logo
What Pope Leo XIV's coat of arms and motto tell us about his leadership

What Pope Leo XIV's coat of arms and motto tell us about his leadership

Independent15-05-2025
Pope Leo XIV has announced his motto and coat of arms – a long-held tradition for those in the ranks of bishops, cardinals and popes. The choice of symbols and words reflects the person's experience.
Leo's shield is divided diagonally: The upper half shows a white lily on a blue background, and the lower shows the emblem of the Order of St. Augustine – an order to which he belongs.
His motto reads, 'In Illo uno unam,' translated as 'In the One, we are one,' which are words of St. Augustine from his Exposition on Psalm 127, Paragraph 2: 'I understand one in the One Christ. You are therefore many, and you are one; we are many, and we are one. '
In choosing this motto, Leo includes the identifying symbol of Augustine, a heart pierced by an arrow.
As an art historian, I explain how Renaissance artists portrayed Augustine's humility, and what the choice of the motto might tell us about the new pope.
The Order of St. Augustine
Augustine lived in the late fourth century, ultimately serving as bishop of Hippo in northern Africa for 34 years. The Augustinian order was founded in 1244 after several communities of hermits living in the region of Tuscany, Italy, petitioned Pope Innocent IV to form a single order. The pope gave them the Rule of Saint Augustine as a code of living, which stated: 'Call nothing your own, but let everything be yours in common; [do] not seek after what is vain and earthly.'
Augustine's status as a scholar, theologian and administrator made him a widely depicted saint. For example, he appears in a stained glass window commissioned by a pastor in 1622, in which he holds his symbol of the heart pierced with the arrow resting on a book on his lap.
The image relates to a phrase from Augustine's book 'The Confessions': 'Thou hadst pierced our heart with thy love, and we carried thy words, as it were, thrust through our vitals.'
In this stained-glass image, the saint is seen speaking to a child. The 1483 translation of the 'Golden Legend,' a collection of saints' lives, explains that while struggling to write his treatise 'On the Trinity,' Augustine was walking at the seashore and saw a child filling a tiny pit with water.
When the child explained that he was bringing the ocean into the pit, Augustine scolded him for being silly. The child answered that he would sooner fit all the water of the sea into the pit than Augustine could bring the mystery of the Trinity into his limited human understanding. The Trinity is the Christian concept that God is not a single person but three – Father, Son and Holy Spirit – united in a single divine and eternal nature.
This lesson in humility became widely depicted across the centuries. In 1482, an altarpiece by the painter and sculptor Michael Pacher shows Augustine with a child at his feet holding a spoon.
Augustine's scholarship
Augustine's legacy includes not only 'The Confessions,' one of the most widely read books of medieval and early modern times, and 'On the Trinity,' but many others, including 'The City of God,' a monumental work of over 1,000 pages.
Sandro Botticelli 's 1480 painting of Augustine in his study shows the saint searching for clarity of thought as he pauses his writing.
Dressed simply in a long white garment and a cloak, he has set aside his bishop's miter, an official hat – also a gesture of humility. His study is crowded with books; on the right, behind his head, a book is open to a study of geometry.
Botticelli tries to show the saint as a scholar in ancient times by placing on the left an old and discredited celestial model that depicts the Earth at the center of the universe, with the Sun, Moon, planets and stars revolving around it. We, with modern knowledge, understand that despite his intelligence, Augustine cannot know everything.
Leo has been both a scholar and pastor. He served as a professor of canon law and early Christian theology at San Carlos y San Marcelo, a seminary in Peru.
Yet, like the founder of his order, his words at this first Mass reflected his humility when he said that his appointment as pope was 'both a cross and a blessing' and spoke of the responsibility he and the cardinals have in the world.
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Pope Leo invites local homeless people to lunch at summer villa
Pope Leo invites local homeless people to lunch at summer villa

