The Catholic Herald
By Andrew Cusack
The nine months since the unexpected elevation
of Cardinal Robert Prevost to the papacy as Pope Leo XIV have given the Church
and the wider world an opportunity to understand a little better this
unassuming Augustinian – the first American to occupy the ancient throne of
Peter. As a bishop in rural Peru, Prevost tended to his flock unobtrusively,
away from the glare of the press or commentariat. When he emerged on the
balcony of St Peter’s Basilica to give his first blessing as supreme pontiff,
the prognosticators had precious little to go on. By now, Leo’s words and his
moments of silence, his actions and deliberate restraint, give clues as to the
man, his leadership and the tone of his papacy.
In governing the Church, Leo’s reign so far
has been in marked contrast to that of his immediate predecessor. Where Francis
was ever ready to shoot from the hip and deliver an offhand comment to an eager
and waiting press corps, the new pontiff exudes a measured calm. Improvisations
are precious few, with Leo giving a sense that his words are weighed rather than
scattered. While he did speak with reporters on the flights to and from his
official visit to Turkey and Lebanon, Leo has generally retreated from the
paparazzi papacy of Francis.
There have been hiccoughs along the way. Last
September, Leo was caught off guard when confronted by a reporter about
Cardinal Cupich’s plan to give a lifetime achievement award to the vehemently
pro-abortion Senator Dick Durbin of the Pope’s home state of Illinois, based on
the politician’s work on immigration reform. Leo clearly had no knowledge of
the award, admitting he was “not terribly familiar with the particular case”
and continuing to express the view that dealing with life issues in politics
can be incredibly complex. After some days, a resolution to the crisis was
found by which Senator Durbin decided he would not accept the award, but
Cupich’s initial decision and the reporter’s question clearly left the Pope
embarrassed.
Both Leo and his predecessor are marked by
informality – but in very different ways. Francis’s informality seemed edged
with intent and purpose, whereas Leo’s seems natural and unaffected. This
allows Leo to achieve a reassertion of papal reserve without coming across as
cold or distant, while leaving some Vatican watchers struggling to decode him.
The Argentine pope gave his pontificate the full force of his personality,
while his American successor has leant further into prioritising the
institutional authority of his office over his own individuality in his public
dealings.
A more consequential shift may lie less in the
personality of the pontiff than in the internal psychological climate of the
Church in response to it. Speaking to clergy on the front lines of parish life,
one repeatedly encounters a word that would have been used far more sparingly a
year ago: relief. The volatility of the Francis years sometimes caused confusion
for the faithful and consternation for many priests left to pick up the pieces
when off-the-cuff remarks to journalists were singled out for heightened
attention.
Far worse was the printing of things he did
not say at all. Pope Francis insisted on granting multiple interviews to the
now deceased journalist Eugenio Scalfari, an atheist veteran of the Italian
press and one of the co-founders of the leftist daily La Repubblica.
After the first of these interviews was published, the Vatican press office was
forced to concede there were errors in the journalist’s record of the
encounter. Scalfari admitted he neither took notes during the interview nor
tape recorded it. It is difficult to interpret Francis’s decision to grant
multiple further (presumably unrecorded) interviews to Scalfari – including one
in which the reporter claimed Pope Francis had doubted the existence of hell –
as anything less than extreme carelessness.
The sense of relief attested to by clergy is
not born of ideological triumph but of the easing of volatility. Leo’s first
few months have coincided with what might be termed a decompression phase – a
lowering of institutional blood pressure after a decade lived at rhetorical and
administrative intensity. The subtleties of tone have played a large part in
this recalibration.
Francis often spoke of priesthood in
corrective terms with a negative, scolding aura – warning against careerism,
clericalism, rigidity or spiritual worldliness. The critiques were not without
foundation, but their cumulative effect on many faithful priests was wearying.
Leo has adopted a markedly different register, as attested in his February 2026
letter to the clergy of Madrid in which he compared the priesthood to the
cathedral of the Spanish capital.
