June 22, 1986. Mexico City. The quarter-final of the World Cup between Argentina and England. Diego Maradona leaps into the penalty area, raises his left hand, and sends the ball into the net with a punch. The referee does not notice the infringement. In a moment, Maradona will call this incident \"The Hand of God.\" Decades pass, and the same gesture — a hand raised to the sky — becomes a symbol not only of football audacity but of an entire nation where football has long been intertwined with religion. And on the papal throne in Vatican City sits Argentine Jorge Bergoglio, Pope Francis, who in his youth played soccer on the streets of Buenos Aires and cheered for \"Sан-Лоренсо\" with the same passion as for his flock. So what is it — divine providence, a playful coincidence, or just an Argentine way of seeing the world through the lens of football magic?
Let's start with the fact itself. Maradona never hid the fact that he intentionally hit with his hand, but he soon came up with a legend that immortalized the moment. \"It was the Hand of God, not my hand,\" he said after the match. Argentines, a deeply Catholic nation, enthusiastically embraced this phrase. In their understanding, God could indeed intervene to punish the English for the Falklands War, which happened four years earlier. The sacralization of football hooliganism is a purely Argentine phenomenon. In no other country would a handball have turned into a national myth of such a level.
But if you think about it, \"The Hand of God\" became not just a football event but a religious gesture. Maradona raised his fist as a priest raises the gifts. The English still call it cheating, the Argentines — prophecy. And years later, on the papal throne, there is a person who grew up with this myth and who himself bears the name Francis — in honor of the saint known for his simplicity and love for the poor. Is it just a coincidence that the homeland of \"The Hand of God\" gave the world a pontiff who has called football \"the most important secondary thing in life\" many times?
Jorge Mario Bergoglio was born in Buenos Aires in 1936. In his youth, he not only studied at the seminary but also played soccer at an amateur level. His position was midfielder, not the fastest, but tenacious and intelligent. He cheered for the club \"Сан-Лоренсо de Almagro,\" one of the five grand clubs of Argentine soccer. It is said that in his youth, Bergoglio even stood in goal in seminary matches but then switched to central midfield due to a knee injury.
Unlike many church hierarchs, Francis maintained his passion for the game until his old age. He received football delegations in the Vatican, met with Messi, Maradona, and other stars, always emphasizing that football is a school of solidarity, brotherhood, and humility. His famous phrase \"football is poetry\" has become the slogan for many Catholic sports organizations. But what is most amazing is that Francis never hesitated to talk about \"The Hand of God\" as a metaphor — he believes that in soccer, as in life, there is room for a miracle, but not in the literal violation of the rules, but in the unexpected joy that brings joy to the game.
Once during an audience, he was asked if he considered Maradona's goal divine intervention. The Pope smiled and replied, \"I think God helps those who help themselves, but sometimes he closes his eyes to small mischief if they bring joy to millions.\" This was a diplomatic way of dodging the question, but the fact that a pontiff of Argentine origin did not condemn the incident says a lot. In Argentina, football and faith are intertwined so closely that even the Pope would not dare to divide them with sharp criticism.
In Argentina, there is a saying: \"God rules the heavens, and football — the earth.\" Stadiums are called \"temples,\" and fans come to matches like to a mass. There are even own football \"saints\" — for example, \"Curra\" (priest) Jorge Brown, who created the first clubs in the 19th century. But the main miracle of Argentine soccer is its constant ability to resurrect. The national team loses finals for decades, and each time it seems that the end has come. But suddenly, in the very last moment, something inexplicable happens: a goal of questionable cleanliness, a fantastic save by the goalkeeper, a penalty that the referee assigns under the whistle of the crowd.
Take, for example, the World Cup 2022 final with France, where the score was 3:3, and in the penalty shootout, Emiliano Martinez saves the shot, and then encourages the opponent — is this not a psychological miracle? Or Angel Di Maria's goal in the 2021 Copa America final, when he finished a seemingly impossible pass? Argentines see this not just as skill but as a sign from above. And Pope Francis, who watched those matches on television, called the players and said that \"heavens rejoiced with you.\"
A special place in this story belongs to \"San Lorenzo\" — the club that Francis has been loyal to since childhood. Interestingly, the club has its own legend: it was founded in 1908 by the priest Lorenzo Massa, hence the name. That is, initially the team was \"ecclesiastical.\" In 2013, already as Pope, Francis asked the club's leadership to send him a jersey with his name on the back, which he wore during a meeting with children with disabilities. This gesture was seen as a blessing for all Argentine soccer.
But there were also funny coincidences: when the Pope was elected, some fans of \"San Lorenzo\" joked that now they have a \"heavenly defender\" who can influence referee decisions. Although this is just a joke, it reflects the Argentine mentality — not to draw a clear line between the sacred and the game. For them, the Pope is not only the head of the church but also their guy who knows what an offside is and how important a good cross is.
We cannot forget that Pope Francis came to the throne in 2013 when Argentina was going through another economic crisis. For many, his election became a sign of hope, and football played the role of a national comforter. A nation that had almost not won major tournaments since 1993 suddenly found a moral leader who shared their passion. It is symbolic that it was under his pontificate that the Argentine national team broke the losing streak, winning the Copa America and then the World Cup. Many believing Argentines sincerely believe that the Pope's prayers helped the team. Is this just a coincidence? Perhaps, but in a country with such religious and football fervor, this is taken for granted.
