•Reflections on Papal name, the weight of tradition, and the significance of continuity

By Rev. Fr. OKHUELEIGBE OSEMHANTIE AMOS

In the long and luminous tradition of the Catholic Church, names are never arbitrary. They are historical signposts, theological pronouncements, and sometimes even prophetic instruments. Among the most evocative names in the Church’s memory is Francis—a name that, while deeply revered, was curiously absent from the papal register until the twenty-first century.

Francis of Assisi remains one of the most beloved figures in Christian history: a mystic, a radical, a friend of the poor, and the Church’s quiet revolutionary. Francis Xavier, one of the earliest Jesuit missionaries, carried the Gospel with fire and fidelity to distant shores. Both men embodied a Christocentric vision marked by humility, zeal, and self-giving love. And yet, for over two millennia, no pope had ever taken their name.

That changed in 2013, when Jorge Mario Bergoglio of Argentina became the first Latin American Pope—and chose to be called Francis. The choice was deliberate and defining. It signaled a papacy shaped not by courtly grandeur or doctrinal rigidity, but by the humility of Assisi. Pope Francis inaugurated what many have come to describe as a “pastoral revolution”: a Church more inclined to open doors than to pronounce judgments; a Church attuned to the cries of the poor, the earth, and the forgotten margins of society.

He lived his name with intention. Whether by washing the feet of refugees, visiting conflict zones, embracing the disfigured, or simplifying papal ceremonies, Pope Francis embodied a new ecclesial

grammar—one composed not merely of words, but of gestures. Under his watch, the name Francis became more than historical homage; it became a global identity.

It is in this context that the recent papal succession presents an intriguing paradox. The newly elected Supreme Pontiff, hailing this time from the North of the American continent, was not one who chose the name Francis—he was born with it. Yet, at the hour of his elevation, he relinquished it. He did not become Pope Francis II, nor did he attempt a sequel to the popular and reformative pontificate of his predecessor. Instead, he chose another name, stepping out of the shadow of Francis even while standing upon his shoulders.

What does it mean when the first pope to take the name Francis does so by choice, and the next pope—born Francis—consciously leaves the name behind?

It is a decision that invites reflection, and perhaps even reverence. In the ecclesial imagination, names are more than personal markers. They are ecclesiological statements. Peter was renamed to signify a new vocation. John Paul I combined two names to signal continuity. Benedict XVI evoked a monkish discipline and theological sobriety. And Francis, of course, suggested a Church that must embrace simplicity, mercy, and reform.

That a pope born Francis would surrender the name at the moment of highest ecclesial visibility might be interpreted not as a disavowal, but as a deference. It could suggest that the papacy of Francis is not to be replicated or renamed, but remembered, retained and revered. The spirit of Assisi, having shaped an entire epoch, no longer needs to be explicitly invoked. It is now, as it were, absorbed.

This gesture—simple in appearance, but significant in symbol—suggests that the Church is moving not beyond Francis, but out of Francis. His name, once exceptional, is now embedded in the Church’s bloodstream. His values have become vocabulary. His mission has become memory. There is, perhaps, no need to repeat the name because it now lives in liturgy, governance, and global witness.

In this sense, the decision not to continue the name Francis is not rupture—it is rhythm. It is an ecclesiological maturation. The Church, having dwelt richly in the spirit of Assisi, now steps forward with that spirit internalized.

In the great continuity of papal legacy, there is a profound beauty in this silent handover—not of office, but of charism. From Francis to Francis, and now, from Francis—the Church journeys onward.

Not in rejection, but in reverence.

Not in forgetting, but in fulfillment.

The papal name Francis may have been set aside, but its substance now lives in the marrow of the Church.

•Rev Fr. Okhueleigbe Osemhantie Amos, PhD, a News Express Special Contributor, is of the Catholic Institute of West Africa (CIWA), Port Harcourt, Nigeria.