While I disagree with many things Francis did and believed, I think he deserves credit for this: Francis showed us what Christian leadership can look like.
On the Monday following Easter Sunday, Pope Francis, the two hundred and sixty-sixth pontiff, died suddenly. Reports state his death is due to a stroke and not the pneumonia he was recently hospitalized for. As Roman Catholics grieve worldwide, their Protestant brothers and sisters should offer care and condolences and model the kind of love and empathy Christ taught us, and St. Paul instructs when he tells us to "weep with those who weep" (Rom. 12:15).
For some Protestants, the death of a pope matters about as much as a change in grocery store clerk: it doesn't really make much of a difference in your life. For others, the death of a pope acts to entrench Protestant visions of superiority: "Those Catholics and their pope, tsk, tsk, tsk, if they only could embrace Jesus himself and not some living idol who supersedes Scripture." I believe both approaches are wrong and bring out the worst in Protestant arrogance. So, how should Protestants react to the news that a Pope has died?
The same way that we would with anyone else who finds themselves under the sting of death: with presence, empathy, generosity, patience, support, and the comforting promises of the gospel. All is well and good. But about the objections to the pope? Do Protestants have a point when they dismiss the papacy as an irrelevant heirloom of a long passed time from before Christianity split? Like Tertullian's comment about philosophy, "What has Athens got to do with Jerusalem?" A variant in our context might be, "What does the pope have to do with Protestantism?"
There are practical reasons to care about a pope's death. First, the pope is the leader of an actual nation-state with status in the United Nations. Though the smallest of nations, the papacy punches far above its political weight. Popes deal in politics as much as theology, like it or not, and that makes them important. Their access to a nationwide budget and to world leaders makes them, arguably, the most important political voice representing a particular kind of Christianity in the world.
As Roman Catholics grieve worldwide, their Protestant brothers and sisters should offer care and condolences and model the kind of love and empathy Christ taught us, and St. Paul instructs when he tells us to "weep with those who weep" (Rom. 12:15).
This political role is precisely what irked conservatives (Protestants and Catholics) about Francis. A "progressive pope” (though not progressive enough for liberals), Francis was never shy about inserting his opinions about political and ethical issues on the world stage. He called out world leaders for war, greed, and capital punishment. He took the side of migrants, minorities, and the poor. In his Catholic context, he humanized homosexuals in ways that shocked and scared many Catholics while delighting others. Francis meddled in politics because popes are supposed to. And, whether or not they agree with them, that's one reason they matter, even to Protestants.
Underpinning their politics, however, is an operative theology that informs and gives rise to their ethical and political ideologies. Certainly, Protestants are not Roman Catholics, and so the theology here will not always be congruent. Putting that aside for the greater point, Francis would likely want to be remembered on this very point: theology has to take shape and live-out a person. If that person is a pope, a leader of a nation and religion, then the way that faith is lived-out will be within that expression.
Francis was famously known as a "humble" pope, decrying the opulence and aggrandizement of papal trimmings for being a man of the people. Even the day before he died, he insisted on being with the crowds of worshippers who came out for mass—despite his doctor's pleas to avoid large groups for fear it would make him immunocompromised. Francis wanted his flock to know—wanted the world to know—that Christianity is about embodying the message that is preached and believed. While not all Protestants share the particulars of his faith or politics, I think such a stance is an authentic and Biblically defensible position that we can get behind.
I believe a tragic unfairness followed Francis. He was certainly polarizing and provocative at times, and he seemed very aware of this fact. Many of my Catholic friends and acquaintances did not like him. Conservative Catholics I know said he was “not my pope” and “too liberal.” They accused him of being all theater and virtue-signaling. But for many, nothing Francis could do was good enough. And that's a good litmus test as to whether or not your criticism of another is likely plausible or just plain biased. Can the person you disagree with do many things right as well? Can you grant them the fairness of discernment when they are right, even if you call them out when you think they are wrong?
For decades, Protestants I know decried the opulence and grandeur of the popes. They said Christ would never live in such palaces, that he would care more for the poor, that Christ would be less pedantic and more embracing of people the world shuts out or shuts down. They got what they wished for in Francis, but because his political leanings didn't match theirs, they hated him, too. The tragic unfairness that beset Francis was that he was hated both for being the kind of pope people thought they wanted and not being progressive enough for real progressives. He occupied a kind of middle-left ground that disappointed many.
While I disagree with many things Francis did and believed, I think he deserves credit for this: Francis showed us what Christian leadership can look like. You can disagree with the man’s politics, you can decry his Catholic theology as being not Protestant, and you are free to disagree with how he decided to speak and act on certain issues. But I think it is unfair to a man's legacy, a man who truly loved the same Christ we do and believed that the same Christ died for him, to say that his modeled leadership was also lacking.
There is no perfect leader. If we make people into idols, they will disappoint. My point is not that Francis did all his leading perfectly; rather, it is his insistence that we draw our leadership lessons from Christ's example that makes him an example as well. Francis was a man driven by convictions, convictions borne out of his theology and faith. He didn't waver or pander in this regard. He had the kind of leadership that lived unashamedly for convictions. This is the same kind of leadership we saw in Luther, Calvin, and John Huss, to name only three. It is the leadership that leads from "below" a conviction of the truth. It is a kind of leadership that does not know best but knows how to follow the One who knows best. If anything, Francis' passioned plea to care for others and enter into the brokenness of others is a lasting tribute to a man who served his Lord his whole life.
Popes may not be important to Protestants in the way they are to Catholics, but the public role and fame of popes make them culturally important to us and how others see Christianity and, therefore, Christ. So, let's take a lesson from Francis, who was trying to follow Christ's example and care for our Catholic friends over the next few weeks. After all, a servant isn't greater than his master, and if Christ was able to care even for those who crucified him, "Father forgive them they know not what they do," certainly we can care for those who find themselves sad at Francis' passing and anxious to see who will lead their church next.
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