Lolo Kiko

World Youth Day 2016 in Krakow, Poland

A few weeks ago, I asked, "What is the one thing that most brings you to tears?"

I pondered and prayed about this question, and two things came to mind.

The first, goodbyes and endings, was no surprise to me. I've never liked having to say goodbye, and when I go to graduations or farewell parties, there are always tears shed. The other, however, a scene Mr. Holland's Opus, was unexpected. The scene depicts a red-headed teenager, Gertrude Lang, who plays the clarinet in Mr. Holland's orchestra. Having abandoned her clarinet in the classroom, she meets her teacher one afternoon, convinced that she's just not fit to play the instrument. Their meeting continues with two failed attempts to play a challenging piece.

Seeing her frustration, Mr Holland asks her, "When you look in the mirror, what do you like best about yourself?"

Gertrude smiles and says, "My hair."

When her instructor asks her why, she responds, "My dad says it reminds him of the sunset."

Mr. Holland says, "Play the sunset."

Having had this exchange, Gertrude picks up her clarinet, closes her eyes, and she does, indeed, play the sunset.

As I sit and pondered what it was about this scene that moves me so, I realized it was because I was witnessing a loss and recovery of identity. Here was this budding musician who wanted music to be fun. Things, as they often do, don't turn out perfectly, and she's ready to give up, but she has a mentor who shows her to look at things differently and thus remind her why she was interested in music in the first place.

I've revisted this theme since the unexpected death of Pope Francis on Easter Monday. What about him was so appealing? I still remeber the proclamation of "Habemus Papam!' and when the world first met Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio as Pope Francis (or as the Filipinos affectionately call him, "Lolo Kiko.") He showed up on the balcony, waved to the faithful in St. Peter's Square, and allowed a moment of silence asking us to pray for him.

The media obsessed over him. They captured his decision to live in the Vatican guesthouse instead of the papal apartments. They reported on how he settled his own hotel bills after the conclave where he was elected pope. We all saw photos and video of him embracing people with disease, kissing the feet of prisoners, and comforting children who had lost parents. We read the documents from the Vatican offering instruction on everything from the environment to artificial intelligence.

One of the most meaningful memories of his papacy, for me, was when he offered his urbi et orbi to an empty Vatican Square and brought Jesus in the Eucharist to the people.

Video Credit : Vatican News

While these were all moving moments of Pope Francis' papacy, the one thing I'll hang on to when I think about what he has taught the world is the way he allowed Jesus to use him as an instrument to return people to their true identity.

You see, I've listened to what the world has to say about me, telling me I'm nothing exceptional; I'm not pretty; I'm not that smart; I'm not very eloquent. There are a lot of personal flaws that I've had people shine a light on, leading me to believe I'm nothing special. In a nutshell, I'm the poor kid leaving her clarinet in the band room because...what's the point? The dialog in my head says I'm an embarrassment; that I'm bringing everyone else down. But Pope Francis had a way of turning one's gaze, inviting us to look in a mirror, and seeing not our shortcomings, but the loving gaze of the Father. He shares in God's desire that I see myself not as a failure but as the beloved.

Pope Francis reminded me that God never tires of forgiving me.

Pope Francis showed me that tender love, not stern rebuke, is what lifts people out of the thorny snares of sin and suffering.

Pope Francis taught me about the way of humility by honoring the sacred presence of God in every human being.

I'm sad that Pope Francis' instruction to the Chuch about hope during this Jubilee year has been cut short, but I think there's also something divine about him going home to God before the jubilee of hope ends. Like St. Therese of Lisieux, I wonder if he desires to spend his time in heaven doing good on earth.

Rest in Peace, Lolo Kiko. Thanks for pointing us to the beauty of the sunset.