After politics and controversy drove Mike Bell from the Catholic Church more than a decade ago, a new pope drew him back.

Elected in 2013, Pope Francis spent his 12-year tenure preaching what he called the joy of the gospel and emphasizing compassion, even for those who had traditionally been shunned in Catholic circles.

Francis died Monday, following weeks of health complications. But Bell, like many Mainers — Catholic or not — said his legacy will carry on.

“I came back to the church when Francis, he established what they called a year of mercy,” Bell said, referring to the Jubilee Year that spanned 2015 and 2016.

Bell was struck by Francis’ humility and desire to live among common folk. Following more conservative popes Benedict XVI and John Paul II, Francis helped bring progressive momentum to the centuries-old institution, Bell said.

“He gave such an example of just being kind to people. … People need a hug, an affirmation, a sense of kindness. And that’s what he did,” Bell said. “We’ll miss him. The thing we do is continue with his ideas and his philosophy, and try to live our lives the best we can, imperfect as they may be. Just keep following that example.”

On two different occasions, Bell felt that kindness personally. The Vatican under Francis sent letters to his son and a close friend during times of need. Two years ago, Bell wrote a letter to the Vatican requesting prayers for a sick friend who later died. Within weeks, they got a letter from the Vatican promising that Francis would pray for her, which also included a rosary he was said to have blessed.

“I know they must get a gazillion letters a day,” Bell said.

For Kennebunk resident Paul Verna, word from the pontiff came not in a letter but a phone call.

Verna was born in the United States but spent most of his childhood in Argentina, where his parents grew up. His father, Mario Verna, would occasionally mention knowing Francis — or Jorge Mario Bergoglio, his name before becoming pope — from Catholic youth groups and camping trips.

“Anytime he was in the news, basically, my father would sort of comment,” Verna said. “It wasn’t like he had this elaborate story, but he would say, ‘Oh, you know, we were friends.'”

Verna, who was not raised in a religious household, said he and his brothers never knew quite what to make of their father’s claim, as he was known for embellishing stories. But when he died in 2018, Verna’s younger brother decided to send a fax to the Vatican.

Verna said Francis called his younger brother back the very next day.

“He remembered my dad and seemed genuinely moved and sad. … He recalled some anecdotes and called (my father) by his nickname,” Verna said.

Francis referred to Verna’s father as “Flaco,” Spanish for “skinny” or “slim,” during the brief call, Verna said.

“The other part that was really moving was when he said, ‘This is the time that we are called.’ And I think that ‘we’ meant people of his generation, and particularly people of that cohort,” Verna said. “It was a comment about natural aging and the point that you’re at in your life, but I think it was also an even more immediate realization of mortality — because it’s someone who was ‘one of ours,’ so to speak.”

MEMORIAL MASSES

Hundreds of mourners poured into the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Portland for a Mass honoring Francis’ life Wednesday evening. Some wiped tears from their eyes as they remarked on Francis’ unique place among popes, emphasizing his humility and desire to connect with his followers.

“He’s just a human being,” said Rene McCallum, 72, as she stepped into the cathedral.

McCallum said she and her husband, 76-year-old Richard McCallum, traveled to the Vatican in November for their 50th wedding anniversary.

“He came to the window and spoke to everybody,” she said. “He’s just a good man. Even if he wasn’t the pope, he’d still be a good man.”

Bishop James Thomas Ruggieri called Francis a “servant of the servants of God” in his address to the congregation. He said the former pope emphasized “the person of Jesus Christ” and argued that evangelists should use joy, not gloom, to engage new followers.

Speaking to reporters after the service, Ruggieri noted Francis’ many firsts: the first pontiff to come from Latin America or anywhere in the Western Hemisphere, as well as the first Jesuit in the role.

“He made his imprint in the church in a variety of ways,” Ruggieri said. “He just reminded us of the things that are important to living out the gospel.”

Ruggieri said it was too early to say how Francis will be remembered in the years to come or how lasting his legacy will be, but he noted that the pontiff had appointed roughly 80% of the cardinals who will vote on his successor during the upcoming conclave, which could begin next month.

