Upon Watching “Call Me Francesco”
He too wavered, then— That thought struck me with quiet force. Pope Francis, in my mind, had always stood tall and distant, almost like a statue of prayer — unmoved, unwavering. But here, in this film, he is young. A man with doubts. A man who, perhaps, once had someone he loved. And he hesitates before the priesthood. It reminded me that even the saints we venerate walked through the same dark woods of indecision we often find ourselves in. There is a moment when other priests refuse to baptize the infant son of a single mother — yet he alone offers the sacrament. And his eyes, then, are not merely kind. There is something deeper — the quiet authority of grace. A commitment to a God who does not measure by merit, but gives freely. To see a man who would become pope bend down and bless a child the Church itself hesitated to embrace — that, to me, was the Gospel incarnate. The film does not shy away from pain. The torture scenes during Argentina’s military dictatorship were almost u...