Hope: An autobiographical window into the spiritually confused world of Pope Francis
Pope Francis. Hope: The Autobiography. With Carlo Musso. Translated from the Italian by Richard Dixon (New York: Random House, 2025).
In the entire history of the Roman Catholic Church, it is surprising that Hope: The Autobiography is the first autobiography published by a sitting pope. Written over the course of six years it was originally intended to be published posthumously, but Pope Francis and his advisors decided it should be published to coincide with the 2025 Roman Catholic Year of Jubilee, which has identified “hope” as its central theme.
Autobiographies provide unique insight into the life of an individual, and they are particularly interesting when they concern the life of a young boy that would one day become the Bishop of Rome (his preferred title) and leader of the Roman Catholic Church. Jorge Mario Bergoglio was born on December 17, 1936, in Flores, Argentina. He was the oldest of three children and the son of an Italian father and an Argentinian mother. His father immigrated to Argentina from the Piedmont region of Italy. Jorge was baptized on Christmas morning, just over a week after being born.
Hope provides enjoyable insights into the small details of Bergoglio’s life that otherwise one wouldn’t know. We learn of Bergoglio’s love for soccer, which is of course no surprise being that he grew up in Argentina and was born one year after Diego Maradona! San Lorenzo was his favorite team. But he also enjoyed basketball and stamp collecting, a hobby he picked up from his uncle Oscar. From childhood he has loved classical music and enjoys tango. As a young boy he thought about becoming a doctor, and at another point a butcher, before perceiving a call to the priesthood. In chapter 13 Francis gives insight into his time in seminary, and in chapter 17 he provides a fascinating account of the conclave in 2013 in which he was elected Pope. He arrived in Rome in March 2013 with no expectations whatsoever of being elected Pope and had already purchased his plane ticket back to Argentina to be home in time for Easter. Another interesting detail about Francis is that since 1990, with only very few exceptions (i.e. watching a news broadcast on September 11, 2001) he has not watched television due to personal convictions.
Hope. It is a simple and clear title. But it is a loaded word, subject to various interpretations. It is a word that has both religious and secular meaning. But this is Francis’s story, so what does hope mean to him? Trying to determine what hope is for Pope Francis is similar to determining his theological convictions; it mostly leaves one scratching their head. There are hints and indications to be sure, but reaching a definitive conclusion is nearly impossible. Hope is full of “Francis-isms”, that is, phrases and words that sound nice, but that are ultimately difficult to decipher. They are left open for interpretation, and perhaps that is intentional.
For example, in the introduction Francis writes, “hope is above all the virtue of movement and the engine of change: It’s the tension that brings together memory and utopia to truly build the dreams that await us. And if a dream fades, we need to go back and dream it again, in new forms, drawing with hope from the embers of memory”. Elsewhere he states that “human hope is far more than an illusion and is far more even than simple trust: It is in fact a medicine and a cure” (p. 252). “Hope never disappoints” (p. 253). “God cannot deprive us of hope, because He cannot deny Himself” (p. 253). “Hope is a supreme value, and its opposite is hell on earth…” (p. 253). “Hope is an anchor” (p. 255). These are nice sayings, but what do they really mean? How should they be interpreted?
In Hope: The Autobiography, Francis regularly discusses the ugliness of war. “War is stupid” (p. 23). Many of the stories recounted concern the horrors of war and injustice that Bergoglio has witnessed, both directly and indirectly. Hope, then, is a response to the evil of war. Hope is peace. That is perhaps the safest conclusion one can reach about the meaning of hope for Francis. But again, like many theological statements he makes, perhaps his vagueness is intentional. It mirrors the synodal spirit within which Francis prefers to operate and lead the Catholic Church. Everything is open to dialogue, debate, and discovery.
From an evangelical perspective, however, one thing is certain: The hope of the gospel of Jesus Christ as proclaimed in the Bible is not present. This does not mean that gospel words are not present; they very much are (i.e. Gospel, Jesus, sin, forgiveness, salvation, mercy), but they are never articulated and organized in a way that presents the biblical gospel clearly. His “gospel” words and phrases are like puzzle pieces. They are strewn about and left to be interpreted and assembled by his readers and listeners.
