Not power to rule, but authority to serve

If Malta's election was a foregone conclusion, the same could hardly be said for the one that just took place in the Vatican's Sistine Chapel.

Everything about this conclave was somewhat incongruous right from the start. For one thing, the outgoing Pope did not die in office (as all his predecessors had done for over 600 years); indeed he still resides in the Vatican, and still goes by the (purely nominal) title of 'Pope Emeritus'.

Besides, both papal resignation and election to replace him unfolded against a tumultuous backdrop of sleaze and scandal. Pope Benedict is now believed to have stepped down to limit damage caused to the Church's reputation by two specific revelations: one involving suspected money-laundering though Vatican financial institutions; the other involving the Church's failure to probe a secret homosexual network that had penetrated (ahem) deep into the Church's hierarchy.

Lurking in the background were echoes of countless scandals involving child abuse by members of the clergy over the years: some of which were either covered up or minimised by the Church authorities (at least, according to the allegations).

The sum total of all this was the previously hegemonic and monumental Church suffered a major erosion of trust among the faithful; and even without these many embarrassments, the same Church had long been fraught with internal dissent over its own mission in a globalised world.

Issues such as gay rights, the ordination of women, contraception and the celibacy of priests have for decades divided public opinion even among senior clerics. And it was during Benedict's papacy - which also coincided with a digital 'revolution' that made the flow of information and ideas almost unstoppable - that many of these previously invisible differences spilt out of the corridors of the Vatican and into the public domain.

Considering the many anomalous aspects to this particular conclave, it need hardly come as a surprise that the choice of new Pope would likewise prove totally unexpected.

William Hill had offered 25/1 odds on the election of the Argentine Cardinal (with the strong favourites being either Canadian Marc Ouellet, or Ghanaian Peter Turkson).

Yet the tens of thousands of Catholics who gathered for the announcement in St Peter's on Wednesday were initially mystified when an all-but unknown name was read out to them over the speakers.

Their bewilderment would turn to joy when newly elected Jose Bergolio spoke to them in a language that seemed at once both humble and reassuring. Only by this time, he had already chosen the 'nome du pape' of... Francis.   

What's in a name?

A Pope's choice of name represents his first decision, and as such will invariably contain veiled hints as to what we can all expect from his papacy.

Even stripped of its historical significance, the name itself departs from a long tradition of lofty grandiloquence (think of names such as Urbanus, Celestine, Marcellus - yep, there really was one - and Liberius, among others) and plants its feet firmly on the ground. 

Whether intended or otherwise, the long tradition of 'other-worldly' papal names may have contributed to an aura of inaccessibility, which may perhaps have made sense in an age when Popes were never, ever seen at all (except as little white dots on the balcony of St Peter's, and even then, only from a great distance).

Pope John Paul II was the first modern pontiff to break this mould: making regular appearances on TV (a medium which has existed for less than a single man's lifetime), and adopting the more proselytising approach of literally taking the Gospel to the four corners of the world.

Benedict broadly kept up this approach, and while it is too early to tell whether Pope Francis will do the same, the choice of name suggests that he may even take the concept one step further, and try to take the Gospel directly onto the streets.

Certainly his papal name suggests as much. Just as Ratzinger had adopted the name of his own hero from the annals of the Church - St Benedict, who had favoured monasticism as an antidote to the decadence of his age - Bergolio modelled his own papacy on the example of St Francis of Assisi.

The implications are nothing if not far-reaching. St Francis may be hugely popular among the faithful today; but he was a deeply controversial figure in his own time, and (as anyone who read or watched The Name of the Rose is bound to remember) the Franciscan order he founded went on to narrowly avoid being branded heretical by the Inquisition in the 13th century.

The bone of contention back then was the Franciscans' insistence on frugality as a virtue. Arguing that Christ himself was poor, St Francis adopted poverty as one of the hallmarks of his own vocation. And this did not sit easily with a Church that was also a military and economic superpower in its own right.

Though distant in time, the argument remains relevant because it also hinged on the most basic question any Pope, in any age, will invariably have to face: what, exactly, is the role of the Catholic Church in society?

St Francis argued (if I may simplify) that the Church should emulate Christ in deeds as well as in teachings; and just as he himself had, many years earlier, cast his father's merchandise out onto the streets in protest against what he considered a basic violation of Christian charity, he likewise argued that the riches and opulence of the Church also contradicted the basic spirit of the Gospel.

On its part the Church countered that while Christ was undeniably poor, it did not necessarily follow that the institution which he founded - and which also represents the universal sway and dominion of God the Father, omniscience, omnipotence and all - should likewise be penniless.

Mercifully, the Franciscans won that argument - at least, insofar as their own order was concerned - and thus avoided the bloody fate of the Knights Templar before them (or for that matter the Fraticelli: an offshoot of the Franciscan order which was interdicted by Pope Boniface in 1296).

Fast-forward to the present, and by openly associating himself with St Francis, the new Pope has clearly indicated the beginnings of a change in direction, at least it the way the Church perceives its own role within society.

