VATICAN CITY
Vogue
July 16, 2018
By Jason Horowitz
It’s a June morning at the Vatican, and Pope Francis is wearing a hangdog expression—all watchful eyes and soft apostolic chins. It’s how he looks opposite strongmen in Myanmar or posing with Donald Trump or preparing to berate the Vatican hierarchy for being out of touch and insular. Today, though, we’re in the marble lobby of the Paul VI audience hall, and schoolchildren are preparing to sing songs. I’m a little worried what they might think.
But when the kids ask him questions, Francis brightens dramatically. He suddenly radiates ebullience and avuncular warmth. As a journalist who has covered Francis for years, I’ve seen this shift before—when he’s broken from sermons to share homespun wisdom or embraced a Muslim asylum seeker in a refugee camp or drifted back to the press section of the papal plane to amiably sign books, bless family photos, and accept gifts. I’ve met my share of presidents and prime ministers, and have seen some of the greats at working the press. The time Francis laughed convincingly at my lame joke, I knew I was in the presence of a natural.
He is perched on the edge of his armchair fielding questions: about his first teacher (“Estela; I had her in first and third grade”), where he is from (“the most beautiful city in the world, Buenos Aires”), and what his favorite game was as a child (“We played a lot with kites”). Then one boy stands up and asks him what it felt like when he was elected pope.
Note: This is an Abuse Tracker excerpt. Click the title to view the full text of the original article. If the original article is no longer available, see our News Archive.