“By contemplating its façade,” His Holiness
wrote, “we already learn something essential. It is the first thing one sees,
and yet it does not say everything: it points, it suggests, it invites. In the
same way, the priest does not live to put himself on display, but neither does
he live to hide. His life is called to be visible, coherent and recognisable,
even when it is not always understood. The façade does not exist for its own
sake: it leads inside. In the same way, the priest is never an end in himself.
His entire life is called to refer to God and to accompany the passage towards
the Mystery, without usurping its place.”
The Pope developed his theme further,
describing the various architectural features of the cathedral and how they
align with the nature of the priesthood and the life of the Church. When he
speaks of priests, Leo tends to do so aspirationally rather than admonishingly
– presenting the beauty of the vocation without being naive about its dangers.
This rebalancing of tone matters because the
priesthood is already an exposed vocation. Clergy live publicly sacrificial
lives in cultures that are at best indifferent and at worst openly hostile to
their role. Where priests feel themselves rhetorically mistrusted by their own
ecclesiastical leadership, morale erodes quickly. One priest I spoke to
described the phenomenon as similar to failures in marriage: contempt, rather
than open conflict, is the surest sign of breakdown. Even occasional papal
remarks that seemed to caricature priestly motivations had disproportionate
psychological effect in our well-connected age. Leo’s language, by contrast,
has restored a presumption of goodwill and the priesthood as something to
cherish and celebrate.
This is not to suggest that Leo is
uninterested in reform or blind to clerical transgressions, but he appears to
believe that priestly renewal begins with confidence rather than chastisement.
In this sense he is less a diagnostic preacher than a formative one. He does
not possess the deep theological virtuosity of Benedict XVI, but he exhibits a
reflective depth that commands attention.
Large parts of the Church continue to face the
challenge of stubbornly low numbers when it comes to attracting and fostering
vocations to the priesthood. Western Europe and North America continue to experience
contraction, while parts of Africa and Asia display resilience or growth.
Previous pontificates produced discernible morale effects – a modest “Benedict
bounce” in certain dioceses followed by a more complex “Francis effect”,
energising missionary discourse but sometimes unsettling traditional seminary
pipelines. It is far too early to identify a “Leo effect”, but vocations
directors and seminary rectors will be watching closely. It takes time to form
and foster a vocation to the priesthood. Understandably, vocational confidence
tends to lag behind pontifical tone by several years, and during Francis’s
pontificate, orders often had greater success than dioceses in recruiting young
men.
Parallel to the cooling of clerical anxiety
has been a reduction in the factional temperature within the Church. Over the
past decade, papal allegiance acted as a proxy for ecclesial identity.
Catholics spoke, only half jokingly, of “Francis Catholics” and their
opponents. Leo is defining his pontificate neither as the perpetuation of his
immediate predecessor’s nor as a repudiation of it. Acting as the calm
“centrist dad” of pontiffs denies both Francis’s admirers and detractors the
polarity that undermines the health and unity of the Body of Christ.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the
handling of liturgical tensions. The question of the Extraordinary Form, so
incendiary in recent years, has not vanished, but neither has it dominated
Leo’s early governance. There has been no theatrical revisiting of restrictions,
nor any appetite for juridical escalation. The temperature has simply been
allowed to fall. Several bishops have interpreted this not as indifference but
as an invitation to a more pastoral – rather than ideological – management of
the question.
The Society of St Pius X remains the most
deeply charged unresolved file. Francis’s reign beheld both progress and
setbacks in the move to remove the Society’s awkward and irregular status. That
irregularity has not been resolved, and their continued objections to the
post-conciliar liturgy complicate any settlement. Leo’s instincts appear
conciliatory – he is by temperament a bridge builder – but the prospect of
further illicit episcopal consecrations by the SSPX is a serious challenge to
the new pontificate. How he proceeds here will offer one of the clearest
windows into his conflict-resolution model: whether unity is pursued through
incremental concession, juridical clarity, unguarded generosity or patient
stalemate.
The choice of Erik Varden – the Trappist monk
and Bishop of Trondheim – to lead this year’s Lenten retreats for the Roman
Curia is among the more revealing indications to date of Pope Leo’s liturgical
disposition. A native Norwegian, Varden was received into the Church while
still a teenager studying at Cambridge, where he remained to complete a
doctorate in theology before entering the English Trappist abbey of Mount Saint
Bernard in Leicestershire in 2002.
