I was born a proud Protestant. A Lutheran in a town still marked by Catholic-Protestant tensions, with Catholic friends who told me I don’t worship right, neighbors who claimed Catholics were polytheists, and a grandmother who wore orange on St. Patrick’s Day (I never quite got that, as we had no connection to Ireland).

But I also felt drawn to the Roman Catholic church. As I read more theology and myth in college, I appreciated the mysteries in Rome’s ancient traditions. Graduate school at the Jesuit Georgetown University made me appreciate how Catholics applied their faith to the world.

I couldn’t bring myself to become a Roman Catholic, partly because it would break my late grandmother’s heart (I’m not sure how that works theologically), partly because I couldn’t accept the authority of the Pope, and partly because I couldn’t accept the Roman Catholic teachings on women and homosexuality. So like many others I became an Episcopalian, embracing the Anglican communion’s equally ancient roots combined with theological progressivism and more democratic governance.

All this is to explain my thought process as I heard of Pope Francis’ passing. I don’t see it as the passing of my spiritual leader, but I also saw him as more than a nice progressive guy. He represented real spiritual authority to me, granted not because he was the bishop of Rome but because of the great wisdom he demonstrated.

He represents the ideal of spiritual authority that Dante called for in the Divine Comedy, and that may be his greatest legacy.

Pope Francis’ international mediation

Jorge Mario Bergoglio became Pope Francis in 2013, a month before I defended my dissertation. I had been interested in the Roman Catholic church’s role in world politics thanks to classes at Georgetown, but by that point all I could think about was my dissertation’s focus on Muslim countries’ counterterrorism. So I wasn’t really following him that closely at first.

But over time, especially as I came to focus more on religion in foreign policy, I began to assess the Pope’s international mediation efforts. One of his earliest efforts involved peace vigils for Syria, which, as I’ve discussed, may have helped to stymie international intervention in that civil war.

Just imagine how powerful it would have been if Francis had refused to allow J.D. Vance and his family to participate in the mass at St. Peter’s.

Pope Francis negotiated with China as Xi Jinping was consolidating his power. China and the Vatican have long struggled over control of Roman Catholic bishops in that country. Pope Francis attempted to reach a compromise with China, which some saw as giving the government too much control over churches.

On other conflicts, Pope Francis expressed concern for peace and justice, but sought to bridge divides rather than condemn aggression and repression. This includes the Israel-Hamas war and the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Some, including me, have been critical of these efforts as prioritizing negative peace over a just peace. And I’ve had mixed thoughts on his interfaith outreach in the Middle East, such as his mass in the UAE; it is a good initiative, but may downplay those countries’ human rights records.

One area where Pope Francis was forthright in his condemnation of abuses involved the plight of migrants. But even this felt like he was pulling his punches. His criticism of the Trump Administration over its treatment of migrants felt tame compared to his predecessor’s attacks on pro-choice politicians or then US Presidential candidate Joe Biden being denied communion at a Roman Catholic church for his support of women’s autonomy. Just imagine how powerful it would have been if Francis had refused to allow J.D. Vance and his family to participate in the mass at St. Peter’s.

My Easter morning revelation

Defenders of Pope Francis–Catholic and not–would argue I’m being unfair. There is a value to loving engagement, even with those who commit grave sins. The syllabus for my Religion, Peace and War seminar is full of such arguments. And this is what I was prepared to write in praise of Pope Francis, even if I personally struggle with that (I’ve discussed my views on this issue elsewhere).

But as I was getting ready to write this, I realized that’s not why I continue to admire Pope Francis, despite my frustrations with him.

Pope Francis did not allow world leaders to get away with repression and aggression, but he also did not attempt to rule for them, supplanting or undermining their power.

I have been reading The Divine Comedy for Lent. This is my fifth read of this work, and the second time I’ve tried to complete it during Lent (both times I’ve failed–I had 3 cantos to go as of Easter morning). I still wanted to complete it, so I was reading the last few cantos of the Paradiso this morning when I realized that Pope Francis embodied Dante’s vision for spiritual authority.

As any reader of Dante knows, he was a devoted Roman Catholic who was also horrified by the corruption of the church. He saw Popes become corrupt, worldly, and over-involved in secular affairs even as secular leaders tried to usurp the Pope’s spiritual powers. This was the backdrop for the Ghibelline-Guelph conflict of which Dante was a part, although the Divine Comedy was composed as the Guelphs turned on each other.

Dante struggled with the proper form of authority on Earth in The Divine Comedy, and expanded on this in his political treatise, De Monarchia. He dealt with this most directly in the Purgatorio, my favorite part. As Archibald T. MacAllister discussed in his introduction to John Ciardi’s translation, Dante believed “the world needed a strong civil state independent of the Church” with Rome still serving to provide “sacred government.”

This may sound like standard Enlightenment arguments (which is revolutionary enough considering Dante predated it by a few centuries) but it is deeper than that. There is a careful balance between sacred and secular authority, with sacred leaders guiding secular ones but not attempting to act as secular leaders on their own.

That is what Pope Francis did. He did not allow world leaders to get away with repression and aggression–launching wars, repressing Christians, dehumanizing migrants. But he also did not attempt to rule for them, supplanting or undermining their power.

It was unsatisfying for people like me who hoped for a great spiritual leader who would solve the world’s problems. But as Dante noted in Paradiso 22, “The sword of Heaven is not too soon dyed red, nor yet too late–except as vengeance seems to those who wait for it in hope or dread.”

Pope Francis understood that.