Late on Monday my wife and I were discussing the news that had broken on Monday morning: Pope Francis died. Naturally, you don’t need to search hard for eulogies and commendations, pouring in from almost every corner of the world. This is to be expected, since the Roman Catholic office remains a beloved one and those who occupy it are known for their character, love, compassion, kindness and selfless service—in a word, these men exemplify Christlikeness. To play on the Greek word typically translated “holy” (ἅγιος or ἁγιάζω), popes are set apart for their task and simultaneously those who set themselves apart by their lives. It is fitting, therefore, that the world celebrates Pope Francis’ life and remembers him in his death.

Regrettably, mingled with the eulogies were the equally unsurprising maledictions. But these shrill cries aren’t merely out of place amid the chorus of praise, they predominately originate from my own corner—the Protestant church. For example, on Facebook I read, “The Pope is not Peter’s successor, but the theological descendant of the Pharisees—those who sit in Moses’ seat, binding heavy burdens on others while refusing to bear them themselves (Matthew 23:4).” A few lines on the same person added, “Let the Church of Rome mourn. Let the world eulogise. But let those with eyes see: another man who claimed the place of Christ has fallen into the hands of the living God (Hebrews 10:31).” 

Such devastating remarks. So self-assured. Since our uncompromising champion quotes Jesus’ rebuke of the Pharisees, perhaps we could turn over another: “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you shut the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces” (Matthew 23:13). But let’s not go there; for however much of a resemblance we spy between first century Pharisees and the Roman Catholic Church, they are worlds and centuries apart—furthermore, both are far more complex than the lazy analogy suggests.

But laziness seems to be the modus operandi of those comments. Putting aside the question of how appropriate an attack on Pope Francis is the day after his death, along with a startling lack of compassion his piece also fails to engage Francis or his theology; it’s essentially a rehash of the all-too-familiar pulpit thumping Catholic bashing that passes as preaching in many Protestant pulpits. “The gospel Rome preaches is another gospel (Galatians 1:6–9)—a Christ + works gospel, where sacraments replace regeneration, tradition overshadows Scripture, and the Pope dares to sit in a place reserved only for Christ.” I imagine if you asked ChatGPT to critique Roman Catholic theology from a Protestant perspective that’s what you’d get. So the malediction isn’t only poorly timed, it’s capitalising on the death of an individual to critique a theological institution. Thus, it’s just poor all-round.

Now for the point I had in mind when I started this piece: being Reformed is so much more than setting oneself up in contradistinction to the Roman Catholic Church. If you make the time to read John Calvin or another of the magisterial Reformers you’ll notice that they have much to say about Rome. But that’s because it was the air they breathed. To varying degrees, many of them were a part of the religious institution they critiqued. Understandably, then, lengthy sections of the Institutes are polemical against Rome (see 4.5.1-19; 4.4.5-13). But you don’t live in the 16th century. You aren’t John Calvin. And while the Roman Catholic Church remains a significant institution globally, its religious influence over the people you rub shoulders with day-to-day is very likely insignificant.

To use an example: Rome supposedly preaches Jesus + works, another gospel. While the place of works in final salvation was a fundamental point of contention for the Reformers, it is again a poor reading of history to reduce Roman Catholic soteriology to a mathematical equation. Let’s not forget that Augustine’s earlier view of salvation comes very close to Rome’s, where works play a role in justification but are also consistently understood as the fruits of God’s grace. Sola Gratia. Anyway, we digress. My point in bringing up the role of works in salvation is that it simply isn’t a crucial point of contention in my own context, today—chances are it isn’t one in yours, either.

The world has shifted considerably in the last four centuries. Added to that, most people’s religion or spirituality today isn’t remotely institutional. Justification by faith alone is a theological truth to be treasured. Sola Fidei. But very few people I meet today are enthralled by the idea that without obedience and works they cannot enter heaven. Yes, in every way people are still very religious (Acts 17:22); yet few are asking what they must do to be saved (Acts 4:12); fewer still are wondering if they’ve done enough good works to supplement their faith in Jesus, because they don’t even profess faith in Jesus. Railing against Roman Catholicism is a longstanding hobby among Protestants, but today it’s about as meaningful as critiquing the Eastern Orthodox tradition—that is, it’s effectively meaningless.

As I said above, taking one’s place within the Reformed tradition doesn’t only mean setting oneself up against Roman Catholicism. Our theology is far richer and historically rooted in the Church; it isn’t merely reactionary or apophatically keyed. Again, anyone who has read Calvin’s Institutes knows this. More recently, it’s why Herman Bavinck could write, “The battle today is no longer about the authority of pope or council, of church and confession…the authority of Scripture or the person of Christ.” Living when he did, Bavinck needed to address modernity, the Enlightenment, existentialism and individualism. He was able to do that because he didn’t try and fit all of his theological writing—or identity, for that matter—into 16th century debates. Neither should we.

For now, the last word goes to Pope Francis, “In the Lord’s Paschal Mystery, death and life contended in a stupendous struggle, but the Lord now lives forever. He fills us with the certainty that we too are called to share in the life that knows no end, when the clash of arms and the rumble of death will be heard no more. Let us entrust ourselves to him, for he alone can make all things new (Revelation 21:5).”