The polymathic monk went on to teach Syriac,
monastic history and Christian anthropology at the Anselmianum in Rome, as well
as studying music under the late Gregorian chant expert Mary Berry. In 2015, he
was elected abbot of Mount Saint Bernard, but was called back to his native
land in 2019 to serve as bishop of the territorial prelature of Trondheim. In
that role, as well as in his monastic career, Varden has proved a friendly
advocate for the faithful attached to the traditional rites of the Church’s
liturgy.
Varden is no triumphalist reactionary. He
moves with ease in ecumenical circles and last year gave a Lenten reflection on
suffering at the invitation of the Anglican St Paul’s Cathedral in London. His
brother bishops across Scandinavia testify likewise to his collegiality, having
elected Varden president of the Nordic Bishops’ Conference. That a figure so
openly sympathetic to traditionalists has been chosen to preach reflections to
the Vatican’s highest-ranking clerics is therefore significant – while also
characteristic of the reigning pontiff’s gentler, more diplomatic mode of governance.
If Leo’s rhetorical posture is far from
combative, it would still be a mistake to confuse tonal moderation with
doctrinal elasticity. Those close to him describe a man disinclined to
culture-war theatrics yet entirely prepared to defend doctrinal boundaries when
pressed.
In interpreting Vatican II, Leo has adopted a
hermeneutic closely aligned with Benedict XVI’s thesis of continuity. He cites
the Bavarian pope more frequently than Francis did in conciliar contexts,
evoking development rather than rupture. These quotations and the thinking
behind them have the potential to develop into a catechetical initiative aimed
at recovering Vatican II from both reactionary dismissal and progressive
overextension, reanchoring the Council within the Church’s longer doctrinal
arc.
Germany remains the most structurally
sensitive potential field of battle. The proposals of the German “Synodal Way”
– touching governance, sexuality and sacramental theology – pose not merely
disciplinary but ecclesiological questions. Previous suggestions put forward by
the process – and greenlit by some bishops – include allowing divorced and
remarried Catholics, as well as Protestants married to Catholics, to receive
the Eucharist; blessing non-traditional “unions” that fall short of the
validity of marriage; and even reopening the question of admitting women to
ordained ministry.
To be fair to Pope Francis, his reactions to
these proposals varied from clearly dismissing them to firm and outright
opposition. Papal leadership does not seem to have produced any further clarity
of thinking on the part of liberal laity involved in the German synodal process
and the bishops who support them. Even though Archbishop Woelki of Berlin
proclaimed that, for him, the Synodal Way is “over”, the final assembly of
the project voted to establish a new permanent conference of laity and bishops
to cement the process into the organisational structure of the Church in
Germany. This proposal awaits Vatican endorsement or disapproval.
Leo has already shown a willingness to speak
with unusual directness when doctrinal integrity is perceived to be at stake.
During remarks on a return flight from the eastern Mediterranean, he spoke of
the need to make sure the Synodal Way “does not … break away from what needs to
be considered as the pathway of the universal Church” – language more upfront
than his usual register. It signalled that while he prefers de-escalation, he
will not preside over doctrinal fragmentation.
Administrative reform, particularly financial
transparency, remains an expectation attached to Leo’s American background. The
reputation for managerial rigour that often – but far from universally –
accompanies American ecclesiastical leadership has not yet translated into
headline reforms. Financial governance appears to sit in the queue behind other
priorities, and previous champions of transparency like the late Cardinal Pell
were left with their fingers seriously burned by those with something to hide.
Another challenge likely to arise during the
next years of Leo’s papacy is the question of institutional Catholic identity.
From his time in Peru, Pope Leo will know the case of the Pontifical Catholic
University of Peru in Lima. In the 2010s, the 20,000-student institution was
placed under visitation for failing to implement Pope St John Paul II’s 1991
exhortation Ex Corde Ecclesiae. It was stripped of its pontifical
and Catholic status for four years, until 2016, and the underlying disputes
remain only partially resolved.
