One year ago today, on April 21, 2025—Easter Monday—Pope Francis entered eternal life at the age of 88 in his simple residence at the Domus Sanctae Marthae in Vatican City. He passed peacefully at 7:35 a.m., just one day after surprising the world with a final public blessing on Easter Sunday. His death marked the end of a remarkable 12-year pontificate that began on March 13, 2013, when the first Jesuit, first Latin American, and first non-European pope in over a millennium stepped onto the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica and asked the crowd to pray for him before offering his own blessing.
As we mark this first anniversary of his passing into eternal life, Catholics worldwide pause to remember a shepherd who embodied mercy, humility, and a profound love for the peripheries. Pope Francis challenged the Church to be a “poor Church for the poor,” to care for our common home, and to encounter Christ in the faces of the marginalized. His legacy endures not only in his writings and reforms but in the hearts of millions who found in him a pastor who walked with them in their joys and struggles. We miss him dearly, and many voices across the globe continue to echo the spontaneous cry that arose at his funeral: Santo subito—“Sainthood now!”
A Life of Service: From Buenos Aires to the Throne of Peter
Jorge Mario Bergoglio was born on December 17, 1936, in Buenos Aires, Argentina, to Italian immigrant parents. His father, Mario, was an accountant who fled fascism in Italy, and his mother, Regina, was a homemaker. Young Jorge grew up in a working-class neighborhood, experiencing the realities of economic hardship that would later shape his pastoral heart. He trained as a chemical technician and worked in a food-processing plant before sensing a call to religious life. At age 21, he suffered a severe bout of pneumonia that resulted in the partial removal of his right lung—a health challenge he carried with quiet resilience throughout his life.
In 1958, Bergoglio entered the Jesuit novitiate. The Society of Jesus instilled in him a deep spirituality of discernment, intellectual rigor, and commitment to the poor. He studied humanities in Chile, earned a licentiate in philosophy, taught literature and psychology in high schools, and was ordained a priest in 1969. By 1973, he took his final vows and became provincial superior of the Jesuits in Argentina during a turbulent period marked by political violence under the military dictatorship.
His leadership during those dark years demonstrated both courage and prudence. He protected seminarians and others from persecution while navigating complex political realities. After his time as provincial, he continued academic work and served as rector of the philosophical and theological faculty in San Miguel. In 1992, Pope John Paul II appointed him auxiliary bishop of Buenos Aires, and in 1998 he became archbishop of the sprawling archdiocese. As cardinal in 2001, he gained a reputation for simplicity: he took public transportation, lived in a modest apartment, and cooked his own meals. He famously told fellow cardinals during the 2005 conclave that the Church needed to avoid becoming “self-referential” and instead go to the margins.
When Pope Benedict XVI resigned in 2013, the conclave sought a reformer who could address Vatican scandals and re-energize evangelization. On the second day of voting, Bergoglio was elected and chose the name Francis in honor of St. Francis of Assisi, the saint of poverty, peace, and care for creation. His first words from the balcony—“Good evening” and a request for prayer—signaled a papacy rooted in encounter rather than pomp.
Throughout his life, Pope Francis drew from Ignatian spirituality: the daily examen, discernment of spirits, and finding God in all things. He often spoke of his grandmother’s influence, his love for the tango and soccer (he remained a fan of San Lorenzo), and simple joys like visiting parishes unannounced. His human side—complete with a sense of humor, occasional bluntness, and deep compassion—made him relatable to billions.
The Francis Effect: A Surge of Converts and Renewed Evangelization
One of the most tangible impacts of Pope Francis’s papacy has been what observers called the “Francis Effect.” From the earliest days, his emphasis on mercy, joy in the Gospel, and outreach to those on the margins drew people back to the faith or into it for the first time. Skeptics initially dismissed it as media hype, but data and stories confirmed its reality. Parishes reported increased attendance, baptisms, and inquiries from non-Catholics. His apostolic exhortation Evangelii Gaudium (“The Joy of the Gospel,” 2013) became a blueprint for missionary discipleship, urging the Church to go forth with enthusiasm rather than remain entrenched in structures.
This effect reached a remarkable crescendo in the Easter season surrounding and following his passing. In 2026, dioceses across the United States and around the world reported significant surges in converts received at the Easter Vigil—some seeing 30% to over 100% increases compared to prior years. In the Archdiocese of Newark, over 1,700 individuals prepared to enter the Church. Los Angeles saw a 139% rise in some reports, while smaller dioceses like Duluth, Minnesota, experienced 145% growth. Young adults, particularly Gen Z, cited Pope Francis’s authentic witness—his focus on mercy without compromising core teachings, his calls for environmental stewardship, and his insistence that the Church be a field hospital for the wounded—as key attractions. Even after his death, the momentum continued, with many attributing the “Francis Effect” to a renewed sense of the Church as welcoming yet rooted in truth.
