by Marie-Lucile Kubacki
Paris – A long ribbon of 800,000 people stretched along the Champs-Élysées on September 26 to attend the Pope’s Mass in Place de la Concorde. The turnout was exceptional, even without counting those watching on television. Is France, to which the adjective “secularized” is so routinely attached, really so paradoxical? Not if we consider the etymology of para-doxa: “contrary to common opinion.” One of the great merits of Pope Leo XIV’s visit to France is that it challenges assumptions and stock phrases. What had those 800,000 people come in search of, beyond the experience of a historic moment?
The answer may lie in the stop that preceded that great moment.
The lives ‘cared for’ at Maison Bakhita
That morning, Leo XIV had visited Maison Bakhita, a welcome center run by the Archdiocese of Paris for people in exile, migrants and refugees. Other associations were also represented, including Aux captifs, la libération, which supports people living on the streets and people involved in prostitution, and À Bras Ouverts, which accompanies children, adolescents and young adults with intellectual or psychological disabilities.
With great simplicity, three people supported by these associations shared their stories. Meysam, a 35-year-old Afghan tailor who arrived in France in 2015, said he was happy to volunteer in turn, “happy to train women,” because in his country “they are not allowed to train or work.” With great reserve, he admitted that he had “despaired several times.” “What I want to bear witness to,” he stressed, “is that in life, you must never give up. Whenever I was close to throwing in the towel, I always met someone who reached out to me and helped me keep going, despite everything. In Farsi, there is an expression that goes: ‘,’ which means: ‘This too shall pass.’”
Then Lise-Marie, 30, who has Down syndrome, spoke about how she enjoys “cooking, especially making chocolate cake and mushrooms with Boursin cheese for an aperitif,” as well as “praying, taking part in adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, and going to confession.” “I enjoyed going to the World Youth Day vigil, where we slept under the stars after adoration. I was happy to meet Pope Francis. Today, I’m glad to be able to speak about À Bras Ouverts in front of the Pope,” she said, standing before Leo XIV.
The face of the final speaker, 31-year-old Blessing, was not filmed, so as not to jeopardize her safety. “I was forced to do things I didn’t want to do,” she said. “I would like to tell you more, but it is difficult for me to talk about that period. That wasn’t the life I wanted, and meeting the association helped me realize that my life could be different.” She continued: “I remember going to the countryside for a few days with the Captifs. The aim was to reflect on the place of the people supported by the association. I was fortunate to take part in that reflection; I felt that my ideas mattered, that I was being listened to.”
Each of these testimonies—and Blessing’s in particular—echoes the words Bernadette spoke at Lourdes, where the Pope went later that day. Recalling the Virgin Mary who had appeared to her, Bernadette said: “She looked at me as a person.”
A Church that is always beginning anew
Behind the security barriers along the Champs-Élysées, in the streets of Paris and in front of television screens, the same desire was evident: to be seen as a person and to share in a moment of communion. The Pope responded to this in his homily, saying: “Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd, guides us, as the shepherd guides his sheep, towards the source of happiness and peace. He knows each and every one of us by name. Nothing escapes him: our secrets, our intentions, our weaknesses. He probes the depths of our hearts. He gave his life for us and continues to give it through the Sacraments. He carries the tired or wounded sheep on his shoulders, and gently brings back those who have gone astray. Jesus reveals God’s unconditional love for us. In his eyes, none of us is a number on an identity card, or an identification code, but a person, a unique and irreplaceable person.”
He also responded to this when he addressed the catechumens and neophytes at the Institut catholique de Paris—not as a sociological category, but as people thirsting for grace and longing to find happiness. He spoke of a Church “in a state of initiation,” always beginning anew and always welcoming. If, as Meysam says, “this too shall pass,” what remains is a thirst for what is essential: an outstretched hand, a gaze that recognizes each person as a person, and the promise of Christ that the Pope came to recall—that no one is ever alone or forgotten.
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