Understanding Pope Francis, A Shepherd Misunderstood

On this Memorial of Saint Catherine of Siena, one of the Church’s boldest voices and a faithful daughter who once exhorted popes with fire and love, we find ourselves at the close of the novemdiales—the nine days of mourning following the death of Pope Francis. It is a sacred time to reflect not only on his life and legacy, but also on the Church he leaves behind.

Saint Catherine was not afraid to challenge, but she did so with deep fidelity to the Church and to Christ. Today, we must strive for the same balance as we reflect on Pope Francis: to love the Church deeply, and to understand her shepherds with both heart and truth.

A Shepherd Misunderstood, Not a Heretic

In an age of division and noise, it is easy—even tempting—to misjudge a person from a distance. And when that person was the pope, the leader of over a billion Catholics worldwide, the scrutiny intensified, and the stakes felt impossibly high. For many, Pope Francis became a figure of inspiration. For others, sadly, a source of suspicion or even scorn. But amid the clamor, one thing must be made absolutely clear: Pope Francis was not a heretic. He was a faithful shepherd who tried to guide the flock through complex and turbulent terrain.

From the moment he stepped onto the balcony of St. Peter’s in 2013, dressed not in ornate papal finery but in simplicity, asking for the people’s prayers, Pope Francis challenged expectations. He did not govern like his predecessors—John Paul II and Benedict XVI—who spoke with scholastic clarity from the center. Instead, Francis spoke from the margins, with the heart of a missionary and the soul of a pastor.

A Church that Went Out

As Bishop Robert Barron writes in Francis in Full, the Holy Father’s vision was rooted in “a Church that goes out to the margins—both economic and existential.” He echoed the heartbeat of the Second Vatican Council and channeled the missionary spirit of Evangelii Gaudium, which he referred to as the “key to understanding” his papacy. Francis wanted priests to “smell like the sheep,” not just preach to them. He urged the Church to be a “field hospital” tending to the wounded, not a museum preserving artifacts of the past.

And this was precisely where the misunderstanding began.

Francis’s pastoral approach, his love for dialogue, and his desire to accompany rather than immediately correct confused those accustomed to rigid clarity. His language, shaped by his Latin American Jesuit background and post-Vatican II formation, often lacked the sharp-edged theological precision of earlier popes. But that did not make him unorthodox. It made him different—and deeply human.

Mercy in a World of Wounds

Those who labeled him a heretic often misunderstood the depth of his mercy. Amoris Laetitia, Fratelli Tutti, and even the much-debated Fiducia Supplicans were attempts to walk alongside the wounded, to bring people closer to Christ, rather than to rewrite doctrine. Yes, Pope Francis allowed ambiguity at times. But he did so not to confuse, but to reflect the complexity of real human lives. “Everyone loves justice,” he once said, “but few have time for mercy.”

The real scandal, then, was not doctrinal laxity, but the pope’s unwavering insistence that the Church be a place of healing—even for the divorced, the broken, the confused, the imperfect. Isn’t that exactly where Jesus stood?

The Green Pope, the Poor Man's Pope, the Silent Defender of Doctrine

He was called many names—some flattering, others less so. But what was rarely acknowledged is that this same pope who washed the feet of Muslim refugees also firmly upheld the Church’s teachings on abortion, marriage, and gender ideology. As Understanding Francis notes, he was often labeled “confusing” primarily due to poor catechesis and intentional media distortion.

It is no small irony that those who demanded absolute clarity from Francis often misinterpreted his words without reading them in full. Many who cried “heresy” never sat with Laudato Si’ long enough to hear its theological beauty or see how closely Fratelli Tutti aligned with Catholic tradition on the universal destination of goods—a teaching rooted in Aquinas, not Marx.

A Call to Listen, Not Condemn

If you are one of those who found Pope Francis difficult to understand—or even disturbing—may I invite you: pause. Breathe. Pray. Read his words yourself, not just the headlines or reaction videos. Sit with Evangelii Gaudium. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide you.

Because what you will find is not a rebel pope, but a wounded healer. Not a doctrinal radical, but a daring pastor. Not a heretic, but a man who ached for the Church to be a home again—for everyone.

The Church has always had its tensions, its misunderstandings, even its saints who were slandered. And maybe, just maybe, this pope—so loved by the poor, misunderstood by the proud, and faithful amid the fire—was one of them.

Let us pray with him in spirit, not prey upon his memory.
Let us walk the path he walked, not war against the legacy he leaves.
And let us remember that behind the headlines stood a man in white, who asked us—simply and humbly—to go out, to serve, and to love.

“The sacred oil,” Pope Francis once said, “must flow into the world—or it will go rancid.”

On this memorial of Saint Catherine of Siena, may we be courageous in truth, generous in love, and faithful in hope, as she was.
And as our nine days of mourning conclude, may our hearts remain open to the Holy Spirit, who raises up shepherds in every age.

Requiescat in pace, Pope Francis. May your legacy bear the fruit of mercy.