Reflections on Robert Prevost’s First Year as Pope Leo

The Dispatch: A Pope You Don’t Have To Think About Every Day, by George Weigel (Ethics & Public Policy Center):

Shortly after the funeral of Pope Francis last April 26, the First Things website began running an essay series in which Catholics around the world reflected on the kind of pope they hoped the impending conclave would elect. One of the most telling of those reflections was penned by Matthew Franck of Princeton’s Witherspoon Institute, a serious Catholic who wrote that he wanted a pope he didn’t have to think about every day: “I want a level of trust in the pope so high and solid that I need not concern myself most of the time with what is going on in Rome.” Which hadn’t been the case for the previous 12 years, Franck wrote, as “each headline, tweet, or rumor about something Francis had said or done—whether extemporaneously or deliberately—was cause for uttering the prayerful question, ‘dear Lord, what now?’” …

For the first 11 months of his pontificate, Pope Leo XIV gave Franck what he (and others) wanted: a pope they didn’t have to think about every day. That return to normalcy was signaled by the way the new bishop of Rome introduced himself to the church and the world on the night of May 8, 2025. For when he came out of the Hall of Benedictions onto the central loggia of the Basilica of St. Peter, the Chicago-born pope was dressed traditionally in papal mozzetta and stole. Asked on NBC what it meant that Leo XIV presented himself that way (in contrast to Francis, who wore a simple white cassock), I said it meant that the new pope understood that the office he had assumed had its own character, and that he was the servant of that office, not its master. And this portended a pope Catholics wouldn’t have to think about every day.

Which was indeed the case, until President Donald Trump erupted several times during the Easter season, denouncing Pope Leo for daring to raise concerns about the president’s Iranian adventure and posting an AI-generated image in which the 47^th president of the United States had seemingly morphed into Christ the Divine Physician, healing the sick while American eagles flew overhead. Instantaneously, the pope was daily news: Leo the un-Trump; Leo the anti-Trump; Leo who might, according to one particularly unhinged story in USA Today, become a presidential candidate in 2028, according to social media speculation.

The pope tried to put an end to this craziness several times. He insisted that he did not speak on world affairs as a politician (and still less a global umpire) but as a witness to gospel truths. He made quite clear that he would not be cowed by the Trump administration, even as he reminded the scribes and influencers that he did not pick a fight with the president. And in doing so, he suggested, if subtly, that there was something a bit awry about the endless media obsession with the president. Did everything and everyone in the world have to be parsed by reference to Donald J. Trump?

The question is well worth pondering, not least because Trump as Universal Explanatory Principle gravely distorts reality. And that includes the realities of the first year of Pope Leo.

The restoration of normal governance in the Vatican, and the reaffirmation of settled truths of Catholic faith, may not have the snap, crackle, and pop of a putative dog-and-cat fight between a pope and a president. But that restoration and that reaffirmation seem to me the most important stories of the first year of the pontificate of Leo XIV. …

In addition to slowly but consequentially restoring normalcy to the conduct of the papacy and the processes of governance in the Vatican, Leo XIV has quietly but just as consequentially reaffirmed classic Catholic teachings that seemed to be brought into question during the previous pontificate. Francis was widely praised as the pope of mercy; to some concerned Catholics, however, Francis’ singular focus on mercy in dealing with knotty issues of human relationships and sexual morality risked becoming detached from truths the church had long taught as essential to human happiness. On January 26, Pope Leo addressed the Roman Rota—one of the church’ s highest courts—at the beginning of the Vatican’s judicial year and, without histrionics, firmly underscored that compassion married to truth was the way the church dealt with delicate issues like the sacramental validity of marriages (a frequent issue for Rota decisions). …

There are settled truths of Catholic faith (like the truth that a sacramentally valid marriage is indissoluble); truth and compassion cannot be divorced; often the most charitable thing the church can do for confused and hurting souls is to help them understand the truth of their situation, which is the prerequisite to healing what is broken in a person or a relationship.

Thrust into the vortex of world affairs by events neither he nor anyone else could have imagined last May, Leo XIV has nonetheless laid down unmistakable markers that his priority as universal pastor of the Catholic Church is the renewal of Catholic faith so that the church can more effectively bring Christ to the world. That means the church engages the world in order to convert the world—a point undoubtedly understood by a man who spent two decades as a horseback-riding missionary in Peru.

The Dispatch: Faith Should Form Our Political Beliefs, Not Justify Them, by Andy Smarick (Manhattan Institute):

The recent scuffle between Pope Leo XIV and the Trump administration, Vice President J.D. Vance in particular, reveals a great deal about the role faith principles play in shaping (and not shaping) those in public life. This ugly episode confirms what our era has been teaching us: America would be far healthier if more of our leaders were faithful to principles instead of partisanship, pique, or personal ambition.

For those of us born and raised into the Catholic Church, it’s tough to separate the teachings of the faith from the views we hold as adults. When your parents and extended family members are Catholic and when you’re going to weekly Mass and Sunday school, you are continuously, if subtly, shaped by the church’s principles and practices.

Sure, my ego wants to believe that I’m pro-life, favor school choice, support a strong civil society, and feel a duty to serve the public thanks to my reason. But the truth is I was formed by a religious tradition. And this particular religious tradition has values informed by centuries of scholarship and on-the-ground experience with the human condition and the challenges of public life.

No one could memorize all of the church’s social teachings, but a “cradle Catholic” has a lifetime of homilies, Bible readings, confirmation classes, and service projects to fall back on. Together, they give us a sense of the faith’s unbending commitment to the disadvantaged, its protectiveness of innocent human life, and rules about individuals’ interdependence and responsibilities. We also have a sense of humility: We know that the church’s positions existed long before us and don’t bend to our preferences. We come to know that the church earned its wisdom the hard way: Over the course of 2,000 years, it has dealt with countless monarchs, faced down dictators, provided aid to the poor and the sick, run hospitals and schools, witnessed the rise of democracy and the fall of empires, and experienced the costs of totalitarianism and war.

We also learn that the church’s views don’t neatly align with those of any political party or any contemporary public leader. A libertarian might not like the obligations associated with solidarity. A progressive might not like the distribution of authority required by subsidiarity. Those who appreciate the church’s opposition to capital punishment might be put off by its opposition to abortion and assisted suicide.

All of the above are simply the real-world consequences of being guided by a firm, venerable faith tradition while engaging in public life. …

[T]he church doesn’t exist to provide backing for whatever views an individual already holds. Its teachings must be understood as serving to shape, not justify, our positions.

During these polarized times when so many feel angry and unmoored, the church can understandably attract those looking for order, clarity, and authority. As such, some adherents can, unfortunately, attempt to use the faith’s teachings to sacralize their policy preferences and behavior. …

I admire Vance for his embrace of the church as an adult. I hope it brings him peace, strength, and meaning. I look forward to his upcoming book on his conversion. I do not question his faith. I hope that we all, myself included, get better at using the church’s teachings to strengthen our thinking about moral and governing matters. This is very different from deciding what we want and then looking to the faith for validation.

More broadly though, these incidents demonstrate that America needs more principles-based leaders. That means those whose political positions flow from values, not those who continuously massage values to justify what they want to do.