The crisis that helped change Pope Francis

HE WAS not what she was expecting, in several ways. The man who would one day be Pope Francis had come to hold a service far from the grandeur of the great cathedral of Buenos Aires.
He had travelled — taking the subway train and then the bus — to arrive in one of the shanty-towns, which Argentines call villas miserias — misery villages. He had picked his way down crooked and chaotic alleyways, criss-crossed with water pipes and dangling electricity cables, along which open sewers ran as malodorous streams when the rain came. There, amid ramshackle houses of crudely-cemented terracotta breezeblock, he fell into conversation with the middle-aged mother.