Papal conclaves are a big deal. The one that elected Pope Leo XIV was only my third, as it was for everyone just shy of 50 years old. And, barring tragedy for either Pope Leo or myself, I only have maybe two or three more.
A papal conclave is the kind of major event a person only experiences a handful of times in their life. Such experiences take on a special significance in part because of the meaning of the event itself—but especially because of their rarity.
Hence the grand excitement over the election of Cardinal Prevost, now Pope Leo XIV. I confess, I have been caught up in it as well. The magnitude of the moment; the election of an American; the name—all of it felt historical, and it’s made being Catholic feel more fun than it has been since perhaps the last conclave.
But I’ve also looked askance at some of the celebrations within my own religion. It’s been a while since the last conclave, sure, but this one seemed a bit different somehow, in ways that often just felt weird.
For one, there was the immediate and gushing praise for the new pope before he even said a word. It’s what The Pillar called a Leonine honeymoon. As the lovely folks at The Pillar pointed out, it’s not a bad thing. Honeymoons are a natural and wholesome part of a budding relationship. A quick acceptance of our new leader, a rush of filial warmth for our new papa, and a curious desire to know the man under the tiara are all wonderful signs of the Holy Spirit within the faithful. And, to my mind, they are proper manifestations of such a “honeymoon” love in ecclesial life.
Nevertheless, I’ve perceived something off in these jubilations (even if only anecdotally). Warm joy is one thing. But many are celebrating how “providential” Leo’s election is—deeming him the man who is perfectly suited to lead us in this upcoming era—based only on the superficial factoids of our first glimpses of him. We take the fact that he’s American to mean he’ll be a good governor of the Vatican; or that he is a polyglot to show that he’ll unify a polarized Church; or even his choice of wardrobe to mean a departure from his predecessor.
Indeed, all these things are hopeful signs that Leo’s pontificate will progress in the direction that I, and many Catholics, think the Church needs to head at the moment. But these kinds of assertions seem shortsighted at this point in his reign. There seems to be a pent-up jubilation over whatever in Leo is different than Francis. He speaks different languages. He’s a different nationality. He wears different clothes. He’s not Francis—thanks be to God’s Providence!
But I can’t help but notice that Pope Leo hasn’t really done anything yet. Yes, there have been some early decisions that seem to make a statement about his intended future. But he has yet to make a really meaningful decree in his governance of the Church. And only after a body of such real work will we really be able to tell what “kind” of pontificate Leo will bring. We may find that he still is very much like Pope Francis.
Which is the other source of Pope Leo’s early praises. Just as many seem to be celebrating that our new pope isn’t Francis, many have already declared him to be in perfect continuity with his predecessor. Sure, he has worn silly red clothes and comported himself more toward the reverence of the office. But in substantial things, they say, he will be Pope Francis the second.
Both jubilations are grasping at straws. Pope Leo may depart from Francis; he may continue Francis; or he may forge a new, third path. I’m old enough to remember the election of Pope Francis and the predictions of his pontificate based only on his name and white cassock. Time proved some of them true and many of them false. There can be value in such predictions; but celebrating them as if they are guaranteed is a recipe for disappointment.
This leads to the other problematic path for those (like me) who are a bit more jaded. It’s a “wait and see” approach, which withholds the celebration or even full religious submission to the new pope until we know he’s in line with our preferences. Let’s see how his curial appointments shake up; what he does about Rupnik; what he does about the Germans. Then we can celebrate him as our new pope, or declare him to indeed be my pope.
But this is also wrongheaded. Leo XIV is the pope right now; and as such, he is owed all the things we owe the pope from day one. Those things don’t include frothing praise at decrees he has yet to give, but they do include respect, ready submission, and good-hearted gladness that the Church, once again, has a successor to Peter on the throne.
