“Leadership is not about power, but about carrying the burdens of many in silence.” — Pope Francis

As the world reflects on Pope Francis’s leadership, it is easy to focus on the symbols that made him stand apart: the simplicity of his lifestyle, the humility of his actions, the vision he held for a Church closer to the people it serves. His was not a leadership defined by grandeur or titles, but by the quiet strength of someone who dared to reimagine what had long been accepted as unchangeable.

Taking the helm of one of the oldest and most complex institutions in the world, Pope Francis set out not to preserve its structures, but to question them. He spoke of a Church that should walk alongside the poor, protect the vulnerable, and heal the wounded. He demanded a return to service over privilege, substance over appearances, truth over silence.

His journey was not marked by sudden revolutions, nor was it shielded from resistance. It was shaped by patient persistence, by the willingness to stay the course even when support wavered, and by the deep understanding that true transformation is not achieved through bold declarations alone, but through the enduring conviction that real change demands not just a moment of bravery, but a lifetime of perseverance.

As I reflected on this large and important global figure, that I used to observed from a distance, I couldn’t help but pause and think about his leadership and his legacy. It is easy to admire the vision, the determination, and the clarity he projected — and above all, the steadfast adherence to his values and principles. His moral compass was visible even from afar: transparent, bright, clear, and deeply powerful.

But something else lingered in my mind.
What are the hidden costs and inner struggles that such a leader must have endured while carrying the weight of the transformation he pursued for the Church?

This reflection is not about certainties. It is about questions — about the inner struggles, the sacrifices, and the quiet losses that leaders must endure. Struggles often hidden from the public eye, but which add to the invisible weight they must carry when they commit themselves to the hard, slow work of true transformation.

The Hidden Costs of Leading Transformation

Transformation is a word we often hear invoked with great enthusiasm — a promise made from stages, a banner raised in corporate hallways, a goal printed in bold letters on strategic plans. But true transformation, the kind that reshapes the course of an organization, a culture, or a community, is something far more profound — and far more demanding. It is not simply a matter of shifting priorities or upgrading processes. It is the act of challenging what has long been accepted. It is questioning not just what a group does, but who they believe they are.

Leading real transformation means inviting disruption at every level. It requires breaking through barriers that many have learned to live with, testing relationships once built on the comfort of shared assumptions, and challenging paradigms that have anchored identity and purpose for years — sometimes decades. It demands fighting battles that are not only external but internal: against fear, against doubt, against the deeply rooted instinct to preserve the familiar.

From the outside, transformation is often framed as a story of momentum — a sequence of bold moves and visible victories. But from the inside, for those who lead it, transformation is also a story of quiet, invisible losses. It requires leaders to relinquish certainties they once found comfort in. It demands that they embrace discomfort not as a temporary inconvenience, but as a permanent companion. It forces them to accept that progress may come at the cost of approval, belonging, and sometimes even the loyalty of those they most hoped to bring along. And it strips away the simplicity of clear answers, leaving them to navigate long stretches of ambiguity without any public maps to guide them.

Reflecting again on Pope Francis’s journey, one cannot help but wonder: beyond the vision he projected, what private costs did he have to carry? What certainties did he have to let go? What relationships did he have to watch fray? What comforts did he have to sacrifice in service of a mission greater than himself?

We often speak of the boldness it takes to declare a new direction. We speak far less about the endurance it takes to walk that direction day after day, carrying the weight of transformation quietly, patiently, and often alone.

The Path Forward: For Leaders and Followers

If transformation is to succeed — if it is to move beyond bold declarations and fleeting enthusiasm — both leaders and followers must be willing to carry their share of the weight.

Leaders must first recognize the true burden they are choosing to shoulder. They must be willing to move forward without constant validation, to anchor themselves in values rather than approval, and to accept that uncertainty and resistance are not signs of failure, but companions on the road to real change. They must understand that the loneliness they sometimes feel, the doubts that creep in during the long stretches of silence, and the discomfort of disappointing those who preferred the status quo are not failures of leadership — they are the hidden costs of transformation.

But followers too have a role to play. They must resist the instinct to judge too quickly, to abandon too easily, or to demand constant reassurance when the path becomes difficult. They must remember that real change is rarely linear or comfortable. It often looks like confusion before it looks like clarity. It often feels like loss before it feels like progress. Trusting a leader on a transformational journey means understanding that discomfort is part of the process — not a signal to turn back, but a sign that something important is shifting.

In a journey of true transformation, there are no unscarred heroes standing above the fray. There are only human beings — leaders and followers alike — willing to walk through uncertainty, to carry invisible burdens, and to hold faith in a future not yet fully visible.

It is not an easy path.
It was never meant to be.
But it is, perhaps, the only path that leads to anything truly worth building.

Rest in peace Jorge Mario Bergolio.