Whoever succeeds Pope Francis, the genie is now permanently out of the bottle

If Pope Francis was merely supposed to be a caretaker pope and keep the throne of St Peter warm, he defied all expectations

Pope Francis releases a dove as a symbol of peace during a meeting with Chaldean community in Tbilisi in 2016. Francis’s agenda was introducing the fullness of reform envisaged by Vatican Two almost half a century earlier. Photograph: Vincenzo Pinto/AFP via Getty Images
Pope Francis releases a dove as a symbol of peace during a meeting with Chaldean community in Tbilisi in 2016. Francis’s agenda was introducing the fullness of reform envisaged by Vatican Two almost half a century earlier. Photograph: Vincenzo Pinto/AFP via Getty Images

On the evening of March 13th 2013, I was watching television sitting in the presbytery of Moygownagh parish in County Mayo where I was parish priest, as Cardinal Jean-Louis Tauran, the Vatican chamberlain, appeared on the balcony of St Peter’s in Rome and declared Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio to be the new pope.

As Pope Francis emerged from the shadows, my heart sank. He looked impossibly old for the task that faced him. If he had the words “Caretaker Pope” written across his chest on his new white soutane, it couldn’t have been clearer that he was merely expected to keep the throne of St Peter warm, waiting for a more active successor.

Here, I thought, was another elder filling a gap for a few years where a Church – that by every available metric was in what looked like terminal decline – could avoid the hard questions for another few years.

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Within a few days it was clear that my assessment was considerably off the mark. A number of signals suggested a more promising pontificate.

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Francis declined the sumptuous headquarters of the Papal Palace in favour of a more modest B & B; he rejected a Latin homily prepared for him in favour of a more folksy off-the-cuff chat in Italian; he chose a plain and simple liturgy rather than the “lace and purple” of his predecessor; he asked cardinals to wear black rather than “cardinal red”; he counselled Vatican officials against careerism; he abolished monsignors; he insisted on using a small white car rather than a black Cadillac; he famously advised priests to have “the smell of the sheep” on them; and his great hope, he said, was “a poor church for the poor”.

What was going on? Was this really happening? Against all the odds, here was a pope who eschewed the role of emperor in favour of that of a parish priest.

After the death of Pope Francis the Vatican enters nine days of mourning followed by a secretive conclave.

In less than a decade, the achievements of Francis’s pontificate were startling. He implemented the vision of Vatican II. He placed a pastoral focus on drawing those on the margins into the centre and a new emphasis on Baptism rather than ordination as the key sacrament.

He established the Amazon Synod and offered a vision of the Church as “a field hospital”. He improved the regulation of Vatican finances, targeted clericalism – a toxic corruption of priesthood with its presumption of superiority and entitlement – and put a new focus on the tenderness and mercy of God. And then there was what has become Francis’s long-term gift to the Church – a synodal journey.

What Austen Ivereigh calls “the Francis effect” – the change of style and mood from the John Paul and Benedict pontificates – introduced a welcome change from the winter years of his two predecessors.

In simple terms, Popes John Paul and Benedict were convinced that the Second Vatican Council (1962-5) had “gone too far” in reforming the Church. In Benedict’s words it necessitated “a reform of the reform” – effectively a restoration of a pre-Vatican Two mentality and practice.

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What Francis was keen to signal – first implicitly and then directly – was his intention to implement the actual reforms implied by that council’s documents, as voted through by an overwhelming percentage of the world’s bishops. Francis’s agenda was introducing the fullness of reform envisaged by Vatican Two almost half a century earlier.

The beleaguered and fearful years gave way to, in Ivereigh’s words, “a new liberty to discuss, to criticise, to listen and to discern”.

Suddenly the great unmentionables were no longer off the agenda. These included the ordination of women; mandatory celibacy for priests; acceptance of the LGBTQ+ community; the idea that priests who have left the active ministry be invited to return; access to Communion for those in non-traditional marital situations; problematic aspects of Catholic sexual morality, and others.

Francis – by way of a comment here and a hint there – sent “smoke signals” to indicate a significant change from the John Paul/Benedict era. When he was asked about the Church’s position on LGBTQ+ people, he responded with another question: “Who am I to judge?”

Suddenly, the recognition of the humanity of LGBTQ+ people reached a different level, as individuals and communities were encouraged to support rather than judge.

A sea change was detected too when it became evident that Irish bishops were no longer being summoned to Rome to be dressed down for their “disloyalty” in attempting to surface issues of significant concern for priests and people.

We took our cue from the liberating and refreshing change that Francis’s openness had ushered into church discourse with a confidence that, post-Francis, the genie was now permanently out of the bottle – regardless of who his successor will be.

But perhaps the crowning achievement of the Francis years was his focus on the importance of Synodality, achieved by expanding the tent of belonging to include all the baptised into a People’s Church and which (if given a fair wind) has a huge potential for invigorating the Church and enhancing its mission in the world.

There were mistakes and gaps too in Francis’s legacy. It took him some time to get up to speed on clerical child sexual abuse, but when he did, as on his visit to Ireland, he hit the ground running – placing an unswerving focus on the needs of victims.

He also never quite “got” the women’s issue, in particular the importance of momentum on the long and necessary journey to equality. And he could be averse to risk, holding back when even a distant hint of schism hovered.

Despite all that, for me and for many, he was our hero.

Brendan Hoban is a priest of Killala Diocese. His tribute to Pope Francis, Holding Out for a Hero, The Long Wait for Pope Francis was published in 2023