On Thursday, May 8, the day Pope Leo XIV was elected, I was in Superior for two interviews. The first was at St. Anthony’s Church in Allouez to interview Knights of Columbus members of Council #499 celebrating their 125th anniversary this year. While we talked, other Knights and women of the parish were preparing ingredients for their pasty fundraiser with a livestream of the conclave in the background. The second sighting of black smoke came about 10 minutes after 10 a.m.
My second interviewee had to cancel, and I decided to find a café where I could work and keep tabs on the next smoke signal. I could hardly believe when, sitting down in a booth and pulling out my phone, there was white smoke! Text messages were flying back and forth with my sister who lives in Rome, and I was watching live updates from her social media account. I could feel the anticipation in the faces of those present in St. Peter’s Square in the pounding of my own chest. Switching between a few different YouTube channels, I chose the simpler coverage of the official Vatican Media channel. To be honest, the conjecturing by EWTN correspondents felt out of place, as the cardinals had already chosen St. Peter’s next successor. I didn’t need to figure out who it would be – I just wanted to accompany the church at her heart.
Following the Vatican’s coverage, I was able to allow my mind to quiet in confident prayer that I would love and embrace whomever our next pope was. One of the Vatican commentators reflected on the Easter season, the liturgical readings of the early church in Acts of the Apostles and commented on the “moment of ecclesia” they were witnessing, flags of countless nations being flown among a sea of anxious and hopeful faces.
I felt as if a weight was lifting, that sense of being orphaned at the death of Pope Francis. Even if I didn’t always understand some of his words and actions, I had sincere love and appreciation for him as the Holy Father and many of the wonderful teachings and examples he gave us. In the days that followed his funeral, I fell even more in love with the universal Catholic Church, reading about cardinals on various “papabile” lists. Seeing how the world and especially non-Catholics and even non-Christians mourned the loss of “the people’s pope,” I could really value Francis’ reaching out to the peripheries. I was amazed by the experience of these churchmen and humbled to learn of the work that the church is doing not only among faithful globally, but at the service of humanity in both the first- and developing world. I know many of us prayed for a new leader who, without losing that open and invitational stance, would reach out to the faithful wanting more clarification of the church’s teaching – a strong of sense of offering to the world what we have as the Body of Christ, not a setting aside of what might cause discomfort in the name of Christian charity and compassion, of evangelizing souls at the same time that we care for humans’ dignity.
As I waited, my mind moved to the man for whom the entire world was waiting and the weight he must be feeling at accepting their vote of confidence in him as the Holy Spirit’s choice to lead the church. As the sun dipped behind St. Peter’s Basilica and the building’s shadow extended like a mantle over the crowds embraced within the colonnade, it felt as if the Son of God was reminding us that his presence surely remains in the church he entrusted to Peter.
My last reflection before the red curtain finally rustled and the anticipated “Habemus Papam” resounded was to wonder if we – all those who had been so attentive to the conclave and news out of Rome in those last days – would be as attentive to praying for the new pope as we had during his election process. To wonder if we would pay as close attention to his words as we had hung on the words of those trying to guess who the cardinals might tap as successor of Peter.
Shivering and with goosebumps, I watched in shock and audibly gasped as Cardinal Robert Prevost emerged, serenely appearing to take it all in until the still silence came over the thousands gathered just before he extended the risen Christ’s greeting of peace. A peace, he said, “that is disarmed and disarming, humble and persevering.”
“Without fear, united hand in hand with God and each other, let us go forward,” he both encouraged and challenged. I have been repeating these words over and over as the world’s reception of this Holy Father “Bob” unfolds. Of course, there is joy and excitement as getting to know a new pope like a new member is received into a family. Of course, there is also trepidation as people in and outside of the church try to “figure” him out, his positions and stances, his priorities and the direction in which he will lead.
It’s hard not to feel a particular affection for a pope who’s called Bob, likes smartphone word games and feels so relatable to Midwesterners with the antics his brothers have shared. My family and friends have truly relished the secular reception connected to sports teams and Midwestern quips, but in my heart I continue returning to the Pope’s words, “Let us go forward.”
Pope Leo XIV, in his May 12 meeting with media professionals in Rome, again called to a new type of disarmament – communication that “does not seek consensus at all costs, does not use aggressive words … never separates the search for truth from love.” He invited to “reject the paradigm of war,” saying “no to the war of words and images.”
In the fray of fanfare, celebration and excitement, it could be easy to let this new Vicar of Christ’s word pass over us like that shadow from St. Peter’s that disappeared as night fell on May 8; but Pope Leo’s first words continue repeating Christ’s gift of peace but also echo Jesus’ reminder to take up our cross daily and follow him. In his first homily on May 9, he acknowledged his new calling as sacrificial, commented on the “practical atheism” of rejecting Jesus when his presence becomes “irksome,” where “other securities are preferred like technology, money, success, power, or pleasure.” These are the places Pope Leo is saying are precisely “where our missionary outreach is desperately needed.”
As we continue learning about the man, Robert Prevost, raised to this new platform of influence, let us keep our hearts open to the Holy Spirit’s insistent invitations in our own hearts. As Cardinal Prevost surrendered to God’s invitation to follow him serving the church and the world as Pope Leo XIV, let us pray to persevere in a disposition of openness to where God is calling each of personally to collaborate with his grace – for our own conversions and for the unique (small and big) missionary efforts we are called to in these historic times.
Jenny Snarski
