On November 2, 2025, as the faithful around the world gathered in prayer for the souls of the departed, the voice of Pope Leo XIV rose from the window of the Apostolic Palace. His words, clear and gentle, traveled through the squares, entered homes, and reached hearts weary in troubled times.
On that day, the entire Church experienced a unique tension: that between memory and hope. First, the memory of the deceased—those we loved, those who shaped our lives, and those whom no one remembers anymore. Then, hope—the hope of eternal life, that promise which gives meaning to our grief and soothes our tears.
Before the thousands of pilgrims gathered in St. Peter's Square, Leo XIV called for a profound inner movement: not to be trapped in nostalgia, not to cling to the tombs of the past, but to make this day a "commemoration of the future." Behind this moving expression, the Pope illuminated a spiritual path: the Christian faith does not merely mourn the dead, it proclaims life.
He said, with confident restraint: «Today, then, is a day that calls upon human memory, so precious and so fragile.» This almost poetic phrase encapsulates the meaning of the commemoration of the faithful departed: memory is precious because it safeguards love; it is fragile because it depends on the human heart, which forgets so easily. Hence, according to him, the importance of broadening it, of going beyond family memory to enter into divine memory—that of a God who, unlike God, forgets no one.
A symbolic gesture: at the Verano cemetery
That same afternoon, Leo XIV visited the Verano cemetery in Rome. The image of the Pope walking slowly among the tombs, praying for those whose names are fading from the stone, went viral on Catholic social media.
In front of the cameras, he pauses for a moment. His eyes rest on an unmarked grave, marked with a simple wooden cross. There, he falls silent. Then he says: "We pray for those whom no one remembers, but our Heavenly Father remembers them."«
This humble gesture, performed without protocol, carries a universal message. In a world where so many lives disappear into anonymity – victims of wars, migrations, loneliness – Leo XIV reminds us that the gaze of Heaven never fades.
It is this link between faith and wounded humanity that gives his pontificate its full weight. His gestures, often disarmingly simple, have a symbolic power: each blessing, each prayer, becomes a tangible sign of a Church that wants to remain close, that refuses to shield itself from the suffering of the world.
A memory turned towards hope
What Pope Leo XIV calls "commemorating the future" is almost astonishing. How can one remember what is not yet? His phrase is provocative, but it reveals a profound truth: for the believer, death is not an end, but a promise awaiting fulfillment.
Echoing the words of Benedict XVI on eternal life – «immersion in the ocean of infinite love, where time no longer exists» – he underlines the paradoxical nature of our faith: we remember not only what was, but also what God will accomplish.
This idea resonates particularly strongly in our secularized societies, often tempted by forgetfulness. Cemeteries become silent, deserted, or simply utilitarian places. The Pope, however, restores their profound meaning: these places are not ends of the earth, but thresholds. They remind us that life leaves its mark in God's memory, that every breath, every suffering, every act of kindness experienced here below continues in a mysterious way into eternity.
The face of a world in crisis
But Leo XIV did not remain in contemplation. In the same Angelus, his voice took on a somber tone. He spoke of Sudan, Tanzania, and all those bloodied lands where peace had become a mirage.
His prayer for the dead immediately extends to those dying today, under bombs, in massacres, or in extreme poverty. It is not a homily frozen in the liturgy: it is a living word that mingles with the cries of the world.
Sudan, he reminds us, «is experiencing a human tragedy of unbearable intensity.» More than 24 million people are suffering from hunger, according to the United Nations. The civil war, which began more than two years ago, continues to drag on, trapping the most vulnerable. The horrific attack on the El-Fasher maternity hospital, where hundreds of civilians perished, still haunts the international conscience.
The Pope does not mince words: he speaks of "pain," even "shame," in the face of these flagrant violations of human dignity. His words are direct: "Women, children, and defenseless civilians are the first victims of a logic of death that respects nothing."«
Then, in a passionate appeal, he called for "an immediate ceasefire" and "the opening of humanitarian corridors." This was not an abstract speech: it was a cry, the cry of a pastor who refused to become accustomed to barbarity.
Peace according to Leo XIV: not utopia, but responsibility
In a world saturated with political discourse, the Pope's voice has a different register. He speaks not of diplomacy, but of conversion. His call for peace rests not only on agreements between states or on international institutions, but on a transformation of the heart.
For him, peace can only be born when each person recognizes the other as a brother, not as an adversary. "It is not enough to avoid war," he often states, "we must build brotherhood."«
This profoundly evangelical vision renews the Church's social thought. It intersects with the appeals of John XXIII in *Pacem in Terris*, those of Paul VI in *Populorum Progressio*, those of John Paul II for the culture of life, and those of recent popes on integral ecology. Leo XIV follows in this tradition, but with a new emphasis: remembering the dead is already working for peace. For peace always begins with respect for the mystery of life, even in its extinguished state.
A pontificate marked by compassion
Since his election, Leo XIV has established himself as the pope of consolation. His first encyclicals, centered on human dignity and the rediscovery of communal prayer, found an immediate response. He often speaks of "missionary tenderness": a way of proclaiming the Gospel not through lessons, but through gestures of care.
His tone is never moralizing. He prefers parables to polemics, silence to condemnation. Many see him as a spiritual heir of Francis, but with a more contemplative approach. Where Francis emphasized action, Leo XIV invites reflection. His pastoral style is that of an inner guide.
On November 2nd, by evoking the memory of the forgotten, he also teaches us to contemplate—to look at our own dead without fear, to reread our lives in the light of Mercy. This is not a sad message: it is a message of reconciliation.
