During a meeting last evening, a friend commented on a “Post-Easter Letdown.” I didn’t respond then, but the comment made me sad. For years, I experienced being significantly tired on Easter Monday. I usually took a nap on that day. But I don’t think of Easter Monday as “post-Easter.” In the traditions of our church, Easter is a 50-day season, not a single day. The lectionary texts for the next week are filled with stories of resurrection and the process of the disciples coming to an understanding of the presence of the resurrected Christ. It is a joyous season.

News of Pope Francis's death reached Christians worldwide, allowing them to contemplate the power of resurrection. Like any other human, his death can be a source of grief. He and his presence in the church will be missed. However, it is an invitation to consider the power of resurrection. As I reflect, it seems that his death in the season of Easter is a gift of grace.

I am not Roman Catholic. My life has been lived in a different channel of the stream of Christianity. I could not have conducted my ministry in a corner of the church that does not recognize the ordination of women. A top-down church structure dominated by old men lacks the inclusiveness I need to share and celebrate ministry with others. Pope Francis, however, has sometimes been dubbed “the Protestants’ favorite Pope.” I cannot judge whether one pope is preferred over another. It is not my church. But some of Francis’ progressive ideas warmed my heart, and the impact of his leadership on his part of the church.

The image of Pope Francis that will remain with me comes from his visit to Canada in the summer of 2022. Dressed in white robes and using a wheelchair for mobility, He paused to pray at the Ermineskin Cree Nation Cemetery in Alberta during that visit. The photo of him in a field of simple white crosses is an image of pastoral leadership. The power of that image comes in part from the history behind the moment.

From the 1870s into the 1990s - for over a century - children from First Nations, Métis, and Inuit Communities were taken from their families and forced to attend church-run residential schools. Those schools were designed to strip them of their native languages and cultures. Abuse and neglect were rampant at the schools, and thousands of children died from disease, malnutrition, suicide, and other causes. Not all those schools were run as Roman Catholic institutions, but many were.

In 2022, Pope Francis made a trip to Canada to repeat a statement that he had first delivered to a delegation of Indigenous leaders at the Vatican. Addressing a large group of indigenous Canadians in Maskwacis, Alberta, he made a formal apology for the role of the Roman Catholic church in the abuses of the residential schools. Among those who were listening were many residential school survivors.

It is an image of leadership not often seen in our world. The man who rose to the highest leadership level in one of the world’s most powerful institutions led that institution by apologizing for its role in the suffering of others. There are many ways in which the pope could have avoided making the statement. The history of his office is not one of apology. One of the key teachings of the Roman Catholic Church states that the Pope, when speaking Ex Cathedra, is preserved from the possibility of error in matters of faith or morals. Ex Cathedra, or speaking from the Chair of Peter, refers not to the place where the teaching is issued but to the authority claimed. A pope speaks Ex Cathedra whenever he speaks with the authority of his office. Formal papal statements are thought never to require an apology because they are never wrong. That kind of power can easily be misused, and throughout the church's history, there have been many times when it was. That teaching and others led to the division of Christianity known as the Protestant Reformation. The Reformation was a much more complex dynamic, but one of its themes was the rejection of the authority of the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church. For millions of Christians, however, the authority of the Pope continues to be absolute.

So a pope, speaking on behalf of the entire Roman Catholic Church, issuing an apology to those who had been hurt and to the relatives of those who had died, was a moving and dramatic moment.

Residential schools were not a phenomenon of Canada only. Nor were they only operated by Roman Catholic missions. The Niobrara Indian School, situated near the confluence of the Niobrara and Missouri Rivers in Northeastern Nebraska, was operated by the Congregational Church as part of the larger system of Indian boarding schools aiming to assimilate Native American children into mainstream American Culture. Part of its heritage is one of lasting trauma and loss of cultural identity. The school was closed in 1937 after 67 years of operation. Some buildings have become a part of the ISanti school system. At the school, a new cultural program immerses students in the tribe’s language, history, and customs. This innovative program helped the iSanti Community School in Niobrara hit a perfect 100% graduation rate for two years.

Resurrection can occur from a legacy of injustice and oppression. A school designed to eliminate language and culture can become a cornerstone of programs to preserve them. Such a transition isn’t automatic, however. It takes years of listening, decades of earning back broken trust, and elevating indigenous leadership. One of the starting points is a simple apology. In the traditions of the church, we call it confession.

Formal confessional prayers are common during Lent but less common during Easter in many of our denomination's churches. I don’t understand why this is the case. Faithful leaders continue to show us that resurrection begins with confession.

Among the celebrations of this Easter Season are the quiet moments when we remember those who have shown extraordinary leadership. A pope taking a moment to pray alone in the cemetery of an indigenous community is one of those moments worth remembering.