The Independent

timea day ago

  • The Independent

Pope Leo invites local homeless people to lunch at summer villa

Pope Leo XIV spent the final Sunday of his summer break with several dozen homeless people, alongside the church volunteers who support them. The pontiff celebrated a special Mass for them at the St. Mary sanctuary in Albano, near the papal summer retreat in Castel Gandolfo, where he is vacationing, and invited them into the Vatican 's lakeside estate for a lunch of lasagna and roast veal. The Mass was attended by around 110 people cared for by the local Caritas church charity, as well as the volunteers who run the diocese's shelters, clinics and social service offices. In his homily, Leo celebrated the 'fire of charity' that had brought them together. 'And I encourage you not to distinguish between those who assist and those who are assisted, between those who seem to give and those who seem to receive, between those who appear poor and those who feel they have something to offer in terms of time, skills, and help,' he said. In the church, he said, everyone is poor and precious, and all share the same dignity. Leo, the former Robert Prevost, spent most of his adult life working with the poor people of Peru, first as an Augustinian missionary and then as bishop. Former parishioners and church workers say he greatly reinforced the work of the local Caritas charity, opening soup kitchens and shelters for migrants and rallying funds to build oxygen plants during the COVID -19 pandemic. Later on Sunday, Leo was to preside over a luncheon with the guests at the Borgo Laudato Si', the Vatican's environmental educational centre in the gardens of the papal villa in Castel Gandolfo. The centre is named for Pope Francis 's 2015 landmark environmental encyclical, Laudato Si (Praised Be). According to the Albano diocese, local caterers were providing a menu of lasagna, eggplant parmesan and roast veal. For dessert, the menu called for fruit salad and sweets named for the pope, 'Dolce Leone'.

I thought I didn't care about Renaissance art. Then life happened to me – and I saw its power
I thought I didn't care about Renaissance art. Then life happened to me – and I saw its power

The Guardian

time2 days ago

  • The Guardian

I thought I didn't care about Renaissance art. Then life happened to me – and I saw its power

There is a painting that I think about often. The Madonna del Parto, a masterpiece painted by Piero della Francesca in about 1460, is housed in a dedicated museum in the Tuscan town of Monterchi. It depicts a heavily pregnant Virgin Mary flanked by two angels. To local women, this painting is considered a protector of fertility and the lives of pregnant women during birth. During the second world war, local women surrounded two men whom they had mistaken for Nazis intent on stealing it. In 1954, they led a protest against its proposed movement to Florence for an exhibition. I remember reading as a student that the women had lain down in the street to block its departure. I thought about those women again yesterday, as I walked around the Jenny Saville exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery, tracing the influence of the Renaissance on her work. Saville's dialogue with great painters began when she was young and an art historian uncle took her to Venice. It has continued throughout her career, most notably in her motherhood pictures, which show her wrangling a baby, or both her babies, heavily influenced by Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo. The ghosts of their Madonnas seem to linger in the sketch lines that swirl around Saville's mother figure. One of her most famous works, the stunning, sculptural, charcoal and pastel Pietà I, is a result of her study of Michelangelo's The Deposition. I'm worried I'll lose you in my nerdiness, so back to the protesting women of Monterchi. In my early 20s, I marvelled that anybody could care so much about a Renaissance painting as to lie down in the street as these women had. Such art left me cold, and no doubt my personal lack of religion was a factor. I dismissed it as all geriatric-looking baby Jesuses, and people pointing and kneeling. I understood, academically, its importance – the dawn of perspective! I studied and analysed the Titians and the Michelangelos as required, even passed a Socratic oral examination in Italian about the works of Leonardo. Yet where I had the choice, I always veered towards the abstract and the contemporary. None of it spoke to me the way a Rothko or a Joan Mitchell did. I knew the problem was me: I just wasn't getting it. That strange alchemy wherein some works of art fizz with resonance eluded me. Standing more than a decade later in Saville's room of mother paintings, it seemed clear that my inability to 'understand' certain paintings had been less about my irreligious upbringing and more about my lack of life experience. When I was 23, a man tried to kill me and the trauma of that seemed to partly manifest in a taste for the baroque (pretentious, yes, but we all work through our traumas using art, most commonly music. Consider this my death metal). I dragged my then boyfriend around Rome's churches to look at Caravaggios; stood in front of Artemisia Gentileschi's Judith Slaying Holofernes at the Uffizi and felt her rage. When I was younger, nothing felt more exposing than earnestness, so like many people in their 20s I hid my greenness behind an affected world-weary cynicism. But things happen in life. Significant, sometimes awful, things, and I think there's also something about growing older that makes caring deeply and being open about it simply feel less embarrassing. As a young person, there was a closed-offness to the emotional complexity of certain experiences – not only death, but anything to do with pregnancy or motherhood. I didn't want to go there. Then, around the time I started thinking about having a baby, I began looking at paintings of the Annunciation. The depiction of that moment when the young Virgin Mary is told by the angel Gabriel that she will have a child – lack of belief in virgin birth aside, the artistic distillation of that feeling, of how much life is about to change – became interesting to me almost overnight. Only more so once I found out I was pregnant. Sign up to Art Weekly Your weekly art world round-up, sketching out all the biggest stories, scandals and exhibitions after newsletter promotion As a child, I had copied the angel from Fra Angelico's Annunciation from a book of my mother's, ignoring Mary entirely. As a woman standing in front of it in Florence, all I could focus on was the expression on her face. Seeing things in person helps, but so, I suspect, do hormones. This summer, a good friend discovered she was pregnant – it had happened so quickly that she was as shocked as I had been. I sent her an image of that painting, writing poetically that 'she looks like she's going to vom'. Perhaps I still have some way to go in my resistance to earnestness, but I wouldn't return to my young, cynical self for anything. I'd rather be the person who, newly postpartum, wept at a Raphael Madonna, mortifying though it is. I didn't cry at the Saville show, but I came close in front of Aleppo, her Pietà for the children of Syria, which seemed also to contain all the grief and the agony of the mothers of the Gazan children murdered by Israel. I understood that the women of Monterchi weren't only acting to protect a masterpiece, but to protect, as they saw it, one another, and their babies. Being willing to be moved by art also means being willing to be moved by the pain of other people, even to put yourself at risk for them. To lie down, in other words, in the street. Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett is a Guardian columnist. Her book Female, Nude – a novel about art, the body and female sexuality – will be published in 2026.

