The Pope for the Vatican, A Person to the Masses

One Unforgettable Moment: When the Wind Blew the Pope's Hat Off

On April 21, 2025, the world lost a remarkable spiritual leader—Pope Francis, who passed away peacefully at the age of 88 in his residence at Casa Santa Marta, adjacent to St. Peter’s Basilica. As news of his death spread, people from all corners of the globe began to gather in St. Peter’s Square, united in grief, remembrance, and gratitude for the man who reshaped the papacy in ways few could have imagined.

But who was Pope Francis to the world? To understand his impact, we must look beyond the title, beyond the white robes, and reflect on the legacy of the man once known simply as Jorge Mario Bergoglio.

Pope Francis was a man of many firsts. He was the first pope from Latin America, the first Jesuit pope, and the first to take the name Francis, inspired by Saint Francis of Assisi—a man known for his humility, compassion, and love for the poor. These weren’t just symbolic gestures. They were deliberate signals of the kind of papacy he intended to lead: one rooted in service, simplicity, and inclusivity.

Born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, to Italian immigrants, Bergoglio studied chemistry before pursuing the priesthood. He joined the Jesuit order and was ordained in 1969, eventually becoming Archbishop of Buenos Aires in 1998. Known for taking the bus to work and living in a modest apartment rather than the archbishop's palace, Bergoglio had long rejected clerical privilege. That same humility and grounded lifestyle would define his tenure as pope.

A Humble Shepherd

When Pope Benedict XVI resigned in 2013—a rare event in modern Catholic history—it paved the way for Bergoglio’s election. On March 13, 2013, white smoke rose from the Sistine Chapel, and the world was introduced to a new pontiff. “Brothers and sisters, good evening,” were his first public words, delivered from the balcony overlooking a packed St. Peter’s Square. It was a simple, disarming greeting, one that immediately set a tone of warmth and accessibility.

He carried his own bag. He refused to live in the Apostolic Palace. He drove a modest car. These choices may seem small, but in the often highly ritualized world of the Vatican, they were quietly revolutionary.

Reformer in the Holy See

From the beginning, Pope Francis sought to reform the church, although he faced enormous resistance, particularly from within the Roman Curia, the Vatican’s central administration. He tackled issues many of his predecessors had tiptoed around—sexual abuse within the clergy, financial corruption, and even the role of women in the Church.

He initiated changes to the Vatican Bank, attempting to bring more transparency to its operations. He made powerful symbolic and theological gestures toward greater inclusion, including an openness toward LGBTQ Catholics. “If someone is gay and he searches for the Lord and has good will, who am I to judge?” he famously asked—words that stirred both praise and controversy around the globe.

A Voice for the Voiceless

One of the most defining aspects of Pope Francis’s papacy was his fierce advocacy for the marginalized. He routinely spoke out for refugees, migrants, and the poor. He washed the feet of prisoners, visited refugee camps, and used his global platform to call attention to climate change, income inequality, and the refugee crisis.

He wasn’t afraid to speak truth to power. Whether it was criticizing Donald Trump’s immigration policies or condemning the global arms trade, Francis was a political pope—not in the partisan sense, but as a global moral compass. His message was consistently clear: build bridges, not walls.

A Controversial Figure, Even Within the Church

But not everyone in the Catholic Church embraced Pope Francis’s vision. Traditionalists accused him of undermining doctrine, being too lenient, too liberal, too reformist. Meanwhile, some progressives criticized him for not going far enough—especially when it came to women's ordination or fully confronting the Church’s abuse scandals.

He tried to balance both ends of this wide spectrum, often walking a delicate line. He opened conversations around allowing women to become deacons, questioned the requirement of priestly celibacy, and offered public apologies for the Church’s role in colonial abuses, such as the treatment of Indigenous children in Canada.

Still, many of his proposed reforms remained unfinished at the time of his death. As one Vatican observer noted, “He set things in motion, but many of them were left incomplete.”

The People’s Pope

Despite the controversies, Pope Francis enjoyed unparalleled popularity, even among those outside the Catholic faith. What made him special wasn’t necessarily his theology—it was his humanity. He smiled, he hugged, he called people on the phone. He made faith feel personal again.

In a world increasingly divided by ideology and technology, Francis reminded us of the value of presence, of kindness, of listening. He was often seen praying at symbolic sites—from Jerusalem's Western Wall to the Israeli-Palestinian separation barrier, emphasizing unity and peace.

In a poignant moment during the pandemic, he stood alone in a rain-soaked St. Peter’s Square, offering an extraordinary Urbi et Orbi blessing to a world in despair. That image—one man, in white, under stormy skies—became a powerful symbol of faith, solitude, and hope.

What Comes Next?

Following his death, the Vatican has begun the traditional nine-day mourning period, known as the Novemdiales. Afterward, the College of Cardinals will convene a papal conclave to elect his successor.

It won’t be an easy decision. Francis shifted the balance of the College by appointing many cardinals from the Global South—Africa, Asia, and Latin America—hinting at a future pope who might reflect the Church’s growing diversity.

Will the next pope continue Francis’s reformist agenda? Or will the pendulum swing back toward tradition? Time will tell.

His Enduring Legacy

Ultimately, Pope Francis will be remembered not just for what he did, but for how he made people feel. He reintroduced humility to an office often seen as distant and unapproachable. He made the papacy more human, more compassionate, more in tune with everyday struggles.

His legacy isn’t in papal documents or encyclicals, though there are many—it’s in the images: the pope embracing a disfigured man, comforting a refugee child, or simply walking among the people.

He reminded the world that the Church is not a museum of saints, but a field hospital for sinners. That mercy, love, and inclusion are not abstract ideals, but daily acts of faith.