I should begin by saying that I’m not Catholic. Religion doesn’t define my day-to-day life, nor do I wear faith as a banner. But there is room for belief in something greater, in goodness, in compassion and I think that matters. I think it matters now more than ever.
As news of Pope Francis’s passing spread, I felt a deep sense of loss, despite not being Catholic myself. His unwavering commitment to serving others, particularly those often overlooked, resonated deeply with me. In a world where self-interest and grandstanding often dominate, Pope Francis stood out as a beacon of humility and compassion, a rare quality that’s becoming harder and harder to find: he genuinely cared.
He cared about people, not in a vague, obligatory sense, but in a very real and deeply human way. He gravitated toward the marginalized, the forgotten, the underrepresented. He didn’t need a photo op or a press release to validate his actions. He didn’t perform good deeds for applause. He led with humility and heart.
His example reminds me of something I read many years ago, an essay written by Robert Greenleaf about a concept he called “Servant Leadership”. In a world obsessed with power, influence and ladder-climbing, this philosophy stands in sharp contrast. Servant leaders don’t charge ahead for personal gain. They lift others up. They don’t hoard authority. They share it. They foster trust, collaboration and innovation and they measure success not in what they achieve for themselves, but in how they improve the lives of others.
It’s an idea that’s always resonated with me, especially in my work with search and rescue. In SAR, we don’t have room for egos. We don’t succeed because of individual heroics. Our wins are collective, not individual. We’ve pulled Olympians and astronauts off of mountain slopes, not because we’re tougher or braver than they are, but because we function as a cohesive unit. We succeed together. Or we don’t succeed at all. Many years ago a friend asked me how we do what we do and in a moment of inspiration, I answered that the team is greater as a whole than simply the sum of its parts.
The world is increasingly complicated, often harsh and far too divided. It’s tempting to throw up our hands and retreat into our own self-contained corners, but servant leadership, the kind Pope Francis so naturally embodied, calls us back to the center. It says: Be kind. Be humble. Serve others. Do good when no one is watching. These aren’t grand slogans. They’re quiet, daily choices.
What made Pope Francis so unique was that he didn’t just preach these ideals. He lived them. He didn’t focus on building empires or consolidating power. Instead, he worked to elevate others, to create equity where there was once imbalance, to ensure that even the least of us felt seen. He understood that society only thrives when no one is left behind.
And in a world that often treats fairness like a finite resource, where giving to one is seen as taking from another, he challenged that notion. He gave with open hands. He shared with an open heart.
So yes, I mourn today. Not just for the man the Catholic community called their Pope, but for the humble, powerful presence the world has now lost. His remarkable life and leadership have left an indelible mark on the world. He was a rare soul, a servant first, a leader second. And that’s exactly the kind of leadership we need more of, not less.
May his legacy continue to remind us that greatness lies not in how high we climb, but in how many we bring with us.
Pope Francis, from the Vatican City website.
First thing Monday morning I drove to my neighborhood BestBuy and was greeted by a pale young man who looked like he hadn’t seen natural light since the pandemic started, whose primary source of Vitamin D and the Vampiric pale tan are courtesy of the OLED display, wearing heavy glasses and surrounded by the unmistakable iGen aura. I gave him the printout and a hopeful smile.
