Pope Francis: Mixed Legacy Of A Committed Jesuit

Pope Francis, the first pope from the Americas and the first Jesuit to lead the Catholic Church, passed away on Easter Monday at the age of 88 in his residence at the Vatican’s Casa Santa Marta, according to a post from the Vatican’s official X account.

Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio in 1936 in Buenos Aires, Argentina, to Italian immigrant parents, he was elected the 266th Bishop of Rome on March 13, 2013, under extraordinary circumstances.

The Catholic Church was then grappling with widespread scandals involving sexual abuse and financial corruption. His predecessor, Pope Benedict XVI, resigned in 2013, citing health concerns, though some Vatican insiders suggested Benedict felt constrained by a corrupt Roman Curia, unable to enact meaningful reform.

At 76, the former Jesuit Archbishop of Buenos Aires assumed the papacy with a clear mandate: to reform the Church’s governance and restore its moral credibility. Pope Francis significantly enhanced the Church’s global image through his humility, commitment to social justice, and outreach to marginalised communities.

However, his earlier career in Argentina also drew scrutiny. Critics argued he did not sufficiently oppose human rights abuses during Argentina’s military dictatorship (1976–1983), while supporters contend he discreetly worked to protect victims.

Human rights activist and a person who had undergone loss of family members under the military Junta, Estela de la Cuadra, stated that Jorge Bergoglio (Pope Francis), as Jesuit provincial in 1977, was economical with both truth and action regarding the abduction of her sister Elena’s baby during Argentina’s Dirty War, claiming he knew of the child’s fate but provided only a referral to a bishop and later misrepresented his knowledge in court.

His Argentinian legacy is thus a complex blend, representative of the docile relation between Church and a Catholic State.

As the Pope, however, he undertook measures to change the negative perception of the Church.

In the week leading to Easter 2016, Pope Francis elevated the traditional foot-washing ceremony, reenacting Jesus’s act of servant leadership. Breaking with precedent, he washed the feet of prisoners and refugees in Italy, including Muslims and women.

Earlier in 2013, his extemporaneous remarks on a flight, addressing homosexuality and transgender issues, also garnered attention. By emphasizing the right to worship God and invoking Jesus’s call not to judge, he shifted focus toward compassion and inclusion.

Yet another of Pope Francis’s public gestures, was his heartfelt embraces of the sick during general audiences and comforting those with severe illnesses or disabilities. (This act very much emulates those of Hindu spiritual leader Mata Amritanandamayi (Amma)).

The actions of Pope were aimed at projecting the Church as rooted in compassion and healing, which strategically helped in reshaping its image amid ongoing scandals.

Acts such as his widely publicised 2013 embrace of a disfigured man or his visits to sick children in hospitals must, however, be sharply contrasted with the institutional failures of the Church—leaving behind a legacy defined more by Pope Francis' personal outreach than systemic reform.

A case in point is that of the Antonio Provolo Institute, a school for deaf children in Argentina.

The survivors reported abuse by priests, including Nicola Corradi, and despite warnings sent to the Vatican between 2013 and 2015, no action was taken until Argentine authorities arrested Corradi in 2016.

In 2019, Pope Francis did make a bold systemic change in moving towards justice for the victims. He removed the pontifical secrecy for cases of sexual abuse and cover-up, thus allowing lawful authorities to have access to reports, testimonies and documents. This was indeed a significant step.

Yet, in 2020, the survivors of sexual abuses by predatory priests had to demonstrate in Vatican for justice.

In the case of Slovenian Jesuit priest Marko Rupnik—who was accused of abusing women, including nuns—the Pope came out as reluctant with regard to action against Rupnik. It was only when it became absolutely imperative that the Pope allowed any movement on it.

Similarly, his initial defence of a Chilean bishop accused of abuse, followed by his later admission of error, reflected poorly on a proactive Pope determined to eradicate abuse. He rather appeared as a Pope more concerned about the image of the Church.

In his approach to India, Pope Francis, like his recent predecessors, appeared to view the nation as a frontier for Catholic expansion and conquest, a stance that culminated in the controversial 2022 canonization of Devasahayam Pillai, a figure whose sainthood many historians regard as a fabricated narrative designed to advance missionary agendas.

The Vatican’s typically meticulous canonization process, grounded in rigorous historical and evidential scrutiny, was bypassed to elevate Pillai, an 18^th century convert, as India’s first lay saint, despite significant doubts about the authenticity of his martyrdom story.

Hindus argue that Pillai’s portrayal as a victim persecuted for his faith lacks credible documentation and mirrors a troubling historical precedent: in pre-Holocaust Europe, the Church often canonized fictitious Catholic victims of Jewish persecution, fuelling anti-Semitism and justifying religious dominance. Similarly, the Vatican’s approach to India reflects a colonial mindset that treats the nation’s ancient spiritual heritage as a territory to be conquered rather than respected.

By promoting a fabricated ‘martyr’ like Pillai, Pope Francis’s papacy perpetuated a narrative that undermines India’s pluralistic ethos, prioritising evangelisation over interfaith harmony and echoing the Church’s historical disregard for non-Christian cultures.

Politically, Francis remained active until the end. While hospitalised with lung issues in 2023, he tweeted concern for Gaza, aligning with the Holy See’s critical stance on Israel’s conflict with Hamas. His papacy balanced personal humility with institutional loyalty, achieving an image makeover for the Church through acts of compassion and inclusivity. However, his lapses—particularly in addressing abuse and historical accountability—drew accusations of inhumanity and injustice.

Francis was a pope who strove within his limits, lifting the Church’s image with personal charisma while grappling with unresolved challenges, leaving a legacy of profound outreach and persistent ethical shortcomings.