(RNS) — As a committed Catholic who cares deeply about addressing abuse in the church, I’m often asked what I think about Pope Francis. I’m never quite sure how to respond.
It’s no secret that Francis has been a polarizing figure in the American church, provoking a wide range of feelings. More often than not, I suspect people ask my opinion so they can categorize me: “Oh, she’s a conservative who just criticizes Francis” or “She’s one of those liberals who thinks Francis is so great.” They want me to paint the pope in black and white — as a hero or a villain. That temptation remains, it seems, even after his death.
Those who want to see Francis as a hero who brought much-needed reform have ample evidence of progress in the church’s approach to abuse under his leadership.
One hopeful sign early in Francis’ papacy was the creation of the Pontifical Commission for the Protection of Minors, the first Vatican body dedicated to abuse prevention at a global level. His willingness to meet with and apologize to abuse survivors around the world (and not only when abuse was headline news) deepened the sense that this leader cared about this issue and those who had been harmed. In 2018, when he accused abuse victims of “calumny” as he defended Chilean Bishop Juan Barros against charges of protecting abusive priests, Francis showed evidence of humility and growth: After being challenged by his own adviser, Boston Cardinal Sean O’Malley, the pope apologized and eventually changed course.
When the full weight of the scandal surrounding former Cardinal Theodore McCarrick hit later that year, Francis responded by bringing church leaders together for an unprecedented global summit on sexual abuse. Vatican officials, religious order superiors and the presidents of every national bishops conference were required to spend three days in early February 2019 focused on this issue, listening directly to abuse survivors and others advocating for change.
Many observers were disappointed by the lack of concrete action coming from this summit, but the gathering raised awareness of the issue and fostered a shared understanding of key concerns. The conversations paved the way for later reforms, including the abolition of the “pontifical secret,” allowing church leaders to share more information about abuse cases with law enforcement and the public.
In this April 18, 2005, file photo, U.S. Cardinal Theodore Edgar McCarrick attends a Mass in St. Peter’s Basilica at the Vatican. In 2019, McCarrick was convicted in a canonical trial on sexual abuse charges and defrocked. (AP Photo/Pier Paolo Cito)
Francis also ordered a full Vatican investigation into the McCarrick case, focusing on the leaders who knew about and covered up his abuse. The “Report on the Holy See’s Institutional Knowledge and Decision-Making Related to Former Cardinal Theodore McCarrick,” published in November 2020, provided an astonishing level of detail about this history and the many failures that allowed McCarrick to remain in power for decades. The report’s attention to sexual abuse of adult seminarians increased awareness that minors are not the only ones vulnerable to abuse by church leaders.
Perhaps the most important reform of Francis’ papacy was the promulgation of the motu proprio “Vos Estis Lux Mundi” (You Are the Light of the World) in May 2019. This decree created a system for holding bishops accountable for abuse and cover-up, and it required clergy and religious to report abuse to church authorities. “Vos Estis” also explicitly addressed “abuse of authority” against adult victims, a much-needed recognition of those harmed in the context of seminary, religious life or pastoral care.
There are also numerous counterexamples cited by those who view Francis as a villain who perpetuated a corrupt system and made only superficial changes. I have my own criticisms as well.
Francis repeatedly claimed a stance of “zero tolerance” for abuse in the Catholic Church but failed to provide a clear definition of what this meant in practice; many advocates would argue that his interpretation of the phrase was woefully inadequate. Francis also continued to make insensitive off-the-cuff remarks about “gossip” and “slander” that suggested continued suspicion of those who expose abuse. He often offered words of support or held private meetings that seemed to communicate favor toward accused priests. There is also a lengthy list of bishops around the world who were accused of abuse or cover-up but seem to have received preferential treatment or been granted a soft landing.
Despite its groundbreaking detail, the McCarrick report left critical questions unanswered, especially regarding the financial underpinnings of the scandal, and seemed to avoid placing any responsibility on church leaders who were still alive when the report was published.
As a platform for changing how the church deals with abuse, the system detailed in “Vos Estis” is flawed at best, as it places the responsibility for investigating bishops in the hands of fellow bishops in the same geographic region, essentially allowing church leaders to police their own. The promise of increased transparency has not been realized, since there are no official announcements when a “Vos Estis” investigation is initiated, and many of these investigations are only made known to the public through the work of investigative journalists, whistleblowers and survivors themselves.
The Rev. Marko Rupnik’s mosaics depicting biblical scenes, saints and the Virgin Mary that grace the walls of Luminous Mysteries Chapel are seen covered with paper at St. John Paul II National Shrine, July 23, 2024, in Washington. The Knights of Columbus, the world’s largest Catholic fraternal group, has covered up defining features of the mosaics in its Washington shrine after the famous ex-Jesuit artist who designed them was accused of abusing women. (AP Photo/Jose Luis Magana)
The most glaring recent example of failure in accountability is the case of the Rev. Marko Rupnik, a Slovenian priest and artist accused of horrific acts of sexual and spiritual abuse against dozens of women, some of whom began reporting to church officials as early as the 1990s. Rupnik’s popularity and close ties to high-ranking Vatican officials appear to have shielded him from consequences until media attention and courageous survivors forced a response.
Yet, as Rupnik confronts tremendous public outcry and even expulsion from the Jesuit order, he remains a priest in good standing. Despite the pleas from Rupnik’s victims to remove his art from public display worldwide, Francis was photographed as recently as Jan. 15 with a piece by Rupnik hanging on the wall of his apartment.
The truth is, Francis’ legacy in addressing abuse is complex. While it might feel easier to paint Francis as either a hero or villain, human beings are more complicated than that. His papacy led to real progress, but that progress still fell far short of what is truly needed in our wounded church.
As a Catholic who spends much of my time listening to abuse survivors, I see firsthand how the actions — and inactions — of church leaders directly impact those who have been harmed by abuse. I am grateful for the ways Francis moved us forward; I am also deeply disappointed and frustrated by all the ways he let us down.
I am not in the business of reading minds or judging souls. I don’t know what may have happened behind closed doors to obstruct a more effective response. But I do know this: As a church, we still have a long way to go in preventing and responding to abuse. Whoever is chosen as our next pope, I pray that the entire church will finally make a bold commitment to accountability, safety and healing for all.
(Sara Larson is co-founder and executive director of Awake, a community of abuse survivors, concerned Catholics and allies responding to the wounds of sexual abuse in the Catholic Church. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of RNS.)