MJ's View. "Tutti, Tutti, Tutti!" Pope Francis and Pop Culture.

Pope Francis.

He was the first (and, so far, only) pope to appear on the cover of Rolling Stone Magazine (January 28, 2014). He was the fourth pontiff (after John XXIII, Paul VI, and JP2) to be named Time Magazine's "Person of the Year" (2013). He was the topic of countless features in The New Yorker. Perhaps, most astonishingly at the time, he was The Advocate's "Person of the Year" (2013), with the cover photo boldly depicting a NOH8 emblem on his cheek alongside the now iconic question: "If someone is gay and seeks the Lord with good will, who am I to judge?

Who am I to judge?

Indeed.

But Francis will be judged, his papacy revisited, assessed, even scrutinized. It may take years, decades, to determine his ultimate worth, his enduring legacy, his status as an agent of change within the Catholic church. We will likely see an immediate impact on Francis' legacy when the Conclave convenes on May 5 to identify a new pontiff. Tradition suggests that Conclaves often switch philosophical viewpoints with each new pope so as not to set the Church on a path of too much or too little change.

However, given the current, highly divided political climate in this country and in the world, together with the fact that 80% of the 135 cardinals eligible to vote in the upcoming Conclave were appointed by Francis (133 will actually participate in the Conclave, making the magic number to elect a new pope 89), it will be interesting to observe how the political machinations that will mostly occur away from public view, impact the results when we hear, "Habemus Papam" [Translated: "We have a pope"]. Will Francis' progressive ideas continue to influence who is the next leader of 1.3 billion Catholics, or will the Conclave revert to form and "correct" itself with a more traditional Vicar of Rome?

Regardless of the outcome, Francis has already carved out a niche in popular culture, not only because of his liberal ideas, but because of how he has engaged with his immediate constituents and with the world. Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio to an Italian family that had emigrated to Argentina, the man who would become Pope Francis boasted a number of papal firsts: the first Jesuit pope, the first from the Americas, the first from the southern hemisphere, and the first born and educated outside of Europe since the eighth century.

Serving at a volatile time in Catholic history, Francis' tenure was marked by ongoing controveries about sexual abuse within the Church, questions of inclusivity re: the roles of women, homosexuals and gay marriage (much of which challenged traditional Canon Law), accussations of financial corruption within the Vatican, the pandemic, and global conflicts that threatened post-modern notions of religion and faith.

Author Robert Harris, who penned the 2016 best-selling ecclesiastical thriller, Conclave, which served as the basis for last year's Oscar award-winning (for Peter Straughon's adapted screenplay) movie, recently revealed he was inspired to write the novel after watching Francis' introduction as pope in March 2013. Watching the faces of all the cardinals assembled on the Vatican balcony prior to the announcement of Francis as the new pope, Harris told CNN's Anderson Cooper that he began to wonder about all the stories that lived behind the faces of the Conclave members:

This is 110, 115 really sophisticated men [at that time], big political players

in their own countries, some of them with followings of millions, tens or even

hundreds of millions [of] people,” he said. “It’s a very sophisticated electorate,

and it’s a highly political process. For me, I was a political journalist—most of

my novels have to do with politics—[and] this was the greatest election

one could possibly cover.

It is not surprising, then, that director Edward Berger's film paid close attention to the political intrigue happening behind the scenes of the fictitious Conclave gathering: lighting (dark and bright), camera angles, and Volker Bertelmann's haunting score created an atmosphere of secrecy and political paranoia as various combinations of cardinals met to discuss leading candidates and their sometimes dubious backstories.

In my review of Conclave last fall, I concluded that, "Conclave is, above all, a movie for adults, one which uses on intelligent dialogue, individual reflection, and climactic ambiguity to tell a story that resonates on levels small and intimate, as well as broad and universal." At its core, Cardinal Lawrence's (Ralph Fiennes) personal crisis of faith as dean of the College of Cardinals, charged with overseeing the election of a new pope, is a metaphor for the ecclesiastical intrigue he finds himself investigating as the process of vetting candidates takes place.