There is a brief attempt to define the gospel, which is found on page 172. “God is greater than the sinner, always. This is the Gospel.” But what does that mean? How should it be interpreted? What follows is the closest that Francis gets to an articulation of the biblical gospel: “A Church that reflects in this way is anxious to make clear to women and men what is the center and fundamental core of the Gospel, namely ‘the beauty and saving love of God made manifest in Jesus Christ who died and rose again from the dead” (p. 172). Here Francis is quoting paragraph 36 of his 2013 apostolic exhortation Evangelli gaudium (The Joy of the Gospel). And while there are indeed key elements of the gospel present, it should be noted that in The Joy of the Gospel there is considerable more joy than gospel. Furthermore, in 2020 Francis published the encyclical Fratelli tutti (All Brothers), which has no gospel at all and is universalistic in its soteriological scope. Hope is written in this context as well.
Furthermore, Francis’s attempt at articulating the gospel must be read in light of other statements he shares in his autobiography, statements that reveal a different understanding of the gospel than that of the biblical account. Statements such as, “I have a dogmatic certainty: God is in the life of every person, God is in the life of each one…He can and must be sought in every human life” (pp. 114-15). And “Baptism is always a rebirth” (p. 198). God loves homosexuals “as they are” (p. 199), and transgender people “can receive baptism (which ‘is always a rebirth’) on the same conditions as other believers…” (p. 199). Therefore, “If the Lord says everybody, who am I to exclude anybody?” (p. 199). The saving love of God is made manifest in Jesus Christ who died and rose again from the dead (The Joy of the Gospel, 36), and God is already in the life of every person, and he accepts them as they are. Confusing and compromised, attempting to be everywhere at once, and as a result being nowhere at all. This is Francis’s gospel.
Lastly, Hope makes crystal clear Bergoglio’s deep devotion to Mary. Mary is considerably more present than Christ and is clearly dearer to Francis than is Christ. His devotion to Mary was ingrained at an early age. A “great gift that Father Pozzoli left me, and for which I feel a deep sense of gratitude, is my devotion to Mary” (p. 50). “I have experienced Mary’s maternal gaze for myself, and how it can bring light to darkness and rekindle hope” (p. 51). The following story Francis recounts says it all:
“One day, after more than twenty years had passed since my childhood, I met a couple of catechists, both university professors, at a conference in Belgium. They had a lovely family and spoke very well about Jesus Christ. So at a certain point I asked: And your devotion to Our Lady? ‘Oh, we’ve got over that stage. We know Jesus so much that we don’t need Our Lady.’ And what came to my mind, and I felt in my heart, was: ‘But…poor orphans!’ My grandmother and Father Enrique taught me with their testimony that Our Lady was in no way secondary. It is not spiritual etiquette but a requirement of Christian life” (p. 51). Without Mary these people were orphans! Christ alone is not enough. Mary is not secondary to Christ, she is equal to him, and this is a requirement of Christian life according to Francis.
“Devotion to Mary is a bridge that unites us…” (p. 61). “You can say what you like about God and the priests, but don’t ever insult Holy Mary and the nuns” (p. 137). “Mary is the point of contact between heaven and earth. Without Mary, the Gospel becomes disembodied, defaced, and transforms itself in ideology, in spiritualistic rationalism” (p. 175). Christ does not embody the gospel, Mary does, and without her the gospel is disembodied. Upon being elected Pope, Francis asked “to go straight away to the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore, to Our Lady; I always went there as cardinal, and I go there still, before and after apostolic journeys too, so that she will keep me company, as a mother, and tell me what to do, and watch over my actions. With Our Lady I can go safely” (p. 193). It is not Christ who Francis turns to for council and for protection, but to Mary. She is closer. She is more important. She embodies the gospel. For this reason, Francis will not be buried in St. Peter’s, but in Santa Maria Maggiore, to be close to his mother.
Hope: The Autobiography is full of interesting and enjoyable insights into Francis’s childhood, personal life and papacy. Theologically speaking, however, there are no surprises. It is Francis through and through. And while Hope is not intended to be a work of theology, the title is evocative, and being that Francis is the Supreme Pontiff and the Bishop of Rome, it is reasonable to expect theological insight into the meaning of hope. From an evangelical perspective, it leaves much to be desired.