The Prophetic Voice Doesn’t Have to Be Loud

But it must be clear

"We must restore hope to young people, help the old, be open to the future, spread love. Be poor among the poor. We need to include the excluded and preach peace." – Pope Francis

Last Monday, the spiritual world lost one of our contemporary prophets. Pope Francis, the first non-European pope and a long-time champion of the poor and the rights of migrants and refugees, died quietly in the dawn of Easter Monday.

Francis was what I would call a soft-spoken prophet. Though his Jesuit intellect and moral values were clear, he felt no need to shout, to proclaim or to browbeat. By no means a radical, he gently moved the ever-so-rigid Catholic Church in small steps closer to an ideal of Christ’s vision. He worked tirelessly for the forgotten people of the world and for interfaith relations, decrying both Antisemitism and Islamophobia. He is famously quoted for saying “All religions are paths to God,” which would have had him excommunicated a few decades ago. Though he stopped short of supporting same-sex marriage, he tried to remove some of the stigma around LGBTQ+. He did his best to condemn pedophile priests, apologize to their victims, and advocate for greater women’s roles within the church, but didn’t go so far as to allow women to become deacons or priests.

Conservative at heart, he was nonetheless a progressive pope in the sense that he pushed the Church toward a vision of progress – more compassionate, more open, more accepting. He also appointed numerous bishops who believe in progress, as well, cementing his vision for the future (and maybe one of them will become the next pope). His “improvements” weren’t cataclysmic, but they were earth-shaking given the mountain he was trying to move. And he did it without fanfare, without protest, without vilifying those who disagreed, and without propaganda. I can think of at least a dozen current political and religious leaders that could take some lessons.

A recent article cited Francis’ probably most important legacy as “changing the way Catholics talked to each other.”

The article stated: “Before Francis, many Catholic Church leaders dwelled on culture-war issues such as abortion and birth control. Francis elevated climate change to a moral issue, denounced unfettered capitalism and increased financial transparency within the Vatican. He also pressured church leaders to listen more to ordinary church members instead of simply issuing edicts, declaring that ‘We priests are not the bosses of the laity (lay people)’...He inspired much of this change through two distinctive personal attributes: a refreshing humility, and a compassion for all that led him to be called the ‘Pope of the Peripheries’— a leader who spoke and acted on behalf of far-flung groups traditionally shunned by the church.” (CNN)

The same article went on to talk about his convening of a dialogue on church and social issues through the “Synod on Synodality,” in which he summoned priests, bishops, lay people and women to engage in an ongoing debate about some of the biggest issues facing the church. Some called the Synod “the biggest consultation exercise in human history.”

Though not much outwardly changed as a result, it paved the way, and throughout the dialogues, he encouraged people to speak up, even if they disagreed with him, another thing that no other Pope would have ever done before. Some Vatican historians described the Synod as “transformative” and a “momentous innovation,” as it upended the traditional hierarchy in the church and forced bishops to listen and engage in open debate.

In other words, by opening the church up to something more akin to a rabbinical discussion, in which all viewpoints were allowed, he gave space for things - and minds - to change of their own. Francis knew where he wanted the church to go, but he didn’t force it: he just created the conditions for it to happen.

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These days, we could all take our cue from Francis. In our rush to change things, we yell and scream and stomp around like Jeremiah, proclaiming the rightness of our way and condemning all who disagree to cancellation, deportation, or destruction. We’re a bunch of angry, loud-mouthed, wannabe prophets, and if we judge from history, that doesn’t end well.

But the prophetic voice doesn’t need to yell and scream. It doesn’t need to post angry memes on social media or lead crowds in vicious chants. It needs only to be unwaveringly clear and consistent. To return to our biblical prophets, Jesus wasn’t on a megaphone shouting from the rooftops. Though he did manage to catch the negative attention of the powers-that-be for a few (perhaps not well thought out) public stunts, by and large, he did his work quietly one-on-one or in small groups, with a clarity of vision, open ears and open heart. And people changed.

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Though by no means the Pope, my uncle Fred, who was also a soft-spoken prophet of sorts, passed away last week at the age of 94. An accomplished hand surgeon, he was one of the first to visit China in the 1970’s to train Chinese doctors to repair machine workers’ hands as the country industrialized. He became one of the most sought-after surgeons in the country, healing the wounded hands of NFL quarterbacks and Arab princes, farm laborers and factory workers, and he (single-handedly) revolutionized certain aspects of hand surgery. But you never would have known. He didn’t talk or brag about it. He just did his work, quietly and purposefully.

