What the Rich Can Learn from Pope Francis Legacy of Service

It’s what we give, not what we keep, that defines our legacy

When the world learned of Pope Francis’s death at the Domus Sanctae Marthae, the Vatican guesthouse he insisted on living in, it felt less like the passing of a monarch and more like the end of an era of rare moral clarity.

Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio to a family of modest means in Buenos Aires, Francis grew up amidst the turbulent landscape of mid-20th-century Argentina, a country marked by political repression, economic instability, and stark social inequalities. These early experiences shaped a theology rooted not in grandeur but in service, a perspective that would later define a papacy notable for its radical humility.

Pope Francis Broke Traditions From the Start

When he was elected pope in 2013, Francis broke with centuries of tradition. He chose not to reside in the Apostolic Palace, the vast Renaissance complex that has housed pontiffs since the 17th century. Instead, he lived in a simple suite at the Vatican guesthouse. He rejected the papal limousine in favor of a modest Ford Focus. When he appeared on the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica that first night, he wore a simple white cassock, stripped of the elaborate red cape and gold cross that traditionally signaled papal regality. “How I long for a poor Church for the poor,” he proclaimed early in his pontificate. This was not symbolism for symbolism’s sake; it was a direct challenge to a Church and a world too often enamored with opulence.

Pope Francis Confronted a Global Economic Divide

Francis’s papacy unfolded against a backdrop of escalating global inequality. According to Oxfam, the richest 1% of the world’s population now holds more wealth than the remaining 99%. In response, Francis championed not only redistribution but also a profound rethinking of what wealth should signify.

In Laudato Si’ (2015), his groundbreaking encyclical, he lamented “the globalization of indifference”, a system in which both the environment and the vulnerable are sacrificed at the altar of profit. He called for an “integral ecology,” linking economic justice to environmental stewardship. “Today we have to say ‘thou shalt not’ to an economy of exclusion and inequality,” he declared in Evangelii Gaudium.

Living the Sermon, Not Just Preaching It

Pope Francis did not simply issue proclamations from a distance; he lived out his message personally. During his travels, he bypassed state dinners to share meals with the poor. On a historic visit to the United States in 2015, he declined an invitation to dine with political leaders in favor of breaking bread with the homeless in Washington, D.C. 

Throughout his tenure, he opened the Vatican’s doors to those in need by installing showers for the homeless, inviting refugees to live within Vatican City, and organizing medical services for individuals with nowhere else to turn. In a world where the wealthy increasingly retreat into enclaves of luxury, Francis exemplified another way: closeness.

A Challenge to the Modern Elite

Modern philanthropy, despite its immense scale, often preserves privilege more than it dismantles it. Billion-dollar pledges make headlines, but personal sacrifice is rare. Francis’s message was countercultural: true giving requires proximity, vulnerability, and discomfort.

Scientific research supports this instinct. A 2012 study in Psychological Science found that individuals from higher socioeconomic backgrounds often exhibit lower levels of compassion. Wealth, paradoxically, can dampen our sense of shared humanity. Francis resisted this tendency, embodying a gospel that demanded not charity from abundance but solidarity from humility.

In 2016, he visited Lesbos, Greece, then at the epicenter of Europe’s refugee crisis, and personally brought 12 Syrian refugees back to live under Vatican protection. Such actions underscored a radical proposition: salvation, both personal and collective, comes not through isolation from the world’s pain, but through immersion in it.

A Death Without Grandeur

Even in death, Francis resisted grandeur. He requested a simple funeral, with no elaborate mausoleum or gilded tributes. His final resting place, a plain grave in the Vatican Gardens, serves as a quiet testament to a life lived without pretense. In contrast to the opulent funerals of previous popes, his farewell reflected his deepest belief: that our dignity is not enhanced by monuments but by the love and justice we leave behind.

Wealth Without Solidarity is Emptiness

Pope Francis’s life and death deliver a potent message to a world increasingly addicted to wealth and spectacle. He taught that wealth itself is not the enemy; however, when it disconnects us from human suffering, it becomes a prison rather than a blessing. “The world tells us to seek success, power, and money,” Francis once said. “God tells us to seek humility, service, and love.” 

As today’s elites grapple with questions of legacy and meaning, Francis offers a different roadmap: not more accumulation but more profound generosity, not greater distance but deeper proximity. In a time defined by division and distrust, perhaps the most revolutionary act is not amassing more but giving more of ourselves, our comfort, and our futures.

The life of Pope Francis illustrates that greatness is not achieved by scaling higher walls, but by building longer tables.