As hidden secrets and carefully concealed lies surface, Lawrence is forced to make decisions that might, at first blush, seem incongruent with Church doctrine. Yet, it is here within the shadows of the Vatican's hallowed halls that he must confront the ambiguity that challenges his own faith. While his conclusion that "without doubt, there is no faith; without sin, there is no forgiveness" sounds simplistic, his words belie a more profound, complicated notion about uncertainty and its value in a world that too often looks for quick responses and glib solutions to issues that demand more thought and sophistication.

In a similar way, we have seen how Francis responded to various religious and political crises during his tenure. When asked whether a purportedly gay priest could find redemption, his response, "Who am I to judge?" became a touchstone for his papcy. Though simple, almost glib in its content, the question suggests a pope who saw himself as human, one whose purpose was to help those in need and not presume their fitness to find spiritual salvation.

He reminded Catholic priests that the confessional was not a "torture chamber," and that receiving the Eucharist "is not a prize for the perfect, but a powerful medicine and nourishment for the weak." Commenting on the pandemic, he observed, "We have realized that we are on the same boat, all of us fragile and disoriented, but at the same time, important and needed, all of us called to row together, each of us in need of comforting the other.”

More recently, he apologized "for the ways in which many members of the church and of religious communities cooperated, not least through their indifference, in projects of cultural destruction and forced assimilation promoted by the governments of that time, which culminated in the system of residential schools” and resulted in countless documented cases of abuse. In 2023, he remarked to countries criminalizing homosexuality, that "[b]eing homosexual is not a crime." Throughout his career, he remained steadfast in his assertion of the Church's moral opposition to capital punishment and the death penalty.

Though he never sanctioned same-sex marriages or completely resolved all the instances of abuse in Catholic schools world wide, Francis was consistent in his messaging that homosexuals can receive blessings and that any type of abuse was intolerable and unacceptable. His commitment to raising up the poor and providing sanctuary for anyone in need never faltered, and it is fitting that his funeral and burial reflect his tireless championing of the disenfranchised. As one mourner, who traveled to Rome from Ireland this week, remarked, "Francis told the truth. He lived the truth."

Francis has also been depicted in other ways through films and social media. In 2020, my first blog post on the 92nd Academy Award nominations, included this assessment of one of the year's best films, The Two Popes. Though not nominated in the Best Picture category, the movie garnered nominations for Best Actor (Jonathan Pryce), Best Supporting Actor (Anthony Hopkins) and Best Adapted Screenplay (Andrew McCarten), and offered what I then deemed "compelling insights into the human psyche and soul, demonstrating again how our many differences ofen create a more profound human symbiosis."

Based on McCarten's play, The Pope, which imagines a meeting between then Pope Benedict XVI (Anthony Hopkins) and Cardinal Bergoglio (Jonathan Pryce) in the aftermath of the 2012 Vatican Leaks Scandal in which documents revealing power struggles within the Catholic church, and further exposure involving money laundering and financial opacity. Benedict summons Bergoglio whom he fears might resign as Archbishop of Buenes Airies. In the course of their conversation, Benedict and Bergoglio spar on philosophical differences regarding Canon Law, but ultimately find resolution with each other's ideas and absolve each other of the individual sins (political for Bergoglio, indifference toward Catholic sexual abuses for Benedict) that have haunted them both. In the end, Benedict shares his desire to retire (which he did a year later), telling Bergoglio, "

Poor Jonathan Pryce. For years, he’d been told he looks just like Pope Francis. Finally, he got to portray the pontiff in a beautiful tete-a-tete w/Anthony Hopkins as Benedict, and earned an Oscar nomination for Best Actor in the process. Hopkins’ conversational duet w/Pryce gave more human insight into and compassion for “God’s Rotweiller” than I thought possible. Watching these two pros discuss everything from Vatican II to soccer is a delight, so rich and human is their fictitious meeting.

