“Remember me with tenderness”: A farewell to Francis, brother in faith

The following text was originally published on Patrícia Villela Marino’s LinkedIn page on April 22.

My heart is in mourning. And also in prayer. A man who, even with the weight of Catholic tradition on his shoulders, walked as a brother alongside all who profess the Christian faith, is leaving us. Pope Francis has departed—and with him, a living symbol that Christ’s love recognizes no doctrinal boundaries, but is expressed, above all, in gestures, in attitude, in choices.

From the beginning of his pontificate, Francis made it clear that he wanted to be called not an authority, but a servant. Not a prince, but a shepherd. And that is exactly what he was for me—an evangelical Christian, a daughter of the Reformation, a follower of Judeo-Christian values raised in the free examination of the Word, but deeply touched by his practice of the living Gospel.

I saw Christ in Francis when he knelt to wash the feet of prisoners and refugees. When he opened the doors of the Vatican to the homeless, to those who are different, to the forgotten. When he spoke with a firm voice against indifference, inequality, the idolatry of power. And, more recently, a year ago, when he visited a women’s prison in Venice, and there he did not see inmates, but daughters of God. He said, with the authority of the righteous: “Let us not forget that we all have mistakes to be forgiven and wounds that need care, me too.”

This, for me, is the Gospel. It’s what we learn in our communities, singing that “there is no wounded person whom He cannot heal.” Francis lived this truth. He reminded us of something that is beyond creeds, beyond the walls that men raise: that Christ’s love is stronger than any tradition. That the justice of God’s Kingdom is inseparable from mercy. And that forgiveness is not weakness—it is rebirth.

In the TED Talk he recorded in 2017, Pope Francis said: “Each of us is irreplaceable in the eyes of God. Each of us can be a candle lit in the darkness.” These words guide the work we do at the Humanitas360 Institute. When we welcome women leaving prison, when we create alternatives to crime through cooperatives and social businesses, when we choose to believe in new beginnings—we do this moved by the faith that the Gospel is light for those in darkness.

The Christian faith, whether celebrated under the bells or to the sound of praise, calls us to the same mission: to love, to restore, to welcome. And today, as I say goodbye to Pope Francis, I don’t see him as the leader of an “other” church, but as a brother in Christ. A brother who dared to dream of a Christianity reconciled with its essence: “Let us help one another remember that the other is not a statistic or a number… we all need each other.”

Francis asked us to remember him with tenderness. So it is with tenderness—and also with courage—that I follow his lesson. As a disciple of Jesus, as an evangelical Christian, as a woman of faith, and as a citizen who believes that there is no justice without love.

Rest in the Father’s embrace, Francis. May your memory be a permanent invitation to unity, hope, and the tenderness that unites us in the body of Christ.

With faith and gratitude,

Patrícia Villela Marino
President of the Humanitas360 Institute