Pope Francis: sin, strife and humanity
Watching the assembly of state and political leaders gather in Rome today for Pope Francis’s funeral brought home the way he rose above the political scrum. In an era where grievance drives discourse and division is often the goal, Pope Francis stood as a beacon of compassion and shared humanity. While modern politics thrives by stoking resentment, Francis offered a vision that transcended labels and blame. Political leaders, more than ever, have abandoned the pursuit of unity, choosing instead to weaponize division. Yet, Pope Francis remained steadfast, offering a counter-narrative grounded in grace, dignity, and the intrinsic worth of every human being.
Pope Francis took a firm stand against this politics of division. His message was remarkably simple: we are all sinful before the love and grace of God. This belief, which has echoed through millennia of theology and philosophy, offers a radical notion for modern sensibilities — that humanity, through its failings, stands united. It is through this recognition of our shared collective fallibility that the liberation of the individual can be found. Pope Francis rejected the divisive, identity-driven lens that plagues much of modern discourse, choosing instead to focus on the corruption inherent and universal in all of humanity. This enabled him to look beyond labels and genuinely see people as they are, with dignity and respect. Whether courtesan or king, asylum-seeker or CEO, Francis saw no difference in their base humanity, with all deserving of the same compassion and respect.
This stands in stark contrast to today’s political culture, which reduces individuals to categories of victimhood, mainly generated by algorithmic formulas perpetuated on social media. The modern political orthodoxy thrives on segmenting the electorate, dividing people into factions and stoking a perpetual cycle of blame aimed at “the other”. In this world, qualifiers are weaponised, grievances amplified, and attacks launched, all in the pursuit of power through division.
Francis, however, championed inclusion, not division. His famous words, “If a person is gay and seeks God and has goodwill, who am I to judge him?” were not a passive endorsement of moral relativism, but grounded in humility, rejecting any claim to moral superiority, and instead encouraging deep reflection on our shared human nature. They were also an echo of Jesus’s own words “Judge not, that ye be not judged” — and as such, in keeping with orthodox doctrine. The Pope was, after all, a Catholic.
Yet Francis’s leadership was countercultural — as true Christianity always is. In a world consumed by grievance and division, he demonstrated that the way forward is not through blame or division, but through grace, understanding, and the recognition that our shared humanity offers insight into the individual. His approach directly challenged the modern political narratives of “us vs them”, replacing them with a call to see beyond our differences and embrace each other as equals.
Even a figure as morally courageous as Pope Francis has found himself up against the immovable weight of the institution he leads. His papacy — defined by gestures of humility and a language of compassion — has often stumbled when confronted with the Church’s own deepest wounds. Nowhere has this been more evident than in its handling of clerical sexual abuse. Despite meaningful efforts to encourage transparency, hold some offenders to account, and steer the Church toward openness, the reality has often been faltering. His emphasis on mercy — so central to his theological vision — at times seemed to blunt the sharper edge of justice. Here lies the uncomfortable paradox of his leadership: that grace, when not balanced by accountability, can feel like evasion. Reform, it turns out, is not simply a matter of intent but of institution — and institutions, especially those steeped in centuries of power and secrecy, do not change easily.
And yet, it would be a mistake to measure Francis’s legacy solely by what he has not achieved. For all the frustrations of stalled reform, he has offered something rare in today’s moral landscape: a consistent, quietly insistent call to human solidarity. “A person who thinks only about building walls, wherever they may be, and not of building bridges, is not Christian. This is not the Gospel,” he said. That line, so often quoted, is more than rhetoric. In an age defined by trench warfare — military, ideological, cultural and economic — Francis has offered a counter-vision of what it means to live together. He reminds us that moral leadership does not require perfection. But it does require courage — the kind that dares to speak of unity where others profit from fracture.
Pope Francis has consistently affirmed the intrinsic dignity of every human being, reminding the Church of her calling to stand with the vulnerable and voiceless. “The dignity of the human person is the foundation of the Church’s social teaching,” he said, urging compassion over condemnation. This vision — that dignity is not earned or conditional but inherent — stands in direct contrast to the politics of populism that have surged in recent years. Where Francis calls for solidarity, inclusion, and care for the marginalised, populist rhetoric often thrives on division, exclusion, and the vilification of the “other”. It prizes strength over empathy, loyalty over truth, and borders over bridges. In an age where fear is weaponised for political gain, Francis’s insistence on our shared humanity offers not just a critique, but a counter-narrative — one that dares to imagine a world grounded not in power, but in compassion.
It was through the doctrine of the shared fallibility of humanity which allowed Francis to bridge even the sharpest ideological divides. A striking example of this was his meeting with J.D. Vance on Easter Sunday, a few hours before his death. Despite publicly opposing many of the policies championed by Trump and Vance, Francis did not treat Vance as an enemy. Instead, he welcomed the Vice President as a fellow human being — someone deserving of dialogue, even though the ailing Pope had by then lost the power of speech. In a world where conflict is too often prioritised over conversation, Francis’s ability to engage meaningfully with those who differ from him is a rare and valuable trait.
And therein lies the true greatness of the man. His example calls us to rise above the politics of division and embrace a universal humanity that binds us all. In a time of increasing fragmentation, Pope Francis’s leadership offers us a crucial lesson: unity, compassion, and grace are the antidote to the cynicism and division that threaten to tear society apart. If we are to move forward, we could all stand to learn from that.
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