By Mary Jones & Ben Emos | Friday, May 9, 2025 | 6 min read
When the white smoke curled out of the Sistine Chapel chimney and bells rang across St. Peter’s Square, it wasn’t just a new pope the world was welcoming—it was a turning point. Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, a Chicago-born missionary with decades of service in Latin America, stepped onto the balcony as Pope Leo XIV, the first American ever to assume the papacy. The symbolism was immediate. The moment was historic. But in today’s fractured political and cultural climate, it also became something else: a global Rorschach test.
In the United States, the reactions were predictably polarized. President Donald Trump, never one to pass up a moment to center himself in a global event, called it a “great moment for American faith.” “What greater honor could there be?” he posted on Truth Social. Yet behind that glowing praise, cracks were already forming among his base. Trump loyalists were not exactly celebrating.
That’s because Pope Leo XIV isn’t just American. He’s American in a way that doesn’t always sit well with the populist right. He’s a scholar who speaks Spanish, a man who spent years walking alongside the poor in Peru, and a leader who doesn’t shy away from uncomfortable truths—especially about politics.
Tweets, Doctrine, and Digital Echo Chambers
It didn’t take long for the internet to roll up its sleeves and start digging into Pope Leo’s digital footprint—and you can bet folks like Pam Bondi and Kash Patel are already knee-deep in the archives, chasing after DUIs or imaginary crimes that don’t exist, because that’s what the boss expects. Before ascending to the papacy, Cardinal Prevost had a now-deleted Twitter account that, while mostly benign, revealed more than a few breadcrumbs for the outrage machine. He had liked posts critical of Trump-era immigration crackdowns, shared a bishop’s prayer for George Floyd, and even fired off a pointed jab at JD Vance’s version of Christianity, calling it “theologically wrong.” On their own, none of these would raise eyebrows in a saner era. But in today’s political minefield, even a whiff of nuance is enough to trigger a full-blown firestorm.
Far-right influencer Laura Loomer wasted no time, slapping the label “Marxist Pope” on Leo XIV—an insult that quickly ricocheted through conservative media. To them, this wasn’t just a pope with American roots. It was a progressive Trojan horse dropped at the gates of the Vatican.
But to many Catholics, especially those outside the United States, Leo’s background is exactly what the Church needs now.
A Missionary’s Journey
Pope Leo XIV’s path to the papacy wasn’t paved in Vatican intrigue or bureaucratic ambition. Born in Chicago to a working-class family, Robert Prevost joined the Augustinian order and began his priesthood not in Rome but in Peru—where he spent nearly two decades as a missionary. There, he learned the rhythms of poverty, the wounds of political instability, and the strength of faith in adversity.
It’s this blend of lived experience and spiritual discipline that caught the attention of those inside the College of Cardinals who wanted a leader to carry forward the progressive, reform-minded legacy of Pope Francis. The choice of the name “Leo” is no coincidence either: Pope Leo XIII was a pioneering voice for workers’ rights and social justice, echoing themes that now seem urgent once more.
“This is not someone who spent his life behind the walls of the Vatican,” said Senator Tim Kaine, a devout Catholic and former missionary himself. “He understands what it means to serve.”
Red and Blue Reactions to a White Cassock
Back in St. Peter’s Square, where thousands gathered to witness the historic announcement, the crowd’s emotions were mixed—but not in the ways you might think.
Latin American pilgrims cheered with pride at the selection of a pope so deeply tied to their region. Others marveled at the novelty of an American pope. But among a segment of U.S. visitors, especially those aligned with Trump-era conservatism, the mood was more muted.
“It’s not what we were hoping for,” admitted one pilgrim from Texas, who had been holding a rosary and an American flag. “We wanted a traditionalist.”
Meanwhile, Catholic progressives saw the election as a long-overdue step toward healing and inclusion. “This is someone who has walked with the people,” said Sister Maria Lopez, a nun from Mexico. “He speaks their language—literally and spiritually.”
Online, battle lines formed fast. Jack Posobiec, a far-right media personality, declared the papal election a “woke Vatican coup,” while liberal Catholics flooded social media with hopeful messages and photos of Leo XIV’s missionary days.
A Vatican That’s Not Washington
In his first address as pope, Leo XIV spoke in Italian and Spanish, notably skipping English. That choice alone sparked speculation: Was it a quiet signal of his allegiance to the Global South over the Global North? Or was it simply a reflection of his roots in Latin America and his connection to Pope Francis’s inclusive worldview?
He offered prayers for peace, acknowledged the immense challenges ahead, and expressed gratitude to Pope Francis. He closed with a humble appeal: “Let us walk together.”
But the path ahead is anything but simple.
The Catholic Church remains at a crossroads. Scandals around sexual abuse continue to cast a long shadow. Membership is declining across Europe and North America. Clergy shortages are deepening. And the faithful are increasingly split along political and ideological lines.
Into this landscape steps an American pope—one who understands the political landmines of his homeland, but now must lead a church that stretches far beyond it.
Trump, the Church, and the Global Stage
For Trump, the optics of an American pope might have initially seemed like a win. But Leo XIV’s past statements and focus on social justice don’t align with MAGA theology. In fact, some conservative pundits have openly wondered whether the new pope will be a vocal critic of the right-wing nationalist movements that have surged in the West, including Trumpism.
Trump himself has remained relatively quiet since his congratulatory post. Perhaps he senses that Leo’s papacy won’t be one he can co-opt or claim.
“This isn’t about America,” said Vatican correspondent Christopher Lamb. “This is about the Church finding a moral compass in a world that’s losing its bearings.”
The Bigger Picture
In a world where nearly everything gets filtered through political ideology—where even masks and vaccines became partisan flashpoints—the election of a new pope can feel like just another battle in the culture war. But that misses the point.
Catholicism isn’t red or blue. It’s global. It’s centuries old. And it’s messy, complicated, and often frustrating in its pace of change. Pope Leo XIV steps into a role that demands pastoral care, moral clarity, and the ability to unify across continents, languages, and beliefs.
Whether he’ll succeed remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: his election reminds us that even in an age defined by division, faith still has the power to surprise us.
Final Word
The world didn’t just gain a pope. It gained a voice—soft but firm, American but universal, progressive but grounded in tradition. Pope Leo XIV is not Trump’s pope. He’s not anyone’s pope in the political sense.
He’s the Church’s.
And maybe, in this era of bluster and noise, that’s exactly what we need.
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