(RNS) — The world is saddened by the loss of Pope Francis, the pope who reminded us what Christianity is truly about. From the first moment he appeared publicly on March 13, 2013, greeting the crowd from the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica, we knew he was going to be different from other popes. By making a purposeful choice not to wear the red mozzetta — a short cape traditionally worn by popes that resembles royal vestments — he delivered his first message: the church should be a church for the poor, the vulnerable, and the marginalized.

To understand Francis, you have to understand that he was Latin American, and the first pope from that continent in the history of the church. Our countries were colonized by Catholic powers that brought the faith to our lands. In the process, these colonizing forces committed many injustices, many with institutional religious support. The resulting caste systems led to deep class divisions that persist today. Many of us in Latin America have lived through this brand of Catholicism. 

This connection between institutional power and poverty remains a reality. In towns where poverty was rampant, cathedrals stood as symbols of immense wealth, adorned with golden walls and luxurious decorations. The contrast between that grandeur of the church’s structures and the poverty of its people has been stark. As a famous 1970s protest song by the Latin American group Los Guaraguao poignantly asks: “Christ, in service of whom? … They have him imprisoned in palaces of concrete, with marble floors, wooden ceilings — temples that do not resemble the houses of my people, houses of tin and cardboard, with broken roofs and dirt floors.”

Francis was the first pope in modern times to purposefully and visibly distance himself from this relationship between the figure of the pope and institutional power, from day one. He wanted to make it clear that the role of a pope is not to be a monarch, nor to rule with a one-sided authoritarian approach. Instead, the pope is to be a servant, just as Jesus served. Likewise, the institutional church should not be a place of princes clinging to clericalism and exclusionary practices, but a place of pastoral care for all.

Having a deep understanding of poverty and conflict also led Francis to understand the forces that drive people to migrate. Today, the vast economic disparities among rich and poor countries continue to push millions to seek a better future elsewhere. Latin America has endured a long history of corrupt governments, interventionist policies and armed conflicts, often affecting the poorest communities; as a result, many flee violence and political instability in search of safety.

In a globalized world, and given the history of interventionist policies of First World countries, economic disparities and political instability are often linked to policies that benefit those countries at the expense of the poor; the resulting migration is also a shared responsibility.

One of Francis’ first major public statements on migration was his visit to Lampedusa, Italy, where he focused the world’s attention on the plight of migrants and refugees. Lampedusa has been a major entry point for migrants from Africa and the Middle East. When Francis visited the U.S. in 2015, he addressed a joint session of Congress, directly speaking about immigration and the responsibility to welcome migrants and refugees. He reminded lawmakers that America was built by immigrants, saying, “We, the people of this continent, are not fearful of foreigners, because most of us were once foreigners.”

 In 2025, he urged U.S. Catholics and people of goodwill to not give in to “narratives” that discriminate against and cause unnecessary suffering to migrants and refugees. In this regard, he sought to remind us that taking care of the migrant and the foreigner is an important part of our Christian mission. I am an immigrant and an immigration attorney, and hearing him stand up for immigrant communities was exactly what I expected from someone representing Christ on Earth.

Francis was a pope of firsts. He was the first Latino pope. The first Jesuit pope. The first to reject traditional vestments of power. As a Jesuit, he was deeply formed in the art of discernment — a key Jesuit principle.

He reminded the church that we are a church on a journey, that we should be always discerning, always listening, always seeking to grow and improve. Francis was the first to openly address gay people using the term the community uses — “gay” — while addressing us with a more compassionate and inclusive tone.

Throughout his papacy, he met with LGBTQ+ Catholics and encouraged the church, through multiple synods, to listen to our stories and discern how God is speaking through our lived experiences. He opened the doors and windows and let fresh air in.

On this front, many in the LGBTQ+ community felt he did not do enough, given his power to single-handedly change doctrine. Those who feel this way have every right. At the same time, I understand Francis’ wanting to avoid clericalist and authoritarian attitudes and instead invite the church to be part of that development, first through discernment and listening to experiences. Even Francis himself was in a process of discernment. He met with transgender people, even when it was clear that he did not fully understand their struggles. This may be where he fell the shortest, but he was only human.

Francis constantly reminded those in power that clericalism — the excessive power and privilege of clergy — is a disease, and contrary to the gospel. He has identified clericalism as a root cause of abuse and a major barrier to accountability.

 On the other hand, he often cited clericalism as a reason why he did not believe women should be ordained; rather, he argued that the entire clericalist structure of ordination should change. Once again, he invited the church to discern this issue through multiple synods, rather than making unilateral decisions, and some lay Catholics feel he fell short here as well. Yet, he also included women in some decision-making positions that did not require ordination.

Despite the unresolved issues that many Catholics know are long overdue, Francis achieved far more than any modern pope in bringing the church back to its roots and heart: standing with the poor, the vulnerable and the marginalized. He captivated the minds of the youth and even lay lapsed Catholics who had left the church, waiting for a sign of progress to return.

Pope Francis’ last public words in his final Urbi et Orbi blessing, read by Archbishop Diego Ravellion, included this plea: “On this day, I would like all of us to hope anew and to revive our trust in others, including those who are different from us, or who come from distant lands, bringing unfamiliar customs, ways of life, and ideas! For all of us are children of God!”

Even on the last day of his life, he pleaded for trust and inclusion — for those who are different, and for migrants.

Francis was a breath of fresh air for those of us who are part of vulnerable communities. He was a living saint and will absolutely be missed. No matter who comes next, his legacy will reverberate for decades, if not centuries, to come.

 Pope Francis, pray for us.  

(Yunuen Trujillo, a Catholic lay minister, community organizer and immigration attorney, serves on the board of New Ways Ministry, an organization of Catholics that educates and advocates for equity, inclusion and justice for LGBTQ+ persons. She is the author of “LGBTQ Catholics: A Guide to Inclusive Ministry.” The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of RNS.)