In his New York Times review of The Two Popes, A.O. Scott wrote:

I’m Jewish, and also temperamentally more inclined to ponder secular details

than sacred mysteries. But when Benedict and Bergoglio are together - first at

the castle and then, in the film’s most beautiful section, in a small room abutting

the Sistine Chapel — the actors draw out both the spiritual and pscyhological

dimensions of their characters. The Interplay, a duet with sweet and eccentric

harmonies, is fascinating to observe. (NYTimes, 26 November 2019)

Scott also obsesrves that the filmmakers wanted us to see Bergoglio as a redemptive figure, a man who has faced up to his own failures with humility and whose ascension to the papacy portends an era of reform and renewal." I agree with that assessment, though I would counter that, in spite of gently favoring Bergoglio's philosophy of inclusion over Benedict's more traditional fixed notions of Catholic and global policies, the movie does soften the outgoing pope's often rigid persona as seen in Benedict's nickname above, by suggesting that the two pontifical rivals could have found a kind of fraternal commonground through more human activities like music (in one lovely scene, Bergoglio shows Benedict how to tango) or sports (both men get caught up watching a club world cup soccer game (in which Brazil was victorious).

In his review of the movie in the Jesuit journal American, John Anderson wrote: "The film addresses, however fleetingly, the weightiest questions confronting the church—not just about financial crimes and sexual abuse but dogma, ritual and the Christian mission." He concluded that, "as a character study it is an exhilaratingly intellectual, deftly directed drama that in the end suggests very strongly not just that desire is destiny, but that temperament dictates theology."

How temperament impacts the upcoming Conclave is a mystery, as the ancient ritual remains shrouded in secrecy, or as late night talk show host Jimmy Kimmel quipped, "The Conclave is the Catholic version of RuPaul's drag race." Despite the many ways Francis broke with papal tradition, especially his use of social media, his decision to live in a Vatican guesthouse rather than in the pope's designated apartment, and his persistence in courageously speaking out against political oppression. But there was more to Francis' unique approach to apostolic leadership than having an Instagram account or taking selfies with the faithful.

A recent headline in the Los Angeles Times proclaimed, "He made Catholicism cool again." Maybe. It is Southern California, after all.

That Francis seemed more in touch with the world than his predecessors became a kind of touchstone for his papacy. His clear and constant application of Paulian epistles, specifically, Romans 9:1-11:36 (inclusion of Jews and Gentiles; the importance of grace and mercy with the faith community) and 12:16, "Care as much about each other as about yourselves. Do not be haughty, but go about with humble folk," defined his tenure as pope and described his behavior as a human being.

Francis reinforced his philosophical views by living the very values he preached. His collective encyclicals will undoubtedly be studied not only for their theological value, but for the practical way Francis embued his beliefs: "Let us therefore cease judging one another, but rather make this simple judgment: that no obstacle or stumblinb block be placed in a brother's way." (Romans 14:13) "In a word, accept one another as Christ accepted us." (Romans 15:7)

Like Diana, Princess of Wales, who was nicknamed the "People's Princes" by Prime Minister Tony Blair at the time of her death in 1997, Francis walked among us, following Christ's gospel call to feed the hungry, clothe the needy, tend to the sick and visit those in prison. (Matthew 25:35-36). He was the living embodiment of the Beatitudes and personified the meaning behind "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven," setting a tone of compassion and inclusion for all those who feel inadequate. His popular phrase, "Tutti, tutti, tutti!" [Everyone, everyone, everyone!] was more than rhetoric. It was consistent with how he lived his life.

In particular, Sister Geneviève Jeanningros, the nun who alledgedly broke protocol this past week in order to pay her respects to Francis (she didn't really violate anything and was, in fact, escorted to a spot outside of the public viewing line, an area traditionally reserved for male clerics), spoke of her decades-long friendship with Francis, citing his weekly visits with her and members of the LGBTQ+ community who accompanied her: "I always wrote him a little message to tell him who was coming."