Francis was laid to rest at a funeral service Saturday attended by 250,000 people at St. Peter’s Square, the Vatican estimated.

The Litany of Saints, a meditative chant that is part of the traditional rites, was sung during the final stages of the service. Pages of the New Testament were placed on the coffin, which was blessed with holy water before pallbearers took the pope’s coffin inside St. Peter’s Basilica. Later, it will be moved to Saint Mary Major Basilica, where the pope will be interred.

Saturday’s service followed a dayslong period of mourning, during which time Francis’ body lay in state in the Vatican. His tomb was placed in a niche in the Saint Mary Major Basilica — a departure from previous popes, who were largely buried in St. Peter’s Cathedral and an adjacent crypt, the Associated Press reported.

Francis chose the burial site in the basilica near an icon of the Madonna he revered and often prayed in front of, according to the Associated Press. He was to be buried beneath a simple tombstone bearing his name in Latin.

BEYOND CATHOLICS

Perhaps more than any other modern pope, Francis’ influence spread through the secular world, where his messages of acceptance and love resonated even with non-Catholics.

In 2013, Francis made headlines when he offered a new perspective on gay priests.

“If someone is gay and he searches for the Lord and has goodwill, who am I to judge?” Francis told reporters on board the papal plane. Several people brought up the short phrase as an example of his approach.

Though that statement proved controversial among more traditional, conservative Catholics, it sparked hope among others, including those outside the church.

Ralph Keyes, a retired high school science teacher, was serving as the faculty adviser for his school’s dual-purpose civil rights club and gender and sexuality alliance. Though the pope’s statement came in July, it resonated with Keyes and his students throughout the summer and into the following school year.

“His comment was about gay priests, but it was received by the whole LGBT community,” Keyes said. “We were thinking we should have a club T-shirt, and that’s what the quote was.”

The mostly secular group printed simple shirts bearing just five words: “Who am I to judge.”

Keyes, of Brunswick, wore his shirt Monday after digging through his wardrobe to find it after learning of Francis’ death, he said.

“He was rather revolutionary to say something like that in his position,” Keyes said.

‘WHO AM I TO JUDGE’

For Salem Took, 23, that phrase and Francis’ commitment to including LGBTQ+ people in Catholic life helped soften their attitude toward Catholics after leaving the church.

The Skowhegan resident, who uses they/them pronouns, grew up enmeshed in Catholic and other Christian communities on the West Coast. Growing up, Took felt unable to express their queer identity among religious family and fellow church members for fear of verbal abuse.

“I am trans and queer, and I did not wish to hear how I needed to pray to make it all better, and that I was sinful for existing as myself,” Took said Thursday. “My experience kind of created this thing where I didn’t want to interact with Christians at all, ever.”

Though they have not and do not plan on returning to the Catholic Church, Took said Francis represented a hope that the institution can change.

Took said Francis seemed to more fully embrace the loving aspects of Christianity than previous popes. They said Francis’ loving approach seemed almost to mirror that of Jesus Christ himself.

For Portland resident Ben Flanagan, 27, Francis’ attitude toward the queer community represented a turning point in his relationship with the church — and with himself.

Growing up in a devoutly Catholic family, Flanagan was homeschooled so he and his siblings could attend weekday Mass. By age 13, Flanagan was identifying himself as bisexual to strangers and friends on the internet, but he struggled to accept that reality offline.

“I really, really personally owned the positions of the church,” he said.

For Flanagan and others, including several of his Catholic friends, Francis’ message was akin to permission to express their true selves. Suddenly, people Flanagan had known his whole life were coming out.

“I don’t have to have two selves, so to speak. The two selves that I’ve been raised to force myself to have can start to meet each other and become whole again,” Flanagan said. “I can trust in the church to love me regardless, which hadn’t really been a message that was emphasized.”

Though Flanagan said he no longer attends church regularly, partly out of fear that individual churches may still harbor anti-LGBTQ+ sentiments, he hopes to return. While he feels there is a strong chance that the next pope will bring a return of more traditional ideas, Flanagan said he expects Francis’ relatively progressive legacy to endure.

“I don’t think that’s an energy that’s just going to die away in the church,” Flanagan said.

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