Pope Francis: Legacy of a Revolutionary Pontiff and the Nostalgia of Easter 2026

This Easter Sunday, St. Peter's Square was packed at dawn, but there was a different echo in the air. The voice of Pope Leo XIV rang out firmly as he denounced the "scandalous indifference" toward the wars bleeding the world. Yet, amidst the embraces and the “Christ is risen”, many faithful glanced down for a second—remembering the man who, for nearly a decade, called everyone “brothers and sisters.” The death of Pope Francis, which occurred in late 2025, is still a fresh wound. And this Easter of 2026 is the first without his wide smile and his feet dirty from walking the peripheries.

The pontiff who never wanted a “throne chair”

When Jorge Mario Bergoglio appeared on the basilica balcony in 2013, the world saw a man who refused the golden cross and kept his silver ring. For those of us from Buenos Aires, that came as no surprise. The Pontifical Catholic University of Argentina, where he studied chemistry and later taught theology, has always been full of stories about a professor who took the bus. Later, as archbishop, he traded the palace for a simple apartment and cooked his own meals. That was Francis before he was Francis.

His coat of arms of Pope Francis already revealed his life’s mission: the star, the spikenard, and the words “Miserando atque eligendo.” No crowns or symbols of power. It was the emblem of someone who came to embrace wounds, not to be revered from a distance. I remember seeing the original description at the St. Thomas More Building, that structure on the Argentine Catholic University campus named after the English martyr—and there, in the hallways, the reform Francis so passionately preached was already breathing in the young people who were preparing Masses in the slums.

The footsteps left in Iraq

No one forgets March 2021. While the world was still crawling through COVID vaccinations, Francis did something that seemed crazy: he landed in Baghdad. Pope Francis' 2021 visit to Iraq was an act of courage that security manuals would have classified as “maximum risk.” He went to Ur, the birthplace of Abraham, and met with Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani. The handshake between the two religious leaders in Najaf was worth more than a thousand speeches. Francis wanted to show that dialogue is possible even where bombs are still falling. And he succeeded.

On that trip, he said something that stuck: “War is always a defeat.” Pope Leo XIV repeated that phrase this Easter Sunday, urging the world to “choose peace over the roar of war engines.” The harmony is clear. The new pope, who was a close adviser to Francis, carries the same torch—but the longing for the one who sat beside the poor still tightens the chests of those who lived through those years.

Five lasting marks left by Francis

• The foot-washing at a youth detention centre: in 2013, his first foot-washing ceremony was with young female inmates, including two Muslims. He broke centuries-old rules in a single gesture.
• The reform of Vatican finances: he created the Secretariat for the Economy and ordered investigations into shady deals. He wasn’t popular among the “system” cardinals.
• Opening up to the LGBTQIA+ community: his famous “Who am I to judge?” echoed for decades, despite all the internal resistance.
• The Synod on Synodality: for the first time, women and laypeople voted in assemblies alongside bishops. The Church stopped being a club of robed men.
• The apology to the Indigenous peoples of Canada: he wept when he heard about the residential schools. He said “sorry” on behalf of an institution that never used to apologize.

And now, with Leo XIV?

Easter 2026 will be remembered as the first of the “pope of continuity.” Leo XIV used Portuguese in part of his message – “May the peace of Christ be with Brazil” – and the crowd in Aparecida cheered. But comparisons are inevitable. While Francis had the verve of a street pastor, Leo is more of a theologian, cooler in his gestures. Yet, in a private conversation with Vatican insiders, a Brazilian cardinal summed it up: “Leo XIV is the faithful disciple. He won’t imitate Francis, because Francis can’t be imitated. But he will honour the legacy.”

What remains, my friends, is the feeling that we had a giant walking among us. The death of Pope Francis did not erase the quiet revolution he started. Every coat of arms posted on a parish church in the margins, every student from the Pontifical University who goes out to serve the poor, every pilgrim who visits the St. Thomas More Building in Buenos Aires – all of that is Francis alive. And the next time Pope Leo XIV raises his voice against indifference, remember: it’s the same wind blowing from the open window of 2013.

Happy Easter, with or without lost sheep. Francis taught us that the celebration is for everyone.