The morning after Easter, Pope Francis left us. He ran out of time and energy. He was a pope like no other pope in modern times. He did not participate in the type of politics portrayed in the recent movie Conclave. No. He was something of a reluctant pope, practically dragging his feet as he entered the office, hoping that he might serve for three or four years, and then return to Argentina. In the meantime, he would faithfully represent God to the people of God, and he would represent the people before God. Yet he looked outside the church, and he saw what he believed Jesus saw. He was a Jesuit after all, a member of the Society of Jesus, in which Jesus is said to be his constant companion. What he saw was a world much in need of the gospel, to not simply be preached but also clearly demonstrated. As such, at the time of his election, he was more prepared than most of us knew.
As Archbishop Cardinal Bergoglio, responsible for the faithful in Buenos Aires, Argentina, he had lived in a simple apartment, cooked for himself, taken public transportation, and entered the barrios with his briefcase and a smile, to curb violence, meet the needs of common people, and serve mass to those with disabilities, the poor, and the dispossessed. God loved them, so he did his best to love them, too.
Once in Rome, he refused limousine service, preferring to carry his own luggage, driving himself around the city in a little car. He also refused to stay in the papal palace, from which countless popes had reigned, preferring the Santa Marta guesthouse, a small, simply furnished hotel behind St. Peter’s Basilica. (The guesthouse is where cardinals and others often stay when in Rome on church business, and it is where they will reside when they come to cast their ballots during the upcoming conclave.) Some viewed these actions of Francis with renewed hope. Others saw them as scandalous.
When he was installed as pope, he invited ordinary people, immigrants, the homeless, along with those dressed in their work clothes to sit on bleachers on the platform in the place of honor behind him, facing the crowd, many of whom had come for spectacle. The cardinals, bishops, and ecumenical leaders sat to their right, while kings, queens, presidents, and ambassadors sat to their left. Francis was sending a message, an example of humility and simplicity, calling people higher.
With his calling, Francis believed that he had received a mandate: Clean up corruption within the church, beginning with the Vatican bank. Make the Vatican and its business more transparent. Challenge the longstanding members of the curia to stop thinking of themselves as princes deserving of honor and princely trappings. Demand that they remember why they had entered the ministry. Hold them accountable to their vocation—they were priests after all, here to serve, not rule over, the people of God.
Francis recognized that his task would not be easy. There were those who had power that they did not want to lose. He did not shy away from the confrontations that caused some to blink, while others dug in their heels until he was forced to use a heavy hand—moving clergy out of lavish homes and offices, replacing them with new servants of God, always hoping to help those who had strayed along the way, but sometimes being forced to discipline them. Trying to keep a global church of roughly 1.3 billion people drawn from nearly every language, and tribe, and people, and nation—and, we might add, with their many cultures and subcultures—happy is almost impossible. Being pope is not an easy task.
His mandate prioritized dealing with longstanding sexual abuses covered up by priests and bishops alike. He worked tirelessly on that issue—on sin, rot, and criminality at the core of clerical life. He successfully changed the rules, requiring reporting of all such actions, meeting with those who had been abused, empathizing with their pain, apologizing that the issue had not been addressed previously or satisfactorily. Occasionally, he erred, and victims called him out, but in the end, they acknowledged with appreciation his attempts to hear them.
The agenda for the one known as “the servant of the servants of God” grew with time. Long a proponent of peace, he inserted his voice into regions of conflict—Israel and Gaza, Ukraine and Russia. Long a proponent of the environment, he called to account those who continued to choose to rape it for personal benefit. Long one to care for the poor, the destitute, the migrant on the move, or immigrants trying to plant their feet in a new place, he visited them, advocated for their needs, and severely challenged those who refused to listen them or those who chose to persecute them as though they were worthless. By calling for an international synod and lifting up synodality, he sought to give voice to many of those frequently overlooked, both inside and outside of the church—women, the disabled, migrants, members of the LBGTQ+ community, the persecuted and marginalized. If Jesus loves them, we should as well.
After celebrating the resurrection of our Lord this past Sunday, we were forced to face the power of death. That is the way of the cross. Fuller Seminary joins millions of people around the world who mourn the passing of Pope Francis, with his agenda still not completed. However, he gave us some good markers. He took up his cross daily and followed Jesus. He followed Jesus’ example, choosing to serve rather than be served. He laid his life and reputation on the line. He died daily so that others might see Jesus through his example. He proclaimed the gospel in both word and deed! Through all of this, the message of the resurrection rings clearly, bringing us renewed hope.
Cecil M. Robeck Jr. is senior professor of church history and ecumenics at Fuller Theological Seminary, where he has served since 1974 and is special assistant to the president for ecumenical relations. An ordained Assemblies of God minister and noted authority on the Azusa Street Revival, Dr. Robeck has published widely on Pentecostal history, Christian unity, and has worked for decades to foster dialogue among global Christian communities.