Richard Dur serves as volunteer Executive Director of Prolife Alberta
Canadian political leaders are mourning the death of Pope Francis with lofty tributes and words of admiration. From Charlottetown to Instagram, from campaign trails to press releases, the language has been reverent and glowing.
Prime Minister Mark Carney called Pope Francis “a voice of moral clarity… the conscience of the world” who “never hesitated to challenge the strongest on behalf of the most vulnerable.” NDP leader Jagmeet Singh praised him for showing “that faith can be a powerful force for justice.” Conservative Party leader Pierre Poilievre commended “his legacy of humble service and his message of love...” And former Prime Minister Justin Trudeau wrote of being inspired by “his service and compassion to the world’s most marginalized.”
But something in the moment feels off. It’s not the grandeur of their words — it’s the dissonance between what they praise and what they practice. It’s their selective memory. Because here’s the thing: had Pope Francis been born in Montreal or Moose Jaw — had he somehow decided to stoop from St. Peter’s to Saint-Laurent — he likely would not have been permitted to run under the banner of any major Canadian political party.
Isn’t it remarkable? The same men — some of whom identify as Catholic — who now eulogize Pope Francis as a moral giant, would bar him from public life if he were one of them.
For all the praise heaped on Francis in death, the living pope would never have been allowed to run for office under any of the federal parties — certainly not the Liberals, not the NDP, and increasingly, not even the Conservatives.
He would have been quietly disqualified. Silently dropped from the vetting list — his fidelity to life marked as disqualifying.
This pope — the one praised for defending the poor and the planet — also defended the unborn. Fiercely. Without apology. He called human life sacred, beginning to end. He likened abortion to hiring a hitman, and the targeting of the disabled in the womb to Nazi eugenics.
These were not slips of the tongue; they were markers of a conscience — and a faith — shaped not by popular opinion surveys, but by truth.
He wasn’t perfect, of course. He could be imprecise, at times frustratingly so. He often left his meaning open to interpretation, and the press was quick to step in with theirs. But when it came to Life — that fundamental question of who counts and who doesn’t — Francis was startlingly clear.
So here we are: the same politicians who now speak his name with reverence — but would never have signed it on a nomination form. They praise his compassion, yet ignore its most urgent expression: the call to protect the most vulnerable and marginalized of all — the child in the womb. A child who cannot vote, cannot take a knee at a protest, cannot tweet. A child whose humanity makes no demands — only the silent claim that every human life makes: to be seen, to be protected, and to be allowed to live.
Francis saw that. And he said it out loud.
He also reached out, as popes must. He extended to priests an authority that had previously been reserved for bishops — the authority to absolve women who had undergone abortions. He urged them to forgive, to embrace, to walk beside those carrying the weight of that decision. But he never softened the truth: a culture that discards its smallest members is a culture that forgets its beginning — and hastens its end.
It is worth reflecting on this, in these days of mourning: that a man so admired for his conscience would be considered unfit for public life in the very country now eulogizing him. That a pope could move a prime minister to tears — but not to policy.
Canada’s leaders may honour his passing with ceremony — but would never have welcomed his convictions on a campaign.
And that, perhaps, tells you more than all the tributes ever could.
But if the memory of those now eulogizing him is selective, Heaven’s is not. It brings to mind the words of U.S. Congressman Henry Hyde, a lion of the pro-life cause, who offered this vision of final judgment for those who defend the unborn:
“When the time comes, as it surely will, when we face that awesome moment, the final judgment, I've often thought, as Fulton Sheen wrote, that it is a terrible moment of loneliness. You have no advocates, you are there alone standing before God — and a terror will rip your soul like nothing you can imagine. But I really think that those in the pro-life movement will not be alone. I think there'll be a chorus of voices that have never been heard in this world but are heard beautifully and clearly in the next world — and they will plead for everyone who has been in this movement. They will say to God, 'Spare him, because he loved us!’”
Pope Francis knew that chorus existed. He spoke for them. And now, surely, he joins them.
Richard Dur serves as volunteer Executive Director of Prolife Alberta.