Latest news with #CatholicTheologicalUnion
Yahoo
3 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
The Other American ‘Popes'
WHEN WHITE SMOKE DRIFTED over the Sistine Chapel and the name Leo XIV was announced earlier this month, billions of Catholics and non-Catholics alike around the world raced to learn more about the new pontiff. Born Robert Francis Prevost and raised in Chicago, he is the first American to ascend to the papacy. He is a product of an American Catholic family and an alumnus of American Catholic institutions, having graduated from Villanova and the Catholic Theological Union in Chicago before joining the Order of St. Augustine and spending years in missionary service in Peru. As news of his election spread, so did Chicago-themed memes and other displays of hometown pride. A small number of Americans, though, believe we've already had an American pope. Unrecognized by the Vatican and distant from mainstream Roman Catholicism, a handful of would-be pontiffs have made claims to the throne of St. Peter, enjoying support from internet users, eliciting the curiosity of many who came across them, and attracting followings—dedicated if not large. Few of these figures ever set foot in a seminary, let alone rose through the clerical ranks; you won't find them in cathedrals or basilicas. Their holy haunts are garages, rental halls, and the occasional roadside chapel. And while they can be found at the very edge of the religious fringe, these figures personify the continuing challenges to papal authority presented by and within our postmodern age. The main thing that unites this diverse bunch of papal claimants is their shared rejection of Vatican II. Convened between 1962 and 1965, the Second Vatican Council was a landmark effort by the Roman Catholic Church to engage more directly with the modern world. Initiated by Pope John XXIII, the council introduced sweeping reforms: It permitted the Mass to be celebrated in vernacular languages rather than Latin, emphasized ecumenical dialogue with Orthodox and Protestant communities, redefined the Church's relationship with non-Christian religions (especially Judaism), and shifted the Church's tone from one of hierarchical authority to one of pastoral outreach. For many, these changes felt like an enlivening wind, in keeping with Pope John's (possibly apocryphal) call to 'open the windows of the Church' and let some fresh air into it. Chief among the council's champions was Pope John Paul II, who had attended Vatican II as a young bishop and later embodied its spirit through global outreach, interfaith dialogue, and a renewed emphasis on human dignity. He also helped modernize the papacy itself, embracing television, global travel, and media interviews to bring the Church's message to a wider, contemporary audience. Keep up with all The Bulwark's articles, newsletters, podcasts, and livestreams—and pick which ones show up in your inbox: But while some Catholics found Vatican II exhilarating, for others, it was deeply disorienting. Many Catholics felt alienated by the rapid changes, whether because they preferred the Latin Mass or were uncomfortable with various other reforms. This sense of upheaval gave rise to movements like the Society of St. Pius X (SSPX), founded by Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre in 1970, which flatly rejected key aspects of Vatican II and has maintained an uneasy relationship with Rome ever since while undergoing continuous institutional and communal growth. Even among conservative Catholics who don't go as far as SSPX, Vatican II remains a point of deep concern and contention, and it remains an abiding preoccupation among hyperonline Catholic commentators. The resurgence of young Catholic women wearing veils, the renewed popularity of the Latin Mass, and the proliferation of apologists defending every conceivable Church teaching all point to a growing skepticism toward, or at least a re-evaluation of, Vatican II's more open ethos. There are also those so radical as to not only reject the council but also to deny the legitimacy of the popes who have upheld it. These are the sedevacantists—those who believe 'the seat'—sedes, referring to the papal throne—is 'vacant,' which is to say, the one who currently occupies it is illegitimate. Sedevacantists hold that this has been the case since the 1958 death of Pope Pius XII on the grounds that all officially recognized popes since Vatican II have embraced its alleged heresies. In the words of Philippe Roy-Lysencourt, a scholar of Catholic traditionalism, 'For these movements, the council is like a foreign body in the life of the Church, like a cancer to be fought.' While its community of adherents