Paul Hopkins: Francis: his arduous fight to change the culture of the Church

When Pope Francis in 2016 wanted to appoint Paloma Garcia Ovejero, a 42-year-old Spanish woman, as deputy head of the Vatican press, he quickly faced the ire of the Catholic Church’s male-dominated hierarchy. “I had to fight,” he said.

Asked why the leader of the world’s 1.2 billion Catholics could not put a woman into a middle-ranking Vatican role without a fight, the Pope smiled and said: “Bosses cannot always do what they want.”

But it is not for want of him trying. As head of the Roman Church for 13 years, Francis' ambition had been for less centralised and more responsive decision-making. His training as a Jesuit – the first such elected pontiff – had taught the Argentinian to cast as wide a net for information as possible. That too was the scientist in him, for Francis came from an academic background in physics rather than theology, which led critics to accuse him of lacking the theological and philosophical acumen necessary for the job.

Being, though, the first Latin American pope – the continent is home to 40 per cent of the world’s Catholics – he brought aspects of Liberation Theology to the role, as in his outspokenness on global refugees and the Syrian and Gaza and Ukrainian wars, as well as his denunciation of the death penalty and of laissez-faire capitalism and the ills of globalisation.

Such remarks irritated the many with other agendas, as did he irk traditional Catholics with remarks that, for example, all human beings, even atheists, could be redeemed. Some even dared ask: “Is Francis, in fact, Catholic?”

But for many others, and following two conservative leaders, the Argentinian's pastoral approach gave the Catholic Church a new glow — less judgmental, more merciful, more concerned with pastoral matters than church politics. Some would even regard him as a Pope for all, not just for Catholics, his humble streak having won him global popularity. In symbolic acts, he visited prisons to wash the feet of inmates, including women and Muslims, stressed mercy over exclusion, forgiveness over punishment and openness over what he had described as “a Christ who is locked in” church buildings In his slow but arduous fight to change the culture of the Vatican, and to turn the Church of Rome beyond its walls into a more efficient, inclusive and forgiving institution, Francis had some success. He succeeded in some reforms that even his critics acknowledged, such as making Vatican finances more transparent, but the Pope still had his work cut out for him and his advancing years were not necessarily on his side. Not least were the huge moral and complex issues of divorce, homosexuality and abortion, and the role, or rather lack of it, of women in the Catholic Church – these matters fomenting critical discussion and a backdrop to his Irish visit in 2018. Then there was the debilitating matter of clerical abuse, the fallout from the latest such scandal still escalating. Cue, the Jesuits in Ireland.

“It’s all about the bishops.” That was the single most damning line from a 1,300-page report, released by the Pennsylvania Supreme Court the year Francis visited Ireland The report found that 300 priests in the US state had abused more than 1,000 children since 1947.

In the four decades that Ireland had to wait for another papal visit, much changed. In 2018 Francis found a modern, secular society where only 54 per cent of people regarded themselves as practicing Catholics and just 29 per cent of those attended mass; divorce and gay marriage were now legal, the 8th Amendment repealed, and the State and its law-makers no longer kowtowed to Rome’s rule.

The Pope’s battle for reform was not only with Vatican bureaucracy, known as the Curia, but was also for the hearts and minds of the faithful, not least here in Ireland. Francis’s stance on abortion, divorce and same-sex marriage are as rigid as the Curia’s, if only echoed in a more compassionate way. He did, eventually say same-sex couple could have a Catholic blessing upon their union. In his 2018 visit here, he choose not to largely speak out on such matters.

In the end Francis may well be remembered also for what he did not say. That said, one of his last remarks, before entering hospital, was when he said that laughing at God “is not blasphemy” as he met more than 100 comedians from around the world at the Vatican, encouraging them to use their powerful gift of humour to spread laughter “in the midst of so much gloomy news”.

The pontiff, himself having been prone to the odd quip, invited comedians, including Patrick Kielty, and Ardal O'Hanlon, Jimmy Fallon and Chris Rock, to the audience at the Apostolic Palace as part of his attempt to engage with contemporary culture.

“In the midst of so much gloomy news, immersed as we are in so many social and even personal emergencies, you have the power to spread peace and smiles,” Francis said.“You are among the few to have the ability to speak to very different people, from different generations and cultural backgrounds. You unite people, because laughter is contagious.”Rather special final words. In a world at war.