UNITED KINGDOM
Telegraph
By Cristina Odone
When I read about the new Judi Dench film Philomena, my heart sank. Here was another tear-jerker which, like the earlier The Magdalene Sisters, exposed the abuse that unwed mothers suffered at the hands of the Catholic nuns who took them in. The image of the Church as a misogynist institution would have such a firm hold on the public’s imagination, no one would point out that many selfless and inspiring nuns were risking their lives in Latin America or Africa; no one would pay tribute to the teaching orders that had schooled millions of girls from the poorest families, filling them with ambition and the self-confidence to achieve it.
As the film premiered, I donned a tin hat and prepared myself for an open season on “cruel” Catholics. Except that it didn’t come. In its place, I have witnessed a dizzying, breathless love-fest. Its object, miraculously, is the new head of the Catholic Church, Pope Francis. Francis-mania has swept Catholic countries such as Italy, where churches are filling, and his native Argentina, where his name, Francisco, is now the most popular for newborn boys.
Part of the Pope’s extraordinary popularity is down to his charm. From the moment he stood on the balcony in St Peter’s Square, cracking a joke and inviting his audience around the world to go with him on a journey, Francis has appeared humble, warm-hearted, and inclusive: simpatico, as Italians would say. He has opted for a modest lifestyle – living in a hostel, driving a second-hand Peugeot, dispensing with bodyguards – which confirms that as far as he is concerned, “we are all in this together”.
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