The thesis of “Changing the Way We Change,” a 1997 Harvard Business Review article, was that deep change in organizations, the sort of change which leads to transformation and revitalization, was not accomplished through rearranging structures and programs. Rather, in the organizations studied, “the 800-pound gorilla that impaired performance and stifled change was culture.”

This article dramatically altered my thinking, both about how organizational change could be nurtured and the obstacles which thwarted it. I became convinced the article’s wisdom applied to denominational structures and religious bodies, where my vocational energies were directed. Since the article was published, attention to organizational culture, in both religious and secular organizations, has gained widespread attention. In discussions about institutional change, I’ve often heard (and repeated) phrases like “culture eats strategy for lunch.”

These insights have returned to me as I’ve reflected on the 12 years of service Francis gave as Pope to the Roman Catholic Church. My conviction is that Pope Francis understood the power of organizational culture, at least intuitively and spiritually. Beneath all he modeled and accomplished, Francis was trying to change the culture of the Vatican, and of the complex structures, institutions, and patterns of exercising authority shaping the lives of 1.4 billion Catholics. He did this through modeling different behavior, through tools of persuasion in his preaching and encyclicals, through changes in personnel holding various positions of influence, and through his power to convene parties in crucial dialogue and conversation.

In part, this resulted from Pope Francis being the first Pope from Latin America, and more importantly, the first non-European Pope in more than 1,200 years. The Vatican and many of the Catholic Church’s global institutions were shaped by a Eurocentric style of governance, decision-making, structural arrangement, and organizational culture. While the Catholic Church’s demographic center, like all of world Christianity, had shifted to the global South, its administrative power and institutional identity remained rooted in the global North.

The election of Pope Francis and his symbolic and governing actions began shifting this dynamic. He constantly called the church to give its attention to the “periphery,” to those places and peoples previously discounted and disregarded. As my friend John Carr, who worked for the U.S. Catholic Bishops on issues of justice and peace, stated, “Pope Francis saw the world from the bottom up.”  From his first days he reached out to migrants, the poor, indigenous people, and others often kept at the margins of the church.

His approach was always deeply pastoral, because he was suspicious of any ideology, from the right or the left. He wanted to direct the focus of the church to the concrete lives of the poor and marginalized, rather than focus on intellectual or theological debates about them. His metaphor of the church as a “field hospital” invited the church’s faithful, and its clergy, to place themselves in the face of suffering, bringing healing and hope.

Part of changing organizational culture involves altering the values and expected behaviors of the organization’s members and leadership. Rather than being shaped by self-righteousness, detachment, and judgment of others, Francis wanted the church to be known for its mercy—for that, he said, was God’s name.  A hospitable welcome, born of God’s grace and compassion, was what Francis demonstrated and nurtured.

This was also the root of his frequent condemnation of “clericalism.” Those in the Protestant world may have found that curious, but for Francis it was central, and the subject of frequent warnings in his messages at Christmas and other occasions. He didn’t want the culture of the church to be shaped by priests, bishops, and cardinals who lived in detachment from their flock, projecting superiority and spiritual pride. His incessant rebuke of clericalism is a revealing window into the deeper transformation he sought.

His personal patterns of simplicity and humility gave integrity to those warnings. After being elected Pope, he famously went to pay his own bill at the guest house where he was staying. Then he refused to live in the Papal apartments, taking up residence in the Casa Santa Maria, a guest house at the Vatican where visiting clergy often stayed. He frequently took his meals in the common dining hall, remaining close to others rather than isolated from them. These were not just gestures, but an attempt to show a different way living and being while holding authority in the church. That pattern wasn’t new. In Buenos Aires, he took the bus from his modest residence to his office. And when visiting the White House, he arrived in a Fiat.

Organizational culture is shaped by shared values, expected norms of behavior, decision-making processes, the extent of transparency, the ways of dealing with conflict, and the level of trust and clarity around a shared mission. Pope Francis knew how to view the church “from the outside,” in John Carr’s words. He understood that many saw the church as characterized by brittle, dogmatic authoritarianism exercised with unaccountable power which hid private transgressions. The transformation needed, in Francis’s view, required deep change, and called for spiritual, pastoral work as well as courageous institutional revisions and personnel changes.

Central to all this effort was the “Synod on Synodality.” This was a three-year process to engage the whole church in listening, reflection, and dialogue about its identity and future, through discerning the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Its three central themes were communion, participation, and mission. Pope Francis initiated this effort as a fresh way to approach decision-making, deal with conflict, broaden the participation of those typically left out of structures of authority, and strengthen mutual trust. As the Pope explained, “It is precisely this path of synodality which God expects of the Church of the third millennium.” 

Building on local and national efforts begun in 2021, key synods were held in Rome in 2023 and 2024. Instead of involving only bishops, participation was expanded to include women, lay people, and ecumenical representatives. This sort of process was unprecedented at the Vatican. Participants were seated at round tables, which encouraged the equality of all voices. Table discussions engaged questions inviting transparency, careful listening, and discernment, rather than polemical argument and tools for engagement were shared. At one point, the synod was moderated by a lay woman.

The result of the process was a 54-page document, produced after the October, 2024, synod. There are sections on the nature of unity: ‘The Heart of Synodality,” the qualities of relationships: “On the Boat Together,” the call to outreach: “Cast the Net,” the expectation of God’s work: “An Abundant Catch,” and the missional call: “So Send I You.” Embedded throughout are numerous recommendations for living out this vision, as well as a process for implementation.

The title “Synod on Synodality” should have aroused the curiosity of those from the Reformed community, where collegial authority is foundational to polity. But attention in the non-Catholic world was scant. The secular media, and some religious news outlets, looked to this process only through the prism of controversial issues, such as the role of women in the church, the option of married priests, the status of LGBTQ persons in the church, restrictions on sharing the Eucharist, and similar matters.  While several of these topics were opened up and addressed, the goal was never to decisively resolve these questions.

Progressives and conservatives tend to evaluate Pope Francis on his response to such controversial issues. For the most part, liberals, while encouraged at points, were disappointed that he didn’t take more decisive actions. Conservatives were fearful that he was destroying the integrity of Catholic faith, with some even calling him heretical. But Francis’s posture was always more pastoral than polemical. When conservatives instituted a direct attack on him, with formalized questions and complaints, Pope Francis ignored them. He did welcome a diversity of views, but wanted them shared in a context of open discernment, like that fostered in the Synod on Synodality.

Whenever possible, the personal initiatives and leadership he exercised on divisive questions was rooted in his pastoral approach.  On questions like the status of LGBTQ persons, divorce, restrictions on the Eucharist, and the role of women, he endeavored first to change pastoral practice rather than re-write doctrine. His hope was that pastoral experience and a dialogical, discernment-centered process of decision-making would create a foundation allowing for eventual doctrinal changes to be accepted without creating wholesale church division.

Father Thomas Reese, a widely respected writer and Vatican analyst, put it succinctly: “He has fundamentally changed the culture of the church.  Without really touching any doctrine… (he) freed theologians to talk and write about things because he believed that this is the way theology grows, to figure out how to preach the gospel in the 21st century without just repeating the 13^th century formulas nobody understands. So these are revolutionary changes.”

The pathways and specific steps for continuing deep changes in organizational culture have been set forth by Pope Francis. Prospects for more systemic changes in practice, policy, and even doctrine have been opened. Whether the Catholic Church continues this pilgrimage, or makes a retreat returning to safer territory, will depend in large measure on Francis’s successor.

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