is small and fragmented, sedevacantism represents the furthest extreme of traditionalist dissent—after all, who else would answer 'no' to the question, 'Is the Pope Catholic?' And way out at the furthest reaches of the sedevacantist world, we find a handful of those who, unwilling to wait for a legitimate pope to emerge, have taken matters into their own hands. These are the people who have conducted their own conclaves in living rooms and hotel conference rooms, and who claim to have found St. Peter's true successor living in their own hometowns. Share THE STORY OF OUR COUNTRY'S original homegrown papal claimant must be regarded as a prelude, because his actions took place decades before the Second Vatican Council that would unite the later generation of faux popes in opposition to it. Adam Anthony Oraczewski, a Polish-born immigrant, declared himself 'Pope Adam II' in 1927 following several years of religious mischief, fraud, and forgery, much of his behavior likely resulting from undiagnosed mental illness. At one point, he circulated a photo to newspapers that depicted him in an approximation of papal garb; a reporter at one of the papers pointed out that the young would-be pontiff had left his tennis shoes on for the picture. It would be half a century before the first of the Vatican II–rejecting American-born papal claimants would emerge. Chester Olszewski was originally an Episcopal priest in Pennsylvania. After encountering Anne Poore, a visionary claiming miraculous experiences and stigmata, Olszewski embraced a radical traditionalist Catholicism. He would eventually claim to receive his own mystical visions, and in 1977, he proclaimed himself Pope 'Chriszekiel Elias,' later adopting the name 'Peter II.' He led a small sect calling itself the True Catholic Church, rooted in apocalyptic Marian devotion; it has since faded into obscurity. A little over two decades later, in 1998, Lucian Pulvermacher, a former Capuchin friar from Wisconsin, was elected pope by a roughly fifty-member conclave of sedevacantist lay people associated with the True Catholic Church network. Taking the name 'Pius XIII,' he operated his ministry and issued papal decrees from a trailer in Kalispell, Montana, and later from Springdale, Washington. He died on November 30, 2009, at the age of 91. His followers' plans to convene a new conclave to choose a successor have so far come to naught. Another: Citing inspiration via mystical revelation, Reinaldus M. Benjamins of Malone, New York, claimed to be 'Pope Gregory XIX.' But as 'alternative popes' researcher Magnus Lundberg writes, little is known of Benjamins today. But the best-known American claimant to the papacy is the late David Bawden, known to many by his chosen papal name of 'Pope Michael I.' Born in Oklahoma in 1959 and raised in a fiercely traditionalist Catholic household, David Bawden came of age believing that the Second Vatican Council was not a reform but a rupture, one that cut the institutional Church off from its own timeless teachings and liturgical beauty. His family refused to attend the post-conciliar Mass, clung to pre-1958 catechisms, and eventually aligned with the dissenting SSPX. Bawden enrolled in an SSPX seminary but was dismissed after a brief tenure, prompting him to pursue his theological education on his own—through books, correspondence with traditionalist and sedevacantist Catholics, and fervent prayer. By the mid-1980s, he had moved on from the SSPX to embrace outright sedevacantism. Join now Convinced that the Catholic Church was in a state of emergency, Bawden took a radical step. In 1990, at the age of 30, he gathered five others (including his parents) into a makeshift conclave in a Kansas thrift store chapel. They elected him pope by unanimous vote. He took the name 'Michael I' and claimed divine sanction to restore what Rome had lost. From a farmhouse-turned-chapel in Delia, Kansas, he spent the next three decades issuing papal decrees, publishing newsletters, and maintaining a website called 'Vatican in Exile.' Toward the end of his life, he had a channel on YouTube, a platform on which his sermons, theological discussions, interviews, and explanations of his papal claim have been watched by thousands. While many dismissed him as a crank, a curiosity, a theological prank, or a person disturbed in the manner of his predecessor Oraczewski, Bawden's sincerity was difficult to deny. As documented in the 2010 film Pope Michael, he lived with monastic simplicity, took no salary, and led a quiet life of devotion alongside his elderly mother, Tickie. He prayed daily for the Church, answered emails from curious seekers, and carried out his self-imposed papal duties with unwavering