By Mary Jones, Ben Emos & Don Terry | Monday, April 21, 2025 | 5 min read
Vatican City — On Easter Monday, Pope Francis, the 266th pontiff of the Catholic Church and a transformative figure who spent over a decade trying to drag the Vatican into the 21st century, passed away at the age of 88. His death was confirmed by Cardinal Kevin Farrell, the Vatican’s camerlengo, in a solemn statement: “At 7:35 this morning, the Bishop of Rome, Francis, returned to the home of the Father.”
Francis—born Jorge Mario Bergoglio—was no ordinary pope, and he never pretended to be. His papacy, which began in 2013, was one of simplicity, disruption, and a kind of moral clarity that often clashed with the institutional inertia of the Church he led.
The end came after a long decline. Hospitalized for bronchitis in mid-February at Rome’s Gemelli Hospital, he battled double pneumonia and endured several respiratory crises. He was released in late March, only to briefly reappear on Easter Sunday to deliver a final blessing to tens of thousands in St. Peter’s Square—a last public act of devotion that seemed to capture his papacy in a single moment: frail, faithful, and full of heart.
From Buenos Aires to the Vatican
Born on December 17, 1936, in Buenos Aires, Argentina, Bergoglio was the son of Italian immigrants. Before the priesthood, he studied to be a chemist and was known to dance the tango in his youth. A near-fatal bout of pneumonia at 21 changed everything. He joined the Jesuit order in 1958, was ordained a priest in 1969, and by 1998, had risen to archbishop of Buenos Aires. He became a cardinal in 2001, and in 2013, following Pope Benedict XVI’s resignation, Bergoglio became Pope Francis—the first pontiff from the Americas, the Southern Hemisphere, and the Jesuit order.
He chose his papal name in honor of Saint Francis of Assisi, a man of humility and service. It was a signal—subtle but unmistakable—that this papacy would not follow the script.
A Papacy That Broke the Mold
Francis rejected the opulent trappings of the papal apartment and chose to live in the Vatican’s guest house. He rode in modest cars, spoke plainly, and wielded his global platform not for doctrinal enforcement but for advocacy—against poverty, environmental destruction, and what he called the “sickness of a Church that thinks it must always be at the center.”
He was a pope of firsts, not just in origin, but in action. He opened the Synod of Bishops to women and laypeople. He called for “pastoral charity” in blessing same-sex couples—even as he stopped short of altering Church doctrine on marriage. He condemned consumerism, unfettered capitalism, and environmental degradation with the full weight of Church authority. In his encyclical Laudato si’, Francis declared climate change a moral crisis and called for ecological justice, especially for Indigenous communities.
But for all his progressiveness, he remained, in many ways, a bridge between worlds. While offering sympathy to LGBTQ Catholics, he upheld the Church’s opposition to same-sex marriage. He denounced abortion and opposed the ordination of women. Francis was a reformer—just not a revolutionary.
The People’s Pope
Francis was the most media-savvy pontiff in history. Within months of taking office, he joined Twitter, racking up tens of millions of followers. He launched an Instagram account in 2016 that now nears 10 million. His accessibility and humility drew the attention—and affection—of pop culture figures from Bono and Leonardo DiCaprio to Patti Smith, who famously performed at the Vatican’s Christmas concert.
Filmmakers flocked to him too. Wim Wenders’ 2018 documentary A Man of His Word offered an unprecedented window into Francis’ moral philosophy. Martin Scorsese, long fascinated by the complexities of faith, received a personal audience with the pope in 2016 ahead of the Vatican screening of Silence.
And in 2015, he did what no pope had done before: he addressed the U.S. Congress, invoking Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day, and Thomas Merton in a speech that doubled as a call to conscience for America’s political class.
Confronting the Church’s Darkest Shadows
But even as he offered hope, Francis carried the burden of the Church’s sins—chief among them, the still-ongoing sexual abuse scandal. Though he apologized publicly and launched investigations, many critics felt his response was too slow, too cautious. The McCarrick case—centered on a former cardinal accused of abusing minors—haunted his later years. Francis authorized a Vatican report that largely cleared him of a cover-up but did little to quiet the outcry.
A Final Rebuke to Power
In his last months, as his health visibly deteriorated, Francis remained defiant in spirit. In a rare TV interview in January 2025, he sharply criticized newly elected U.S. President Donald Trump for advocating the mass deportation of immigrants. “A disgrace,” he said bluntly. “An abandonment of our shared humanity.” The remark, broadcast around the globe, was a reminder: Francis never shied away from politics when lives were at stake.
Weeks later, in early March, a raspy, pre-recorded message from his hospital bed was played in St. Peter’s Square. It lasted only 30 seconds. “Thank you for your prayers,” he said in Spanish. “May the Lord bless you always.” It was the last time many Catholics heard his voice.
The Legacy He Leaves Behind
Pope Francis leaves a Church still torn between tradition and transformation—but forever changed by his presence. He humanized the papacy, centered it on mercy and service, and cracked open doors long thought sealed shut.
He is survived by his sister, María Elena Bergoglio, and niece, Cristina Bergoglio. But more broadly, he is survived by a billion Catholics and countless others—believers and nonbelievers alike—who saw in him something rare in modern leadership: humility, courage, and the refusal to accept that the world must remain as it is.
In the words of Cardinal Farrell, “We commend the soul of Pope Francis to the infinite, merciful love of God.” The rest of us are left to wrestle with his unfinished mission.
Copyright 2025 FN, NewsRoom.
