NAIROBI, Kenya- Before he breathed his last, the late Pope Francis spent his final days tending to the sheep of his flock in the best way he knew how—blessing the faithful during Easter Mass, visiting a prison, greeting enthusiastic Christians, and even meeting a diplomat he strongly disagreed with.
He led by example, championing the changes he believed in. To some, however, those very efforts were seen as a threat to the fabric of the Roman Catholic Church—an institution deeply indoctrinated to the bone.
For the 12 years he led from the Vatican, he stood at the forefront of reform—pushing for inclusivity and compassion. It was a passionate cause that earned him both fierce critics and loyal supporters.
One can only imagine the inner conflict: raised a devout Catholic, expected as pope to uphold age-old doctrines, and yet, as a leader, feeling the responsibility to adapt to a dynamic, evolving world.
He strived to make the faith more accessible—to ensure all felt welcomed, seen, and worthy of prayer.
The thing about being the first in anything is that people often expect you to be a token—follow rules without question, bask in the glory of “making it,” and never dare challenge the status quo. But if you colour outside the lines or dare have an original idea, you risk animosity.
Pope Francis experienced this firsthand, often clashing with fellow robed clerics—demure in appearance but fiercely opinionated in practice.
Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio, Pope Francis was an Argentine of Italian descent. He once worked as a janitor, a nightclub bouncer, and in food processing before joining the clergy.
At the peak of his spiritual journey, he didn’t lead solely as a pope upholding sacred doctrines, but also as a man—human and empathetic.
He merged these aspects of himself to shape his leadership. He identified with the meek, the downtrodden, the sidelined, and the outcasts—embracing all for a greater purpose and the glory of God.
His papacy was not without controversy. You’d expect a centuries-old institution to cling tightly to tradition—and it did.
Yet Pope Francis pushed boundaries. By embracing the marginalized, the non-Christians, and the LGBTQ+ community, he earned both enemies who undermined his authority and allies who found healing and hope in his words.
Ironically, at times, it felt like the world forgot he even existed—save for the Vatican and its clerics.
While he quietly appointed women to positions never held by them before, approved blessings for same-sex couples, and championed climate action, many of his achievements were overshadowed.
Only media-worthy moments gained attention—often the most dramatic and contentious.
From court battles to suspensions and firings, he found himself at the center of tough, uncomfortable decisions. These moments threatened to water down the tremendous strides he made.
Still, he pressed on. Until his final breath, he used his voice to call for human rights and urged leaders to treat their people with compassion.
To staunch Catholics, he may have seemed like a radical, shaking the very foundation of their faith. To progressives, he perhaps didn’t push far enough. In the end, he left both camps slightly disappointed.
Yet, the most uncertain part about his legacy lies ahead—after the conclave elects his successor. Will his reforms be sustained, expanded, or reversed? That remains to be seen.
What is consoling, however, is the certainty that his legacy will endure. Reforming century-old doctrines in just 12 years was a tall order. Change takes time. And Pope Francis—flawed, bold, compassionate—undoubtedly moved the needle.
