MARGINALIA: A Muslim Tribute to a Pope Who Spoke Truth to Power

MAKATI CITY (MindaNews / 26 April) – It was exactly a month ago. Or almost. 

On February 25, I stood before a conference hall full of bright, idealistic minds—students and young scholars gathered at the Mindanao International Studies Society Convention (MISSCON) 2025. I was there to speak about a subject close to our hearts and histories—the exclusion of Sulu from the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region.

But before diving into legal provisions and historical grievances, I paused. I asked everyone in the room to join me in a moment of prayer—for Pope Francis.

Now, let me say this upfront: I’m a Muslim. And yet, on that day, I felt a deep responsibility—no, an inner moral urge—to ask for prayers for this Catholic pontiff. Why? Because Pope Francis was not only the spiritual leader of over a billion Catholics. He was, in so many ways, a moral compass for the world.

At that time, he was recovering from a 38-day hospital stay for bronchitis and pneumonia. Doctors had urged him to reduce his schedule, to rest. But if you knew anything about Pope Francis, it’s that he never let frailty of the body restrain the strength of the spirit.

And that’s what I told the young people that day: Pray for the Pope—not only because he was unwell, but because he had the courage to speak uncomfortable truths in a world increasingly numb to injustice.

Whether from his modest window at the Vatican or through late-night calls to a besieged church in Gaza, Pope Francis never sugarcoated his words. He didn’t just talk about peace in polite diplomatic terms. He called out cruelty, naming the unspeakable horrors inflicted upon the people of Occupied Palestine with words the world often dared not use: “cruelty, not war,” “terrorism,” “shameful,” “disproportionate and immoral.”

And in November 2024, when the bloodshed in Gaza reached unbearable proportions, he went further—calling for an international investigation into whether the actions of the Zionist Entity constituted genocide. That, to me, was not just moral clarity; it was moral courage.

And yet, just as the world was still holding its breath, hoping he might recover, he surprised us all once more. On Easter Sunday, April 20, the frail Pope appeared on the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica—his voice softer but firm—for the delivery of the Urbi et Orbi blessing. His Easter message was unwavering: peace, peace, peace. A few hours later, he met with U.S. Vice President J.D. Vance, again reiterating the same appeal: peace in a world torn by conflict, greed, and indifference.

The very next morning, April 21, 2025, the world awoke to heartbreaking news: Pope Francis had passed away. He was 88. A stroke and heart failure had silenced the man who had never been afraid to speak when silence was complicity.

As a Muslim, I reflect on his legacy not through a theological lens, but a deeply human one.

First, his humility. He chose simplicity over grandeur, Casa Santa Marta over the Apostolic Palace. He lived like the people he served.

Second, his environmental leadership. His encyclical Laudato Si’ was more than a document—it was a wake-up call. And here’s a story that brings that home for me: My wife’s officemate once sent her eldest daughter to Ateneo de Davao University. After just one semester, that young girl came home profoundly changed—aware of her environmental responsibilities, committed to solid waste management, all thanks to lessons she absorbed there. Her parents were so inspired that they enrolled their other two children in the same school. That’s Laudato Si’ in action—not just in parishes, but in households.

Third, his pursuit of dialogue. Not just interfaith—where he shook hands with Sheikh al-Azhar in Cairo and walked side by side with Ayatollah Sistani in Najaf—but also intra-faith. He met and prayed with leaders of the Eastern Orthodox Church, reached out to Protestant and Evangelical communities, and emphasized healing the wounds of division within Christendom. His 2016 meeting with Patriarch Kirill of the Russian Orthodox Church—the first in nearly 1,000 years between leaders of those two churches—was nothing short of historic. His encounters with Anglican Archbishop Justin Welby, and his shared prayers with Lutheran and Pentecostal communities, signaled a shift from mere tolerance to genuine fraternity.

And finally, his prophetic voice for peace. Not just the absence of conflict, but the kind of peace rooted in justice, in truth, in human dignity. He stood with the Rohingya. He wept for Syria. He pleaded for Ukraine. And he condemned, without flinching, the ongoing siege of Gaza.

For me, Pope Francis embodied a timeless verse from the Qur’an:

“And nearest among them in love to the Believers wilt thou find those who say, ‘We are Christians’: because amongst these are men devoted to learning and men who have renounced the world, and they are not arrogant” (Surah al-Ma’idah 5:82)

He renounced the trappings of worldly power. He walked humbly. And he spoke loudly—for those who had no voice.

In a world growing numb to injustice, he reminded us that to care is to act, and to believe is to speak—even when it is inconvenient, even when it is dangerous.

A month ago, I asked for prayers. Today, as a Muslim, I offer a tribute.

May the legacy of Pope Francis be not just remembered—but more importantly, lived and followed.
[MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. Mansoor L. Limba, PhD in International Relations and Shari‘ah Counselor-at-Law (SCL), is a writer, university professor, blogger, chess trainer, and translator (from Persian into English and Filipino) with tens of written and translation works to his credit on such subjects as international politics, history, political philosophy, intra-faith and interfaith relations, cultural heritage, Islamic finance, jurisprudence (fiqh), theology (‘ilm al-kalam), Qur’anic sciences and exegesis (tafsir), hadith, ethics, and mysticism. He can be reached at mlimba@diplomats.com and his books can be purchased at www.elzistyle.com and www.amazon.com/author/mansoorlimba.]