Designers up in arms over Pope Francis’ tombstone

When images of Pope Francis’ simple tomb were released, a surprising controversy broke out — not over the humble stone that hearkens back to his Italian roots, or the lack of grandeur, but over something usually invisible: the kerning.

For those unfamiliar, kerning is the practice of adjusting the space between letters to make words readable and balanced. When done well, you don’t notice it. When done poorly — as many designers quickly pointed out — you can’t help but see it. On the marble slab inscribed simply with "Franciscus" (Latin for Francis), uneven spacing made it look more like “F R A NCIS VS,” prompting a minor design-world uproar.

Typography experts and calligraphers didn't mince words. One called the lettering “horrifically bad,” another dubbed it a “rookie mistake,” as shared by Fast Company. They noted that, rather than carefully adjusting each letter’s position, the engraver seemed to have spaced them mechanically, without considering how Roman capitals traditionally flow. Comparisons with other papal tombs — like those of John Paul II and Benedict XVI — revealed far more refined inscriptions.

Yet amid the criticism, a different narrative emerged: perhaps the imperfection fits Pope Francis perfectly.

In fact, here's how other details of the tomb send a message about Pope Francis’ values, thanks to their simplicity and meaning:

The tomb’s inscription consists solely of “FRANCISCVS.” There is no “P.P.” and no dates or epithets – just his name in Latin​. This was a deliberate choice to avoid any hint of grandiosity​. In an era when most have a verse or at least “Rest in Peace” or a Scripture verse on their gravestone, Francis opting for just his bare name speaks volumes. It’s as if to say: at the end, who I am in God’s eyes is what matters, not my titles.

The material of the tomb is a simple slab of slate from Liguria, the coastal Italian region where Francis’ grandparents came from​. Church officials noted that this stone is not a prized Carrara marble or anything ornate – it’s commonly called “la pietra del popolo,” meaning “the people’s stone." By using this regional, unpretentious material, the tomb connects to everyday people and to the Pope’s heritage. It’s also a subtle nod to one of his nicknames: “the People’s Pope.” In life, Francis was known for championing the poor and ordinary; in death, he quite literally rests beneath an ordinary people’s stone.

Instead of a grand sculpted effigy or a gilded papal coat-of-arms, the only adornment is a simple cross – a slightly enlarged reproduction of Pope Francis’ own pectoral cross that he wore as bishop and pope. This cross, carved above the tomb slab, depicts Christ the Good Shepherd carrying a lost sheep, along with an image of the Holy Spirit as a dove​. It’s the same unassuming silver cross Francis wore every day, rather than a jewel-encrusted one. The presence of this symbol on his tomb is a final testament to his ministry: he wished to be remembered as a shepherd, not a prince.

In a touching final gesture, Pope Francis was buried not in the customary pristine papal slippers, but in his well-worn old black shoes – the very pair he had used daily. Mourners who paid their respects as his body lay in state could see those scuffed shoes sticking out from under the funeral vestments.

This choice might not be visible on the tomb itself, but it is very much part of the story of his burial. Those shoes carried him through countless journeys to the poor and marginalized; being buried in them was his last symbolic message of solidarity with ordinary people. As one Catholic commentator observed, those battered shoes were perhaps more eloquent than any eulogy – a final, wordless sermon about humility and service

In this light, the tomb's imperfect lettering becomes almost symbolic. The uneven kerning reminds us that Francis' legacy was never about appearances or polish, but about authenticity, humility, and service. Some Redditors even joked that Pope Francis himself, known for his sense of humor, would have smiled at the fuss over the spacing. Others noted that in Christian tradition, it's not the beauty of the stone that matters, but the life it commemorates.

Grave inscriptions have long played a powerful role in Christian life. In the catacombs, early Christians marked graves with only a name and a symbol of hope. Later, tombs became more elaborate, listing titles and achievements. Pope Francis’ decision to have only his name mirrors the simplicity of the early Church, focusing on what ultimately matters: identity in Christ, not worldly honors.

As many reflected, the kerning on Francis' tomb may not be aesthetically perfect, but the message behind it certainly is. In an era obsessed with flawless presentation, this final, imperfect detail serves as a quiet reminder: it’s not how perfectly we arrange our letters — or our lives — that defines us. It’s the love we leave behind.

In the end the kerning, or lack thereof, is almost poetic: a pope known for humility, is now also remembered with a stone that is simple, imperfect, and — ironically — unifying. Because even in death, Francis has people talking. And not just Catholics. Designers. Calligraphers. Redditors. Everyday people. All paying attention to a small but significant detail.

So yes, the kerning may be off. But the legacy? Perfectly aligned.