This Easter Monday, we mourn the passing of Pope Francis — a shepherd whose life and ministry have been a profound gift to the world. A Pope in the Jesuit tradition, he modelled careful discernment, humility, and hope. He never claimed perfection — and when he stumbled, he asked for forgiveness, listened, and sought to learn. In a world longing for authenticity, he was a Pope who was unafraid to show that leadership is not about being flawless, but about being faithful.
Francis’ record on issues like women’s participation, LGBTI+ inclusion, and clergy abuse has been mixed — and yet, it far surpassed what we have seen from any other pontiff. He opened conversations where previously there was silence. He created space where there had been walls. He challenged the Church not to retreat into rigidness but to embrace the messy, complicated work of becoming a place where all God’s people can belong.
More than anything, Pope Francis lived out the spirit and teaching of Vatican II. He reminded us, time and again, that the Catholic Church is global, vibrant, and diverse — and that it must be a home for all. His courageous vision and infectious joy breathed new life into a weary institution. Though there is still much work to be done, and wounds yet to be healed, Francis showed us that change is possible when we begin with love, with listening, and with the Gospel.
Through initiatives like Conversations in the Spirit as part of Synodality, he opened new paths for us to move forward together. He encouraged discernment, dialogue, and listening across every corner of the Church — planting seeds of hope for future generations.
Francis was a breath of fresh air, a striking contrast to those who came before him. With humility, he drew the Church’s attention to creation, to immigrants and refugees, to divorcees, to queer Catholics, and to the ecumenical reach of the Gospel. He may not have changed all that we wished — but he gave us more than we dared hope for.
He took concrete steps to improve diversity and inclusion: establishing services for the homeless at the Vatican, embracing people with disabilities, and consistently prioritizing the poor and marginalized. For many progressive Catholics, it was not enough. And yet, considering the deep divisions within the Church and the forces of traditionalism he had to navigate, Francis strengthened the heart of the Gospel: Love God, and love your neighbour.
His reluctance to enable women to be ordained as deacons or priests remains a profound sorrow for many. Yet even here, he did far more than any of his predecessors to open doors, raise questions, and move conversations forward. In his way, he taught us that every leader has their limits — and that even incomplete steps forward are steps nonetheless.
Pope Francis was brave. He was courageous. He tried, with all his might, to bring the Church into dialogue with the modern world, to recognize the dire needs of humanity and creation, and to live the reality of radical equality that is at the heart of the Gospel.
No, he did not solve every problem. But he brought us light.
And for that, we give thanks.
Pope Francis, thank you. May your spirit of hope, compassion, and courage live on in all of us.
