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Original article: https://theconversation.com/pope-francis-ethical-helmsman-whose-feel-for-international-relations-steered-church-in-turbulent-times-255153
I met Pope Francis in 2016. It was part of a symposium of the former Pontifical Council for Migrants and Itinerant People (now recast by Francis as the Dicastery for Promoting Integral Human Development). I presented some of my work on migration – as attention to migrants and refugees was a central theme of his pontificate, more prominently than for his predecessor, whom I had also met a few years earlier.
After the conference proceedings, we had an official audience, next to the Sistine Chapel: Francis made a speech and we greeted him one by one. I had my 21 month-old daughter with me that day, thinking of the rare opportunity we would both enjoy.
But I’d underestimated the length of the formalities involved. My daughter screamed “Open the doors, let me out!” through the whole of the pope’s speech. I was distraught, but Francis responded very gently to the disruption. He stopped in the middle of the speech and commented how sweet and lovely it was to hear the voice of a child. I could feel it was not just a platitude – he meant it.
In the disarray that is current global politics, with the world wracked by conflict and injustice, the papacy of Francis I has been a beacon of hope.
In a world that appears to be rearranging itself around the principle that might is right, where the whims and the prejudices of strongmen leaders are blindly followed by millions, he represented the most important ethical helm there is. He did this not by taking on ideological positions but by sticking in a steadfast manner to his message that mercy trumps bullies and that compassion will always prevail over hatred.
The image of Francis delivering a sermon from a pulpit designed to look like a ship’s helm when he visited the island of Lampedusa in 2013 strikes me as very symbolic of his papacy. In his first official trip as pope, Francis drew attention to the marginalised, migrants and refugees inspired by the parable of the good Samaritan. But he did so not in a way that patronised migrants as victims or reduced the church to a humanitarian agency.
He launched into a loud condemnation of the economic and political structures that forced those people on to boats. He railed against the people and conditions that effectively enabled those deaths in the huge cemetery that the Mediterranean has become. Expressing his “closeness” to migrants and determined to “challenge our consciences” and the “globalisation of indifference”, he warned we are all complicit in Cain’s killing of his brother.
Critics may carp that he hasn’t really effected any significant change within or outside the church. That while moves were made towards reforms of church attitudes towards women priests and LGBTQ+ issues, real progress has still to be achieved.
That despite his appeals, death keeps swallowing human lives in the Mediterranean and in conflict zones. Despite his championing of environmental causes, forests are still burning.
But it was not his job to run global politics. While he was, technically, a head of state of Vatican City, he did not see himself as a politician. The instructions for his funeral reiterate this: simple, “as a disciple of Christ” and not like “the powerful of the world”.
He saw his role as a spiritual shepherd trying to serve and protect his flock. His vision of Christianity was about mercy and freedom of conscience, with the church’s place close to the “existential peripheries” of the world, not to the centres of power.
His final message, delivered on Easter Day 2025, is particularly telling. It states: “Evil has not disappeared from history; it will remain until the end, but it no longer has the upper hand; it no longer has power over those who accept the grace of this day.”
This in my view sums up the enormous power that Francis unstintingly asserted among Catholics: the power of unconditional love and mercy – not in an idealised form, but well aware of the presence of evil in the world and respectful of individual freedom.
Reaching across faiths
Because of his courage and the political-but-non-political position that enabled him to speak of ethical issues at the heart of political decisions, Francis became widely respected by religious and political leaders. He was loved by ordinary people from all walks of life and, importantly, belief systems, although some were puzzled by his informal style.
In 2019 he made a joint declaration with the imam of Al-Azhar in Cairo, Ahmed Al-Tayeb, entitled Human Fraternity for World Peace and Living Together. This, and his 2020 encyclical Fratelli Tutti, which is subtitled “on fraternity and social friendship”, gave impetus to inter-faith dialogue. As he put it: “God has created all human beings equal in rights, duties and dignity, and has called them to live together as brothers and sisters.”
The last push Francis gave to the Church between 2021 and 2024 was the Synod on Synodality. This was a major enterprise which aimed to revive the sense of global community of believers and witnesses. It stressed the importance of praying together and exercising discernment in important decisions by acknowledging diversity, listening to each other and to the Holy Spirit.
Interpersonal communication and embracing mercy in order to achieve the common good were two key themes of Francis’ pontificate. He was concerned with the dangers of our individualistic “throwaway culture” and aware of the contradictions of a globalised world where loneliness prevails.
Francis did not solve the problem of carbon emissions, he did not stop wars in Ukraine, Palestine or Yemen. He did not make women priests or deacons, and did not fully embrace the LGBTQ+ community, despite some initial inching towards this.
But he made a space to reflect about all those issues, removing the church from a pedestal, centring it on the joyful message of the Gospel and “bringing it out” to all the people – Catholics and non Catholics alike.
That, in itself, is an immense achievement in the long history and slow transformation of the church.
Dr Sara Silvestri is Senior Lecturer in International Politics at City, St George’s University of London where she teaches religion and politics and runs the Europe research cluster. She is also a Bye Fellow of St Edmund’s College, Cambridge University, is affiliated with the Interfaith Research Programme in the Divinity Faculty, University of Cambridge, and is a Trustee of the Council on Christian Approaches to Defence and Disarmament. Sara Silvestri has received funding from ESRC, British Academy, Luce Foundation, the King Baudouin Foundation, the Plater Trust, Caritas Internationalis, the European Commission.