It is now the second day of the Novemdiales, April 27, the Church’s traditional nine days of mourning for Pope Francis. Since the moment news of his passing broke, I have not been able to take him out of my mind. His image, his voice, his witness remain deeply engraved in my heart.
Yesterday, Thailand — a country where Christians are a small minority, as in most of Asia — joined the world in grief. The funeral of Pope Francis was broadcast live on two national television networks, a rare and moving gesture.
The response from viewers has been extraordinary. Beyond the Catholic faithful, many Thais — Buddhists and even those without religious affiliation — expressed a sense of profound loss. It was as if we had lost not just a pope, but one of the greatest human beings of our time.
Pope Francis was not merely a religious leader. He was something rarer: a universally spiritual soul.
In a land like Thailand, where Buddhism is the heartbeat of the people, prayers sound different, come in different rhythms — yet many here would have followed him through fire.
Because for Pope Francis, belief in God was never about exclusion; it was about the dignity of every human being.
He looked beyond denominations, beyond borders, beyond barriers — and saw only brothers and sisters. He sought dialogue, not division. He honored differences, not dominance. His friendship extended to all — Christians, Buddhists, Muslims, believers, and non-believers alike.
The Supreme Patriarch of Thai Buddhism captured this beautifully in his tribute to the Pope’s apostolic visit to Thailand in 2019:
“His visit to me stood as a most auspicious act, one that shortened the distance between us, dispelled misunderstanding, transformed unfamiliarity into kinship, and soothed suspicion into solidarity.”
Pope Francis made kindness radical again. He reminded the world that humility is not a weakness, but strength of the highest order.
I remember a moment from his 2019 visit: during his meeting with religious leaders at Chulalongkorn University, Thailand’s oldest and most prestigious university, students were traditionally assigned to open the doors for dignitaries.
As Pope Francis entered, he paused — and shook the hands of the students, one by one.
It was a small gesture, but one those young people still remember today.
Never before had any world leader made them feel seen, honored, and embraced in such a simple, human way.
It reminds me of my time at Domus Sanctae Marthae, where I had the privilege of staying for about a week as a speaker on Media and New Evangelization at the invitation of the Holy See.
Every evening, I observed Pope Francis walking to the front desk to collect his room key and taking the time to shake hands with each Swiss Guard on duty, showing appreciation for their work before heading up to his apartment.
Notably, Pope Francis never returned to his native Argentina after his election. Having dedicated himself to his global mission following the 2013 conclave, he embodied the role of a pilgrim shepherd, belonging not just to one nation, but to the universal Church, Christ, and humanity at large.
Pope Francis understood what many religious figures often forget: that God is not confined to temples, churches, or mosques. Holiness is not a place — it is a way of living. It is a way of seeing others.
Even in death, Pope Francis preached his final sermon with silent eloquence.
When viewers saw the simple coffin in which he was laid to rest, they also noticed, from the video clip during public viewing, his shoes — worn, wrinkled, and scarred.
He could have been buried in polished, unmarked shoes — but he wasn’t.
Instead, he went home to the Father in shoes that had walked dusty streets, climbed mountains of injustice, and stood alongside the poor, the broken, and the forgotten.
A Thai Buddhist named Kitcha — a gay man — offered his own moving reflection:
“I believe that among the crowds gathered, alongside the world’s dignitaries, were also transgenders, gays, lesbians, prostitutes, and outcasts — those whom Pope Francis saw, without judgment, as beloved children of the Creator. He was the People’s Pope. The Pope of all who strive to do good.”
So yes, today I mourn.
Not only as a Catholic, but as a human being.
And I know many in Thailand mourn with me.
Because when a man like Pope Francis leaves, it feels as if a light has dimmed in the world.
But he believed — and taught — that dignity is unconditional.
That faith must be lived, not just preached.
That love, real love, leaves no one behind.
That world — the one he dreamed of — can still exist.
If we choose to build it.
And as long as we carry his spirit in our lives,
then truly,
Pope Francis has not left us at all.
