Many remember the first time we became witnesses to the late Pope Francis. For most, it was when he emerged from the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica, noticeably absent of the red-and-gold mozetta and stole that traditionally symbolized papal superiority. For me and many other Filipinos, it was his visit to the Philippines in 2015 that began to bridge the balconies of Rome to the views and realities on foreign ground.
At the same time, however, I remained disconnected. Yes, I was going to Church, attending a Catholic school, and receiving the Sacraments, but I lacked the same fervor and passion for God that I saw in my peers and family. The mentors who were meant to teach me compassion and love modeled apathy and indifference toward others.
Becoming St. Peter’s successor is a burden, but it was even more so following the 2013 conclave. Francis, then-Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, was set to inherit a slew of controversies, heading towards the insurmountable task of reconciling his predecessor’s pasts while reengaging individuals like me who needed to grow their faith.
He entered office with the lingering issue of clergy sex abuse scandals, which critics say his predecessor Pope Benedict XVI failed to act on beyond a symbolic level. Moreover, the onslaught of the Vatileaks scandal unleashed an air of corruption surrounding the Church, a rare moment where the Holy See was exposed to political outrage, many people thought it was immune to.
Taking the traditional and cautious route, therefore, was no longer an option for Francis. Popes St. John Paul II and Benedict XVI consolidated a base that remained steadfast in doctrine, which unintentionally pushed less active Catholics further away from participation in the Church. In this, Francis sought to retain St. John Paul II’s emphasis on social justice, while expanding it to the Global South, and blending Benedict XVI’s theological rigor with a more pastoral mindset.
He also resuscitated the value of synodality, or the communion among believers. Part of my apathy toward the Church stemmed from the rigidity of dogma, where reflecting or discussing teachings felt unnecessary or even discouraged. But Francis’ entire pontificate allowed laypeople the chance to speak rather than simply be spoken to. The Synod on Synodality, held from 2021 to 2024, enshrined a Church that listens.
Naturally, these reforms came with their own debates and controversies. Throughout his papacy, Francis frequently sparred with the conservative factions of the College of Cardinals. After the release of his well-known encyclical Laudato si’, Cardinal Robert Sarah warned that the Church should not place social issues above preaching about God. In 2021, Francis restricted the use of the Traditional Latin Mass (TLM) through his motu proprio Traditionis Custodes, prompting Cardinal Gerhard Müller to liken him to a shepherd who strikes his sheep. Then, in 2023, five Cardinals submitted a dubia—a list of formal concerns—to the Pope in response to Fiducia Supplicans, the declaration permitting the blessing of nontraditional couples, including same-sex and remarried ones.
Still, Francis persisted in his reforms. Laudato si’ influenced Catholic institutions to take environmental reforms seriously. Traditionis Custodes sought to repair divisions among factions that used the TLM as a means to reject modernizing reforms of the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II). Fiducia Supplicans unlocked the Church’s doors to Catholics who were shunned for circumstances beyond their control.
The Holy See’s Roman Curia also saw long-needed changes: the creation of the Secretariat of Economy subsided financial scandals, women were appointed to lead Vatican offices for the first time, and the Dicastery for Evangelization was elevated above the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith. These restructures built bridges of connection and broke down the walls of dogma.
So, when Francis passed away last April 21, he left the Church in a stronger state than it had been 12 years ago. His reforms were, in some ways, the culmination of Vatican II—and the beginning of a Church that now more readily hears the voices of not just the devout, but also the doubtful. And as Pope Leo XIV assumed the papacy with a reverence for Francis’ legacy, we can only expect that openness to grow.
The truth is that each step Francis took in reforming the Church brought me closer to it. Some have criticized these changes as defiance from usual teaching, but perhaps it was the teachings that needed to evolve. His fostering of a more compassionate Church has made it easier for me to engage in ways unburdened by over conscious rigidity and toward a more meaningful and sincere spirituality. In the end, his vision wasn’t his alone to carry to the grave—it’s now been passed on, not just to Pope Leo XIV but also to us believers, to interpret.
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s June 2025 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSJune2025.