The deceased, teachers of peace
In his catechesis, the Pope offers a powerful image: the deceased teach us peace. They do so without words, without weapons, without marches or manifestos. Their peace is silent, yet contagious. Visiting a cemetery, he says, one feels time slow down, divisions fade away. There, the same earth welcomes the humble and the powerful, the devout believers and the rebellious.
Death, in this sense, becomes a school of equality. It reminds everyone of the vanity of quarrels, the fragility of human glory. And above all, it brings us back to what is essential: to love, to forgive, to hope.
From this perspective, the Pope links the memory of the dead to a commitment to the living. To pray for the deceased is to open our hands to help those who still suffer. The communion of saints is not a distant concept: it unites our actions today with the souls of those who have gone before us.
A hot topic: Tanzania
Moments after speaking about Sudan, the Pope also mentioned Tanzania. There too, violence erupted following disputed elections. Ethnic and political tensions reopened old wounds.
Without naming anyone responsible, Leo XIV urged people to "avoid all violence and choose dialogue." These words, familiar from his teachings, were not a mere formula: they were addressed to entire peoples but also to each individual conscience.
His pastoral vision transcends borders: while he prays at the Vatican for the dead of Verano, he also weeps for the dead of Africa. The link between the two is clear: the death of the innocent always has the same value. The suffering of a child in El-Fasher or Dodoma moves God in the same way as a tear shed in Rome.
Hope, an antidote to indifference
Perhaps the central word of the Angelus is hope. In a world saturated by fear and disinformation, Leo XIV wants to rekindle the flame of Christian hope.
Not a naive hope, but a clear-sighted confidence, rooted in faith in the resurrection. "Those who believe are not prisoners of the past," he says. Christian faith, by transforming the memory of mourning into promise, makes peace among nations possible.
His message also touches on ecological and social issues: he calls for a "conversion of memory." That is to say, remembering not to grieve, but to recover. Learning from the past to better protect the present.
Every war, every humanitarian crisis, every political misstep should prompt nations to revisit their own history. Without memory, he reminds us, there is no lasting peace.
Liturgy as a lever for reconciliation
One of the defining aspects of Leo XIV's pontificate was his use of the liturgy as a space for collective healing. The celebrations for the dead that he presided over were not rigid ceremonies: they were laboratories of fraternity.
During the Verano Mass, he chose simple prayers in several languages, sung by choirs of children and adults. He likes to repeat that "the liturgy is the language that God speaks to console his people.".
By praying together for the dead throughout the world, the faithful discover a unity stronger than borders. This, he believes, is the sign of a mother Church that mourns with those who mourn and hopes with those who hope.
A message beyond the Vatican
Reactions to the Angelus were largely positive. Christian leaders, as well as Muslims and Jews, welcomed the Pope's words as a universal call to spiritual and moral responsibility.
Messages of peace have been relayed from Khartoum, Zanzibar, Jerusalem, and Buenos Aires. Many see this as a glimmer of unity at a time when the international community is struggling to find a common language.
In the media, it is often mentioned that Leo XIV—whose real name was Luigi Conti—was himself a diplomat for the Holy See before his election. But he did not use diplomacy in the manner of a politician: he transformed it into a pastoral ministry, a work of reconciliation between consciences.
From memory to mission
November 2, 2025 will remain a milestone in his teaching: it articulates the spirituality of remembrance with the mission of peace.
For Leo XIV, remembering the dead was more than a duty of piety: it was the first step in a social conversion. By visiting a cemetery, he said, "one learns to put things into perspective, to forgive, to begin to love again.".
Peace is born from this intimate experience—the encounter with death and the promise of life. This is what leads the Pope to link personal hope to the universal mission: to pray, to act, to reconcile.
«"Let's not forget the forgotten"»
This recurring theme in his speeches is: the forgotten. There are the nameless dead, but also the voiceless living: refugees, prisoners, isolated elderly people, abandoned sick people.
By praying for "those whom no one remembers," Leo XIV extended the scope of commemoration to all human marginalization. He reminded us that every act of remembrance becomes an act of charity.
And when he asks everyone to visit graves with hope, he invites them to a concrete action: lighting a candle, reciting the Lord's Prayer, offering an act of mercy. These, he says, are the "drops of light" that dispel the darkness of the world.
The style of Leo XIV
Humility, gentleness, and depth: these are the traits that characterized his ministry. Leo XIV did not seek to impress, but to move people. His way of speaking about death was soothing, never morbid. His denunciation of war was resolute, but without hatred.
The contrast is striking: on one side the clamor of the world, on the other the murmur of prayer. And yet, it is this murmur that, little by little, transforms hearts.
The Pope truly believes that world peace begins in the silence of a reconciled soul. His teaching of November 2nd summarizes this conviction: remembering the past and building peace are two sides of the same spiritual heartbeat.
The healing memory
At the end of the Angelus, Leo XIV raised his hand to bless the crowd. A few simple words, then a long moment of silence. Thousands of people prayed with him, others from a distance; many later wrote that they felt, that day, "an unexpected peace.".
And perhaps this is the secret of this pope: in a world in crisis, he makes the voice of hope audible. He shows that the memory of the dead, if lived in faith, becomes an act of resistance to violence.
According to Leo XIV, commemorating the future means taking the actions of the Kingdom today: remembering, praying, forgiving, protecting.
Thus, November 2, 2025, will not have been merely a day of religious commemoration, but a milestone of collective hope. In a divided world, the Pope's voice continues to call: "Let us not be afraid of memory. It is through memory that God shapes peace."«
