The Passion, Pope Francis, and living like Jesus.

P ope Francis making snow angels. That was a cover of the New Yorker in December 2013. A coffee mug I picked up in Rome early in his pontificate shows him as a superhero, cape and all — you could trip over similar souvenirs in the Eternal City during his first years as pope. Georgetown University could have trademarked “the Francis Effect” by now; the phrase has been an ongoing theme on campus, guiding commentary on his impact on Rome and on the church globally. However you look at it, Pope Francis has gotten people’s attention.

But Captain Frank is much more complicated than the Latin American wind and great progressive hope the likes of Rolling Stone wanted him to be. While he has made sure a lot of what divides the church internally is out in the open for debate, where debate can be had — and even where it can’t. His supposed synodal approach seems to excite some ideologues and infuriate others, or outright bore them. Which, if there is a brilliance or inspiration about it, might be some of the point. Church leadership isn’t about one worldly side winning over another. It’s about authentically trying to figure out what God’s will is in the tradition of the church and to discern His guidance in real time. That’s where the Holy Spirit comes into play.

There have been times when I’ve wondered whether Francis trusts the Holy Spirit more than most of us do to work out the mess. In truth, like life, it’s more complicated than that. But any analysis of Francis that neglects his Jesuit background would be a mistake. Saint Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, his religious order, was a master of guiding people through spiritual exercises he devised to rigorously figure out what in life is from God and what isn’t. Evil tries to disguise itself in subtle ways — that’s what makes the phrase “evil genius” so powerfully pernicious. There’s real there there. But transparency in all things natural and supernatural can tear off the masks worn by evil to disguise itself and remove obstacles to living in the truth.

Francis has gone from depictions of him as superhuman to being a man in the autumn of his days. He makes the rare appearance at the Vatican now, found praying with an elderly nun on pilgrimage or blessing a baby, to the jubilant surprise of the parents, as he was wheeled into St. Peter’s Square in “civvies,” as lay attire would be referred to if he were any other priest dressed down. But he was dressed not for a run but for convalescence — a reminder that he is following one of his predecessors, John Paul II, in modeling dignity in suffering and showing us how to die. It’s reality and it’s prayerful and has purpose. It’s a speech, without words, against the push for assisted suicide — same-day, by some reports, in Canada. There’s a mercy and a grace that radiate from one who suffers well, under the humane care of doctors who control pain and act not as gods but as stewards of life while it is still with us. It does underscore one of the most underappreciated aspects of Francis — his commitment to the sanctity of all human life, especially in its most vulnerable forms. He’s now in one such form, or stage of life.

Far from the caricature of him as the great progressive hope, Francis has described abortion as hiring a “hitman” to kill a child. That should encourage double takes from those convinced that being Catholic in the public and private squares does not mandate opposition to abortion and real support for women and their unborn babies. And, oh, by the way, it extends to children who find themselves stuck in the foster-care system. And wouldn’t that be a critical reason for people to come out of what Pope Francis has described as their ideological silos to work together for the flourishing of those young human lives who might otherwise be destined for addiction, incarceration, and untimely death?

Interpretations of him and his legacy remain up for varied interpretations and grabs. Our own National Review had him memorably on our cover, holding an upside-down textbook. He’s been dubbed “the Great Reformer,” but there are scandal watchers — and victims — who would argue he hasn’t lived up to the name. In truth, his legacy has not been solidified and is a story that is still being written.

For the 20th anniversary of the death of John Paul II this spring, a priest from New Orleans posted a photo of his class at the North American Pontifical College in Rome many years ago. Their rector was in the picture, one Msgr. Timothy Dolan, who would eventually become a cardinal and the archbishop of New York. Next to Dolan is a young priest from Massachusetts, now a monsignor himself, Roger J. Landry. He is the Good Friday priest at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York, delivering sermons for three hours on the last words of Jesus, a prestigious role, once held by the late Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen. Landry is a brilliant, Harvard-educated, photographic-memory-enabled polyglot who has represented the Holy See at the United Nations and is likely spiritual director to more movers and shakers than will ever be known to anyone but God. And while some might consider him a conservative — he’s married so many NR couples over the years we ought to make him chaplain, to keep things honest — to categorize him as such would to miss the point of his daily prayers and the real lesson of the Francis years.

A famous secular sociologist once said to me: Pope Francis looks like he really believes what Jesus said — quite clearly — in the Sermon on the Mount. Media have captured that in the images of him holding babies and embracing the deformed and homeless, people who have identities beyond facts of their lives. As national director of the Pontifical Mission Societies in the U.S., Landry recently fitted lepers for sandals in Vietnam. It was an opportunity for him to do something Jesus would do. That same sociologist said that if more people lived as Jesus did — and commanded — we wouldn’t have some of the problems that plague us. So, actually care for the orphan, along with the widow and the leper. If we do such things, we will be living not just a short-term Francis Effect, but an eternal Easter Effect.

This column is based on one available through Andrews McMeel Universal’s Newspaper Enterprise Association.