conviction. In 2011, after more than two decades without the ability to celebrate the sacraments (despite claiming to be pope), Bawden was ordained a priest and consecrated a bishop by Robert Biarnesen, an independent bishop from a schismatic Old Catholic lineage (he himself had only just been consecrated a month prior by Bishop Alexander Swift Eagle Justice). Because Bawden had never been ordained by a bishop, valid or otherwise, prior to this, he had taken himself to be unable to perform even the most basic sacramental duties of the priesthood, let alone exercise the full authority of his alternative papacy. Beginning in 2011, though, Bawden at last felt authorized to celebrate Mass, hear confessions, and ordain others, a possibility that he seized with his first (and possibly only) seminarian, Phil Friedl. His movement remained minuscule, with perhaps a few dozen core followers, but the internet gave Pope Michael surprising reach, drawing adherents from as far away as India and the Philippines. One of those, a Filipino bishop named Rogelio Martínez, became his right-hand man and, after Bawden's death in 2022, Martínez was elected by his predecessor's remaining followers to become 'Pope Michael II.' He still posts to the movement's YouTube channel, but viewership remains scarce. Share LEO XIV'S PAPACY HAS NOW BEGUN. The Chicagoan begins his tenure at a time when papal authority is contested. Pope Francis, pastoral reformer that he was, was a figure of great controversy among both liberals and conservatives in the Church, and especially among hyperonline traditionalists, for whom he represented a corruption of the office. For years, such figures accused him of sowing confusion, undermining tradition, and embracing a modernist agenda. Some of his critics began to flirt openly with sedevacantist ideas, creating a cultural commotion in the Church. So it is that in our digital present, when YouTube apologists, livestreamed liturgies, and anonymous Twitter accounts shape the Catholic imagination, the claims of figures like Bawden no longer feel quite so radical or strange. This is part of what Leo XIV has inherited from Francis: a Church that is struggling, along with every other societal institution, to find its way in an increasingly chaotic information environment—a virtual world in which, it seems, everyone gets to be their very own pope. Zap this article over to a friend or zip it up onto social media: Share
CBS News
16-05-2025
- General
- CBS News
Chicagoans heading to Rome to attend Pope Leo XIV's papal installation mass
Pope Leo XIV will be formally installed as bishop of Rome on Sunday at St. Peter's Square, and many Chicagoans are heading to Italy for the historic occasion for America's first pope, who was born in Chicago. "We are simply overjoyed," said Sister Barbara Reid, who was beaming with pride on Friday as she prepared to head to Rome for the papal installation mass for Pope Leo XIV on Sunday. Reid is the president of Catholic Theological Union in Hyde Park, where Pope Leo enrolled in 1978 and earned his Master of Divinity in 1982. "To have not only the thrill and the excitement of our own graduate be chosen as Pope," Reid said. Reid was in Rome last week when then-Cardinal Robert Prevost was elevated to the papacy. She said, as pope, he will bring a great deal to the Roman Catholics he will lead around the world. "His emphasis on care for the planet, his emphasis on care for migrants and refugees; we know he is a missionary, and will certainly advance the concept that Pope Francis spoke about so often about being missionary disciples, being intent on serving the people who are the poorest and the neediest," she said. In 1999, Father Bob, as he was known back then, was a mentor at the Augustinians' residence in Hyde Park, where young men studying to be priests were living. They were learning about the priesthood at Catholic Theological Union across the street. A booklet recently printed by Catholic Theological Union is a compilation of prayers for Pope Leo from the Catholic Theological Union community and beyond. Reid is bringing the booklet to Rome for the pope. "You can read all of them on our website. We created a place on our website where anyone who wanted to could add their prayer for Pope Leo, and some of them are just so touching," she said. Fr. John Lydon will also join Reid on the trip. Lydon is a priest at Catholic Theological Union and lived with Pope Leo for about a decade in Peru. He had this prayer for his friend: "That wisdom that comes through our Lord, communicated also through his blessed Mother, will guide him with the challenges of the church, and will give him the strength to carry forth," Lydon said.
