Pope Francis has renewed my faith, and my faith in my church, because he sees a Catholic Church that works on the margins of society, a church that, as Francis says, is like a “field hospital” that must go into the streets and look for the “wounded.”

But — and this is very important — Francis’ message of mercy is much more than that: He challenges us all to not just provide support to the poor but to learn from them as well, to listen to them, to be with them.

And by poor, he does not mean only those who are struggling financially. He means those who have physical and psychological and spiritual problems. In other words, he means all of us. He is calling upon each of us to be truly merciful with one another, in real and meaningful ways. Not just being a bit nicer or writing checks to charity; no, he is challenging us to intimacy with one another, and with God.

At the beginning of the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy, I felt that Pope Francis was on “my side” — that he saw the church, as I did, as a social justice entity.

But Francis’ call for mercy is much deeper. When he says that “life grows by being given away, and it weakens in isolation and comfort” and goes on to ask us to “leave security on the shore and become excited by the mission of communicating life to others,” he is telling us to get out of our comfort zones. He is saying to me, a supposedly progressive Catholic who works on behalf of poor kids and families: Don’t be isolated and content, enter the chaos and the pain and the joy of others’ lives.

Then you will be truly merciful, and truly alive.

Francis comforts me, but like a great teacher, he also challenges me to my very core. What an extraordinary year it has been. I hope it never ends.