Francis speaks love, hope - and truth to power - on his historic journey

To the adoring crowds who came out to catch a glimpse of him - and they numbered in the millions - Pope Francis was that smiling man in white robes: a sometimes fleeting image passing along the streets of Havana, on Constitution Avenue in Washington, through New York's Central Park, and up the Benjamin Franklin Parkway in Philadelphia.

A symbol of joy and hope, his values can sometimes be expressed very simply, and they were.

"Love is the expression of faith," read a banner bearing his image on the Ben Franklin Parkway.

"We are all here only to do good," read another. "Have the courage to be truly happy," read a third.

At 78, Francis undertook a grueling, 10-day journey to speak truth to power. He had crossed the Atlantic to deliver an injection of his values of compassion and care to the leadership of Cuba, to the U.S. Congress and Supreme Court and president of the United States, and to the United Nations.

His words to the powerful do not fit easily on Parkway banners. But he spoke again and again about his solidarity with the poor and marginalized and the need to give of oneself in service to others.

He spoke of communal values and the importance of strong and loving families, exhorted against the pursuit of wealth that exploits humans and the Earth itself, urged help for desperate immigrants, decried the sexual abuse of children, called for abolishing the death penalty, and emphasized religious freedom and tolerance.

He also demonstrated a powerful affection and empathy for children and the disabled, the poor and the homeless. He kissed and gently embraced youngsters and adults in wheelchairs, kissed babies, and walked among the homeless as they ate lunch in Washington.

"Keep in mind all those people who are trapped in a cycle of poverty," he had earlier told Congress.

"They need to be given hope."

He also told lawmakers - who were joined by members of the Supreme Court and the president's cabinet - that they were called "to the tireless and demanding pursuit of the common good," a good that "also includes the Earth."

The last was a message some welcomed, and some did not. As many Democrats stood and cheered, and many Republicans sat, Francis exhorted the leaders of the United States that they had "an important role to play to avert the most serious effects of environmental deterioration caused by human activity."

He stirred substantial criticism when he praised a gathering of U.S. bishops in Washington for their "courage" in the face of the devastating sexual abuse of children at the hands of priests.

Abuse victims and advocates reacted with searing comments, questioning why Francis would say that without ever expressing support or empathy for the victims themselves.

Then on Sunday, the pope hit the issue anew and appeared to make amends. He met with five adult victims of sex abuse - at the hands of clergy, and other perpetrators as well - before telling the bishops assembled at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary that he would ensure "careful oversight that youth are protected."

He used the word courage again - this time for the victims of "terrible abuse."

"Humbly, we owe each of them our gratitude for their courage," he said. And he promised "that all responsible will be held accountable."

"God weeps for the sexual abuse of children," he lectured in Spanish.

What is noteworthy about Francis is that he brings messages that are in harmony with those of his predecessors, Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI, but notably different in tone. He alludes to the life and sexuality issues - such as abortion and same-sex marriage and euthanasia - that were so central to their public addresses. But he alludes to them in veiled ways.

There is a buoyancy to Francis evident in moments small and large. On Shepherd One, his plane traveling from Rome to Cuba, and Cuba to the United States, he seemed to genuinely enjoy exchanges with journalists, laughing and smiling as he moved up and down the aisles, joking comfortably even when asked difficult questions.

What is perhaps most striking about him is that he lives up to his widely accepted public persona - simple, unpretentious, down-to-earth. Watching him joke and make asides with his communications attaché, the Rev. Federico Lombardi - who responds in kind - he seems a man who wears the papacy lightly, with no self-importance.

It is evident, too, in the car he chooses to travel in: not a limousine but a little black Fiat. It speaks eloquently of his care for the planet and his disdain for consumerism, but also for his own lack of airs.

Indeed, it is so unpretentious that pedestrians on Sixth Street exiting Independence Mall after his address Saturday afternoon did not immediately realize that the smiling man leaning out of the window was none other than Francis.

But behind the waves and smiles, this was a man on a serious mission. He appeared to wear three faces as he moved from crowds to public speaking to celebrations of the Mass. For the crowds, he had his characteristic beaming smile; while answering questions or speaking off-the-cuff, he slipped into a fierceness, eyes flashing and hands gesturing; and at Mass, his face was enveloped in a deep, distant, and reverent expression.

He played the prophet of human rights, speaking Friday at the United Nations. "It must never be forgotten that political and economic activity is only effective when it is guided by a perennial concept of justice, conscious . . . that we are dealing with real men and women," he said, "who live and struggle and suffer, forced to live in great poverty, deprived of all rights."

The U.N. delegates, along with such luminaries as German Chancellor Angela Merkel, film star Daniel Craig (who serves on a U.N. commission to stop the proliferation of land mines), and others also heard him speak of the "universal right" to decent housing, clean water, jobs, and education - for boys as well as girls.

Before arriving in this country for the first time Tuesday, he spoke publicly in Cuba of the need for religions to engage in "missionary activity," a not-so-subtle reference to the suppression the Catholic Church and other faiths have experienced under nearly 50 years of rule by Fidel and his brother Raul Castro, with whom he met.

Francis is also at home in the role of pastor, a role he embraced Sunday when he visited inmates at Philadelphia's Curran-Fromhold Correctional Facility.

To societies and governments everywhere, he warned that if they failed to share seriously the pain of the imprisoned - and instead use incarceration to merely punish and isolate - they are "condemned" to remain a hostage to themselves.

To the 57 men and 11 women inmates seated before him, he said he came "as a pastor, but above all as a brother, to share your situation and make it my own."

He spoke of how Jesus washed the feet of his apostles.

"All of need to be cleansed, to be washed," Francis said. "And me in first place."

doreilly@phillynews.com

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