Pope Leo XIV celebrates Mass for local homeless people, invites them to lunch at summer villa
Pope Leo XIV celebrates Mass for local homeless people, invites them to lunch at summer villa

The Independent

time2 days ago

  • The Independent

Pope Leo XIV celebrates Mass for local homeless people, invites them to lunch at summer villa

Pope Leo XIV spent the last Sunday of his summer vacation with several dozen homeless and poor people and the church volunteers who help them, celebrating a special Mass for them and inviting them into the Vatican's lakeside estate for a lunch of lasagna and roast veal. Leo celebrated Mass in the St. Mary sanctuary of Albano, near the papal summer retreat in Castel Gandolfo where he is vacationing. The Mass was attended by around 110 people cared for by the local Caritas church charity, and the volunteers who run the diocese's shelters, clinics and social service offices. In his homily, Leo celebrated the 'fire of charity' that had brought them together. 'And I encourage you not to distinguish between those who assist and those who are assisted, between those who seem to give and those who seem to receive, between those who appear poor and those who feel they have something to offer in terms of time, skills, and help,' he said. In the church, he said, everyone is poor and precious, and all share the same dignity. Leo, the former Robert Prevost, spent most of his adult life working with the poor people of Peru, first as an Augustinian missionary and then as bishop. Former parishioners and church workers say he greatly reinforced the work of the local Caritas charity, opening soup kitchens and shelters for migrants and rallying funds to build oxygen plants during the COVID-19 pandemic. Later Sunday, Leo was to preside over a luncheon with the guests at the Borgo Laudato Si', the Vatican's environmental educational center in the gardens of the papal villa in Castel Gandolfo. The center is named for Pope Francis ' 2015 landmark environmental encyclical, Laudato Si (Praised Be). According to the Albano diocese, local caterers were providing a menu of lasagna, eggplant parmesan and roast veal. For dessert, the menu called for fruit salad and sweets named for the pope, 'Dolce Leone.' ___ Rosa reported from Albano, Italy, and Winfield from Rome. ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store