Opinion: First Lady Melania and Pope Leo are right — it's 'unum' time

Yahoo

a day ago

In a season of tragedy and division, two powerful voices — one from the Vatican, one from the White House — reached for the same ancient word: Unum.
Last month, after the horrific shooting outside the Capital Jewish Museum in Washington, D.C., First Lady Melania Trump offered her condolences by quoting our national motto: E Pluribus Unum — 'Out of many, one.' Days earlier, Pope Leo XIV, the first American pontiff, delivered his inaugural message with a similar phrase etched into his papal crest: In Illo Uno Unum — 'In the One, One.'
And with the horrifying attack on Jewish families in Boulder, Colorado, earlier this month, the same call to unity remains.
These aren't just old, dusty Latin words. They were calls to unity in a time when America — and the world — feels dangerously divided.
We are living through a season of immense high conflict, spilling over into hate-fueled violence. But from Rome to D.C., this month reminded us that Unum — unity — is not just a relic. It's a lifeline.
Let's be honest: unity sounds soft. It can feel like wishful thinking. But today, invoking unity is a bold act. It takes guts to say, 'We still belong to each other,' especially when everything around us screams otherwise.
I see signs of that courage every day. In an exhausted middle of Americans who are tired of the yelling, the blaming and the endless outrage. They're not perfect — but they're trying. Trying to build bridges instead of burning them. Trying to find common ground without giving up their convictions.
That's the heart of Unum. It doesn't erase conflict or pretend we all agree. It's not utopia. It's the hard, daily work of choosing coexistence over chaos.
Unum means Jewish and Muslim Americans grieving side-by-side. It means a First Lady who grew up Catholic in Slovenia invoking a motto that speaks across American synagogues, mosques and churches alike. It means a Pope who spent years in Latin America calling for peace — not as an abstract dream, but as an urgent task.
And in Washington last week, that task was made painfully real.
The shooting near the Israeli Embassy wasn't just another violent act. It was a national alarm. A young couple was killed. Jewish Americans and foreign diplomats had gathered at a museum dedicated to the hard work of remembering history and resisting hate. They came in peace. They fled in terror.
If that doesn't shake us, what will?
I mourn every loss — from D.C. to Gaza. As a former diplomat and humanitarian worker, I've seen the cost of war up close. The humanitarian crisis in Gaza is heartbreaking: tens of thousands dead, aid blocked, civilians suffering. Hostages still not home. Israelis and Palestinians alike living in fear and grief.
But pain doesn't have to harden us. It can humble us. It can move us to action — not vengeance.
In moments like these, we face two temptations. One is despair: to give up, to believe the divisions are too deep. The other is rage: to blame, punish and retreat into our tribes.
Neither will save us.
The harder path — the braver one — is to build bridges anyway.
Pope Leo XIV said it plainly: 'Be bridgebuilders, peace seekers, and companions on the journey.' That's not just a prayer. It's a plan.
Because in a world driven by algorithms that divide and outrage that sells, choosing Unum is radical. It means staying at the table when you'd rather storm out. It means believing that pluralism — people of different faiths, races, beliefs and stories — can still build a shared life.
You could say that in an interfaith nation like America, that is our common wealth — a society where deep differences don't divide us, they deepen us.
The First Lady's words last month were not just a prayer — they were a call to action. Quoting our centuries-old motto E Pluribus Unum — 'Out of many, one' — was a reminder that belonging isn't partisan. It's American. It always has been.
So let's hold on to that fragile hope. Let's say Unum again — and mean it.