Reflecting on the Controversial Life of Pope Francis
Audrey Edmonds ’28
On April 21st, Pope Francis died at the age of 88. His passing has sparked a renewed wave of discourse about his impact on the Catholic Church. Some applaud Francis for steering it towards a place of acceptance and inclusivity, while others accuse him of deepening internal divisions without achieving significant change. Many non-Catholics like myself gave the Pope little thought until Monday morning. His legacy, however, lets us reflect on the conflicts and strife we all face today.
Pope Francis was born Jorge Mario Bergoglio in Argentina to Italian parents. He often opted for public transport, refused to stay in the papal palace, and chose to ride in a simple Ford Focus as opposed to the luxury cars of his predecessors. This notably modest lifestyle led Francis to be known as the first Pope who truly practiced what he preached.
In even greater contrast to the Church’s history, Francis was generally considered a liberal moderate. One of the issues he primarily spoke out about was climate change. His stance was clear— to address climate change without looking towards our own culpability/responsibility for our warming environment would be to deal “merely with the symptoms.” Francis connected the environmental crisis and social justice as the antidote. This had never been done before by someone with a large platform like the Pope’s, let alone by someone representing a conservative institution like the Catholic Church. He urged people to “integrate questions of justice in debates on the environment, so as to hear both the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor.”
He was also remarkably accepting towards LGBTQ+ individuals, once saying, "If a person is gay and seeks God and has good will, who am I to judge?" This was revolutionary for the Church because the Pope just before him said that gay marriage would lead to the apocalypse. Francis also formally approved letting Catholic priests bless gay couples. Nonetheless, he maintained the Church’s strict ban on gay marriage, stating that marriage was a privilege still reserved for a man and a woman. His inclusivity was also significantly complicated by his use of the f-slur and comparison of transgender people to atomic bombs in 2024. And yet later that same year, he met with gay and transgender inmates and praised a gay children's book.
The Pope’s feelings about women in the Church were similarly complicated. He appointed women to high ranking positions and emphasized the need for greater gender equality and yet did not let women be ordained to priesthood, a ruling many expected from him. These contradictions provoked arguments on the true nature of his opinions. There were also times when Francis declined to make his statements clearer, which only increased discord.
Pope Francis dramatically shifted the conversation in the Catholic Church to a place of acceptance and compassion of liberal values. On the other hand though, his frequently conflicting statements on contentious issues only further polarized those with opposing beliefs. In the wake of his death, questions remain. Would more radical reforms have been possible if he had more time? Does he deserve to be recognized as progressive? Did he move the Church forward or just expose its limits? How these questions are answered now will reveal less about the Pope’s impact and more about what direction the Church—and the world—is moving in.