New York Times
15-05-2025
- General
- New York Times
Pope Leo's Classmates Drew Ire of Church With Protest for Women
As the 17 young men preparing to be ordained as Catholic priests entered the sanctuary at St. Thomas the Apostle Catholic Church in Chicago, they each pinned a tiny light-blue ribbon to their white robes. The gesture was small but explosive: It signified their belief that women, too, should be allowed into the priesthood. It was April 1981, and the men were students at Catholic Theological Union, a divinity school founded in the 1960s and still on fire with the era's radical spirit. Women's ordination as Catholic priests was one of the most urgent topics for men and women on campus, the subject of constant discussion, organizing and, for many, optimism. One of their classmates was Robert Prevost, who was named pope last week. As Leo XIV, he now leads a global church that has firmly closed the door on the question of women as priests, but has left open the possibility that women could someday be ordained as deacons, the step before the priesthood. The men at St. Thomas in 1981 were there to be ordained as deacons. Many in the sanctuary that day recall it vividly decades later. First, the prelate presiding over the ceremony, Bishop Alfred Abramowicz of Chicago, refused to continue unless the men removed their ribbons. (At least one quietly refused, moving his ribbon to a less visible placement.) A woman in the choir joined the protesters halfway through the ceremony, her high heels clicking down the center aisle of the sanctuary. Then, as part of the proceedings, the bishop asked the men individually by name if they were 'ready and willing' to serve. After the last man answered, a woman's voice rang out from the pews. 'I am ready and willing,' she announced. 'It was this lacerating sound,' recalled Judy Connolly, the woman who had joined the protest from the choir. The congregation gasped. Then, one by one, at least a dozen women wearing light-blue arm bands stood up throughout the church and repeated the same vow. 'I am ready and willing.' 'I am ready and willing.' 'There was this chorus of voices, women's voices, that just echoed through the church,' Ms. Connolly said. 'It was the most electric thing I have ever experienced inside the walls of a Catholic church.' Leo was not one of the men being ordained that day, and multiple people who attended the ceremony could not recall whether he was in the packed pews of the large church, although they said they would be surprised if he wasn't, given the event's importance to his classmates. Either way, it would have been impossible to miss that the demonstration had happened. 'It was the talk of all the classes the next day,' said the Rev. John Merkelis, a longtime friend of Pope Leo's who was a year behind him. The protest is a window into a formative period in Leo's intellectual and spiritual life. And it is also a time capsule of both the chaos and the optimism that flowed through the church in the long wake of the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s, which shook up everything from the institution's liturgy to its rules for priests and nuns. The Catholic Church said at the time that only men could be ordained as deacons and priests, a doctrine it maintains to this day. But in the 1970s, many in the church saw glimmers of hope. Propelled by feminist ideals, determined nuns and others had begun strategizing. One national group, the Women's Ordination Conference, organized at a meeting on C.T.U.'s campus in 1976 after a conference the previous year in Detroit attended by 1,200 people, according to records in C.T.U.'s archives. 'Those were the years when a lot of people thought there was a possibility that things were going to change,' said Sister Dianne Bergant, a faculty member who arrived at C.T.U. in 1978. 'There was an openness.' Eleven women were ordained into the Episcopal Church in Philadelphia in 1974 in defiance of church leadership; the denomination voted two years later to allow women to become priests and bishops. When Pope John Paul II visited the United States in 1979, dozens of nuns challenged him on the ordination question at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, in what was seen as a shocking confrontation. (In 1994, John Paul II wrote that 'all doubt' should be removed that women are not allowed to be priests.) At Catholic Theological Union in the 1970s, multiple faculty members were engaged in the question as academics, as activists or both. The school newspaper included articles about new feminist studies classes, and at least one opinion column urged the ordainment of women. Ms. Connolly was the first woman to receive a Master of Divinity at the school, in 1981. She recalled a final exam where she had to preside over an unofficial liturgy, essentially a nonsacramental Mass to test whether the student was prepared for work as a priest. When her two professors, both priests, came forward to receive 'communion' from her, one of them had tears streaming down his face. 'What he eventually got out was that it was truly a sacred experience,' she said. 'To think that I wasn't going to be ordained, he was just undone by that.' During the 1981 ordination protest, Bishop Abramowicz was visibly irate and paused the service to sit in silence for what felt like an excruciatingly long time, according to multiple people present. 