His emphasis on accompaniment—walking with people where they are—resonated deeply. In a world marked by division and isolation, Francis reminded us that the Gospel is good news for everyone. He did not dilute doctrine; he proclaimed it with pastoral tenderness. As he often said, the Church is not a customs office but a mother who welcomes all her children.
Humility in Action: Real Human Encounters
Pope Francis’s humility was not performative but deeply ingrained. He rejected the lavish papal apartments in favor of a simple suite at Casa Santa Marta. He drove a modest car, carried his own bag, and frequently embraced the sick, the poor, and prisoners. These gestures were extensions of his belief in a Church that smells like the sheep.
His humanity shone through in unscripted moments. In February 2016, during a visit to Morelia, Mexico, an overenthusiastic crowd jostled him while he greeted pilgrims, causing him to stumble onto a young person in a wheelchair. Regaining his balance with help from security, a visibly frustrated Pope Francis raised his voice: “¡Eso no se hace!” (“You don’t do that!”) and “¡No seas egoÃsta!” (“Don’t be selfish!”). The moment went viral, but it revealed a real man who cared deeply for the vulnerable and would not tolerate actions that endangered them. Far from diminishing his image, it humanized him—showing a shepherd protective of his flock.
Another memorable incident involved a woman in the Vatican who squeezed his hand too tightly during a greeting. Francis reacted with a flash of discomfort, briefly pulling away or expressing irritation. Critics pounced on such clips as evidence of temperament, but supporters saw authenticity. The Pope is human! Popes are not emotionless icons; they are human beings entrusted with an immense burden. Francis’s willingness to show frustration in the face of excess demonstrated boundaries rooted in respect for dignity, not aloofness.
His awkward moments with ring-kissing also highlighted his discomfort with excessive deference. In 2019, a video from Loreto, Italy, showed him repeatedly withdrawing his hand as people lined up to kiss the Fisherman’s Ring. Vatican spokespeople clarified it was a matter of hygiene to avoid spreading germs in a long line, not a rejection of tradition. Francis allowed the gesture in limited, personal contexts but preferred simple embraces. These moments underscored his desire to be seen as a brother rather than a distant monarch. He often said he wanted a Church where the pope serves, not rules from on high.
Leadership During the COVID-19 Pandemic
Pope Francis’s papacy faced one of the greatest global crises in modern history: the COVID-19 pandemic. In March 2020, as lockdowns paralyzed the world, he delivered an extraordinary Urbi et Orbi blessing from the steps of St. Peter’s Basilica. Alone in the rain-soaked, empty square, with only a few aides at a distance, he held the Blessed Sacrament and prayed for an end to the suffering. His words echoed the Gospel: “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” (Mark 4:40). He described the pandemic as placing everyone “in the same boat,” calling for solidarity, care for the vulnerable, and trust in God’s mercy. The surreal image of the solitary figure under the colonnade became iconic—a visual sermon on vulnerability, prayer, and hope amid darkness.
Throughout the crisis, Francis urged vaccines as an act of love, supported frontline workers, and repeatedly prayed for the dead and their families. He criticized the “throwaway culture” that left the elderly and poor to suffer disproportionately. His leadership modeled resilience and pastoral presence when many felt abandoned.
Traditionis Custodes: Safeguarding Unity and Preventing Idolatry
One of the more controversial decisions of his pontificate was the 2021 apostolic letter Traditionis Custodes (“Guardians of Tradition”), which restricted the celebration of the 1962 Roman Missal (the Extraordinary Form). Issued after a worldwide consultation of bishops, the document responded to reports that in some places the older liturgy had become a vehicle for rejecting the Second Vatican Council, fostering division, and creating parallel ecclesial identities.
Pope Francis explained that the generous permissions granted by St. John Paul II and expanded by Pope Benedict XVI were intended to heal wounds and promote unity. Instead, in too many cases, they were exploited to widen gaps, reject the Council’s liturgical reform, and undermine the unity of the Roman Rite. He declared the post-Vatican II books as the unique expression of the lex orandi (law of prayer) of the Roman Rite, while allowing limited, bishop-supervised use of the older form under strict conditions to prevent abuse.
Critics decried it as harsh or vindictive, but Francis acted as a custodian of tradition in the truest sense: protecting the living tradition of the Church from becoming an idol. The Extraordinary Form, when detached from the Council’s vision, risked turning liturgy into a banner of ideological resistance rather than an encounter with Christ in the Church’s unified prayer. By recentering the reformed liturgy as normative, Traditionis Custodes sought to ensure that the Mass—ordinary or extraordinary—serves communion, not division. History will judge it as a necessary, if painful, step to preserve the Church’s unity in a polarized age. The move aligned with Vatican II’s call for full, conscious, and active participation and prevented the older form from being weaponized against the Council’s authentic spirit.
