Leo XIV: The First American Pope

From Chicago to the Vatican: The Quiet Rise of Pope Leo XIV

When I was a child, Christmas at Chapel of the Light was a musical battlefield. Each year, our youthful choir faced off – unofficially but passionately – against the kids from St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church, our chapel’s neighbor. Our joint carol concerts were a blend of hymns, drama, dance, and the occasional breakdance spectacle (shout-out to Tobi Olatunji’s unforgettable routine that year). The applause was our scoreboard. For us kids, it was competition cloaked in celebration, and we lived for it. On a recent visit, I realized that they have merged the performances into one big mass choir. Adult Mass Choir. Children Mass Choir. No more separate acts. They didn’t want a semblance of compeition during the event of the most celebrated festival in the world. Smh. My child’s mind says, “What a bore!”

That childhood rivalry was my first real encounter with the Catholic Church, and watching the media coverage of Robert Francis Prevost’s election as the 267th pope, and the first American to hold the office, brought all those memories rushing back.

The ascension of Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost follows a pattern familiar to close observers of papal conclaves: the unexpected rise of a non-front-runner whose quiet credibility captures the room. The media was awash with names like Pietro Parolin, Luis Antonio Gokim Tagle, and Jean-Marc Aveline. Not one of the lists I saw mentioned Prevost. It was much ike his predecessor, Francis, who was not considered a favorite going in. Clearly, the Spirit moves beyond punditry, don’t you think?

Born to a school principal father and librarian mother in a deeply Catholic family on Chicago’s Far South Side, Prevost was immersed in faith from his earliest days. His maternal grandparents, described in historical records as Black or mulatto, form part of a rich immigrant heritage – French, Spanish, and American – that shaped his view of the Church as global and inclusive.

Prevost earned a mathematics (with philosophy) degree from Villanova before pursuing divinity in Chicago. But it was his 20 years as a missionary priest in Peru that deeply marked him. There, he became a bishop, a naturalized Peruvian citizen, and a public servant in the truest sense; often delivering food to flood-stricken villages with sacks of rice slung across his back. This is not the biography of a distant cleric, but of a man who believes leadership begins on the margins.

In recent years, Leo XIV held one of the Vatican’s most powerful roles: overseeing the selection and management of bishops worldwide. That gave him both visibility and institutional clout. Under Pope Francis, he emerged as a reformist with a diplomatic touch; someone who could “suffer with the people,” echoing Francis’ pastoral ethos.

Yet, Leo XIV is no carbon copy. His views on LGBT inclusion remain under scrutiny, particularly a 2012 remark criticizing what he called the “homosexual lifestyle.” However, in 2023 he supported Francis’ directive to allow blessings for same-sex couples, stressing the importance of local interpretation. In an era where internal Church debates are global news, this nuance will define his early leadership.

He has also voiced support for women’s roles in Church governance, backing their inclusion in the powerful Dicastery for Bishops and emphasizing their impact on discernment processes. In environmental matters, he has been direct: “We must move from words to action.” Solar panels and electric vehicles, novel on Vatican grounds, are just a start.

What stirred me to write, beyond nostalgia, was a curious media reaction to the pope’s first public words. Right-wing commentators pounced on the fact that during his first speech, he spoke in Spanish and Italian, but not English. The outrage was as amusing as it was misplaced. After all, Pope Leo XIV lived in Peru for decades, speaks several languages fluently, and represents a church that is not American, but universal.

To reject the pope’s multilingualism is to misunderstand the very essence of Catholicism, a church without borders. And in that light, Leo XIV, the American missionary turned Latin American bishop turned Roman pontiff, is an embodiment of the Church’s global calling. This is not a pope who would be caged by the MAGA movement.

It’s also telling that a social media account under his name has criticized President Trump’s immigration policies and even rebuked Vice President JD Vance’s misuse of Catholic teaching. “Jesus doesn’t ask us to rank our love for others,” the account reposted, in response to Vance’s comments defending controversial deportation practices.

In an era where Christian values are increasingly entangled with political agendas, Pope Leo XIV emerges as a leader who may be willing to reclaim the Church’s moral voice, not for partisan battles, but for universal principles of compassion, justice, and solidarity. His early words and record suggest a papacy that may resist being co-opted by ideological extremes, and instead refocus attention on the enduring spiritual and ethical mission of the Church.

His choice of the name Leo XIV is rich with historical symbolism. It evokes the legacy of Pope Leo XIII, who reigned from 1878 to 1903 and helped steer Catholicism into the modern world, confronting the rise of industrial capitalism, engaging with science and democracy, and articulating Catholic social teaching in the landmark encyclical ‘Rerum Novarum’. Now, more than a century later, Leo XIV faces a Church once again at a crossroads, grappling with a complex set of internal and external challenges: declining church attendance in the West, the scars of clerical abuse, theological rifts between conservatives and progressives, and a growing tide of nationalism that often seeks to appropriate faith for exclusion rather than inclusion.

But with these challenges comes an opportunity. Leo XIV inherits a global, multilingual, and multi-ethnic Church, one that is growing fastest in the Global South, yet struggling to find a unifying identity. The world is watching to see whether he will continue Pope Francis’ reform agenda, which includes curial transparency, financial accountability, pastoral openness, and a more inclusive theological posture, especially toward the poor, migrants, LGBTQ individuals, and women in church leadership.

While some observers expect a more measured or cautious papacy, Leo XIV’s reputation for strategic clarity, pastoral sensitivity, and deep listening suggests he may bring a balance of continuity and innovation. His background – rooted in missionary work, Vatican governance, and social justice – positions him not only to lead the Church through its internal reckonings, but also to amplify its voice on global issues like climate change, economic inequality, and forced migration.

In choosing Leo XIV, the cardinals may have chosen not a radical, but a bridge-builder, a man who understands that the Church’s relevance in the 21st century depends not just on its doctrine, but on its ability to embody mercy, courage, and moral clarity in a world that needs it more than ever.

As I think back to my childhood carol concerts, I wonder what sort of applause this new chapter in Catholic history will receive after he passes (he appears to be someone who will be pope for a long time considering his age). The cheers won’t come from drama, dance, poetry, or even Tobi’s breakdancing. They’ll come from lives touched, policies changed, bridges built.

And maybe, just maybe, that competitive spark between churches I once knew as a child has matured into something else entirely: a shared hope for what this new pope might mean, not just for the 1.4 billion-Catholics, but for the world.