Among all the things people have said about Pope Francis after his death, this one summed it up for me: “He was a very decent man in an age of indecency.”

To be sure, decency is a rare thing these days. It relies on commonness. Pope Francis was a common man among common men and women. Some say he showed his nature in his modest lifestyle, eschewing fancy quarters in the papal palace for an ordinary room in the Vatican guest house. So too, in refusing a customary gold signet ring worn by previous popes and choosing a cheaper gold-plated silver one instead. Or in simplifying his funeral ceremonies and opting for a humble wooden casket. But I see it best in his shoes—ordinary black shoes with orthopedic soles. Shoes like the pope would wear if he was your grandfather. I happened to have a very decent grandfather, so I know.

I loved Pope Francis for his grandfatherly ways, and by that I mean the way he treated children, all children, like Jesus did, as if they are far holier than the holier-than-thou.

Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these. — Matthew 19:14

I remember the way he stopped his motorcade in Washington DC that day ten years ago so he could take the letter held out to him by a five-year-old girl whose immigrant dad was at risk of deportation. It didn’t matter how many letters like that had been held out to him by children like her. He smiled just for her and kissed her cheek. The way he greeted a small child with Down syndrome who walked onstage during a papal address.  A child is a child, he seemed to say to those tsk-tsking the disruption, and never a disruption. He held her hand as she sat quietly beside him and he finished his speech.

And even on what was to be his last day, when approached by the decidedly indecent and immoral American vice president, he said little but had his secretary pass along gifts for the children, yes, the children come first, and then a souvenir tie to the two-faced Vance whom he had already roundly rebuked. This was utmost decency. No guest is ever turned away.

I am not Catholic, of course, and I suppose I wouldn’t agree with much of Catholic doctrine or dogma. But I didn’t see the pope as a man of the church. I saw him as a man of God. Anyone can call himself a man of the church, but only a decent man can be a man of God. Or you might say, a buddha.

Because, you see, none of this is much different from how or why I practice my own faith, which has been summed up in a similar, simple way by Dogen Zenji, the founder of my brand of Zen:

There is a simple way to become a buddha: When you refrain from unwholesome actions, are not attached to birth and death, and are compassionate toward all sentient beings, respectful to seniors and kind to juniors, not excluding or desiring anything, with no designing thoughts or worries, you will be called a buddha. Do not seek anything else.

These shoes will do. These shoes are perfect.

Photo by Ahmad Faiz on Unsplash