-5, 18-19, 20,22
Gospel: John 20: 11-18