President Gormley on the passing of Pope Francis

I had the rare opportunity to meet Pope Francis at the Vatican in February of 2018, early in my presidency. It was the honor of a lifetime.

Bishop David Zubik had arranged for me to attend a large gathering and Mass with the Pope at St. Peter’s Square, where I was slated to be with hundreds of others on the stage. That day, a terrible thunderstorm swept through Rome, causing them to cancel the outdoor service. Remarkably, I received word that I would be permitted to attend a much smaller Mass and service celebrated by Pope Francis, inside the Hall of Pope Paul VI, beside St. Peter’s Basilica. I was accompanied by my Senior Advisor, Fr. James McCloskey, who spoke fluent Italian and knew his way around the Vatican. We were escorted by Vatican guards into a small section of VIP seating toward the front of the Hall. We were in the second row. I asked if there was any chance we would get to meet the Pope in this location and the guard said, “if he comes over here, he may say hello to a few people, but only in the first row. You are in the second row.”

The Pope appeared precisely at 10:00, processing down the center aisle to the cheers and clapping of hundreds upon hundreds of school children from Italy, Spain, France, South America, and countries around the globe who had made the pilgrimage. Toward the end of Mass, and after a flawlessly delivered sermon in multiple languages (including Italian and English), Pope Francis stepped down from the large altar and begin circulating through the crowd. He spent most of his time on the opposite side of the Hall from us, where dozens of severely handicapped individuals—both elderly and children—were lined up in wheelchairs. I recall Pope Francis placing his hands on the head of one elderly gentleman and talking to him for what seemed like an eternity, as the man closed his eyes and prayed. Next, Pope Francis made his way to a pew filled with new brides in wedding gowns and their spouses—a tradition for new brides to come and receive a blessing. He moved down the pew and spoke to each bride and spouse, seemingly as excited for their recent nuptials as they were.

At the last minute, Pope Francis turned and walked toward our section. An Italian family in the front row swiveled to the right and made enough room for me to plant my foot into the space and wedge into the area beside them. As Pope Francis walked down the row, I took a deep breath, identified myself as the President of Duquesne University of the Holy Spirit—a Catholic University in Pittsburgh—and introduced Fr. Jim McCloskey to him. As cameras flashed, I chatted briefly with the Pope and told him that we had a small campus in Rome and that we had approximately 60 Duquesne students with us in the Hall. I pointed to the audience behind us, and there were our students, waving and proudly holding a banner that said “Duquesne University.” I said to Pope Francis, “I hope you can visit us in Pittsburgh one day.” He smiled and gave me a thumb’s up. I told Fr. Jim:  “I’m taking that as a definite yes!”

Pope Francis was an extraordinary man, and an extraordinary leader of the Church. What struck me most was that he literally beamed with joy as he moved from area to area in the Hall, meeting people of all backgrounds and talking engagedly. It occurred to me that the Vatican was built to serve as the heart of the Church, worldwide. Faithful Catholics made the pilgrimage here from all over the world to the Vatican to catch a glimpse of the Pope, to hold up Papal rosary beads to be blessed (I have a pair) and to be in the presence of the person who carries forward the sacred 2,000-year tradition since Christ’s birth and death. Pope Francis, more than others, seemed to understand all this. He relished his role as the shepherd of the flock. He realized that every photo taken in this Hall would be shared back home across all corners of the globe (as they did in my case) and reach millions of others as he sought touch a worldwide group of faithful. Even though Pope Francis, at that time, was over 80 years old, he had a sparkle in his eye, a youthful gait, and exuded a genuine love for all he met.

It is rare for anyone, during their limited time on earth, to be fortunate enough to be in the presence of true greatness. But I had that precious opportunity on that day in the Vatican. Pope Francis may one day become a Saint. But I will remember him most for placing his hand on the elderly, disabled man; celebrating with recent brides in gowns; and waving back to my 60 students from Duquesne University who were savoring this experience of a lifetime that they would one day tell their own children about. Pope Francis understood the enormity of his role, a role which covered the entire span of humanity in every corner of the globe. Yet he didn’t seem worn out, impatient, or in a hurry to get  back to the Papal residence. His work was with the people. And that work continued until his final day on earth, when he took his last breath and knew that he had done the work God had called him to do. And he had done it extraordinarily well—because despite the Papal trappings, it was never about him. May he now rest in peace.