“Conservative” and “progressive” are very political labels, and also describe cultural beliefs and behaviors. Yes, politics and economics are essential features of our existence, but that these words are used to describe popes or papal candidates are indicative of the rut into which the Church has fallen. 

For me the kind of pope we should have should be the kind of Church we should have. That’s a lot of “shoulds” in one sentence. But it expresses a yearning for something that is more and more difficult to discern in an institution that has proven, in many instances, unable to live up to its mission of nurturing and promoting a spiritual life among its people, from clergy to flock.

How can it do this? How can the Church renew and rededicate itself to its spiritual mission? The answer is obvious: by being Christ-like.

Jesus Christ was neither Roman nor Catholic. The historical Jesus used words and exhibited the rituals and practices of the Essenes, a Jewish sect known for austere living (they held no money, no property) and mystical worldview. Its members avoided worship in the temple, which was under the ambit of the Sadducees (the political elite) and the Pharisees.

From this, one can see that Jesus was not much for organized religion. He preached on the hillside or the lakeside, anywhere he could find an audience. He healed and mingled with lepers and prostitutes, people at the margins, those in the “laylayan ng lipunan.” His singular, revolutionary act was to drive the peddlers out of the temple, which marked him for death. Thus, more than the trappings of wealth and earthly power, what matters is the inner life, the substance, of the people.

Spirituality is not peculiar to—and salvation not exclusive to—Christians. One does not have to be religious to have a mystical experience, as in the case of the late Brazilian Formula One driver Ayrton Senna, who said he saw the face of God while racing, or the theoretical physicists who discover their faith or glimpse an inkling of the divine in their pursuit of knowledge and explanations of what ultimately the universe is.

Or one can actually be a saint, as in the case of Mother Teresa, who expressed deep doubt and the anguished cry that all her life she saw no evidence of God, and yet did inspiring, saintly work—”routine” day-to-day things like caring for the sick, giving shelter to the homeless, and comforting the dying and the abandoned—and in the process inspiring worldwide recognition and support for her effort; and despite the “absence” of God, still keeping the faith, not giving up.

Throughout the centuries the papacy, and the Church, had to establish itself as a worldly power. It made perfect sense, as Christians certainly could not be, metaphorically, lion food all the time. But along the way, the Church lost its way. Its excesses became as notable as its achievements. Popes had wives and begat children and waged wars. There were even popes who inherited the position from their pope fathers. The Church tortured and persecuted, pillaged and massacred. It became an instrument of colonialism and the subjugation of peoples. It promoted an unscientific worldview that even up to now persists in literal interpretations of the Bible.

Not that I agree that popes and clergy should be celibate. It would greatly rebalance the psyche of the Church if it made celibacy only an option and not an obligation. It is truly sad that the words “priest” or “pastor” have become, among many people, synonymous with “predator” because of the thousands of cases of child abuse at the hands of Catholic clergy that have come to light in recent decades. 

The Church should also strongly consider the ordination of women into the priesthood. Women generally seem to be kinder, more nurturing, and have smaller egos than men.

The Church should not necessarily be a Church of the poor as much as it should be a Church of justice and liberation. The feeding of the hungry and giving drink to the thirsty are manifestations of something deeper, just as fighting exploitation and oppression are expressions of an inner quest for timeless values that know no political ideology, no pomp or circumstance.

The papacy of Francis was headed in the right direction. If one is looking for a sign of blessedness, the sign is that this Pope died the day after Easter. He saw the Resurrection, and then he passed. His time on this earth was over, but not until after he bore witness to the enduring mystery of hope and spiritual renewal in the face of the deepest despair and abandonment.

Austere. Humble. Engaged in the world but not of this world. Christ-like. That is the pope and the Church we should have.

Read more: Francis’ papacy, defined by mercy and compassion, was neither rigorist nor laxist

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