The book Hope was released on January 15 across more than 80 countries. Initially intended to be published posthumously, Pope Francis’s memoir has been brought to light now, with publishers citing its significance in the context of the 2025 Jubilee Year and the pressing demands of our time.
This book is neither a structured narrative of events from the Pope’s life nor a conventional memoir. Rather, it unfolds as an extended, candid reflection – an intimate conversation where he shares his recollections, the lessons life has imparted to him, his convictions, and personal anecdotes. Amidst these reflections, we encounter the workings of a deeply examined conscience. Pope Francis revisits moments of his past with unflinching honesty – his indifference towards the visit of a domestic worker who had once cared for him in childhood, his reluctance to take a photograph with his dying father, and his hesitation to visit a beloved priest on his deathbed. In revisiting these instances, he acknowledges them openly, reinforcing his belief that shame is one of the greatest gifts God bestows upon humankind.
Beginning with the migration of his grandparents from Italy, Hope traces the spiritual and intellectual journey of a pilgrim whose conscience remains ever vigilant. It is a journey of introspection – not only of the Church and the world but of his own soul. At times shadowed by melancholy, the narrative grapples with the tensions between traditionalists and liberals, recognizes the failures of humanity, and yet remains a hopeful testament to perseverance.
The book explores a vast spectrum of global issues that weigh on the collective conscience of humanity – refugee crises, migration, fascism, wars, climate change, poverty, marginalization, the responsibilities of governments, authoritarian regimes, religious extremism, the dangers of historical amnesia, workers’ rights, gender equality, detention centres, and the tragic fate of children caught in war.
Pope Francis also touches upon the resistance he faced from the Roman Curia and the Vatican’s administrative machinery in implementing reforms. He speaks – though only sparingly – of the backlash he encountered for elevating women to higher positions within the Church. Yet, conspicuously, there are subjects he chooses not to probe deeply, leaving noticeable silences in his recollections. Matters such as the Church’s response to clerical sexual abuse, the question of women’s ordination, and his two-year withdrawal from Jesuit ministry remain largely unexamined.
A particular episode from the memoir recounts a conversation between a cardinal in the United States and two newly ordained priests who asked for authorization to celebrate Mass in Latin. The cardinal’s response was pointed: “Do you understand Latin?” the cardinal asked. “No, but we will study it,” the two young priests replied. “All right,” said the cardinal, “but before you learn Latin, look at your diocese and see how many Vietnamese migrants there are – and study Vietnamese first of all. And when you have learned Vietnamese, consider also the multitudes of Spanish-speaking parishioners and you will realize that learning Spanish will be very useful for your service. After Vietnamese and Spanish, come back to me, and we’ll talk about Latin…” Then the Pope comments: “The liturgy cannot be a rite that is an end in itself, detached from pastoral considerations. Nor the exercise of an abstract spiritualism, wrapped in a vague sense of mystery. The liturgy is an encounter, and it is a new start toward others.”
This anecdote, from the eighteenth chapter, captures Pope Francis’s rejection of regressive traditionalism and his insistence that pastoral care should always take precedence over ideology. He recognizes that when ritualism becomes an ideology, it is detrimental to faith. Excessive rigidity, obsession with clerical vestments, and an unhealthy detachment from the realities of secular life are symptoms of a distorted ecclesiology. The Pope writes: “This rigidity is often accompanied by elegant and costly tailoring, lace, fancy trimmings, rochets. Not a taste for tradition but clerical ostentation, which then is none other than an ecclesiastic version of individualism. Not a return to the sacred but to quite the opposite, to sectarian worldliness. These ways of dressing up sometimes conceal mental imbalance, emotional deviation, behavioural difficulties, a personal problem that may be exploited.”
The memoir presents a Pope who extends compassion to the divorced, builds friendships with transgender individuals, refrains from condemning same-sex relationships, empathizes with the plight of sex workers, and prays for them. He insists that when he blesses people, it is the individuals he blesses, not their perceived failings. In Hope, he emerges as a Pope who weeps over war, declares that there is no such thing as a ‘God of War,’ and reiterates that those who wage war are the real villains, while God is the God of peace.
This book is not merely a theological or philosophical treatise; it is also deeply human. It reveals a Pope who finds joy in cinema, football, tango, and humour. Laughter, for him, is a remedy for the sorrows of life, and in a particularly endearing section titled In the Image of a God Who Smiles, he reserves space for his collection of humorous anecdotes.
Ultimately, Hope is a tapestry woven with threads of fraternity, compassion, wisdom, and human frailty. It is a story of faith, but also of the struggles and vulnerabilities that define what it means to be human.
Leave a Comment