As I write this piece Pope Francis is critically ill. At these times we remember how much our friends have meant to us and all the ways in which we shall miss them. That is so with Pope Francis. In a world that sees refugees and immigrants as a threat, disregards the victims of war, trashes the environment, rewards self-interest and cheapens religious faith, he has wept with those mistreated, pleaded their cause and preached a Gospel of joy. He has faced all the things that make for gloom, done what he could to change them, and remained full of hope. For that we shall miss and grieve him when he is no longer with us.
I was first struck by how ordinary Pope Francis is. From the beginning he was one of us. He went down the street to the barber, rushed off to Lampedusa to grieve with refugees after drowning, left the popemobile to console a grieving woman, spoke off the cuff at press conferences, and on Holy Thursday washed the feet of a young Muslim woman with tats. His language was earthy too, describing the Church as a field hospital, and telling priests that they were shepherds who should smell like sheep.
He also bought into the huge issues that face the world and Catholic Church. He wrote letters to the world about responding to climate change, pressed to end wars and to welcome refugees. Within the Catholic Church he asked us to go out to people at the edge of the Church and society. His Synods involved reflection and conversation at all levels, going up from local congregations, through dioceses and so to Rome to shape reflection at the universal level, and then back to the grass roots. Above all, he has been a brother to all he met, sharing their way of life, their enthusiasm and their frailties.
Pope Francis often puzzled people by taking seriously the living faith of the Church while taking liberty with traditions. He showed little respect for advice to do things as they had been done from time immemorial. He was not bothered with being misinterpreted or having to correct himself. Some people found this refreshing. Those who longed for a Church in which nothing changed did not approve of it.
At the heart of Pope Francis’ actions lay his personal faith. It was perhaps best articulated in the motto he chose as Pope: miserando et eligendo. The quotation speaks of a God who has mercy on us as sinners and chooses us as friends in his service. Familiarity can make these words sound everyday. When they shape a person’s life, however, they can be freeing and life changing. They certainly lay at the heart of Pope Francis’ faith and way of living. They made him bold: he made no claim to virtue and reputation that needed to be defended. Neither did he see his election as Pope to be a burden that he needed to live up to, nor was he anxious that his program should survive beyond him.
He was a sinner gifted and called by God. He was free to acknowledge his mistakes without fuss and did not fear failure. The future lay in God’s hands. He could also mix with simple people and disreputable people without fear of stain and find delight and compassion in the encounter.
Jorge Bergoglio saw himself as an unprofitable and joyful servant. And for that we may one day welcome him as a saint. But we shall remember him as our brother.
Fr Andrew Hamilton SJ writes for Jesuit Communications and Jesuit Social Services.