Their relationship began in 2005 when Jeanningros traveled from Rome to Argentina to ask Francis, then Bishop of Buenes Aires, to request the re-burial of her aunt Leonie Duquet (also a nun), who was killed during Argentina's "Dirty War" in the 1970s and buried in a common mass grave. He granted her request.

Last July, Francis visited Geneviève in Ostia, the Roman neighborhood where she was known for her work in the LGBTQ+ community. Like Diana, who walked through landmines and visited HIV+ patients at a time when those afflicted were treated like lepers, Francis ministered to who were marginalized and/or cast out, for various social, sexual and political reasons, though (unproven and undocumented) accusations that he collaborated with Argentina's military dictatorship haunted him long after the Dirty War ended.

I started writing this blog post, the day that Francis died, thinking I would pen a brief remembrance of his place in popular culture. But the more I wrote, the more I had to say (or at least, thought I had to say) about his life and legacy. I'm sure that, as I continue my own research on the intersection of Catholicism and pop culture, Francis' words, ideas, and presence will re-surface. His commitment to pursing higher values, to emphatically denoucing war and actively pursuing peace, to insisting that "no one is useless, no one is expendable" - all of these underscore the notion of a broader, Catholic view of the world, one which theologian David Tracy called "the Catholic Imagination," a perspective that, unlike the Protestant global vision which is more detached from God, celebrates a divine presence in the world. That world, and those who inhabit it, is flawed, so it is here between inherent individual flaws and the greater paradoxes of society that Francis' words and faith lived.

Like all of us, Francis was flawed, but unlike many who abuse and misuse positions of power and authority, he used his papacy to reach out to the world in a spirit of humanity and compassion. ABC News' Senior National Correspondant Terry Moran, who covered this week's events in Rome and who had met Francis on three different occasions, called the pontiff a "holy man" who had the "charisma of connection."

That phrase was never truer in what is probably my favorite image of Francis: a photo taken in 2018 when a young boy named Emanuele tearfully asked Francis if his atheist father, who had recently died, was in heaven.

Francis comforted grieving boy by telling him his father is 'surely in heaven' because he was a 'good man.' Powerful stuff. Simple, heartfelt, genuine. That was Francis.

So whether you are Catholic (practicing, lapsed or recovering) or Protestant, Jew or Muslim, Budddhist or Jain, confirmed athetist or evangeical agnostic, or something else, Francis lived a life consistent with the gospels and with his own faith. That he shared that vision through countless gestures, large and small, given the status of the Catholic church in the twenty-first century, is remarkable. That over 500,000 people (don't tell #47 - he'll claim the photos were altered), paid their respects this week during Francis' visitation and funeral is tribute to his unique ability to have been a positive change agent in a complex, often divisive world.

News of Pope Francis' death on Easter Monday was the sixth time in my life that a pope has died, and the early morning announcement of his passing reminded me of John Lennon's death in 1980. I've thought a lot about Francis' legacy this week, sometimes moved to tears at the beauty and authenticity of his life, and the hope he represented to so many.

In the words of one of our most eloquent Presidents, Barack Obama: "Pope Francis was the rare leader who made us want to be better people. In his humility and his gestures at once simple and profound – embracing the sick, ministering to the homeless, washing the feet of young prisoners – he shook us out of our complacency and reminded us that we are all bound by moral obligations to God and one another."

Francis provided hope for a changing Church and a changing world, embracing people of diverse backgrounds, faiths, and political views. For those who drew strength and inspiration from Francis' example - and even for those too cynical to see beyond the papal ferula, Francis remained realistic in his view of human nature, once saying, "It's better to be an atheist than to go to church and hate everyone." May we always remember his call to "never remain on the sidelines of this march of living hope."

As for the upcoming Condlave, it might be best to remember this adage about those cardinals who may aspire to the papacy: "He who goes into the Conclave expecting to be elected Pope, usually comes out a cardinal." Maybe one of these days, that adage will not be so gender exclusive.

For now, though, Graze, Franciscus.

Requiescat in pace.

"Who are we to judge?"