I admired him. As a kid, I remember spending hours in his oak panel-lined study, perusing the heavily laden bookshelves. This was his sanctuary, and often, he would come in and we would sit together and talk about history (his favorite subject). He would pull books from the shelves to show me pictures or to read proof texts. He was clear and passionate about how we needed to learn history, so we didn’t repeat it.

Hours would pass, until we were reluctantly dragged away for dinner by my aunt. But I relished those times and my uncle’s gentle voice, and his study felt like an island in an otherwise noisy, chaotic sea. Because of him, I learned the importance of studying history. I learned to listen carefully and patiently to a soft voice, and I learned that my questions were NEVER dumb. In some ways, I credit him for my current path.

When he retired, he didn’t go play golf or travel, but became a volunteer literacy teacher in Houston’s inner-city schools and a guide at the Holocaust Museum, sharing his passion for reading, history and an unbending belief in “Never Again.” He once told me that those “golden years” were the happiest and most fulfilling time of his life. I imagine him sitting patiently with a young kid struggling to read, gently helping him sound out a word, or paused in front of a painful museum display, encouraging visitors to ask hard questions, just as he did with me, and answering with firm moral clarity, patience, and gentleness.

And as condolences came in over the past week, very few of them mentioned his awards or accomplishments. Instead, people talked about his quiet, clear presence, the way he made them feel seen and heard, and his passion for a better world in which the worst of history was never repeated. I have no doubt that those whose lives he touched in his soft-spoken way, fixing their hands or encouraging them to learn, getting them back to work or guiding them to think critically about the past and the future, changed the world for the better. Step-by-step, little by little.

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But, as my uncle and Pope Francis both learned, it’s hard to be a soft-spoken prophet, especially these days, when he who screams the loudest (or has the most internet followers) is assumed to hold power and truth. People often overlook those who speak softly or condemn them for not being more forceful.

Though my uncle was respected, he wasn’t always heeded or the most popular guy in the room. Not everyone wants to hear how awful humans can be or how we need to overcome our worst tendencies so that we don’t repeat them, even if said softly. As he aged and his moral certainty took on harsher tones, I didn’t always agree with him, and sometimes, I, too, remember wishing we could talk about football instead of the French Revolution, or the latest films in lieu of our moral and intellectual failures, particularly when family dinner conversations got a little heated and someone left the table in a huff. (No one ever said that prophets, even if they are right, are especially “well liked.” People don’t invite prophets to parties. It’s a downer. Sadly, prophets spend many a weekend night watching Netflix alone. It comes with the job.)

The same was true for Pope Francis. Despite his popularity with the non-European laity of the church, he was often condemned for not being “progressive enough” by the more liberal factions or “being too progressive” by the traditionalists. Some vilified him for what he said, others for not saying enough. Though he never orchestrated something as pivotal as the Nostra Aetate, which finally laid to rest the accusation that the Jews killed Jesus, he did publish the Laudato Si’, which made climate change a moral and papal concern. Unfortunately, even that modest proposition caused conflict. He couldn’t win for losing. And, when he increasingly - and unapologetically - stood up for the people on the margins and spoke out against the harmful effects of runaway capitalism, war, and greed, he alienated some of those in power.

As the world swung further and further into nationalism, xenophobia, environmental and economic crisis, war and injustice, Francis often became a “’lonely moral voice’” wrote David Gibson, director of the Center on Religion and Culture at Fordham University, speaking into the void, reminding us that “Our efforts must aim at restoring hope, righting wrongs, maintaining commitments, and thus promoting the well-being of individuals and of peoples."

Sadly, like those of many prophets, his admonitions often fell on deaf and disdainful ears.

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Francis wasn’t perfect, and neither was my uncle, but both of them remained unwavering in their moral values and commitments, and their quiet ways of enacting them, whether or not people listened or agreed. The world is poorer for their absence.

The Pope’s funeral was yesterday, attended with great fanfare by heads of state from around the around the globe, many of them paying nothing but lip service to Francis’ prophecy. My uncle’s is today, attended only by family, many of us who didn’t always heed his teachings. But just as my uncle’s soft-spoken, prophetic urgings linger in my own heart and mind, it is my hope that Francis’ quiet legacy will remind us that sometimes, moral clarity, the willingness to engage in dialogue even with those with whom we might disagree, and a soft, but persistent voice is all we need to move us - bit by bit - toward becoming better people in a world that supports all. If we will just listen.

Go in Peace, Pope Francis and Uncle Fred.

May your memories be blessings.

“This is important: to get to know people, listen, expand the circle of ideas. The world is crisscrossed by roads that come closer together and move apart, but the important thing is that they lead towards the Good.” - Pope Francis