What Pope Francis’ life and death mean to this Presbyterian Pastor
While not unexpected, the news of Pope Francis’ death today evoked both sadness and gratitude within me. I gave thanks that Francis’ suffering and ill health were now over, and that he has now joined the countless faithful of the church triumphant. Yet I also join my Catholic family, friends, and colleagues in mourning the loss of this great leader of Christianity. His wisdom, deep concern for the poor and the marginalized and God’s creation were profound gifts to all people—regardless of their faith or spiritual values.
In one of my seminary classes, we were tasked with learning the names and pontifical years of dozens of popes. I found the task as exciting as filling out my monthly expense reports or folding laundry. I enjoy history, but being handed a list of names of men who lived centuries ago never inspired me. Besides, I reasoned then, I am a Protestant, a seminarian studying to be a Presbyterian minister. Why bother with memorizing all these dead guys? Was Pope Callixtus before or after Hippolytus? Was St. Gregory elected pope in the fifth or sixth century? What was considered Pope Leo X’s greatest accomplishment?
Thanks to Google and AI, I can now fill in the gaps and appear to be an accomplished historian. But tracing the historical influence of generations of dead white dudes just never seemed to mesh with my pastoral responsibilities.
My family has been Presbyterian for over 80 years. My father was a devout Catholic, but became Presbyterian after he married my mother. In the 1940s a “mixed marriage” was frowned upon, including by many members of my father’s family. While Protestants of that time certainly were guilty of anti-Catholic feelings, the Catholic church also worked hard at excluding their Protestant siblings. One story my father often shared with me was the way the priest officiating at his own father’s funeral refused to allow my parents’ Presbyterian pastor to step inside the grounds of the cemetery.
That changed long before Pope Francis, fortunately, but he had a remarkable role to play in helping open the windows of the church. His insights broke barriers that had kept the Spirit’s
gifts of freshness and love from entering.
Pope Francis stood out from his 265 predecessors in ways that transcend denominational differences. As the first pope to succeed a living predecessor, he inherited a church ensnared by scandals, cultural struggles, and conflicts. He was also a Latin American with firsthand awareness of the agony faced by the poor and marginalized. He helped the church confront the struggles created by globalization.
“We need to be evangelized by the poor,” he said. “They have much to teach us.”
This sort of emphasis on elevating those who have little was a jarring contrast to the opulence and regality normally associated with popes. Early in his papacy, he was known to jaunt about Vatican City in a 1984 Renault 4 given to him by a priest friend. He shocked the church by returning to his hotel room at the Vatican after being elected to live in a community instead of the vast papal apartments. On long flights, he would wander back into the economy seats to talk with reporters.
He had much to teach us, even to non-Catholics. To hardline conservatives, he was a bit too progressive, though he maintained strict adherence to Catholic teaching on abortion, celibacy, and women priests. I disagree with many of those stances, but still find his practice of humility and mercy compelling. He challenged the world to live a life synonymous to the one lived by St. Francis of Assisi, whose name he adopted as pope.
His concern for immigrants was profoundly shaped by his own family story. His Italian-born parents were anti-Fascists who fled their homeland for Argentina in the late 1920s. He carried that concern for immigrants into his papacy. In 2016, he told a gathering of German Catholics that “It’s hypocrisy to call yourself a Christian and chase away a refugee or someone seeking help, someone who is hungry or thirsty, toss out someone who is in need of my help.”
Centuries before him, the writer of the epistle of First John expressed those thoughts this way: “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? Little children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth.” (1 John 3:17-18).
Those are words which convey the hope of healing to people of any faith, or even none at all, and are part of the reason I will mourn the good and gracious life of Pope Francis.
Rev. Dr. Chris Keating
Woodlawn Chapel Presbyterian Church
Moderator, Commission on Ministry
