An American Pope? Has hell frozen over?

Globe and Mail

09-05-2025

Miles Pattenden is a historian of the Catholic Church and teaches at Oxford University.
'We have a pope!'
The Cardinal Protodeacon's announcement on Thursday evening caused a collective gasp from the Roman crowd: 'Dominum Robertum Franciscum, Sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae Cardinalem Prevost.'
The stunned silence that followed spoke volumes. An American pope? Had hell frozen over? Apparently, the Holy Spirit has a sense of humour after all. He has given us Pope Leo XIV.
There's shock value in Pope Leo, for reflexive anti-Americanism runs deep in the Vatican. So much so that an American pope has seemed a fantastical beast – the sort of thing you might find in Paolo Sorrentino's melodramatic thriller The Young Pope. A young, New York cardinal sensationally becomes Pope Pius XIII in that TV series, and rules with an iron staff.
In truth, the Roman Curia is home to sardonic and world-weary inhabitants. They are naturally wary of American fervency. The Catholic Church has survived for 2,000 years by being constantly adaptable, not by being ever-dogmatic. A pope who took an uncompromising approach to Catholic teachings and church politics would be about as welcome among his officials as a vegan at a Roman trattoria. Few now think positively of Pius IX, the 19th-century pope who lost the Papal States and in 1864 wrote the hubristic Syllabus of Errors listing 80 heresies, from rationalism and liberalism, to public schools and divorce.
So how then has the church ended up with an American leader? In truth, Prevost, affectionately (or not so affectionately) nicknamed 'the Latino Yankee,' was a pretty strong candidate for St Peter's chair. So much so that he survived what ought to have been a kiss of death: the endorsement of at least one of his fellow countrymen in the papabili (the group of candidates for pope) by Donald Trump.
An insider-outsider, Leo XIV is technically from Chicago but has spent half his life in South America. With a mother of Spanish descent and naturalized Peruvian citizenship, he has seemed to identify as much with Latin America as with its northern neighbour.
Prevost ticked many boxes in the cardinals' wish list – not because he is American, but in spite of it. He has pastoral experience running a diocese, but since 2023 has also headed the Vatican's department for bishops. At 69, he is the right age, has the right friends, and can burnish impeccably moderate credentials. Most importantly, as episcopal co-ordinator, he knows everybody – the Vatican equivalent of having the entire church's contact list in your phone.
Few other papabile, except the fancied frontrunner Pietro Parolin, had that advantage. Prevost, the least American 'American' imaginable, is a literal dual passport holder but also its ecclesiastical equivalent. He is Catholic diplomacy's perfect hybrid: American efficiency with a Latin heart. Would God really hold nationality against him?
Pope Leo XIV will have appealed to North American and European cardinals who wanted a pope competent enough to govern efficiently. But he also clearly won over Global South cardinals who wanted an evangelist dedicated to the marginal and poor.
In political terms, he mastered the art of being all things to all people without seeming insincere. He let others project their opinions onto him. But because of that, his approach to guiding the church as pope is anybody's guess.
Sure, he was one of Francis's protégés – but he has been notably reticent about divisive issues within the church. We know about his support for migrants, unsurprising given his commitment to Latin American societies, but what of his views about LGBTQ+ Catholics or women's roles in the church? What about the old rite Latin liturgy?
Even in inauguration, Pope Leo XIV embodied studied ambiguity.
He came out onto the basilica's balcony speaking like Pope Francis, but dressed like Pope Benedict XVI. He eschewed English, his mother tongue, in his greeting to the faithful. His words, instead, were in Italian and Spanish. I am not an American pope but a universal pontiff, he seemed to be saying. Yet he clearly understands the power of English. His first homily on Friday, a less conspicuous speech, began with English words.
Leo XIV's message so far has been continuity, but also bridge-building (well, that's what the Latin pontifex literally means). He surely understands that trying to be all things to all people is ultimately impossible. But the pope's role is to make sure that everyone stays within Catholicism's broad embrace. He must find opportunities for inclusive gestures.
