Now that the papacy of Jorge Mario Bergoglio is behind us, it is worth not only assessing his papacy but also the papacy itself. While conservative Catholics criticized Francis’ doctrinal ambiguity, his watered-down moral teaching, and his support for compromised prelates, it is only fair to ask ourselves what his motivations were.
I think they can be summed up in his rejection of the mozzetta before his first appearance that evening of March 13, 2013. In rejecting the traditional red shoulder cape, he reportedly said to Msgr. Marini, “You put it on. The carnival is over.” This, however, is likely an urban legend. Another report has Francis simply saying, “I prefer not to.” Either way, the decision was symbolic.
Francis was signaling a shift away from what he considered an overly grandiose papacy. From his first appearance, saying “good evening” and asking for the people’s blessing, Francis aimed to shift away from a focus on the pope to a focus on the people. Coming from the social struggles of South America, Francis wanted a “poor Church for the poor.”
So, he set about displaying his vision for the Church: He eschewed papal trappings, rejecting ornate vestments and the apartment in the Apostolic Palace for simpler attire and the Casa Santa Marta guesthouse. He referred to himself as the “Bishop of Rome” rather than grander titles, signaling a return to service over splendor. He intended for his leadership style to prioritize dialogue and synodality, encouraging bishops and laypeople to share responsibility for the Church’s mission. He embraced non-Catholic Christians and members of other religions, chatted with atheists, and insisted that the Church was for everyone.
History will judge whether he succeeded in his aims. His critics soon lamented the ambiguity and watered-down Catholicism that invariably accompany attempts at accommodation. His pastoral flexibility undermined the clarity of Catholic moral standards while his ecumenical and interreligious outreach blurred the lines of doctrinal clarity.
All of these elements—both laudable and lamentable—are part of Francis’ legacy, but I doubt whether the Franciscan shift will be more than a blip in the venerable history of the papacy. There are signs that the Catholic Church, and the world in general, has had quite enough of the dialogue and openness that is too often a mask for relativism. There is a hunger for clarity, stability, and the beauty, truth, and goodness that can only be found in traditional Catholicism.
Perhaps instead of pastoral openness, flexibility, synodality, and easygoing ambiguity, Pope Francis’ more lasting legacy will be the fact that he helped Catholics to reassess the papacy itself. In so doing, he helped them regain a fresh understanding of the core of the Faith, what it really means to be a Catholic, and what a pope’s job really is.
The uncomfortable truth is that too many Catholics have a bloated understanding of and admiration for the person and role of the pope. In an age of global celebrity, the pope is right up there with the monarch of England as one of the most famous authority figures on the world stage. And for too many Catholics, the pope is the Catholic Faith. Like the crass Rex Mottram in Brideshead Revisited, in their minds the pope really is an absolute and infallible monarch who cannot err even in the weather forecast. Pope Francis helped to correct that misapprehension. For that, I, for one, am grateful.
Ultramontanism Revisited
Someone quizzed me on social media some time ago, “Is ultramontanism a heresy like Montanism?” I answered, “Montanism is a heresy. Ultramontanism is a mistake.”
Ultramontanism is that 19th-century movement within Catholicism that emphasized the supreme authority of the pope over national churches and secular governments. It emerged as a response to liberalism and secular modernism. It championed centralized papal authority, culminating in the First Vatican Council (1869–1870), which defined papal infallibility; but, over time, a kind of broader ultramontanism became the default setting. One of the contributing factors is that through two world wars the popes provided strong, unified moral leadership—leadership that transcended the political and cultural chaos of the first half of the 20th century.
This centralization strengthened the Church’s unity but also created an image of the pope as an almost superhuman figure. So, by the second half of the 20th century, the stage was set for the larger-than-life papacies of John Paul II and Benedict XVI.
