Death Comes for the Pope

I admire Pope Francis for many reasons, the same that have alienated some conservative Catholics. He seems to have a special care for the tired and the poor. If you’re a huddled mass, you have a friend in Pope Francis. He speaks with appealing frankness about queer people and the Church. Who am I, he asked, to judge? While he could not bring himself to credential homosexual behavior, he had no trouble reaching toward gay men and lesbians and enfolding them in the robes of his regalia.

By the time you read this, he may be gone. I didn’t really appreciate the whole of his program. He has been timid on the question of enfranchising women and reckoning more fully with the abuse of children. But to use his language, who am I to judge? I am an insider when it comes to religious community, but an outsider when it comes to the working of the Church. I have a feel for what pace of change might be appropriate, but that only applies to progressive Jews who live, like me, in North America. It was Francis’ job to stage transformation for Catholics and I trust that he balanced competing concerns without endangering the changes that he deemed most essential.

But what took my breath away the week of his dying was a colloquy reported as he lay in bed. Asked if he understood the gravity of his situation, he answered calmly that he did indeed. He authorized his physicians to report honestly about his condition, and they duly noted that “all doors were open.” For me that can only mean acceptance. It is Monday, February 24, and Francis is still at Gemelli Hospital with respiratory distress and “mild kidney failure.” There has been much talk in the Church about the Five Open Doors. One of these is now a grave for the Pope. Francis knows that his body may fail him and that is every bit as likely as his recovery and return. To greet and acknowledge the Angel of Death is a sign of his formidable courage and realism.

But it was something else that really caught my ear. In the slew of pronouncements that have come from his bedside, the Pope offered encouragement to the Universal Church. His message asked that we stand up for each other: “Do not be afraid to take risks for love!”

There is no word here about doctrine or policy. He does not invoke the teachings of the Church or place himself inside Catholic dogma. With the charisma that has marked many moments in his tenure, he calls all humanity to universal values and encourages us to be fearless in treating others with love.

We instinctively know exactly what that means. It doesn’t require a commentary or an interpreter. Like all great teachers, Francis speaks to the heart, even as his own heart is likely beating its last.