And already he has already sent out unmistakable signals to the faithful that he intends to carry on where his namesake left off. His first sermon as Pontiff was delivered in Italian (as opposed to the traditional Latin); and he used it to exhort the Church to rediscover its 'true mission': "We can walk all we want, we can build many things, but if we don't proclaim Jesus Christ, something is wrong. We would become a compassionate NGO."

Rediscovering humility

Reacting to the choice of Bergolio, Malta's bishops observed that his 'humility is his greatness'.

The curious contradiction was presumably intended: for centuries the Church has compounded the view (unwittingly, perhaps) that 'greatness' can also be measured in wealth, pomp and ceremony.

In a sense Benedict upheld that view, even if in purely superficially terms. A Pope who wears Prada clearly views the external trappings of ceremony as important to the image of the institution as a whole. It is unlikely, however, that a Pope who rides a bus, and who pays for his own hotel rooms (even though he technically owns the entire hotel), will share this view.  

Fr Gorg Dalli - a Biblical scholar, former parish priest and widely known for his pastoral work - argues that Bergolio's choice of name is but one of several very clear messages sent out by the new Pope within minutes of his election.

"Everything about the way he presented himself was indicative," Dalli told MaltaToday. "Even the way he dressed..."

Pope Francis forwent the traditional mozzetto (the fur-lined red mantle associated with the papacy), and also retained his own, plain and unvarnished crucifix instead of the instantly recognisable gold version made famous by John Paul II.

"This is in keeping even with how [Pope Francis] had administered his previous position as Bishop of Buenos Aires," Dalli said. "He chose to live in a simple apartment, not in a palace; he relinquished a car and a personal driver, and instead used the bus..."

Dalli was particularly moved by a small detail that (to be perfectly frank) would not have occurred to me in a million years.

Addressing the crowd from the balcony at St Peter's, the Pope said "my brothers" and not "my children" (as would have been more traditional).

Though seemingly trivial, Dalli argues that this detail was momentous. "It reminded me of John XXIII, who dedicated his encyclical, not only to Catholics, but to 'all people of goodwill'."

Even the fact that the new Pope asked people to pray for him was both unexpected and unusual. Dalli interprets the request as an acknowledgement that the Pope views his mission as that of a servant of the people, and not their ruler.

"These messages are powerful, and represent exactly what I think the Church needs. We need to reassess our priorities. The Church must rediscover the core values of the Gospel - to concentrate on helping the poor and those most in need - and to forget all the triumphalism it has amassed over the centuries."

The outspoken former parish priest of l-Ibrag argues that the local Church could benefit from the new Pope's example. "It was only a few days ago that the bishops appeared on TV in full regalia. All this pomp and ceremony is nonsense. What is important for the Church is to go back to the basics of Christ's teachings. The Church's should not to be the power to rule, but the authority to serve."

Theological conservative

From a purely pastoral perspective even the choice of a South American pope - the first non-European pontiff in centuries - was replete with significance. The Church is strong in South America, largely on account of the extreme disparity of wealth that characterises many of its countries. Argentina is no exception (though there are arguably worse examples); and Pope Francis himself has long argued that the Church should take a more active role in addressing the exigencies of the needy and the downtrodden.

But there is more to Catholic doctrine than social conscience. On the other side of the spectrum, Pope Francis also represents continuity from Benedict; if not in his approach to the papacy, at least in terms of theological direction.

Nor was his elevation entirely free from controversy. Just as Benedict was reminded of his childhood stint with the Hitler Youth, Francis is now reminded of his former, murky association with military junta of Argentina.

Elsewhere, people who may be looking forward to any shift in official Church position on a number of social controversies - eg. abortion, contraception and so on - are likely to be kept dreaming for a good while longer.

Journalist Horacio Verbitsky, who once linked Bishop Bergolio to the 'disappearances' of Jesuit priests who opposed the regime, describes him as "a conservative populist, in the same style that John Paul II was".

"He's a man of strong conservative positions in doctrine questions, but with a touch for popular taste. He preaches in rail stations, in the streets. He goes to the quarters, the poor quarters of the city to pray. He doesn't wait the people going into the church; he goes for them. But his message is absolutely conservative."

Fr Mark Montebello, an outspoken local priest, argues in a similar vein, though he welcomes the fact that Pope Francis "has a political sensitivity" that may impact the way the Church operates.

"The Pope inherits from Benedict an ongoing problem that has been facing the Church since Vatican Council II: the issue of collegiality".

Adding to a cloak-and-dagger aura that has dogged the Vatican for centuries, the argument is that the Roman Curia has wrested power from the local bishops, in what is often viewed as a quiet, internal 'coup d'etat' which no Pope has ever managed to overturn.

Montebello describes this as a case of "the Roman Curia turning back the clock" by undermining the sovereignty of local dioceses.

"The new Pope has indirectly hinted that this pressing issue may be addressed. Indications are that Pope Francis may opt to give local bishops and Episcopal conferences more room..."

However, the Dominican friar warns that anyone expecting far-reaching changes in actual Church doctrine may be expecting too much.

"It would be wishful thinking to expect any radical departures from the Church's present policies."