(This article originally appeared in the TAU-USA Summer 2025  Issue #116)

 by Bret Thoman, OFS

“See what love the Father has bestowed on us

that we may be called the children of God.”

(1 John 3:1)

What does it mean to be a child of God? It means relating to God, to ourselves, and to others in a deeply sacred manner. It is a mature identity we assume when we become utterly convinced that we are sons or daughters of God the Father through adoption in Jesus Christ. We reach this new identity when we accept that we were created by God the Father, he loves us passionately, knows us intimately, and will provide for us in every circumstance.

This way of relating to others is especially dear to us as Secular Franciscans, in the example of our Seraphic Father. St. Francis, as we know, related to all people and all created things in a way that was fraternal. Believing in faith that all people (and all creation) were created by a loving Father, he could not help but see other people and created things as his brother or sister, that is, fraternally.

When we relate to God and others in this way, it changes everything. Because we have accepted that only God is omnipotent, we admit our limits. In the words of St. Francis, we recognize that “what we are before God, that we are, nothing more” – and I would add, “and nothing less.”

Consequently, we become gentler with ourselves. Moreover, we see others differently. We respond to them with more grace. We do not judge. We recognize that they, too, are fragile like us. It is easier to forgive, as we acknowledge that we are all wounded at some level.

When we recognize our sonship in God, we become aware of our place – the place he has provided for us. We are part of something much greater than ourselves.

This is certainly true regarding the Church universal. Since I was led to convert to Catholicism some thirty years ago, I have been deeply grateful for this gift.

So, when the recent papal conclave was underway, I deeply desired to be present. By chance (providentially?), the day I went to Rome was May 8th, the day the first US born pope was chosen.

We arrived a little after noon just after having missed the first wisp of black smoke rise from the chimney above the Sistine Chapel. While we waited for the next ballot, we entered St. Peter’s and walked down the right aisle, pausing at the tombs of Sts. John Paul II and John XXIII. My eyes welled with emotion as I considered the great pontiffs we have been blessed with in our lifetimes.

I continued past the magnificent Bernini canopy over the confessio and tomb of St. Peter, recalling St. Peter’s “confession” that Jesus is the Messiah. Then we continued along the left aisle, among more tombs of earlier popes and pontiffs. As I walked out of the Basilica, I felt so grateful to be part of our Roman Church, with so many diverse popes.

Finally, in the late afternoon, just as we were considering leaving St. Peter’s (it was getting late, and we had a 3-hour drive home) white smoke came out of the chimney. Just over an hour later, a pope born in the U.S. stepped out onto the balcony.

Pope Leo XIV

Pope Leo XIV – Signed Photo

There are some days we will never forget. That was one of them. I couldn’t have been more proud and grateful for the gift of our Church.