The last time that Pope Francis spoke publicly to the people was on Easter Sunday this year. A frail, sick man on the central balcony of St Peter’s Basilica delivered his final message, writes Sisters of the Good Samaritan Congregational Leader Sister Catherine McCahill SGS.
It was a message of hope for the city and the world (urbi et orbi), a message of peace mentioning so many places of conflict. He exhorted me and all of us, ordinary folk and world leaders:
“May the principle of humanity never fail to be the hallmark of our daily actions. In the face of the cruelty of conflicts that involve defenceless civilians and attack schools, hospitals and humanitarian workers, we cannot allow ourselves to forget that it is not targets that are struck, but persons, each possessed of a soul and human dignity.”
The following day, hearing of his death, the words took on added meaning. We remember, we re-tell, and we reconsider the final words of those we love, admire or seek to emulate.
These words and Francis’ Easter Homily have been significant for me in the weeks since his death. However, I find myself reflecting over and again on his teaching, in action and word, on the parable of the Good Samaritan.
Throughout his pontificate, I have found myself challenged and encouraged by Francis as I endeavour to be a good Samaritan to others. On the first Holy Thursday of his pontificate, he visited a youth prison where he washed the feet of inmates.
Later, he told those gathered in St Peter’s Square:
“It is not in soul-searching … that we encounter the Lord. …. We need to go out … to the outskirts where there is suffering, bloodshed, blindness that longs for sight and prisoners in thrall to many evil masters.”
Like the saint from whom he took his name, Francis reminded us that we preach the Gospel in actions and only use words infrequently and when necessary.
In his second encyclical, Fratelli Tutti, Francis devoted a chapter to the parable. After unpacking the parable and situating it in the current context of this world’s troubles, Francis is direct in his challenge to me and all readers:
“Let us admit that, for all the progress we have made, we are still ’illiterate’ when it comes to accompanying, caring for and supporting the most frail and vulnerable members of our developed societies. We have become accustomed to looking the other way, passing by, ignoring situations until they affect us directly (FT #64).”
Francis goes on to call people to fraternal love, to identification with all our brothers and sisters. He gives attention to the many issues that oppress the people of this earth: poverty, discrimination of various kinds, racial division, religious prejudice, war, violence, political divisions and many more. His invitation to reach out, to act locally and universally for the good of all is direct and clear.
Based on the parable, Francis has much to say about human solidarity. He challenges the global community at every level.
“How wonderful would it be if solidarity, this beautiful and, at times, inconvenient word, were not simply reduced to social work, and became, instead, the default attitude in political, economic and scientific choices, as well as in the relationships among individuals, peoples and countries.”
Surely then, solidarity becomes a criterion by which we might choose our leaders. What a difference that would make!
For Christians, Francis knows this is possible only by grace. Becoming like the teacher of the parable, Jesus himself is a life-long journey.
“Walking in Christ’s footsteps, the disciple becomes a wayfarer and — like the Samaritan — learns to see and to have compassion.”
Francis does not limit himself to the human community; the same compassion and action for good is applied to our common home. While not explicitly calling the earth, or environment, our “neighbour” in Laudato Si’, Francis includes the “natural environment” along with our “brothers and sisters” as the focus of our love and compassion (LS #208).
He further asserts that:
“Living our vocation to be protectors of God’s handiwork is essential to a life of virtue; it is not an optional or a secondary aspect of our Christian experience” (LS #217).
My image of the man, Jorge Mario Bergoglio, Pope Francis, is one who knew how to encounter others, who was able to be seen in his vulnerability (that last week of his life, in particular) so that the tenderness of God might be known. This is the man whom I will remember and whose life will inspire mine.
May he have the final word here in his words to the 2017 TED Conference in Vancouver, for this is his legacy:
“The … message I would like to share today is, indeed, about revolution: the revolution of tenderness. What is tenderness? It is the love that comes close and becomes real. It is a movement that starts from our heart and reaches the eyes, the ears and the hands. Tenderness means to use our eyes to see the other, our ears to hear the other, to listen to the children, the poor, those who are afraid of the future. To listen also to the silent cry of our common home, of our sick and polluted earth. Tenderness means to use our hands and our heart to comfort the other, to take care of those in need.”
Good Samaritan Sister Catherine McCahill is the Congregational Leader of the Sisters of the Good Samaritan. She has served on the Congregation’s leadership team since 2011. Catherine has been involved in education for more than 30 years, in secondary schools and, more recently, at a tertiary level in biblical studies and religious education.
This article was first published in the May 2025 edition of The Good Oil, the e-magazine of the Sisters of the Good Samaritan. Republished with permission.
