I have hope in a pope—in fact, in two popes.
I have hope in Pope Francis — because “Hope” is the title of his autobiography published earlier this year, a book I purchased and recently read.
I have hope in Pope Leo XIV — because he’s from Chicago, my hometown. Most Chicagoans I’ve known are practical, hardworking, congenial and hopeful.
Yes, as a lifelong Catholic from Chicago, I was as surprised as anyone when I heard the announcement from a Vatican balcony that the new pope, Robert Prevost, was an American, and I was further surprised when I discovered he was born in Chicago.
As I continued to find out Pope Leo’s background, I realized he grew up just a few minutes from where I once lived on the far south side of Chicago, went to a Catholic grade school similar to mine, and later became an Augustinian priest who taught at St. Rita High School in Chicago, where my brother-in-law Jay teaches.
Maybe I’m biased, but I think Pope Leo has what it takes to be a pope who can bring people together, inspire compassion, instill joy, and, yes, create hope.
I think Pope Leo, like almost all Chicagoans I know, also must have a sense of humor. When he hears that one southside Chicago pizza place has already created a “poperoni” pizza, I think he will smile.
Pope Leo, however, has not limited himself to his hometown. He has seen a lot of the world outside of Chicago, including more than two decades in Peru and two years in Italy.
From what I’ve heard and read, Pope Leo appreciates the life and work of his predecessor, Pope Francis. I do, too, especially after I finished reading Francis’s autobiography – his life story as he sees it. Within the book, the first full autobiography to have been written by any pope, he also includes many thoughts, reflections and meditations.
Francis’s life story goes back to his Italian roots and his parents who emigrated to Argentina in 1931 and continues through 2024. He wrote his memoir with the help of Carlo Musso, an Italian journalist who spent three years with Francis working on it. The English translation is by Richard Dixon.
Francis chose “Hope” as the title of his book because he felt that hope, one of the three theological virtues, is needed today as much as faith and love, since there is so much in the news worldwide that seems to create despair. But as Francis wrote, the Christian virtue of hope, “doesn’t deceive and doesn’t disappoint.”
I found the book to be a good read for anyone, even atheists, but it’s particularly good for Christians, and more specifically Catholics. I hope Pope Leo reads it (if he hasn’t already), so he can get an in-depth understanding of how and why his predecessor guided the Catholic Church in the way he did.
In his autobiography Francis writes in a very personal tone, as though he is speaking directly to each of his readers individually in a one-on-one conversation. It begins with the stories of his grandparents and parents and proceeds chronologically to the end, but with many digressions, sometimes in a “stream of consciousness” style.
As he talks about aspects of his early life, he connects them to events much later in his life. For example, as he talks about his high school experiences, he fast forwards 65 years later to note that as pope he continues to be in regular contact with three other surviving high school classmates.
And when he talks about his experiences later in life, he will refer to his childhood and the long-lasting effects his grandparents and parents had on him.
Francis (aka Jorge Bergoglio) comes from Italian, as well as Argentinean roots. His parents, Giovanni and Rosa Bergoglio, emigrated from Italy to Argentina as Europe was seeing the rise in fascism before World War II. Throughout the book, he writes as much about his Italian roots as he does about his Argentinian roots.
As a young Jesuit, he was assigned to travel to different countries even before he took his final vows in 1973, including Chile and Spain. He wanted to be assigned to Japan, but as a young man he never was. As pope, however, he made it a point to visit Japan, especially Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He seems to have always had a global perspective.
Also as a Jesuit, having taken the vow of obedience, he had to do what he was told to do. In high school he thought he wanted to be a chemist, because he enjoyed his chemistry courses. But the Jesuits assigned him in his mid-20’s to a high school where he taught literature, art and psychology.
“I found teaching,” he writes, “to be a great experience – an experience in two respects, because teaching means learning. It means always being sufficiently open-hearted and open-minded to have space for surprise.”
He kept up his interest in literature, as well as film, throughout his life, and he refers from time to time to writers like Virgil, Dostoevsky and Rilke and to filmmakers like Rossini, Fellini and Bergman.
As a student of literature myself, I think his interest in the humanities helped make him more “human” (as well as saintly) and enabled him to appreciate life’s intricacies, which in turn made him more humble. As he writes, “It requires humility to understand the complexities of life.”
There is so much more I say about Francis’s autobiography, including his thoughts on humor, peace, joy, compassion and the conclave that elected him. It will take a reading of the entire book to appreciate that.
One of the best chapters in the book is the last one, in which Pope Francis anticipates his impending death and writes about the future of the Catholic Church. After he dies, he writes, “The Church will go on. I am just one step in its history.”
In the future, he writes, “I dream of a papacy that is increasingly one of service and communion.” He notes that a pope should be someone who “who serves everyone, who serves for everyone.”
For those who are concerned about secularization, he writes, “The Church has always had moments of secularization, beginning in the early heresies” of Christianity. “The worldly spirit of secularization has always been there.” But, he adds, “The Church must grow in creativity, in understanding the challenges of the modern day, opening itself to dialogue, not closing itself in fear.”
In the last few lines of the book, Francis writes, “We need to be humble, to leave space for the Lord.” And he believes that “Tenderness is not a weakness. It is a true force. It is the road that the strongest and bravest men and women have taken. Let us take it, let us fight with tenderness and with courage.”
John Spevak’s email is john.spevak@gmail.com.
