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TRIBUTE: Pope Francis I (1936-2025)

PHOTO: Ricardo Stuckert / PR


By Tim Perry

POPE Francis is dead. I have been asked to write a reflection on his pontificate, and I confess at the outset a deep dis-ease at the prospect. I have many friends who are Catholic, both Latin and other rites, for whom this is a death in the family. Their grief is both real and personal. Even among those who found much in Francis’s reign that pained them, there is still a profound sense of loss. I do not for a moment wish to transgress this boundary.

Furthermore, Francis’s pontificate is too close to us in time for us to assess it fairly. We may well have inclinations now, but how will these inclinations look in a century? We have no way of knowing.

Lastly, I was raised in a time and place where “do not speak ill of the dead” was a moral maxim. But any sort of honest assessment has to talk not only about strengths and achievements but also about weaknesses, mistakes, and even failures.

So, how do I honour my friends’ grief, respect my own historical limitations, abide by my own moral convictions, and attempt, in however partial a way, to tell the truth?

Perhaps the wisest route is to keep the reflection personal.

When Jorge Mario Bergoglio stepped on to the balcony of St. Peters on March 13, 2013, I was elated. A pope from the majority world. A pope with good relationships with global Anglicans and charismatics. A pope who wanted his priests to smell like their sheep. Succeeding Pope St. John Paul II, who had taught the deep philosophical structures of the faith, and Pope Benedict XVI, who had taught the truth and beauty of Christian doctrine, here was a pope calling his flock to take the Gospel to the margins. It seemed most fitting!

His early pontificate continued in those themes. We were awash with images of the Pope carrying his own suitcases, living in a small apartment instead of the opulent usual papal palace, going to confession frequently. We heard him speak straightforwardly about the reality of evil and the devil and spiritual warfare and we laced up our boots. When he spoke about the need to offer the sacraments not as a reward for the perfect but as medicine for the sick, our hearts were warmed. As much as John Paul II and Benedict XVI were popes for their times, Francis seemed suited to ours. A solid foundation had been laid from which evangelistic mission could flow.

And yet. . .

From the first “Who am I to judge?” until almost the last day, Francis had a knack for saying and writing things that either changed everything or changed nothing about some aspect of Catholic teaching, depending entirely on who was listening to or reading them.

For me, perhaps the most obvious example was the most recent: Fiducia Supplicans, a document published by the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith in late 2023 on the nature of blessings. In the hands of Fr. James Martin, SJ., this document was papal permission to bless same-sex unions. If it was not quite an authorization of same-sex marriage, it was an acknowledgement of the inherent goodness of these relationships.

As parsed by Bishop Robert Barron, however, the document said nothing more than that couples in irregular situations (whether that be divorced and remarried, a same-sex relationship, or heterosexual cohabitation) could not on that basis be denied a blessing. To bless such a couple did not necessarily imply the blessing of their (sinful) relationship.

So who’s right, Martin or Barron? As would often become the case, the clarification issued by the Dicastery did little to calm the situation. Instead, confusion was allowed to flourish and does so up to this day.

I am also sorry to say that Francis all too often embodied William F. Buckley’s stereotypical liberal: “Liberals claim to want to give a hearing to other views, but then are shocked and offended to discover that there are other views.”

Francis was supportive of giving lay people a voice in major decisions unless those lay people said they preferred the Traditional Latin Mass. Around the world, those lay people were deliberately, forcefully marginalized when the Latin Mass was effectively banned.

Francis championed synodality (we might say consultative leadership) and invited correction from his brother bishops. Until such criticism came. When it did, it went unanswered, and critics were punished—punishments that included removing a Bishop from his See and rendering two retired Cardinals homeless.

Francis spoke a great deal about justice but was indifferent to and even covered for the sins of his friends, including (ultimately defrocked) Theodore McCarrick and Fr. Marko Rupnik. Rupnik was (and remains) protected even after being expelled by Francis’s own Jesuit order, such was the grievous nature of that priest’s sins.

Francis castigated bureaucratic rigidity and clericalism and institutionalism but seemingly could not perceive those flaws in himself or his actions.

Finally, perhaps the blackest mark to be considered is Francis’s apparent inability to stand up to dictators. Seeming to draw a moral equivalence between Ukraine and Russia and saying nothing while Venezuela and Nicaragua openly persecuted Catholics perplexed me.

Worst of all, though, was the concordat with the Chinese Communist Party. In a tale as old as Western Christendom, the argument was over who would appoint bishops. Francis and the CCP agreed that they would do so together, an agreement secured over the loud protests of Joseph Cardinal Zen, the retired and regularly imprisoned Bishop of Hong Kong. The old Vatican policy of communist appeasement, which John Paul II rightly sent to the scrap heap some four decades ago, here enjoyed a resurrection.

The latest Chinese bishops were appointed by Beijing alone. In their largesse, they informed Rome after the fact. One writer has wisely cautioned that if in five centuries China is a Catholic country, Francis will be celebrated as a pioneer. Until then, to me, it looks like a sellout of the faithful.

What am I to do with these uncomfortable facts? Surely it is the case that every Christian’s actions fail to match his or her convictions. We are all sinners, all needing to repent and in constant need of grace. I am.  And yet, an honest look at this papacy must admit an ambiguity so deep it is unclear how or when it will be resolved.

For now, Francis has passed this life and stands before the one whose judgment alone matters. I am not his judge. Thank God! I hope I have spoken truthfully. Guard my tongue, O Lord! I pray that the mercy the Lord Jesus shows on his servant Jorge Mario Bergoglio will be the same that he shows to me when my turn comes. Lord Jesus, be merciful to me, a sinner!

But I’m afraid I greet the passing of Francis not so much with grief as with relief.   TAP

 

Rev’d Dr Tim Perry is a priest resident in the Diocese of Algoma and lead Pastor of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church (ELCIC) in Steinbach MB.

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