“If we grade them on the spirit of Easter —hope, forgiveness, love— Francis embodied it with his final breath. Trump mocked it with his thumbs.”
On Easter Sunday 2025, two men addressed the world. One had trouble breathing, the other had trouble shutting up. One clung to life long enough to offer a final blessing. The other clung to grievance like a toddler with a toy he’d already broken.
And in the space between their words—between grace and bile, between resurrection and resentment—we found the chasm that defines this era.
The Last Blessing
Pope Francis, just days before his death, emerged onto the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica with the breath of a dying man and the spirit of a giant. Unable to read his own Urbi et Orbi address, he still insisted on standing before the faithful, waving to the crowd, blessing children, offering joy.
“Brothers and sisters, Happy Easter!” he said.
“All of us are children of God.”
His message, read aloud on his behalf, pleaded for peace in Gaza, Ukraine, Myanmar, and Congo. Pope Francis called for aid, instead of arms, compassion instead of cruelty. He asked the world not to close its doors to migrants and those in need.
He died the next day.
This is what courage looks like. This is what faith sounds like. And this is what a final sermon should be: selfless, human, hopeful.
The Petty Tyrant’s Parade
Meanwhile, across the Atlantic and deep inside his own echo chamber, President Donald Trump spent Easter Sunday spraying venom on Truth Social like a skunk with a grudge.
His opening post tried for warmth:
“Melania and I would like to wish everyone a very Happy Easter!”
But the illusion didn’t last. Soon came the bile:
“Happy Easter to all, including the Radical Left Lunatics who are fighting and scheming so hard to bring Murderers, Drug Lords, Dangerous Prisoners, the Mentally Insane, and well known MS-13 Gang Members and … .”
And, of course, he couldn’t resist revisiting the 2020 election, accusing his opponents of fraud and wishing them a sarcastic “Happy Easter.”
No mention of resurrection. No nod to Christ. No humility, no mercy, no grace. Just recycled lies, tired blame, and a Hallmark card dipped in acid.
He didn’t stop there. He attacked Biden. He attacked judges. He called immigrants criminals. He declared himself “the greatest friend that American capitalism has ever had.”
And then, as if it were all normal, he went golfing.
The Rubric: Humanity Vs Hubris
It would almost be funny if it weren’t so blasphemous. But the contrast doesn’t stop there—it gets louder the closer you listen.
If we grade them on compassion, Francis passes while Trump tantrums.
If we grade them on truth, Francis pleads for it while Trump buries it.
If we grade them on the spirit of Easter—hope, forgiveness, love—Francis embodied it with his final breath. Trump mocked it with his thumbs.
One man spent his last day calling for peace.
The other spent his yelling into the void he created.
The Gospel According To Grift
What Francis gave away—blessing, kindness, dignity—Trump has only ever tried to sell. Every Easter post is a sales pitch in a tinfoil halo. Every “God bless” is a dog whistle to the paranoid. And every “Happy Easter” is followed by another tantrum against a judge, a migrant, or a ghost from the 2020 ballot box.
This isn’t faith. It’s performance art for the spiritually bankrupt.
You can’t preach resurrection while fantasizing about revenge.
You can’t invoke Christ while mocking the crucified.
And you sure as hell can’t call yourself a servant of God while suing the prophets and golfing through plagues.
History Takes Attendance
Francis’s final appearance was a moment history will remember—a weak body held upright by moral strength. Trump’s Easter outburst was one more smear on an already stained record.
The Pope asked the world to imagine peace. Trump asked the world to imagine him on the throne again.
One gave his last breath. The other won’t stop breathing threats.
We do not confuse noise with meaning. We do not mistake a megaphone for a message.
One gave a blessing.
The other gave a middle finger.
And one of them had the decency to die with dignity.
To The Catholics Who Still Worship Trump
You don’t get to hide behind “God uses imperfect people.” That line is for those who repent. That’s for sinners who kneel, not tyrants who tweet. You think Jesus would’ve stormed the Capitol in a red hat? You think the man who flipped tables in the temple would pose for a Bible photo op after gassing a crowd?
You call yourself pro-life while cheering on mass deportations.
You take communion while swallowing conspiracy theories whole.
You ignored every single Gospel passage about humility, compassion, and the dangers of wealth—and replaced them with Trump’s golden toilet.
Pope Francis begged us to remember the poor. Trump called them criminals.
And you still chose the guy with the spray tan and a grudge.
Pick a side. Because one of them followed Christ.
And the other thinks he is Christ—minus the love, the sacrifice, or the spine.
•Senator Ojudu represented Ekiti Central in the 7th Senate between 2011 and 2015.