'I remember saying to my parents, 'Well, I guess I'm not going to be ordained today,'' recalled the Rev. Guy Blair. Cardinal John Cody, the leader of the archdiocese of Chicago, later rebuked the school, the parish and several of the individuals who had participated. He called Father Blair to tell him he would never work in his diocese. (Six months later, he relented.) Later that year, Pope John Paul II ordered an investigation into American Catholic seminaries. Experts at the time viewed it as an attempt to halt the increasingly vocal calls for women to serve in more roles in the church. The Rev. Mark Francis, who was ordained as a deacon at the 1981 ceremony and went on to serve as C.T.U.'s president from 2013 to 2020, said he believed the agitation of women at the school and elsewhere — including their protest at the ordination — had 'probably contributed' to the Vatican's inquiry. C.T.U.'s president at the time of the investigation, the Rev. John Linnan, said then that the inquiry appeared to have been started by 'the radical right in the Vatican,' according to The Chicago Tribune. The investigation was opened while Leo was in the last few months of schooling and represents a remarkable bridge across more than four decades of the Catholic Church. John Paul II had opened a wide-ranging investigation into hundreds of seminaries, and the man who would rise to become the first American pope was at that moment attending one. By that time, though, Leo and a close friend and classmate, the Rev. Robert Dodaro, were in the last year of schooling and viewed as highly intelligent men with a promising future in the church. Unlike many of their classmates, they were ordained as deacons in September, at an Augustinian parish in Grosse Pointe, Mich. The presiding bishop for their ordination was Thomas Gumbleton, a longtime supporter of the ordination of women. Father Dodaro declined an interview request. The Rev. Joe McCormick, a fellow Augustinian who graduated in 1977 and was stationed at the Michigan parish at the time, said that his recollection was that the location was chosen as a matter of logistical expediency. The ordination protest in 1981 was talked about on campus for decades afterward, even as the student body became less rabble-rousing. 'By the time I got there, you were hearing these stories almost like, How on earth did any of this happen?' said the Rev. Max Villeneuve, who graduated from the school in 2018. Father Villeneuve, now a chaplain at a Catholic high school in San Diego, lived with Leo for several months at the Augustinian friary on campus in 2014, when the future pope was supervising the house. The man that he knew did not seem to be connected to the campus politics of the 1970s. 'He's not one to just get caught up in the flavor of the moment,' Father Villeneuve said. 'He's not going to get swept off his feet and go protest or anything like that, and likewise I don't think he'd show up at the counterprotest, either.' As a prelate, Leo has said little about the issue, but has indicated he will maintain the church's position. At a news conference in Rome in 2023, when he was a cardinal, he affirmed that teaching against women as priests 'has been spelled out very clearly,' and expressed broader concerns about 'clericalizing' women. He said that the question of women as deacons is under study, again affirming the Vatican line, which has frustrated activists who hoped for movement on the deacon question under Pope Francis. Even those who knew Leo in the 1970s and '80s say they are not sure what he thought of the conversations and the activism around the question of women's ordination. In class, 'there were guys that were willing to participate and there were guys that were very quiet,' recalled the Rev. Fred Licciardi, who was ordained as a deacon at the 1981 ceremony. 'He was one of the more quiet ones.' Father Merkelis, who still corresponds with Leo, said that one of the pope's greatest abilities was how he was able to make people on all sides of an issue feel heard. 'He would have certainly listened and not judged,' he said of Leo's reaction to the women's efforts. Classmates of Leo's said that the prevailing politic of the school at the time was progressive. John Schneider, a lawyer who attended C.T.U. and ultimately chose not to be ordained, agreed but said it did not mean that everyone who studied there was of the same mind. 'Just because you went there doesn't mean you're liberal,' Mr. Schneider said. 'You're just more in tune with where the actual universal church is.' Leo graduated from C.T.U. with a master's degree in divinity in May of 1982. At the graduation ceremony, the commencement address was delivered by Cynthia Wedel, a president of the World Council of Churches. Speaking on the theme of 'The Future of the Church,' she closed with a discussion of the role of women in Christian ministry, and of God as an entity that is neither male nor female, according to a copy of her remarks in C.T.U.'s archives. Changing people's perceptions 'will not be easy, or quick,' she said, adding that it might not happen within the lifetimes of anyone in the room. 'But somewhere in the future the church will become in fact what it has always been in the mind of God — 'the blessed company of all faithful people.'' She concluded, 'You will have a share in making this come true.' The next month, Robert Prevost became Father Prevost in Rome, when he was ordained as a priest at the Augustinian College of St. Monica. In Rome, he earned two degrees at the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas, and then began rising through the ranks of the church whose future he now stewards.
Yahoo
14-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Opinion - What kind of pope will Leo XIV be?
