Pope Francis dies at 88

Pope Francis, the 266th pontiff of the Catholic Church, died on Monday at age 88, the Vatican has announced. Cardinal Kevin Joseph Farrell, the Vatican’s Camerlengo of the Apostolic Chamber, made the following statement: “Dearest brothers and sisters, with deep sorrow I must announce the death of our Holy Father Francis. At 7:35 this morning, the Bishop of Rome, Francis, returned to the house of the Father. His entire life was dedicated to the service of the Lord and of His Church. He taught us to live the values of the Gospel with fidelity, courage, and universal love, especially in favor of the poorest and most marginalized. With immense gratitude for his example as a true disciple of the Lord Jesus, we commend the soul of Pope Francis to the infinite merciful love of the One and Triune God.” In Rome, mourning bells were ringing in all the churches.

Francis, the first Latin American pope, was elected in March 2013 at a historic moment for the Church, following the resignation of Benedict XVI. Joseph Ratzinger stepped down exhausted and defeated by the palace intrigues and corruption in the Curia, and for finding himself powerless to undertake the internal reforms required by the Vatican, from the Holy See’s financial institutions to the sexual abuse scandal. Jorge Mario Bergoglio, an Argentine Jesuit, was chosen to undertake a renewal of the Catholic Church, to modernize it and push through pending reforms. With a sometimes impulsive and energetic character, he certainly stirred up a gale in social matters, with his unprecedented criticism of the current capitalist system, and in internal reforms, albeit with mixed results, causing deep divisions along the way.

For the most conservative sector of the Church, he even went too far. A genuine front opened against him, among those who viewed him practically as a dangerous left-wing populist. But the enormous expectations he aroused also disappointed the most progressive sectors, who expected more profound changes in the reform of the Curia, the ordination of women, and sexual doctrine, as well as greater collegiality in decision-making. In one of the Church’s key issues, the fight against pedophilia, he was deeply involved with drastic regulations and decisions — he forced the entire Chilean bishops’ conference to resign — but the rest of the hierarchy, the bishops and the Vatican bureaucracy, did not always follow his lead and put up resistance.

Pope Francis’ 12 years at the head of the Catholic Church witnessed a revolution in many areas, starting with the fact that for nine years, two pontiffs cohabited together, until Ratzinger’s death on December 31, 2022. This situation generated plenty of debate at the time, but the passing of the years showed that it led to hardly any issues. And it set a precedent.

What is certain is that, in his election alone, Francis was a pioneer in many aspects: the first Latin American pope, the first non-European pontiff since the 5th century, the first Jesuit pope, and the first one to be called Francis, a choice of name that said it all. No pontiff before had dared to name himself after a radical saint who stood up to Vatican pomp and dedicated his life to the needy. He chose the name because of the words the Brazilian cardinal, Claudio Hummes, said to him as he embraced him after his election: “Don’t forget the poor.” Francis did not do so, and he also set himself aside from the traditional uses and customs of the office, seeking simplicity and directness.

Jorge Mario Bergoglio, a descendant of Piedmontese Italian immigrants, was born in Buenos Aires in 1936 to a humble family in the Flores neighborhood. He graduated in chemistry, then studied philosophy and joined the Jesuits in 1958. He was named provincial superior of the order in Argentina between 1973 and 1979, during the military dictatorship, and from his position he helped several politically persecuted people to flee. This experience marked his political vision, as did the fact that he was the son of immigrants, and his youthful enthusiasm for Peronism.

However, he was then relegated for a few years within the society, a period he himself defined as “dark,” until 1992 when he was appointed auxiliary bishop of Buenos Aires by John Paul II. From then on, his stature grew — he became a cardinal in 2001 — to the point that, in 2005, after the death of Karol Józef Wojtyla, he was a clear papal candidate and one of the most-voted in the conclave. However, Benedict XVI was elected, a recourse to continuity after the long pontificate of John Paul II, at a time when the course the Church should follow was uncertain.

Ratzinger’s resignation placed the Vatican back in the same position, and on that occasion, Bergoglio was quickly elected. He was 76 years old and it was already intuited that his pontificate would be brief, but a period of reforming impetus was sought. Francis’ revolution was mainly in the social sphere and in his open criticism of the excesses of the current economic system, the most direct of any pontiff to date. He harbored a special concern for ecology and climate change, an issue to which he dedicated no less than his first encyclical, Laudato sì (Praise Be to You), in 2015 (the previous one, Lumen fidei (The Light of Faith), from 2013, was actually one that Benedict XVI had left half-finished and he completed). He further incised his critique in the next, Fratelli Tutti (All Brothers, 2020), which lambasted neoliberalism and populism. The fourth and last, Dilexit nos (He loved us, 2024), was the most theological and spiritual, a call to act with the heart, beyond the logic of money and the cold calculation of algorithms.

Francis navigated the Church into the 21st century, facing its current dilemmas (and, as of 2016, with an Instagram account). He forged still uncertain paths that it will be up to his successor to decide how best to travel: the fraternal acceptance of homosexuals and transsexuals, allowing the blessing of couples, and allowing them to be godparents; the entry of women into high positions in the Curia and a call to “de-masculinize the Church” — although he froze the most controversial issue, that of female ordination — and the outreach to divorcees who have remarried.

If there is one word that sums up the priority of his mandate, it is “periphery,” those who are on the margins of society, of the cities, of the frontiers, those who are far from power. It can be seen in his travels — 47 visits to 66 countries — in which he almost always avoided the great powers or countries with a strong Catholic tradition, such as Spain, where he never set foot. He only considered going to the Canary Islands because of the crisis of migrant arrivals from Africa. His first trip, in fact, defined his line from the outset: it was to the Italian island of Lampedusa, a point of arrival for migrants. To them and to all people, believers and non-believers, he wanted to leave a message in his autobiography, published in January 2025, reduced to a single word, the title of the book: hope.

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