LA COLUMNA DE MARTÍN LAZO CUEVAS

By Martín Lazo Cuevas

Buenos Aires, Mexico, and Rome embrace today in mourning. At 88 years old, Pope Francis has departed this world, closing an extraordinary chapter in the history of Christianity. His life was a bridge between continents, and his legacy a shake-up to an institution rooted in centuries of tradition.

Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio in Buenos Aires, Argentina, in 1936, he was the son of Italian immigrants in a working-class neighborhood. A chemist before a priest, and a Jesuit before an archbishop, he was ordained in 1969 and later became Archbishop of Buenos Aires. He rode the bus, lived simply, and spoke plainly. He was a street pastor long before he ever addressed crowds in St. Peter’s Square.

In 2013, he became the first Latin American and Jesuit pope. He took over during a crisis of credibility: abuse scandals, corruption, and alienated believers. Rather than shout doctrine, he preached mercy.

He found the Church defensive, rigid, and wounded. He leaves it more self-aware, less triumphalist, and more socially conscious. From Laudato si’ to Fratelli tutti, he wrote for humanity: for the Earth, for the poor, for peace.

From the slums of Buenos Aires to the Vatican, Francis never stopped listening to the poor—or speaking of them. He defended migrants, denounced wild capitalism, and demanded a “Church that goes forth”—not locked behind walls.

He wasn’t perfect. Some saw ambiguity and hesitation, especially in addressing abuse. But no modern pope has walked so closely with the marginalized, or unsettled both political powers and Church elites so consistently.

His Visit to Mexico in 2016

In February 2016, Pope Francis spent six days in Mexico, visiting Mexico City, the State of Mexico, Chiapas, Michoacán, and Chihuahua. He met with indigenous groups, youth, laborers, and migrants. In Ciudad Juárez, he held Mass near the U.S. border, praying for deceased migrants and calling out global indifference. At a children’s hospital, a girl with cancer sang him “Ave Maria,” bringing tears to his eyes. He was never a desk pope—he was a witness.

Today, the Church is orphaned of a father unafraid to get his shoes dirty.

From the end of the world, he came.
To the heart of the Church, he spoke.
And in the hearts of many, he remains.