Leo's name harks back to Pope Leo XIII, the great pope at the end of the 19th century who was remarkable for three things. His long reign stabilized the church after Italian unification. His reinvention of the papacy as a force for moral and spiritual leadership won it renewed respect as an institution. And his encyclical Rerum Novarum (1891) has become a foundational document for Catholic social teaching – its efforts to reconcile Catholicism with capitalism and democracy remain relevant.
The new Pope Leo's message here is clear: he wants to be a figure for the 21st century comparable to the one Leo XIII was for the 20th. Leo XIII's papacy saw the church diversify away from Italy; Leo XIV's will see it consolidate its global status.
What unites is more important than what divides has been another of Leo's themes so far. This amplifies Pope Francis's emphases. 'Peace' is the major goal in this scheme, and Leo mentioned it repeatedly in his first greeting to the faithful. Francis's passion project of 'synodality' was also referenced – although how far Leo follows Francis's precise course on these matters is yet to be determined.
This will be a pontificate that builds on the last one, albeit smoothing out its rougher edges. But what of the new pope's relationship with the American church and the Trump administration? Pope Francis's dealings with them were among the roughest parts of his papacy.
The Vatican is used to having to tread gingerly when it comes to China – indeed, critics said Francis was naïve or cynical in his approach to CCP interference – but not America.
Francis drew severe criticism from some U.S. bishops, including Cardinal Raymond Leo Burke. Burke was one of five cardinals to send him a set of questions, or 'doubts,' about his teachings in 2023.
A very public spat between U.S. Vice-President JD Vance and Francis earlier this year was quite unprecedented. Mr. Vance suggested that Catholics bear more responsibility for loving their families and neighbours than strangers. Francis slapped him down. Migrants are the worthiest among us, he pointedly preached.
Both sides found the escalation alarming. That's why Mr. Vance went on a pilgrimage to Francis the day before he died. No administration wants to be pitted against the pope, although no shrewd pope ought to encourage Catholics to choose between their God and their politics either (who knows which way they would decide?).
Pope Leo XIV, the bridge-builder, will likely want to walk back the hostilities. He can influence Mr. Trump through Mr. Vance or via his own popularity (for what does Mr. Trump respect if not that?) He can also reshape American church networks, replacing reactionary elements within them with more moderate figures. That might help lower temperatures.
The only complication? That then-Cardinal Prevost reposted articles that supported Francis's position and were highly critical of Mr. Vance and the Trump administration. That social media feed now hangs awkwardly in the digital air. Many have now seen the posts, but nobody knows quite how to address them.
Perhaps these can be explained as loyalty to a former boss: expressions of principle rather than a commentary on policy. The Trump administration would be wise to accept such reassurances graciously.
'It is such an honour to realize that he is the first American Pope,' Mr. Trump wrote on social media – perhaps an indication that he knows this.
Yet few can be of any doubt that the new pope holds a very different vision of humanity, and of the place of American power within it, than the President or many of his supporters. They might agree on abortion, but what else?
The risk, but also the hope, for anti-Trumpers is that Pope Leo now serves as a figurehead for an alternative world order and a radically different set of values. He certainly has the capacity to influence political debate both within and beyond the United States. Mr. Trump has showed how social media can be weaponized; Leo must now demonstrate how it can also be sanctified.
Did the cardinal electors foresee these possibilities when choosing Cardinal Prevost? Did they intend to unleash them? For now, none will tell us. Conclave discussions remain sacrosanct. What happens in the Sistine Chapel stays there.
But an American pope offering opposition to an American government? That echoes John Paul II's stance against communist Eastern Bloc regimes. We all know how that story ended.
The Catholic Church has a proud tradition of popes who stand up to secular power: from Gregory VII, who made Emperor Henry IV walk barefoot through the snow at Canossa in 1077, to Pius VII, who faced down Napoleon even while held as his prisoner.
Could the Latino Yankee's selection actually be the Holy Spirit's divine subtweet to American politics? Certainly over the next four years, and perhaps over a much longer time span, we seem destined to find out.