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Irish Independent

Michael Kelly: Pope Francis was never afraid to prick the conscience of both liberals and conservatives

The late pontiff saw the empowerment of the poor as the great antidote to the 'might is right' law of the jungle of unregulated capitalism Pope Francis was elected on a reform agenda after Pope Benedict resigned. Photo: Osservatore Romano/Vatican Media/Handout via Reuters/File Photo Shortly after his election as pope 33 years later, I met him in Rome and asked him about his time in Ranelagh. He had little recollection of it. The fact that we conversed in Italian perhaps too revealed that his plan to learn English in Dublin had not been a roaring success. He clearly cut an unremarkable figure at the time; fellow Jesuits who lived in the Milltown Park residence didn't recall his sojourn there. The only record of his stay is in a dusty ledger that recalls he borrowed £14 from the bursar to buy English language cassette tapes. The money was never returned. The Dublin to which Fr Bergoglio arrived in January 1980 was bleak. A recession was hitting hard, and emigration remained stubbornly high. Taoiseach Charles Haughey would soon deliver his infamous 'living way beyond our means' speech. Ecclesiastically, however, the Catholic Church was at the height of its power. Just months earlier, John Paul II had become the first pope to visit Ireland – a huge mark of pride for a new state still less than 60 years old, but with an ancient Catholic tradition. When more than a million souls fell silent as Frank Patterson sang Faith of Our Fathers in the Phoenix Park, the Polish pontiff was in no doubt that he was in a country that was steeped in Catholicism. Fr Bergoglio cannot have been unaware of the remarkable scenes that saw almost half the population of the island turn out to see the pope in 1979. The contrast could not have been greater when Francis himself celebrated Mass in the Phoenix Park in 2018. The mud caused by the torrential rain reflected a church that was no longer all-powerful but bogged down in crises – mostly of its own making. It's ironic that it was the church's first pope from Latin America who was forced to confront the fall-out from a combination of secularism and scandal that rocked the church in traditional bastions such as Ireland. And yet, in his humble style and manner, Francis was perhaps best placed to speak to a western world that had grown increasingly estranged from its Christian roots. His eschewing of elaborate vestments and the trappings of the papal palace meant that people took his talk of simplicity and sustainability seriously. His emphasis on climate change and social justice put him firmly on the side of many younger people who will deal with the consequences or our unequal and unjust world long after those who have contributed to our woes are gone. Above everything else, Francis spoke about mercy. He saw mercy and the empowerment of the poor as the great antidote to the 'might is right' law of the jungle of unregulated capitalism. He was never afraid to prick the conscience of the world. When political leaders would try to enlist him to their latest cause, he refused to stick to the script. When liberal leaders lauded his environmentalism, he would ask them why they supported euthanasia. When conservative leaders came to Rome for a photo op brandishing their pro-life credentials, he would demand to know why they didn't do more to help the poor. Francis saw the defence of the vulnerable as a single project. He constantly denounced what he called our 'throwaway culture' where those considered inconvenient – the poor, drug addicts, prisoners, the unborn, the sick and elderly – were disregarded. You can't please everyone. Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI certainly didn't, and Francis didn't either. He was elected on a reform agenda after Benedict resigned, the Vatican in turmoil after the papal butler was imprisoned for stealing confidential documents. Francis's success in reforming Vatican finances was limited. He was also slow to understand the gravity of the clerical abuse crisis that has gripped the church globally since the early 1990s. He has disappointed victims and campaigners alike by not insisting on the sort of transparency they long for. His vision of the church – men and women, clerical and lay working closely together sharing power and responsibility – has been slow to crystalise. Describing the church of the future as synodal – people walking together trying to discern the best ay forward – Francis has sought to involve and consult people like never before. Under his watch, some 1.2 billion Catholics were invited to meetings in their parishes to canvass their views on issues as diverse as whether they think priests should be allowed to get married, or the church should bless same-sex couples. But the consultation also caused dismay. Liberal Catholics delighted to be asked their opinion on the ordination of women found the door slammed in their face when Francis later dismissed the possibility. Conservatives, who longed for the certainty offered by Benedict XVI, criticised him for causing confusion by giving the impression that he was open to changing core doctrines to make them more palatable to the lapsed. Of course, the church is not about market share, and numbers are a crude barometer of success. But numbers do matter, and while the church is growing rapidly in Asia and Africa, the decline in the west was not halted under Francis – despite his obvious popularity. Then again, perhaps Catholics expected too much of the pope who was, after all, just one man. In seeking to empower Catholics in their own parish and wider church, Francis was really calling for a grown-up faith where people are treated not like children, but as adults. If that takes root, it may well open the way for people to once again look at the Gospel message free from the baggage of the past. There would indeed be a quiet revolution that would make Francis deeply impactful on the church of the 21st century long after he left us. Michael Kelly is director of public affairs for the papal foundation Aid to the Church in Need, Ireland