The Rituals of Farewell
What We Can Learn from Pope Francis’ Funeral
By now, you’ve likely seen the images—the sealing of the papal apartment, the solemn processions, the hauntingly beautiful music echoing through St. Peter’s Square. Pope Francis’s death has stirred political and spiritual reflection across the globe, but as you might imagine, I have been most captivated by the rituals.
I’ve been a Pope Francis fan since day one. I was drawn to his humility, his grounded wisdom, and his radical compassion, especially his commitment to meet people wherever they were. One of my personal mantras, “Who am I to judge?” is taken directly from his words. I even have a Pope Francis keychain I picked up in Argentina to remind me of this guiding principle.
My superfandom aside, his funeral was more than just a farewell to a remarkable man. It was a beautifully choreographed act of collective meaning-making, steeped in symbolism, repetition, and reverence. It was ritual in its most visible, potent form—shared with perhaps the largest global audience to ever witness a papal funeral.
We often think of ritual as something reserved for the religious or a rare occasion. But Pope Francis’ funeral reminds us that ritual can simply be the language we use when ordinary words fail. As I wrote in my book when reflecting my own father’s funeral, ritual can help create structure in chaos, hold space for grief, and provide a thread that not only connects past to present, but also us to one another, especially when we don’t know what to say.
I’m curious to learn more about all the rituals that quietly, powerfully shaped this moment but below are a few that moves me most:
The sealing and unsealing of doors: Following the Pope’s death, his private chambers were sealed with red wax and ribbon—a symbolic gesture marking the end of his earthly duties. It made me wonder . . . what doors do we seal and unseal in our own lives after loss?
The breaking of the fisherman’s ring: The papal signet ring, once used to seal official documents, was physically destroyed to prevent its misuse and to signify the end of Francis’ papal authority. (Interestingly, he wore the ring rarely). It’s a striking ritual of both closure and integrity—breaking something precious to honor its purpose.
The gathering of the faithful: Even before the funeral, crowds began arriving at St. Peter’s Basilica, offering prayers, lighting candles, and holding vigil. These simple acts—the waiting, the gathering, the silent witness—are rituals too. They remind us that showing up in community is its own kind of sacred gesture.
The funeral mass: The image of the Pope’s simple wooden coffin—unadorned, humble—paired with stirring music and ancient prayers, was an offering of universal comfort. Even if you didn’t know the words, you could feel the meaning woven throughout the ceremony.
(Fortunately, we’ll see another wave of ritual unfold as the Cardinals gather in the conclave to select a new Pope. Thanks to the timely release of the movie about this process, many of us have a better sense of what’s to come.)
What’s fascinating about the Roman Catholic Church is how these rituals have been practiced and refined over more than 2,000 years. Pope Francis’ funeral, while traditional in structure, was also deeply contemporary in its global reach. And I have to say that I have absolutely loved the communal response and cultural commentary that has unfolded online. (Exhibit A: the TikTok Pope Draft . . . holy irreverence meets earnest appreciation!)
It’s been heartening to see people from all walks of life reflecting not only on the legacy of Pope Francis, but also on the power and beauty of the rituals that surrounded his farewell.
Whether or not you’re Catholic—or even religious—there’s something unmistakably human in these practices. They teach us how to say goodbye with intention. How to honor what was. How to prepare for what’s next, even when we don’t yet know what that will be.
In a world that often rushes past endings—skipping the goodbyes, numbing the grief, trying to move on before we’ve truly let go—ritual reminds us to stop . . . . to witness . . . to participate.
What’s a ritual of farewell in your own life that’s stayed with you? Was it a funeral, a letter never sent, a final walk along a beach? I’d love to hear.
This is so beautifully written and poignant. I have tears here at the breakfast table. There is such beauty in these collective rituals. I almost feel it’s what makes us human. AI can’t make this magic.