Against rampant capitalism and luxury, in defense of the environment and interfaith dialogue: on the occasion of the death of Pope Francis (1936–2025).
By Enver Robelli
When he visited Albania in 2014, Pope Francis addressed the world with two messages. “To kill in the name of God is a grave sacrilege,” he declared. With these words, the head of the Catholic Church condemned the terrorism of Islamic fanatics, especially in Syria.
His second message was this: Albania, according to the Pope, “can serve as an example for many countries” due to its model of coexistence between Muslims, Catholics, and Orthodox Christians. His visit was the first to a European state after being elected to the highest post in the Catholic Church.
Francis was an unconventional pope. “Regarding my death, I have a rather pragmatic view. Everything is ready,” he once said. On Monday at 07:35, the Vatican announced the news of his passing: the Vicar of Christ “returned to the house of the Lord.” Perhaps it was a poetic alignment between divine and earthly laws: not every pope departs this world on Easter Monday. Nor can any one of the 1.4 billion Catholics claim such timing.
Francis stood out because he eschewed luxury and pomp. His predecessor, Benedict XVI, was often spotted by photographers for his papal red shoes. “The carnival is over,” Francis is said to have remarked when Vatican officials tried to dress him up after his election. He strove to remain close to the people. After becoming Pope, he called his newspaper vendor in Buenos Aires to explain he would no longer need delivery: “You know what’s happened.”
And what had happened was something of a revolution: Jorge Mario Bergoglio, raised in Flores, a neighborhood of Buenos Aires, had become the first pope from outside Europe.
His biography was remarkable. A devoted football fan and member of Atlético San Lorenzo de Almagro (Buenos Aires), Francis once worked as a janitor in a sock factory and a bouncer at a nightclub. “I had a girlfriend, a sweet girl,” he would later say as Pope, recalling his youth before choosing the church. His mother had wanted him to study medicine. “I didn’t lie to you. I’m studying medicine. The medicine of the soul,” he once replied.
Upon ascending to the papacy, he chose the name Francis to honor Francis of Assisi, the mendicant friar who in 1206 heard Jesus say: “Francis, go and rebuild my house, which you see is falling into ruin.”
At the Vatican, Pope Francis refused to ride in a lavish car. He chose a 1980s Renault 4. Not all cardinals appreciated his renunciation of the splendor of the office. Some even labeled him a communist or Marxist. He was a fierce critic of unfettered capitalism. “This economy kills,” he wrote, condemning financial excesses—and thus became a hero to many critics of unregulated globalization.
In Argentina, Bergoglio supported liberation theology. Upon his election, some accused him of not defending victims of Argentina’s military dictatorship. But the prominent theologian Leonardo Boff said: “He saved and hid many people who were persecuted by the military regime.”
Slovenian cardinal Franc Rode, part of the Church’s conservative wing, greeted Francis’ election with the words: “It will be a disaster.” He knew Bergoglio had little patience for the rigid structures of the Catholic Church, for the corruption within its ranks, and for its many abuses. Francis accused cardinals of suffering from “spiritual Alzheimer’s,” thinking they were “immortal,” “irreplaceable,” with “hearts of stone,” isolated in “narcissism and vanity.”
This Pope didn’t spend all his time in theological footnotes and abstract doctrines. Many in the Catholic Church do. And many of them looked down on the Argentine, implying he wasn’t an intellectual. But this wasn’t true. He had studied philosophy and theology, loved classical music, and read Russian and German literary giants.
Like no Pope before him, Francis championed the environment. “Who am I to judge?” he said spontaneously when speaking of homosexuals. Yet even in this matter, he upheld Church doctrine, calling homosexuality a sin. He opposed the ordination of women as priests but promoted many women to high-ranking positions within the Vatican. He reformed (and cleaned) the Vatican bank, banned the Church’s dealings with the mafia, and toughened laws against widespread sexual abuse by clergy—abuses that have deeply damaged the Church’s credibility.
For Pope Francis, dialogue with other faiths was crucial. In Abu Dhabi, he signed a declaration with Ahmad al-Tayeb, a Sunni Muslim leader. In 2016, he met with Kirill I of the Russian Orthodox Church in Cuba. He tried to mediate the war in Ukraine, but not always with the right tone. Critics accused him of failing to support Ukraine unequivocally. In the Middle East conflict, he condemned both Hamas’ terrorist attacks and Israel’s war in Gaza. His message: the Church is a “field hospital” for healing people’s souls.
An unwritten rule suggests that after a people’s Pope, the conclave often chooses a conservative. Names are already circulating in the Vatican. One of them will be selected by the conclave in the coming weeks.
For now, attention turns to the funeral ceremonies. His wish was to be buried like any ordinary Christian, without pomp or grandeur. In his homeland, Argentina, a seven-day mourning period has been declared. But his relationship with populist President Javier Milei was tense. During the 2023 campaign, Milei insulted the Pope, calling him the “representative of evil on earth” and “an idiot who defends social justice.” Francis forgave him when Milei later visited the Vatican as president.
Jorge Mario Bergoglio was a man of compassion in a world increasingly ruled by cynics, populists, and misanthropes. He forgave them and moved on—leaving behind this advice to the youth: “Make a mess.”
