Called not to be served but to serve

Pope Francis' most recent encounter with mortality has captured the world's attention. As of this writing he remains in the hospital fighting double pneumonia with a "reserved" prognosis.

God willing, he returns to his duties, but it has been obvious that the 88-year-old pontiff has ongoing health issues as befits his age, and he is vulnerable to pulmonary illnesses.

The latest bout has ratcheted up the quite predictable speculation of some about who may succeed him. Before we rush off to the betting offices to put our money on a possible papabile, however, we might recognize what Francis has accomplished so far in his papacy.

His agenda was known from the beginning. In fact, before the 2013 conclave that elected him, Jorge Bergoglio had told his assembled brothers -- all of whom had been appointed by St. John Paul II and Benedict -- what that agenda would be.

"The Church is called to come out of herself and go to the peripheries, not only geographically, but also the existential peripheries."

"When the Church does not come out of herself to evangelize, she becomes self-referential and then gets sick." This can lead to a "very serious evil, spiritual worldliness."

"Thinking of the next pope: He must be a man who, from the contemplation and adoration of Jesus Christ, helps the Church to go out to the existential peripheries…"

This is the man the cardinals elected.

He himself is, in a sense, from the periphery, the first pope from Latin America. And it would seem part of the divine plan that this voice from the southern hemisphere would challenge the church to hear the cries of the poor, of the unwanted, of those who feel the church does not have room for them. He has lent his voice to the voiceless, the unborn, the migrant, the refugee, the elderly, the teeming masses that the powerful so easily ignore.

He has been widely admired, but he is not the liberal darling that some in the news media wanted him to be. They paid little attention to his repeated criticism of abortion, euthanasia or gender ideology. But neither has he been the scourge turning his back on modernity. In one of his most remembered quotes, he described the modern church as a "field hospital."

"The thing the church needs most today is the ability to heal wounds and to warm the hearts of the faithful; it needs nearness, proximity. I see the church as a field hospital after battle."

This idea of proximity to suffering humanity is implicit in the advice he gave to pastors to have "the smell of the sheep," a typically earthy Francis observation.

Francis in his dozen years and counting has reformed the curia, overhauled Vatican finances, brought women and laymen into positions of authority, and appointed cardinals from the periphery rather than just the traditional cardinalate sees. He has worked to heighten church leaders' appreciation of the sin of sexual abuse. He has also spoken truth to power in challenging rich nations. He has not been afraid to take risks, and he has at times made mistakes and he has incurred not-very-muted criticism from some of his own back benchers.

But his agenda has been to take the church to those most in need of its succor. Whenever his pontificate ends, I hope his lasting accomplishment will be that he reminded us all that we are called not to be served, but to serve. We are called to be the good shepherd looking for the lost, the good Samaritan caring for the wounded, wherever they may be found.