TheIndonesia.co - Pope Francis, the 266th Bishop of Rome and the first Jesuit and South American Pope, passed away peacefully on Easter Monday, April 21st, 2025, at Casa Santa Marta, Vatican City. His death came just one day after the holiest celebration in the Christian calendar, reflecting his quiet humility—even in parting.
For years, he endured a series of serious health conditions: acute respiratory failure, bilateral pneumonia, bronchiectasis, hypertension, and Type II diabetes. He had also lived with only partial lung capacity since the age of 21. Yet, through it all, he remained a beacon of grace and resilience.
The Final Easter: Faith Beyond Frailty
Despite being hospitalized in the days leading up to Holy Week, Pope Francis found strength to appear at the key liturgies—from Shrove Tuesday to the Triduum. On Easter Sunday, he surprised many by greeting the faithful from the Popemobile in Saint Peter’s Square. With visible signs of physical struggle, he still delivered the traditional Urbi et Orbi blessing.
His frailty could not dim his spirit. In those final sacred days, his presence embodied the essence of one of his most profound encyclicals, Fratelli Tutti—a call to unity, humility, and shared humanity.
His passing on Easter Monday was seen by many as symbolic: never seeking the spotlight, even in death. As some mournfully put it, “He stayed just long enough, so Jesus would remain the focus on Easter.”
A Simple Rest for a Humble Shepherd
True to his lifelong embrace of simplicity, Pope Francis requested not to be buried in the papal grottoes beneath Saint Peter’s Basilica. Instead, he asked to rest in a modest tomb at the Basilica of Saint Mary Major, marked only with the Latin inscription: Franciscus.
At the Apostolic Nunciature in Jakarta, where I paid my condolences, mourners received a simple postcard bearing his portrait and one word: “Francesco.” It spoke volumes—his legacy etched in humility, not grandeur.
Indonesia and the Pope: A Spiritual Encounter
During his historic 2024 papal visit to Indonesia, Pope Francis made a deep impression—not just as a global religious leader, but as a man of heart. Cardinal Ignatius Suharyo, The Archbishop of Jakarta recalled his refusal to wear the traditional red shoes of the papacy, choosing instead worn black leather shoes, laced and humble.
He declined luxurious accommodations, staying in a guest room at the Apostolic Nunciature, saying he “felt at home.” His Popemobile? A popular white SUV hybrid—simple, accessible, unarmored. He insisted the window be rolled down, often asking his driver to pass candies to children. Security protocols bent around his desire to connect.
I was fortunate to witness his presence firsthand. Covering the audience and religious meeting at Jakarta Cathedral and later the Papal Mass at Gelora Bung Karno Stadium, I saw the people’s reverence, joy, and awe. On both occasions, I felt more than just the honor of a press assignment—it was a spiritual encounter.
At the Cathedral, a fleeting moment changed everything. Calling out “Papa Francesco,” our eyes met for just three seconds. I genuflected instinctively, overcome with emotion. He offered a blessing, and I broke into tears. It remains one of the most meaningful seconds of my life.
Strangely, I noticed his watch matched mine—a humble, inexpensive model I’ve worn since my teens. So did my significant other. What once earned puzzled glances from friends now symbolized something profound: a shared simplicity with the Pope himself.
Rain, Prayers, and Miracles
At Gelora Bung Karno Stadium, the skies darkened ominously before the Papal Mass. As we prayed the Hail Mary ten times, the clouds slowly lifted, sunlight broke through, and not a drop of rain fell.
From the monitors, we watched the Pope arrive in a locally-made Maung MV3 vehicle by PT Pindad. As he entered the stadium, people greeted him singing Christus Vincit, Christus Regnat, Christus Imperat in Indonesian.
Security officers turned, bowed their heads, and made the sign of the cross as the Popemobile passed—an act of reverence that brought many to tears.
When the Mass ended, we journalists embraced—united not only by duty but by the shared awe of witnessing history, holiness, and the deeply personal weight of the Pope’s presence.
Saying Goodbye
Now, less than a year later, we gathered again at the Apostolic Nunciature—not for joy, but mourning. The same familiar faces. The same embraces. But now, our hearts heavy.
I wrote in the guest book, prayed the Hail Mary, and found myself quietly crying. Among my keepsakes—press credentials, prayer books, flags, stamps—I added that final postcard with the name Francesco.
A requiem mass in Jakarta Cathedral is scheduled for April 24th at 6 p.m., with Catholic churches across Indonesia holding services in his honor. His body will lie in state at Saint Peter’s from April 23th, with the funeral held on April 26th.
A Legacy Beyond Titles
Pope Francis, born Jorge Mario Bergoglio on December 17th, 1936, in Buenos Aires, Argentina, gave the world far more than doctrine. He gave witness. He gave tenderness. And he left behind words that continue to guide: “Building peace is difficult, but living without peace is a torment.”
His papacy was a testament to that struggle—and to the grace that lies in choosing peace anyway.
So, we say farewell—not in sorrow alone, but in celebration of a man who walked simply, loved greatly, and served until the end.
Requiescat in pace, Papa Francesco. Until we meet again.