History was made this week in Vatican City, but not quietly. On May 8, 2025, Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost of Chicago was elected as the 267th pope of the Roman Catholic Church, taking the name Pope Leo XIV. This marks the first time an American has ascended to the papacy in the Church’s two-millennia history.
Born in Chicago in 1955, Pope Leo’s résumé reads like a catalogue of service: missionary work in Peru, academic leadership, and most recently, oversight of bishop appointments worldwide as Prefect of the Dicastery for Bishops. His rise is a testament to a life lived in and out of the margins—far from the marble floors of Rome, yet somehow always orbiting the Church’s center of power. His election reflects a Vatican willing, at last, to break with tradition and elevate an American—perhaps as a nod to a Church that’s hemorrhaging followers and struggling to restore moral authority.
But the timing is telling. The Catholic Church is not in a season of strength. In the U.S. and across the globe, the institution is still reckoning with the consequences of decades of sexual abuse and institutional cover-up. The wounds are not theoretical. In fact, they’re painfully real, especially in places like New Orleans, where the Archdiocese has spent the last five years mired in a bankruptcy case tied to abuse settlements. Just last month, a federal judge ordered the Archdiocese to explain why the case has stalled indefinitely. Survivors, advocates, and observers are all asking the same question: What is the Church hiding?
Leo XIV arrives at this moment not as a savior, but as a question mark. Can a pope from the United States—a country where Catholicism is increasingly politicized and splintered—offer unity to a fractured global Church? Or will he simply become the latest figurehead to inherit its long-standing dysfunction?
He steps into a deeply polarized environment. Under Pope Francis, the Church embraced a more inclusive tone, opening space for dialogue on climate justice, economic inequality, and LGBTQ inclusion. That shift sparked backlash, particularly among conservative U.S. bishops who have openly resisted Rome’s direction. The battle lines within American Catholicism are not subtle; and now, the papacy itself is caught within that battlefield.
This complicates Leo XIV’s role. An American pope may reenergize a fading Catholic identity in the U.S.—or he may further entrench the divisions already plaguing it. Either way, he will be expected to chart a path forward on everything from abuse reform to the Church’s stance on women’s leadership, LGBTQ rights, and its role in the political sphere. His American identity gives him a unique vantage point—but it also places him under a microscope.
There’s also the question of what it means, geopolitically, to have a pope from the world’s most powerful nation. Historically, the Vatican has avoided too much alignment with global superpowers. Now, it must navigate the optics of having its moral leader shaped by a country whose international footprint is marked as much by military power and economic inequality as it is by democratic values. For some, this represents opportunity. For others, it’s a warning.
Here in Louisiana, where the Archdiocese of New Orleans continues to withhold records, settle cases quietly, and deflect questions from victims and reporters alike, the appointment of a new pope is a test of credibility. If Leo XIV wants to restore trust he must start with truth, transparency, and action, not with sweeping gestures or theological rebranding,
None of this will be easy as the Catholic Church is a centuries-old institution built on ritual and hierarchy; but it is also a deeply human body capable of renewal, but not immune to failure. Leo XIV has been handed the reins of something immense and broken. Whether he can bind its wounds or simply manage its decline remains to be seen.
But the world is watching. And for once, it’s watching an American pope.
