Pope Francis broke me. I used to believe in a Church that was comforting. I loved exploring the depths and breadth of its teaching. I marveled at its grandeur. It was among those that also shared my beliefs and convictions that I first learned about the primacy of the Pope and the special role he played in guarding the eternal teaching of the church. I named my first son after a Pope.
When Francis issued his climate change encyclical, therefore, I experienced the first tug at my understanding of the faith and the Church. Those that once claimed the authority of the Pope were now qualifying that authority and dismissing him. They said it was only on the “science,” however, and I was assuaged.
When the attacks on Francis ramped up, especially following the release of Amoris Laetitia, Pope Francis wrote a little known Apostolic Exhortation, Gaudete et Exsultate. It was nothing particularly provocative or insightful. It simply restated what had been the teaching of the church for millennia. In it, Francis wrote, “The Church has repeatedly taught that we are justified not by our own works or efforts, but by the grace of the Lord, who always takes the initiative.”
In retrospect, I can say that I was angry at what had been denied me: a full and rich theology that frees from deep spiritual anxiety. St Paul’s exhortation to work out our salvation with fear and trembling was, for me, only fear and trembling. I had learned somewhere along the way that my struggles with sin were indicative of a justification that didn’t stick, that the grace of God was ineffectual in a great sinner such as myself.
Just as I was experiencing a spiritual awakening, so many were trying to dismiss his teachings. This time, I was not convinced. Their arguments were shallow. They seemed bothered by unimportant details. They parsed the Latin, set up strawmen, and all the while garnered a pretty following on social media. Francis’s opponents grew in power and influence and aligned themselves with authoritarian politicians.
The scales finally fell from my eyes. I saw how much my understanding of the faith had been polluted by the pursuit of power, control, money, and fame. In contrast, Francis shed the trappings of Christendom, lived humbly, and welcomed the poor and sick into his home.
I remembered the Gospel, “When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9:11-13)
In his remaining years as Pope, nothing Francis did surprised me. I grew in appreciation for his deep commitment to the forgotten and outcast, from which all his teachings and actions flowed. Wherever (small “t”) traditions of the Church prevented him from expressing the fullness of the faith, he broke them. Many thought Francis was breaking the Church.
In fact, Pope Francis broke me. I believe now in a Church that is comforting, one that consoles the sinner and provides healing to the sick. I love exploring the depths and breadth of its teaching, letting God convert me each day to the heart of crucified Jesus. I marvel at the grandeur of the Church, embodied in the lost and forgotten, the poor and suffering. I named my second son after Francis.
Image: Vatican media.
Daniel Amiri is a Catholic layman and finance professional. A graduate of theology and classics from the University of Notre Dame, his studies coincided with the papacy of Benedict XVI whose vision, particularly the framework of "encounter" with Christ Jesus, has heavily influenced his thoughts. He is a husband and a father to three beautiful children. He serves on parish council and also enjoys playing and coaching soccer.
Popular Posts