One thing we are sure about the first American Pope, Leo XIV, is that he was born and raised on the South Side of Chicago, as Carl Sandburg described the city, 'stormy, husky and brawling,' 'hog butcher for the world.' The former Robert Prevost studied at Chicago's Catholic Theological Union while teaching math and physics on the southwest side. He eventually became a missionary in Peru. It was there and in Italy that he spent most of his adult life. President Trump, no fan of birthright citizenship, was quick to hail the American roots of the new pontiff. 'To have the pope from America is a great honor,' he said. Chicago may be Leo's 'kind of razzmatazz,' but the question on everybody's mind is where does he stand on hot-button political and social issues such as immigration, gay marriage, abortion, celibacy of the clergy and transgender rights. What kind of pope will Leo XIV be? There are a few signs and portents. The choice of a papal name has always been significant since Jesus told a Jewish fisherman named Simon that he would be called Peter, the 'rock' upon whom Christ would build his Church. Why did Prevost choose the name Leo XIV? Perhaps it was because of Leo XII, who ruled from 1823 to 1829 — known for his moral rectitude and expectation that others would emulate his high standards. He was a deeply conservative ruler, who enforced many controversial laws, including one forbidding Jews from owning property. The Vatican said that the pope chose the name as well because the first Pope Leo, who reigned from 440 to 461. Known as Leo the Great, he was successful in mediating the Church's several global divides. Leo XIV faces the task of reconciling a fractured American church where ordinary Catholics (many lapsed since the sexual abuse scandals involving the clergy), an influential right-wing Catholic press and Catholic power in Washington are often engaged in a Chicago-style brawl. They can't seem to agree even on whether the new pope will be a progressive and a reformer in the tradition of his predecessor Pope Francis or a conservative like some of the other popes gone by, as many liberal Catholics fear. The new pope arrives at a time of an astonishing resurgence in America of a reactionary Catholicism. More than one-third of Trump's Cabinet members are Catholic. So are two-thirds of the Supreme Court, which has issued a series of rulings making more porous the wall of separation between church and state. In February, Pope Francis. just months before he died, harshly criticized Trump's draconian immigration policies, calling them a violation of the 'dignity of many men and women, and of entire families.' You don't have to be the pope to arrive at that conclusion. Pope Leo is seen as likely to follow suit. In April, an X account identified with the new pontiff made a post critical of the Trump administration's 'illicit deportation' of Kilmar Abrego Garcia, the man Trump illegally rendered to El Salvador in March. 'This pope is clearly going to keep speaking out for justice, for peace, refugees, the poor and the hungry,' seasoned Vatican analyst Rev. Thomas J. Reese said. 'If this gets him in trouble with the Trump White House, so be it.' A right-wing Catholic website published '5 worrying things you need to know about Leo XIV,' including his criticisms of Trump's immigration policies. Leo's American brief is to unify the warring tribes of U.S. Catholics, whose political divisions have frustrated the purpose of his predecessors. Charlie Camosy, a Creighton University theologian, comparing Leo with Pope Francis, told the Washington Post: 'Pope Leo XIV's critiques, praise, and invitations to dialogue will come from a place of knowing the U.S. in a far more intimate way.' As the song goes, 'each time I roam, Chicago is calling me home.' Francis engaged in a battle of words with Trump during his papacy over aid to migrants. If Leo decides to adhere to Catholic orthodoxy when it comes to same-sex marriage, it would alienate Catholics who see God as prioritizing inclusion and mercy. If he follows Francis's position on immigration, he could anger theologically traditional Catholics who have sided with Trump politically. Denise Murphy McGraw, co-chair of the liberal U.S. group Catholics Vote Common Good, sees Leo as a likely ally, especially given his American upbringing. 'We have someone now who understands even better, because he understands us,' she said. But Ashley McGuire of the Catholic Association, which promotes Catholic teaching on abortion, saw something a bit different ahead for the Church in America. 'He takes his name from a pope who stood firmly against the negative culture of moral relativism,' she wrote. We don't know yet which path this South Side Chicagoan will take, a more liberal church or a rejection of the 'negative culture of moral relativism.' The choice is his. The hope is that he will be a gentle figure in a happier age. To quote Longfellow: 'Humanity with all its fears, with all the hopes of future years, is hanging breathless on thy fate!' James D. Zirin, author and legal analyst, is a former federal prosecutor in New York's Southern District. He is also the host of the public television talk show and podcast Conversations with Jim Zirin. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
The Hill
14-05-2025
- Politics
- The Hill
What kind of pope will Leo XIV be?
