Pope Francis has died. His papacy leaves behind a complex legacy of compassion, contradiction and quiet courage. This is a personal reflection on faith, doubt and what might come next.

The last time a Pope died, I was almost thirteen. It was one of the first moments I can recall questioning my faith. Not in an angry, dramatic way but in that quiet, gnawing sense that something wasn’t lining up. I didn’t have the language for it then, but I felt a dissonance. Something sacred had ended, and I wasn’t sure how to grieve it.

Now, with the passing of Pope Francis, that feeling has returned but with more texture, more layers. I am older now. I’ve lived, grown, come into myself in ways that the Catholic Church I grew around never quite made room for.

I am queer. I am progressive. I may be non-practising and yet, in some deep, inexplicable way, I still consider myself Catholic. Not in ritual, perhaps, but in spirit and in values.

This reconciliation is not easy. I do not attend Mass, pray the rosary or take communion. But I do believe in the call to love, to serve, to protect the vulnerable and fundamentally in finding peace in God. I truly believe that faith, while so often distorted by institutions, can still be a force for good.

It is precisely because of this tension that I paid attention to Pope Francis. In a world where faith often feels like a blunt instrument, he offered something gentler, more curious. He was not perfect and he did not remake the Church but rather nudged it toward something more compassionate.

Inclusion

Pope Francis understood that words carry weight, but actions carry people. Under his leadership, the Church took meaningful albeit incremental steps toward inclusion. These changes did not erase centuries of exclusion, nor did they fully satisfy those who have long stood outside the Church’s embrace. But they mattered.

He approved the baptism of transgender people and their right to become godparents and opened the door for priests to offer blessings to same-sex couples. While the Church’s stance on same-sex marriage remained unchanged, Pope Francis advocated for greater acceptance and respect for LGBTQIA+ individuals, encouraging Catholics to show love rather than judgment. He also made strides toward gender equality, appointing women to key roles within the Vatican, signalling a commitment to elevating women’s roles in the Church despite being disappointingly against ordained roles for women.

Additionally, Pope Francis worked to foster interfaith dialogue and improve outreach to marginalised communities, including refugees, immigrants and the poor. He called on the Church to act as a “field hospital” for those most in need.

Conflict

Beyond doctrine, Pope Francis showed us something more pastoral and something deeply human. It is reported that every night since October 9 2023, he called Gaza’s Holy Family Parish at 7pm. In the middle of a brutal conflict, he checked in on the parish personally. No carefully worded statements, just presence. In a time of genocidal destruction, he reminded us what care looks like in its simplest form.

He advocated for the protection of innocent civilians in Gaza, refusing to flatten complex suffering into politics.

Environment

One of the quieter but deeply powerful legacies of Pope Francis was his voice in the climate crisis. Long before it became politically safe to care, Francis named the destruction of the planet as a moral and spiritual failure. In Praise Be to You – Laudato Si’ (2015), he framed climate change not just as a scientific or economic issue, but as a matter of justice particularly for the poor, who suffer first and hardest when the earth is pushed to its limits.

He challenged the world to see the earth not as a resource to be squeezed dry, but as a shared home entrusted to us. He warned against unchecked consumerism, corporate greed and the human cost of environmental neglect. For a Church so often accused of being stuck in the past, his climate advocacy was profoundly reformist.

Abuse

Of course, no reflection on a papacy can ignore the darkest stain on the Church’s history: the systematic abuse of children and the coverups that followed.

Francis’ record here is uneven.

There were moments of silence, of hesitation.

But there were also moments of action. In December 2019, he made a significant move, allowing complaints, testimonies and internal trial documents to be accessed by lay courts. Victims, for the first time, could see their own stories acknowledged in writing, not buried in Vatican secrecy. This was a shift toward accountability but it was not enough.

The Catholic Church has a long road ahead. There is still much work to be done, not only to protect children, but to fully confront the culture that allowed these horrors to go unchecked for so long. The next Pope must go further. He must be willing to say, without ambiguity, that the Church failed.

That it enabled abuse. That it protected power over innocence. Anything less would be an insult to those who still carry the scars of betrayal.

‎What next?

I come back to this: Catholicism, at its roots, is about service, charity, equality, peace and unity. These are the values that endure beyond doctrine and dogma. They are what keep some of us tethered to the faith, even from a distance.

As the Church looks to the future, the new Pope will inherit a world in crisis. Climate change, political unrest, economic inequality and deep spiritual fatigue. The world is asking different questions now. The Church cannot answer them with the same old tools. It must evolve not just in policy, but in posture.

I do not know who the next Pope will be or what his theology will reflect or how he will speak to people like me: queer, non-practising, still believing. But I know what I hope for:

1. A Pope who will treat the climate crisis as a sacred duty
   Someone who will carry forward Francis’ legacy by demanding real, global action to protect the planet. Not just in words, but by holding the Church itself accountable for its environmental impact. A Pope who will call out systems of greed and waste and remind us that the earth is not ours to dominate, but to cherish.
2. A Pope who will be a voice for peace, not power
   Someone who will speak plainly and boldly in the face of violence, especially in places like Gaza. Someone who will advocate for the dignity of all people, regardless of borders, religion or politics. A Pope who will stand with the vulnerable, and not just pray for peace, but push for it.
3. A Pope who will protect children, without excuse or delay
   Someone who will stop shielding the institution from its sins, and start protecting the innocent with full transparency. A Pope who will name the harm, admit the cover-ups and make the healing of survivors, not the reputation of the Church, the priority.
4. A Pope who will honour the wisdom and leadership of women
   Someone who will open serious, sincere pathways toward the inclusion of women in the priesthood. A Pope who recognises that the Church cannot claim to serve all humanity while excluding half of it from its highest roles.
5. A Pope who will not treat queerness as a compromise
   Someone who will not speak in riddles or caveats, but who will say clearly and fully that LGBTQIA+ people are not disordered, not less than, not tolerated, but beloved. A Pope who will bless unions, recognise families and affirm the wholeness of queer lives.
6. A Pope who will help us find God in the modern world
   Someone who understands that faith must evolve if it is to survive. A Pope who speaks not just to tradition, but to technology, to loneliness, to anxiety, to the spiritual hunger of this generation. A Pope who sees that holiness does not live in the past, but in the present moment: messy, complex and alive with possibility.