Saturday, March 29, 2025
As the Philippines mourns the loss of a beloved spiritual leader, attention turns to the global Church’s next chapter.
Inside Manila’s iconic Quiapo Church, the faithful sit shoulder-to-shoulder, murmuring prayers and fanning themselves in the tropical heat. At the altar, a framed image of Pope Francis—fondly known locally as Lolo Kiko—serves as a focal point for collective grief.
Across the Philippines, a country where roughly 80% of the population identifies as Catholic, tributes have poured in following the pope’s death. From university campuses to shopping centers, buildings glowed in white, yellow, and violet in homage to his legacy. President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. declared a national period of mourning until Pope Francis’s funeral.
“He was the pope of our generation,” said Quiapo Church regular Mario Amor. “We grew up with him. He was kind, humble—different.”
That deep connection was rooted in shared history. Many Filipinos still recall the overwhelming emotion surrounding Pope Francis’s 2015 visit to the country, just over a year after Typhoon Haiyan devastated parts of the Visayas. Defying security concerns and storm warnings, he insisted on visiting Tacloban, where he addressed survivors in the rain, his yellow poncho fluttering in the wind.
“I am here to be with you,” he told a tearful crowd, many of whom saw the moment as an act of profound solidarity.
Veronica Reponte, who has run a stall outside Quiapo Church for 20 years, remembers the excitement surrounding that visit. “I didn’t care that I was soaked in the rain,” she said. “I just wanted to see him.”
Sales of memorabilia—from posters to handkerchiefs bearing Francis’s face—skyrocketed at the time. She now keeps a photo of him at her stall as a personal keepsake.
Pope Francis’s popularity wasn’t just emotional—it was also ideological. He was seen as a bridge between traditional values and modern inclusivity. Sociologist Jayeel Cornelio noted the pope’s efforts to embrace marginalized communities, particularly LGBTQ+ individuals, and the divorced—groups often left out by previous Church leadership.
Despite leading a conservative institution, Francis inspired many by signaling openness and understanding. He also quietly supported human rights activists during the authoritarian presidency of Rodrigo Duterte, who waged a controversial and deadly war on drugs.
Former senator Leila de Lima, a key critic of Duterte, described receiving a rosary from Francis while in detention. “In that moment,” she wrote, “I felt remembered.”
Introduced by Spanish colonizers in the 1500s, Catholicism remains deeply ingrained in Filipino life, shaping its laws and traditions. While the Church’s influence in politics has declined in recent years, it still commands immense cultural respect.
With no divorce law and strict views on reproductive health, the Church has often stood at the center of heated national debates. Pope Francis’s leadership symbolized a softer, more empathetic form of spiritual guidance that many Filipinos embraced.
As cardinals prepare to elect a new pope, Filipinos are wondering whether the next leader of the Catholic Church will uphold Francis’s progressive legacy or usher in a more traditionalist era.
Among the potential successors is Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle, a respected Filipino cleric with reformist views who is seen as a close ideological ally of Pope Francis. Tagle, 67, has spoken about the need for greater compassion in the Church’s treatment of gay and divorced couples, though he maintains conservative positions on abortion.
If elected, Tagle would become the first Asian pope, a moment that would spark enormous national pride in the Philippines.
But for believers like Mario Amor, faith surpasses politics.
“I trust that whoever becomes the next pope, it will be God’s will,” he said. “It’s not about who we want. It’s about who God appoints.”
