Pope Francis is, undoubtedly, a popular figure. His popularity extends beyond religious circles. Wherever he speaks, people seem to listen. His style is unique; it is deceptively simple and always hard-hitting.
Some of his words, however, have been misconstrued and misinterpreted to suit particular agendas. Other doctrinal pronouncements had to be clarified with follow-up statements for they risked sowing further confusion. There were times when his views on society and the economy were not backed by specialist knowledge. Some diplomatic overtures may have placed the persecuted Church in a more vulnerable position. On occasions, the wounds of divisions within the Church were there for all to see.
In short, this popular papacy could have been divisive. There are some aspects of it which always will be. However, his leadership in recent months has proven that he may not necessarily be the pastor everyone wants, but he is undoubtedly the leader that the world needs.
Two leitmotifs of his papacy remain as valid as ever before. Firstly, the Church should never be complacent. Unlike the state, it has a vocation rather than a role. Although it has a social function, it is not a social work agency. Despite its heritage – intellectual, historical and cultural – it should never be an ivory tower. He speaks of a Church which needs to be moulded on Christ as the Good Shepherd.
Secondly, faith should lead to action. While participation in the life of the Church is essential, that faith should have consequences on our conduct. For example, how can we, on the one hand, claim to follow Jesus, and on the other hand, cheer at the sight of drowning migrants? How can we claim to live the Gospel if we are indifferent to our communities?
The most poignant – and significant – moment of this papacy came at the extraordinary Urbi et Orbi on March 27. The world watched as the elderly Pope walked up the steps of an empty St Peter’s Square. It was raining, and the Pope breathlessly recited the opening prayer. Then he told the world, “We are not self-sufficient; by ourselves, we flounder: we need the Lord like ancient navigators needed the stars.”
Some of Pope Francis’s words have been misconstrued and misinterpreted to suit particular agendas
There, at the foot of the Crucifix venerated at the Church of San Marcello al Corso, the Pope brought the prayer intentions and the concerns of the entire world; of one of the largest field-hospitals fearful and sick of COVID-19. Therein is the paradox of the Christian faith; at his weakest and his most vulnerable, he appeared as his strongest. No additional words were necessary. It was a moment of grace for the entire Church and the whole world.
Unlike other world leaders, Pope Francis did not engage in posturing. There was no artificial facade. There was no attempt to be upbeat and optimistic. He did not pretend that he had the situation under control. He suffers with his flock.
It isn’t, however, surprising that Pope Francis’s most significant moment came at this most terrible time for humanity. Perhaps we’ve misunderstood his Pontificate; it was not about ‘reform’, or ‘openness’ or whatever other catchphrase is thrown at us from time to time. It wasn’t even about being ‘all things to all people’.
Instead, it was about Pope Francis’s vision of the Church as a ‘field hospital’. This image underpins almost every aspect of this Pontificate. When interviewed by Antonio Spadaro for La Civiltà Cattolica – only four months after his election – Pope Francis explained this vision. His remarks were later translated into English for America magazine:
“The thing the Church needs most today is the ability to heal wounds and to warm the hearts of the faithful; it needs nearness, proximity. I see the Church as a field hospital after battle. It is useless to ask a seriously injured person if he has high cholesterol and about the level of his blood sugars! You have to heal his wounds. Then we can talk about everything else. Heal the wounds, heal the wounds. ... And you have to start from the ground up.”
He picks up this image several times during his Pontificate; the last time being in September 2019 as he was reflecting on the Acts of the Apostles. In this catechesis, he notes that the image of the Church as a “field hospital that takes in the weakest people” dates to apostolic times. Thus, what Pope Francis is proposing isn’t necessarily a radically new way of seeing the Church but, rather, a return to its roots.
Cardinal Blase Cupich goes a step further to try and explain the ‘field hospital’. In the ‘Pope Francis Lexicon’ he writes that our challenge is “to bring those glad tidings, not to sit back and wait for those who need them to ask; to go out, to travel to the peripheries where the oppressed reside; to be with the wounded on the field of battle”. It is for each society to identify where the periphery in its midst lies.
It is precisely why his leadership is so remarkable in such trying times. We need expert advice, and we need sound solutions; however, we also need moral leadership. We require people in positions of power to do their job. Yet, we also expect the example of those who have authority.
This is what Pope Francis is offering the world. As he goes about his daily life, locked down in the Vatican, he reminds us that the world isn’t just in need of politics. Beyond the grand PR gestures, the rhetoric and the buoyant optimism, it also requires a message which challenges us to acts of mercy, tenderness and hope. Both believers and non-believers can sign up to this.
André DeBattista, Independent researcher