By the way, Francis himself has not once said that he prays for the national team, but he always emphasizes that he asks for fair play and joy. But when victory happens, he does not hide his joy, and this makes him closer to the people than any other pope in history.
Why does Argentina so cling to this image? Perhaps because this country has always been on the periphery of global centers and needed its own miracle to assert itself. \"The Hand of God\" became a symbol that even the small can overcome the big in an unfair but spectacular way. And when the Pope, also an Argentine, talks about mercy and forgiveness, he as if sanctions this national trait — the ability to get out of a jam, use cunning for the greater good, and believe in luck.
There is another interesting fact: in Argentine slang, the expression \"mano de Dios\" is used not only for a football goal but also for any unexpected good fortune. For example, if a person finds what they need in time or avoids an accident, they say, \"It was the Hand of God.\" That is, it is not just an historical event but a part of the living language. And the Pope, as a carrier of this language, cannot deny its significance.
In Brazil, there is its own \"miracle\" — for example, Pele's goal at the Maracana, but there it is more about genius than deity. In Italy — \"The Divine Hand\" of Totti, but it did not go beyond the club derby. In Argentina, the religious undertone runs through everything. This is because Catholicism here is more emotional, syncretic, mixed with folk cults. Football became part of the liturgy, not the other way around.
Pope Francis, with his simplicity and use of informal language, has strengthened this connection. He is not ashamed to talk about football from the podium, and this does not diminish his authority but rather raises it. The world sees that the pontiff is a living person who can be as excited as a child over a scored goal. And this brings us back to the question: \"The Hand of God\" is always in Argentina because Argentines know how to see God in everyday life, and football for them is the brightest example of this.
It is interesting that many Argentine soccer players became priests or actively participated in charitable activities after ending their careers. The national team often visits children's homes and churches before tournaments. This is not a show-off but a deep tradition that dates back to colonial times. And when Pope Francis receives the team, he does not just take a photo with them, he says, \"You carry joy, and this is also service.\"
In this sense, \"The Hand of God\" is not just about deceiving the referee, but also about the fact that every game has a higher purpose, regardless of the result. Maradona, who later repented of his hooliganism and even asked for forgiveness from God, still remained in history as an instrument of divine providence because his goal brought happiness to an entire nation. The Pope, more than anyone else, understands this duality — sin and redemption, cunning and purity.
Like any mythology, there are many amusing myths here. One myth claims that Pope Francis, still a cardinal, lit a candle every day for Argentina's victory during the 1986 World Cup. Another legend asserts that after that same goal by Maradona, he gave Bergoglio his jersey, which is kept in a secret room in the Vatican. There is no documentary proof, but fans believe in it.
Another joke: when the Pope was elected, a football mass was held in Buenos Aires, where instead of usual prayers, club hymns were read. This was seen as a joke, but a joke that very accurately reflects the mentality. In Argentina, even the most serious things are melted through football, and the pontiff is no exception.
Advocates of a rational approach will say that the connection between the Pope and \"The Hand of God\" is purely a chronological coincidence. The Pope became Pope in 2013, and the goal happened in 1986. There is no causal connection. But sociologists note that in Argentina there is a persistent cultural pattern that they call \"mythopoeic realism\" — the ability to transform real events into sacred legends. And the Pope, as the head of the church, supports this pattern, even without wanting to.
Psychologists add that for Argentines, football is a collective therapy, a way to cope with anxiety and uncertainty. Belief in \"The Hand of God\" is a defense mechanism that allows you to justify failures and attribute victories to higher powers. Pope Francis, with his emphasis on mercy, just gives legitimacy to this mechanism.
But no matter how scientists try to sort everything out, Argentines continue to believe in miracles. And every new goal scored in the last minute, every save, every victory after a penalty shootout causes them to exclaim: \"It's the Hand of God again!\" And the Pope — from above, watching this, just smiles and crosses himself.
Interestingly, Francis used football in interfaith dialogue. He organized matches between Muslims and Christians, between priests and prisoners. And everywhere he emphasized the team as a model of society. In this sense, \"The Hand of God\" transforms from a national myth into a universal metaphor: every time we help each other, we extend the hand of God.
So the answer to the question posed in the title may be this: \"The Hand of God\" is always in Argentina because the Argentines constantly create it — on the field, in life, in prayers. And Pope Francis, as their compatriot, has become its main earthly embodiment, not imposing his will but simply sharing their passion.
In conclusion, we cannot give an unambiguous scientific or theological answer. But we can state that Argentine soccer is a wonderful blend of chance, talent, and deep faith. \"The Hand of God\" is not just a goal but a symbol of the national character where cunning neighbors sincerity, where defeat is perceived as a test, and victory as a blessing. And Pope Francis, without intending to, has become a part of this mythology because he embodies it — he too comes from the streets where football was the main school of life.
So the next time an Argentine scores a controversial goal or when the national team wins in extra time, you will hear the same shout: \"It's the Hand of God!\" And perhaps somewhere in heaven, Pope Francis will quietly smile and cross himself because he knew: miracles always happen where they believe. And in Argentina, they always believe.
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