One thing we are sure about the first American Pope, Leo XIV, is that he was born and raised on the South Side of Chicago, as Carl Sandburg described the city, 'stormy, husky and brawling,' 'hog butcher for the world.' The former Robert Prevost studied at Chicago's Catholic Theological Union while teaching math and physics on the southwest side. He eventually became a missionary in Peru. It was there and in Italy that he spent most of his adult life. President Trump, no fan of birthright citizenship, was quick to hail the American roots of the new pontiff. 'To have the pope from America is a great honor,' he said. Chicago may be Leo's 'kind of razzmatazz,' but the question on everybody's mind is where does he stand on hot-button political and social issues such as immigration, gay marriage, abortion, celibacy of the clergy and transgender rights. What kind of pope will Leo XIV be? There are a few signs and portents. The choice of a papal name has always been significant since Jesus told a Jewish fisherman named Simon that he would be called Peter, the 'rock' upon whom Christ would build his Church. Why did Prevost choose the name Leo XIV? Perhaps it was because of Leo XII, who ruled from 1823 to 1829 — known for his moral rectitude and expectation that others would emulate his high standards. He was a deeply conservative ruler, who enforced many controversial laws, including one forbidding Jews from owning property. The Vatican said that the pope chose the name as well because the first Pope Leo, who reigned from 440 to 461. Known as Leo the Great, he was successful in mediating the Church's several global divides. Leo XIV faces the task of reconciling a fractured American church where ordinary Catholics (many lapsed since the sexual abuse scandals involving the clergy), an influential right-wing Catholic press and Catholic power in Washington are often engaged in a Chicago-style brawl. They can't seem to agree even on whether the new pope will be a progressive and a reformer in the tradition of his predecessor Pope Francis or a conservative like some of the other popes gone by, as many liberal Catholics fear. The new pope arrives at a time of an astonishing resurgence in America of a reactionary Catholicism. More than one-third of Trump's Cabinet members are Catholic. So are two-thirds of the Supreme Court, which has issued a series of rulings making more porous the wall of separation between church and state. In February, Pope Francis. just months before he died, harshly criticized Trump's draconian immigration policies, calling them a violation of the 'dignity of many men and women, and of entire families.' You don't have to be the pope to arrive at that conclusion. Pope Leo is seen as likely to follow suit. In April, an X account identified with the new pontiff made a post critical of the Trump administration's 'illicit deportation' of Kilmar Abrego Garcia, the man Trump illegally rendered to El Salvador in March. 'This pope is clearly going to keep speaking out for justice, for peace, refugees, the poor and the hungry,' seasoned Vatican analyst Rev. Thomas J. Reese said. 'If this gets him in trouble with the Trump White House, so be it.' A right-wing Catholic website published '5 worrying things you need to know about Leo XIV,' including his criticisms of Trump's immigration policies. Leo's American brief is to unify the warring tribes of U.S. Catholics, whose political divisions have frustrated the purpose of his predecessors. Charlie Camosy, a Creighton University theologian, comparing Leo with Pope Francis, told the Washington Post: 'Pope Leo XIV's critiques, praise, and invitations to dialogue will come from a place of knowing the U.S. in a far more intimate way.' As the song goes, 'each time I roam, Chicago is calling me home.' Francis engaged in a battle of words with Trump during his papacy over aid to migrants. If Leo decides to adhere to Catholic orthodoxy when it comes to same-sex marriage, it would alienate Catholics who see God as prioritizing inclusion and mercy. If he follows Francis's position on immigration, he could anger theologically traditional Catholics who have sided with Trump politically. Denise Murphy McGraw, co-chair of the liberal U.S. group Catholics Vote Common Good, sees Leo as a likely ally, especially given his American upbringing. 'We have someone now who understands even better, because he understands us,' she said. But Ashley McGuire of the Catholic Association, which promotes Catholic teaching on abortion, saw something a bit different ahead for the Church in America. 'He takes his name from a pope who stood firmly against the negative culture of moral relativism,' she wrote. We don't know yet which path this South Side Chicagoan will take, a more liberal church or a rejection of the 'negative culture of moral relativism.' The choice is his. The hope is that he will be a gentle figure in a happier age. To quote Longfellow: 'Humanity with all its fears, with all the hopes of future years, is hanging breathless on thy fate!' James D. Zirin, author and legal analyst, is a former federal prosecutor in New York's Southern District. He is also the host of the public television talk show and podcast Conversations with Jim Zirin.