Facing Hate, False Claims, and Accusations
No papacy escapes criticism, but Pope Francis faced unusually vocal and at times vicious opposition from certain traditionalist circles and political conservatives, particularly in the United States and parts of Europe. Some labeled him a “heretic,” accused him of undermining doctrine on marriage and sexuality, or claimed he promoted “paganism” through interreligious gestures or environmental teaching. Others distorted his words on economics, accusing him of Marxism for critiquing unchecked capitalism and the “economy that kills.” False narratives spread rapidly on social media: that he changed Church teaching on homosexuality, supported abortion in certain cases, or weakened the faith to appease secular powers.
These attacks often stemmed from a rigid ideology that equated fidelity with resistance to any development in pastoral practice. Many immaturely referred to Pope Francis by his surname, Bergoglio in an attempt to divorce him from the papacy. When Francis emphasized mercy in Amoris Laetitia, allowing for discernment in complex situations involving divorced and remarried Catholics, some saw doctrinal collapse rather than the application of perennial teaching on conscience and accompaniment. His outreach to LGBTQ persons—“Who am I to judge?”—was twisted into an endorsement of sin, ignoring his consistent defense of marriage as between a man and woman.
Political conservatives sometimes conflated his critiques of consumerism, inequality, and climate inaction with left-wing politics. Yet Francis stood firmly in the tradition of Catholic social teaching from Leo XIII to Benedict XVI. Laudato Si’ (2015) and Fratelli Tutti (2020) built on prior encyclicals, calling for integral ecology and fraternity without endorsing any partisan agenda. His deal with China on bishop appointments drew fire, but it aimed at ensuring sacramental life for millions of Catholics in a difficult context—prudential judgment open to debate, not betrayal.
Many “traditionalists” who attacked him most fiercely often displayed the very attitudes Francis warned against: a selective traditionalism that idolized externals while rejecting the living magisterium. Accusations of heresy were formally rebutted by the overwhelming consensus of bishops and theologians; no doctrinal change occurred. Francis upheld the Creed, the sacraments, and moral truths while insisting the Church must proclaim them with joy and compassion. The hate he received revealed more about the critics’ fears of a dynamic, missionary Church than about any failing on his part. As he himself noted, true conservatism preserves what is essential by remaining open to the Holy Spirit’s guidance, not by clinging to forms that no longer serve evangelization.
Refuting these claims requires returning to the sources. Francis never altered infallible teachings. His focus on peripheries echoed Jesus’ ministry among tax collectors, sinners, and the poor. His anger at clericalism, corruption, and rigidity came from a desire to purify the Church, not destroy it. The faithful who followed his guidance found deeper conversion, not confusion.
His Enduring Legacy
Pope Francis leaves a multifaceted legacy. He reformed the Roman Curia through Praedicate Evangelium, promoted synodality as listening and discernment, advanced interreligious dialogue (including historic visits to Iraq and Mongolia), and advocated relentlessly for migrants and refugees. His encyclicals—Lumen Fidei (co-authored with Benedict), Laudato Si’, and Fratelli Tutti—offer profound reflections on faith, creation, and human brotherhood. The Jubilee of Mercy (2015-2016) invited the world to experience God’s tenderness.
He appointed diverse cardinals, emphasized women’s roles in the Church (while upholding male priesthood), and confronted abuse scandals with greater transparency, though challenges remained. Above all, he reminded the Church that its mission is evangelization through witness, not power.
Critics notwithstanding, his papacy inspired countless souls. The surges in conversions, renewed interest in faith among youth, and global attention to Catholic social teaching testify to the fruitfulness of his approach.
A Prayer for His Intercession
As we commemorate the first anniversary of Pope Francis’s entry into eternal life, let us turn to him in prayer, confident in the communion of saints.
Prayer:
O God, who in Your infinite mercy called Your servant Pope Francis to shepherd Your Church with humility and zeal, grant him the joy of Your eternal presence. Through his intercession, strengthen Your Church to be a field hospital for the wounded, a voice for the voiceless, and a beacon of mercy in a divided world.
Holy Father Francis, you who taught us to care for our common home, to encounter Christ in the poor, and to rejoice in the Gospel, pray for us. Help us to overcome division, to embrace true tradition in fidelity to the living magisterium, and to go forth with the joy of evangelization.
We miss your pastoral heart, your simple smile, and your courageous witness. Santo subito! May the Lord grant you the crown of glory, and may your example inspire us until we meet in the heavenly Jerusalem.
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
In this anniversary year, may Pope Francis’s legacy continue to bear fruit. May we, as his spiritual children, live the Gospel with the same passion for mercy, justice, and encounter that defined his life. We miss you, Holy Father. You inspired us so much! Pray for us. Santo subito.
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