April 29, 2025

Have the courage “to swim against the tide”.
Have the courage to be happy.

Just as we need the courage to be happy,
we also need the courage to live simply.

Pope Francis

As national headlines foretell a possible recession and empty store shelves, there are also stories Pope Francis’ dedication to a simple life. Stories that land for me as more cosmic synchronicity.

On becoming Pope, he chose a wardrobe of plain white robes and his black leather shoes over the traditional and expected fur trimmed capes and red velvet slippers. He rejected the opulent living quarters of the Vatican, choosing to live in the Domus Sanctae Marthae guest house where his room consisted of a single wooden bed with minimal furnishings such as a lamp and telephone. His study consisted of a simple table with a few chairs and a cross on the wall. Clear statements that for him there were more important things to be concerned with.

He never wavered. His values of humble simplicity were reflected in his choice of a simple coffin.

I often reflect with admiration on the monkish philosophy of one robe and one bowl. And I reflect on dear friends who are now living in England with only their back packs. I’m not there and likely never will be. But Dennis and I still live in the small house we built by hand with recycled materials almost fifty years ago. My mother was horrified that it has only one bathroom and, more significantly, very little storage space. Stuff in, stuff out, and constant purging has been our philosophy. We still have so much more than so many. And so much more than we really need as we aspire to stay out of the collective consciousness of consumerism.

The cottage in Ireland is now evolving into a space of sacred retreat and sanctuary. When I was last there I sat and listened to messages of clearing the clutter that distracts from spiritual connection and sacred encounter. Ah, more purging. Brilliant.

As I get ready to head to Ireland for six weeks, I’ve been possessed by the idea of traveling with only one carry on piece of luggage. For a stay that long I’ve always taken two. When I’ve mentioned this to some of the sisters, they are surprised. Six weeks is a long time. Well. Yes, it is. But if Pope Francis could embrace simplicity for his entire life, I think I can manage six weeks. After all, there are more important things to be concerned with. 

Beannacht,
Judith

April 28, 2025

Each one of us is called
to be an artisan of peace,
by uniting and not dividing,
by extinguishing hatred
and not holding on to it.

Our efforts must aim at
restoring hope, righting wrongs,
maintaining commitments,
and thus promoting the well-being
of individuals and of peoples.

Today, amid so much darkness,
we need to see the light of hope
and to be men and women
who bring hope to others.

All it takes is one good person
to restore hope.

Pope Francis

Cosmic coincidence? Divine intervention? Perhaps it is. For just when we needed it, our news and social media are filled with his bright spirit, twirling eyes, wide smile, words of wisdom and his perpetual joy!

His leaving us is tragic. But his life is a sacred legacy and shining example for all of us, regardless of spiritual tradition. He transcends all of it. And he calls to all of us to be the same transcendent shining. All it takes is one good person.

In these times, we are each of us called shine in ways we never imagined. Yet Pope Francis imagined it. May we embrace and dance his joyful imaginings. May we navigate these dark times with our bright spirits.

All it takes is one good person joined together with other good people. And we are. 

Beannacht,
Judith

April 27, 2025

Whenever we encounter
another person in love,
we learn something new about God.
Pope Francis

His own words are perhaps the best tribute to his legacy. A sacred legacy that will echo through humanity for all time. Yet there are many tributes being shared in this time and this one, written by a Hindu man, is one of the most beautiful. The Loss of a Good Man: A Tribute to Pope Francis and the Power of Universal Faith.

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 plain 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 in 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 world has a way of chipping away at your soul. The noise, the greed, the hate, the empty rituals that masquerade as faith or patriotism or family values. It’s easy to go numb. It’s easy to give in to cynicism. But once in a while, someone comes along who reminds us that the better angels of our nature are still within reach. That goodness is still possible. That we don’t need to be perfect to do good — we just need to be brave.

Pope Francis was that man.

He chose love over doctrine. He chose compassion over judgment. And most remarkably, he chose action over applause. He walked with the poor. He knelt before the discarded. He challenged the powerful not with anger, but with moral courage. And he did all of this with a smile that felt like a prayer.

He understood something many religious leaders forget: that God doesn’t reside only in temples or churches or mosques. That holiness isn’t a place — it’s a way of living. A way of seeing others. A way of choosing kindness, over and over, even when it hurts.

So yes, today we mourn. I mourn. Not just for the Catholic world, but for all of us. Because when a man like this leaves, it feels like a light has been dimmed.

But maybe — just maybe — the way we honour him is by becoming the light ourselves.

Let us remember his faith in humanity, and let it fuel our own. Let us keep making the right chess moves in this complicated, brutal, beautiful game of life. Let us speak truth with grace. Let us protect the vulnerable, question the powerful, and lift each other up not because of who we are, but because we are here — together.

Pope Francis believed in a world where dignity wasn’t conditional. Where faith was lived, not just preached. That world can still exist — if we build it.

And maybe that’s the final gift he’s given us. A call not to despair, but to duty.

Because as long as we carry his belief in each other, then truly, he has not left us at all.

Vinod Sekhar

Indeed. May we honor Pope Francis, and all humanity, by becoming the light ourselves.

Beannacht,
Judith