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I heard about Pope Francis passing in real time on that Monday morning heading into the radio station in Grand Haven and it stopped me in my tracks. I thought he’d get better. I wasn’t prepared for the range of emotions I would feel and the anger I would feel toward my fellow Catholics who voted for a man like Donald Trump and spent that Monday dissing Pope Francis.

I was so troubled by it that I went to cathedral in Grand Rapids and prayed for understanding, patience and grace. I pleaded, “Please help me understand my friends and family.”

Then the AI-generated image of Trump as the pope was released and, yet again, crickets from them. Crickets. I shouldn’t be surprised by this, but I still am.

Pope Francis was my “trump” card. Anytime my fellow Catholics would spew hate, I’d always throw the pope’s teachings in their face. “Well our pope says this ...” They’d throw it back at me, too — trust me.

It’s no secret I was raised Catholic and I feel like I have been defending that my whole life. How can I believe one thing when the Church teaches another? Well, it goes back to how I was raised. My father was Catholic, but never went to Mass and my mom was not religious. My brothers were so much older than me that I don’t remember us ever being in church together. I grew up with tons of cousins and they were all Catholic. We grew up with pictures of President John F. Kennedy on our wall, for crying out loud.

I went to Catholic school until eighth grade during Vatican II. Nuns with guitars sang songs from the musical “Godspell.” Often on a Monday, I would get pulled into the office and the principal would ask where my family was that weekend. I’d make something up ‘til the next time. This went on for years. As long as my parents put money in the weekly envelope, what really could they say? I would go to Mass with my friends on Saturdays or we’d skip and then grab a bulletin as Mass was letting out, put it on the kitchen table so our parents thought we went. I know so many who used to do this, too.

My faith waned over the years, but every time I did go to Mass, it was like riding a bike.

Fast forward to the early 2000s when my children haven’t been baptized yet and we are thinking we need to do that and that we’ll send them to Catholic school, too. Yet another decision I have had to defend over the years — as if public school wasn’t good enough. That’s ridiculous. I wanted small class sizes, a solid arts program, uniforms and diversity. Believe it or not, the Catholic school in Muskegon provided all of that and more. Religion played a part in those decisions, but not as much as you would think.

I was fortunate enough to go to Italy about 10 years ago. My mother was very sick and I wasn’t sure if I could make the trip, but my family urged me to go. I am so glad I did. I had so many cousins that were Italian on my aunt’s side that I wished I was, too, growing up.

I knew this trip would be life-changing. I had been dreaming of Italy. I needed Italy. I needed something. My mom was dying.

From the moment my feet touched the cobblestone in Venice, I knew I was home. It was a spiritual experience. Everything around me felt like home. Felt familiar.

It was in the town of Bari, Italy, where my faith was restored.

Bari is on the Adriatic Sea in southern Italy. It is a port and university city as well as the city of Saint Nicholas. The trip I was on involved daily excursions and the one in Bari was in the small town of Manoppello. Inside a Capuchin church houses a cloth believed to be the image of the holy face of Jesus. I skipped that tour and decided to just walk around and soak it all in. I called home and my mom was doing better, but knew she only had a few months to live.

As I walked the streets of Bari, tears swelled in my eyes and it was then that I was approached by a nun who spoke English. She asked me my name and if I was OK. Clearly I was not. She then led me to the Basilica di San Nicola and prayed with me. Inside the church is the resting place for relics of Saint Nicholas.

I’ll try the best I can to explain how that trip changed my life. Italy not only made me feel at home; it also made me realize that I was part of this amazing Catholic Church and that Pope Francis brought be back to the pew.

Pope Francis brought many of us back to the pews. My LGBTQ friends finally feel they have a place to go after being shunned for decades. My divorced friends, too. I truly believe Pope Francis is also responsible for the surge in enrollment in Catholic schools across the nation as well. Pope Francis got it right.

Francis was the most Christ-like pope we have had to date, and I am truly sorry for my Catholic friends who could not see that.

I don’t always make it to Mass, but, when I do, I feel at home. There are many of us out there who have different views than the Church, and Pope Francis made that OK. At least for me he did.

If your faith teaches hate and intolerance, then it is not a Christian faith. If you are an atheist, there is a saying that it takes a lot of faith to be one. Christian Nationalism has so perverted the Gospel of Jesus that when someone expresses true Christian values and principles, they call it communist. The cravenly evil like Laura Loomer will never understand because they think they are on the right side.

If you’re attacking the pope for exhibiting Christ-like behavior, you’re not on the right path. And that’s exactly what many of the the far-right Christians and Catholics have done.

My name is Mary Ellen Murphy and I am still a Catholic. At times, I may be non-practicing, but never entirely former.

— Mary Ellen Murphy is an award-winning broadcaster who hosts “Good Morning Grand Haven” on WGHN (92.1 FM).

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