By Mario J. Paredes
Only a few days have passed since bells throughout France rang to welcome the Holy Father, Pope Leo XIV, on an apostolic visit that will be indelibly etched into this nation’s soul. Under the profound motto, “That the world may have life,” the Successor of Peter undertook a journey that brought him to Paris, Saint-Denis, Lourdes, and Metz. These places not only describe the geography of the “Eldest Daughter of the Church,” but also trace its spiritual geography. As a witness in prayer to these days of grace, I cannot help but marvel at the mystery of a faith that has shown itself to be alive and vibrant. France is being reborn in its faith, under the guidance of the Shepherd.
Throughout these intense days, we have seen a Pope who did not come to lecture from a distance, but to invite people to rediscover and examine France’s own history. During the impressive vigil at the Stade de France in Saint-Denis, we witnessed a moving journey through the lives of the saints who have shaped the heart of this country. Through the testimony of these giants of the spirit, Leo XIV reminded us that the history of a nation is not sustained by its earthly conquests, but by the Gospel light of its witnesses, those who knew how to love to the very end. The Pope invited a country that is deeply complex when it comes to religion, that has pursued secularism to the extreme, and that enshrined abortion rights in its Constitution, to return to its deepest roots, not to keep faith confined to the private sphere, but to allow it to overflow and become a river of fraternity for society as a whole. He looked its politicians in the eye and reminded them of their role in seeking the common good, which cannot overlook the spiritual dimension of the human person.
Perhaps one of the most luminous episodes of this pastoral journey was the immense prayer vigil that brought together 80,000 young people in Paris. We live in a time when the new generations are besieged by “anxiety and uncertainty,” as a young man named François courageously expressed to the Holy Father. In a world deafened by noise, consumerism, and fear of tomorrow, Pope Leo XIV offered an answer that broke the armor of conformism: “Young people who listen to this: you were created for more than to survive; you were created to love.” The Holy Father, who looks with eyes of love, could not help but be moved by the Salve Regina and weep softly, with emotion.
This single statement, which sparked a tremendous ovation, contains the divine antidote to despair. It is an urgent call to remember that young people have a transcendent mission. Seeing that immense crowd of 80,000 souls kneeling in Eucharistic adoration, in a sacred silence that brought the stadium to a standstill, was irrefutable confirmation that beneath modern anxieties burns an immense thirst for God and Truth.
However, beyond the majestic crowds and solemn liturgies, what deeply captivated my spirit during this visit was the personal dimension of the Holy Father. I was immensely fortunate to spend a few moments with him in a private meeting in Lourdes, the place of the sick, of those most in need of love and care. As I watched Leo XIV, the overwhelming simplicity of his gestures said it all. One does not see an unreachable leader, but quite simply the gaze of a shepherd who loves his sheep. He is a shepherd who seeks to care for them, who shows a genuine interest in listening to people, and who longs to call each person by name.
That attentive gaze, capable of pausing to acknowledge the suffering of a single individual amid a crowded square, is a living reflection of the charity of Christ. In a world where institutions often treat people as case files or bureaucratic burdens, the Holy Father’s attitude is a lesson in the sacredness of human life. He reminds us that every human being is a unique and sacred universe, in need not only of answers, but of being recognized, heard, and loved. I told him about our work accompanying and serving those in need, and I was deeply moved to see how happy and attentive he was as he listened to the stories shared about his predecessor, Pope Francis, who gave so much love to the Church and who so often called us to action that transforms lives.
I believe Lourdes was a vibrant and unique moment for our Pope. In a place full of miracles of love and service to the other, His Holiness looked into the eyes of the sick and the volunteers who accompany them and delivered words that resonated like a spiritual jolt for those of us who dedicate our lives to the service of health care. He said to them with the tenderness of a father: “You are not a burden; you are the beating heart of our humanity and a precious treasure for the Church.”
For us at SOMOS Community Care, those words are the evangelical mandate that legitimizes our mission. When our doctors care for vulnerable families, newly arrived immigrants who bring with them the trauma of the journey, forgotten elderly, or the poor in the toughest neighborhoods of New York, our goal transcends clinical medicine. We seek to embody that same pastoral gaze: to look the patient in the eye, call him by name, dignify his story, and accompany his vulnerability. True healing, that which restores the fabric of the human being, is born from that affective closeness. It is born from understanding, as the Pope taught us, that service to the suffering is the highest vocation of love.
The visit of Leo XIV was an open-air spiritual retreat. It has allowed France to live a few days of deep love and rebirth of its faith, and it has reminded us all that the true greatness of the Church and of humanity lies in our ability to serve. May the image of Peter, a meek shepherd, simple but clothed with the power of the Spirit, remain in us. And may we never forget that we were not created simply to exist or survive, but to incarnate the miracle of love in our neighbor who needs us.