The smoke turned white. Bells rang out across the cobbled rooftops of Rome. The crowd in St. Peter’s Square held its breath.

When the new pope finally emerged on the loggia, it wasn’t an Italian, a Latin American, or, much to the crowd’s disappointment (and mine), an African archconservative like Robert Sarah.

He was the longest of long shots: a Chicago-born, Villanova-educated American.

Source: X. (To be fair, we’re unsure if he’s a Democrat.)

Cue the JD Vance assassination jokes. But more on him later.

Robert Francis Prevost, now Pope Leo XIV, is the first man from the United States to wear the fisherman's shoes. While some cheered the arrival of an American pontiff as a symbol of the global Church’s evolving balance of power, others—myself included—paused and asked: Which America does this pope represent?

Because in our deeply divided world, not all Americans believe in the same vision of Church, country, or truth.

A Wildcat in the Vatican

Most Harvard or Oxford grads are accustomed to seeing their own in positions of leadership. But I have to admit, there’s something surreal about seeing a fellow Villanova Wildcat in papal white. I spent four rather forgettable years at that Augustinian institution outside Philadelphia. So did Robert Prevost, but I’m sure he studied much harder than I did.

Class of ’77, Prevost graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics. After Villanova, he pursued a Master of Divinity at the Catholic Theological Union in Chicago before earning his Doctorate in Canon Law at Rome’s Angelicum, the Pontifical University of Saint Thomas Aquinas. He wasn’t just a parish priest; he was an intellectual, a canon lawyer, and an administrator with sharp political instincts.

But his path to the papacy didn’t run through Washington or Wall Street. It ran through the jungles of Peru.

Prevost spent over 20 years in Peru as a missionary with the Augustinians, eventually becoming Bishop of Chiclayo. He gained a reputation there as a reformer and pastor of the poor. He spoke fluent Spanish, connected with local communities, and rose steadily within the ecclesiastical ranks. Pope Francis appointed him Prefect of the Dicastery for Bishops in 2023—a role that put him in charge of naming bishops across the globe.

Two years later, just short of 70 years old, he has become Pope Leo XIV.

A Name with Meaning

The choice of the name “Leo” is not insignificant.

The last Pope Leo—Leo XIII—reigned from 1878 to 1903 and is best remembered for his encyclical Rerum Novarum, which laid the groundwork for Catholic social teaching. He tried to reconcile the Church with the modern world without capitulating to socialism or capitalism. He also cracked down on modernism and Freemasonry. (I mentioned Leo XIII in yesterday’s Morning Reckoning on inheritance.)

By choosing “Leo,” Prevost signals continuity with a papal tradition that’s both socially conscious and doctrinally firm—or so it would seem.

But like everything in Rome, symbolism and substance don’t always align.

The Shadow of Clerical Abuse

For all his charisma, humility, and missionary credentials, Leo XIV arrives at the throne of St. Peter with serious baggage.

Reports have surfaced—dating back to his time in both Chiclayo and in his native Illinois—that Prevost failed to act decisively on multiple clerical abuse allegations. While no direct cover-up has been proven, several whistleblowers allege that he relied heavily on internal reviews, avoided public rebukes of accused priests, and emphasized “healing” over accountability.

Sound familiar?

It’s the same playbook we've seen from too many bishops and cardinals over the past two decades, and it's precisely why so many of the faithful no longer trust their shepherds. The laity has been screaming for transparency, and the Vatican keeps whispering about “prudence.”

We were told this time would be different. That this [next] pope would finally confront the rot head-on.

But Prevost's election—despite this track record—raises doubts about whether the Curia is truly interested in cleaning house or merely maintaining control.

The JD Vance Flap: Ordo Amoris on Trial

Then there’s the curious case of Pope Leo XIV’s public rebuke of U.S. Vice President JD Vance—a devout Catholic who recently invoked ordo amoris (the “order of love”) in a televised spat with British politician Rory Stewart. I reviewed the matter here.

Vance's argument, drawn from St. Augustine and expanded by Aquinas, was simple: love must be ordered. One must love God first, then family, then nation. You cannot claim to love “the world” if you abandon your people.

It was a theological hammer blow against the cosmopolitan globalism Stewart represents—the same kind of rootless idealism that turns borders into bigotry and patriotism into sin.

And yet… Pope Leo XIV sided with Stewart.

In an official Vatican press release, he criticized the “weaponization of theology for political ends” and said “Christian love must be universal, not hierarchical.”

Come again?

Did Augustine not write that disordered love leads to ruin? Did Aquinas not argue that natural duties take precedence over abstract causes?

This wasn’t just a philosophical disagreement. It was an act of theological gaslighting. And it reveals something deeply troubling about the direction this papacy might take.

The Danger of a “Soft Globalism” Papacy

If Francis was the pope of the margins, Leo XIV may well be the pope of the managerial class.

He speaks the language of inclusion. He elevates “dialogue” over doctrine. He prioritizes systems over souls.

That may win headlines in La Repubblica and The New York Times. It may curry favor with the secular elite. But it will do little to restore the Church's moral authority—especially in the West, where belief is collapsing and parish pews sit empty.

The Church doesn’t need another United Nations spokesman. It needs a rock, a confessor, and a martyr-in-waiting.

For all his gifts, Pope Leo XIV has yet to show he’s willing to be that man. And yet, we must give the man a chance.

Hope—And Hard Truths

Still, the papacy has a way of changing men.

John Paul II was an unknown Polish cardinal who became the most consequential pope in a century. Benedict XVI was a shy academic who became a tireless defender of truth in a cynical age. Even Francis, polarizing though he was, managed to redirect global attention toward the Church’s social mission.

Perhaps Pope Leo XIV will surprise us.

Maybe he will confront the abuse crisis head-on, defend Catholic anthropology against technocracy's encroachments, or rediscover the ordo amoris that has guided Christian civilization for 2,000 years.

But we shouldn’t wait around to find out.

The Church isn’t a corporation. It isn’t a brand. And it’s certainly not an NGO with incense.

It is the mystical body of Christ, and it requires leaders who understand that rightly ordered love is the only thing that can save us.

From one Villanova man to another: Holy Father, may your papacy be defined not by accommodation, but by courage… Especially the courage to be disliked at times.

Have a wonderful weekend!