Pope Francis was not the pope he thought he would be when he first stepped out onto the loggia of Saint Peter’s. He set out to be one kind of bishop of Rome and became one of a very different sort. Exactly how and why this change came about is something of a mystery, but the fact that such a change came about is clear. And it had enormous consequences both for his own pontificate and the legacy he leaves to his successor.
But let’s begin with what Jorge Bergoglio brought with him to Rome. Several elements of his papacy were evident right from the start and remained throughout his papacy.
From the first, Francis was focused on the poor. He himself told the story of how, immediately after his election, a Brazilian cardinal, Cláudio Hummes (himself a Franciscan), had exhorted him to “Remember the poor!” This influenced his choice of name and remained a constant theme throughout his papacy.
Francis was also, from the outset, focused on Christ. In his first papal homily, given the morning after his election to the men who had just elected him, Francis spoke of the need to walk together, to build up the Church, and above all to preach Christ: “My wish is that all of us, after these days of grace, will have the courage, yes, the courage, to walk in the presence of the Lord, with the Lord’s Cross; to build the Church on the Lord’s blood which was poured out on the Cross; and to profess the one glory: Christ crucified.”
It is commonly observed that the conclave of 2013 elected Jorge Bergoglio, in large part, in the hope that he would be able to reform the Roman Curia. Benedict XVI had a rare talent for teaching and theological clarity. John Paul II, before him, had tremendous charisma and excelled as a Christian witness on the world stage. Neither man had excelled in the more mundane task of ecclesiastical governance. The massive dossier detailing curial dysfunction and corruption that Benedict left for his successor testifies to this shortcoming.
Francis seemed to take this mandate for curial reform very seriously. In the earliest days of his pontificate, he took pains to emphasize that he was the bishop of Rome. The office of Peter may enjoy universal jurisdiction, but the idea of the pope as a jet-setting global front man for Catholicism is a relative novelty, and it seemed to have little appeal for Francis.
Francis’s very first words, spoken on the evening of his election, reflected this view. He spoke primarily of the church of Rome, his new diocese, and only secondarily of Rome’s relationship to the other churches of the world. He invoked the prayers of the people of Rome. “My hope,” he said, “is that this journey of the Church that we begin today, together with help of my cardinal vicar, be fruitful for the evangelization of this beautiful city.” Francis first greeted the world as a simple diocesan bishop.
For the first several months, Francis seemed content to take this smaller view of the papacy. He remained in Rome for the first three months. When he did leave, he stayed in Italy. His first trip took him to Lampedusa, where he drew attention to the plight of migrants. His first encyclical, Lumen fidei, was almost entirely written by Benedict XVI in preparation for the Year of Faith. Francis published it in his own name with few apparent alterations. Mostly the pope remained in Rome and focused on being the bishop of that city and on the Curia.
Then came World Youth Day in Brazil. Francis took his first trip outside of Italy, and his pontificate was never the same.
Maybe it was the throngs of young people on that beach in Rio de Janeiro. Maybe it was his own words, in encouraging those young people to “make a mess.” Maybe it was the unexpected realization of how his unscripted, colloquial style was catnip to massive crowds and global media alike. Maybe it was the Holy Spirit. Maybe it was all of these. But Francis’s trip to Brazil marked the beginning of a shift in his approach to the pontificate.
On the flight from Brazil back to Rome, Francis gave an unusual, and unusually candid, interview to the press on the papal plane. It was during this interview that Francis made his famous remark—“Who am I to judge?”—in response to a question about homosexual priests in the Vatican. It was the first in a long series of interviews that would become a hallmark of his pontificate.
A reader may point out that an interview carries no magisterial weight, which is true. But the medium through which Francis taught most distinctively, if not authoritatively, was precisely these unscripted interviews and other off-the-cuff remarks. His encyclicals and apostolic exhortations—which do carry corresponding magisterial weight—are littered with citations of ideas he first explored and phrases he first used in interviews and extemporaneous asides from his homilies and in informal chats.
Francis himself was surprised by the change. “I did not recognize myself when I responded to the journalists asking me questions on the return flight from Rio de Janeiro,” he told Father Antonio Spadaro a few weeks after that first in-flight tête-à-tête with journalists. This remark was part of a lengthy interview, published by Jesuit magazines around the world, which caused a huge splash of its own.
In the note preceding that interview, Spadaro wrote that “the pope had spoken to me about his great difficulty in giving interviews. He had told me that he prefers to think carefully rather than give quick responses to on-the-spot interviews. He feels that the right answers come to him after having already given his initial response.” More recently, Spadaro has recalled how when he had first pitched the idea of a long interview to Pope Francis, “his first response was: ‘No, I will not do interviews during my pontificate.’”
After the whirlwind pontificate that has just come to an end, it is hard to imagine Francis as that new pope with modest aims for curial reform and local governance. It’s impossible to imagine him as a pope who doesn’t give interviews. For better or for worse—and almost certainly for both—Francis discerned and followed a different path.
On May 8, the cardinals elected a successor to Saint Peter. Once again, one hears much about the challenges of curial governance, the financial woes of the Vatican, and the need to see the previous pope’s reforms to completion. Perhaps in Cardinal Prevost they were again looking for a pope with modest aims who will focus on local governance as, first and foremost, the bishop of Rome. Perhaps in Leo XIV they have even elected such a man. But who he will become, and how he will shape the Church, only God knows.
This essay is part of a symposium on Pope Francis’s life and legacy. Read the rest here.