In the Netherlands, Radboud University –
founded in the 1920s as the first Dutch Catholic university since the
Reformation – has likewise faced scrutiny over its Catholic identity. In 2020,
the Dutch bishops clashed with the university over board appointments they
judged insufficiently Catholic, fearing the erosion of an institution they had
long sponsored. When dialogue failed, the bishops removed its Catholic status,
though an appeal to Rome saw the designation restored in 2022.
In both Peru and the Netherlands, formal
settlements have masked unresolved tensions, exposing how fragile Catholic
designation becomes when doctrinal accountability weakens. If these or other
cases come up, Leo’s Vatican will face a familiar dilemma: enforce identity and
risk rupture, or tolerate drift and risk dilution. Failing a test case arising,
institutions may be left to retain Catholic nomenclature while continuing to
hollow out their substance.
Schools face a related, more practical crisis:
the shortage of Catholic teachers and leadership capable of transmitting the
Faith with conviction. Leo has framed education chiefly in anthropological
rather than ideological terms, reaffirming in an apostolic letter last year
that the family is the primary locus of formation. The many schools and other
instructional institutions under the Church’s umbrella nonetheless remain
widely respected but are intended as partners to parents in raising the next
generation of Catholics. The horizon is crowded with potential flashpoints
across continents: religious liberty litigation, educational autonomy,
bioethical regulation and political disputes over sex and gender.
In the Roman Curia, Leo has largely retained
the personnel he inherited from Francis. Having himself served as prefect of
the Dicastery for Bishops, he appointed Archbishop Filippo Iannone – a canon
lawyer and seasoned Vatican jurist – as his successor, signalling a willingness
to rely on capable insiders.
He has also continued Francis’s practice of
elevating women in religious life to senior curial roles, appointing Sister
Tiziana Merletti as secretary of the Dicastery for Institutes of Consecrated
Life, working alongside Prefect Sister Simona Brambilla.
Most major offices remain in the hands of
Francis appointees: Cardinal Parolin at the Secretariat of State; Cardinal
Fernández at the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith; Cardinal Roche at
Divine Worship; and Cardinal Czerny at Integral Human Development. Alongside
them sits Matteo Bruni, the English-born lay head of the Vatican press office –
a native English speaker whose presence offers practical advantages for an
American pope.
Under Praedicate Evangelium,
curial heads submit their resignations when they reach the age of 75. Czerny is
nearing 80 and Roche reached the threshold last year, while Parolin and Fernández
are younger. Leo’s handling of these roles – likely after the summer recess at
Castel Gandolfo – will offer an early indication of his governing instincts.
The Secretariat of State remains the Curia’s
powerhouse. Parolin is supported by deputy Edgar Peña Parra and foreign
minister Archbishop Paul Gallagher. Parolin helped architect the Vatican’s 2018
accord with Beijing on episcopal appointments, an opaque agreement due for
renewal in 2028. Leo’s own China posture is still difficult to read, though the
early enactment of one diocesan restructuring in China planned during Francis’s
pontificate suggests continuity for the moment.
Recent mid-level appointments within the
Secretariat – reportedly made without the backing of Peña Parra or Gallagher –
have fuelled speculation about future changes. Their eventual successors will
help shape the direction of the Vatican’s most powerful department.
On a diplomatic and international level, the
Pope’s travel plans will carry weight. A visit to Argentina would act as a
gesture of pastoral continuity towards Francis’s homeland and perhaps a subtle
act of reconciliation with constituencies there who felt overlooked by the late
pope. Conversely, an early visit to the United States has been ruled out,
perhaps to avoid stealing the thunder during celebrations of the 250th
anniversary of the Declaration of Independence but also lest the papacy be seen
to tilt geopolitically towards its incumbent’s native land.
Taken together, these strands suggest that
Leo’s first year has been far from revolutionary – or reactionary – in content,
but things are moving slowly and quietly. There have been no sweeping doctrinal
reversals, no dramatic institutional purges, no manifesto encyclicals
redefining the Church’s direction. Instead, there has been a change in mood and
timbre: authority exercised quietly and conflict cooled rather than inflamed.
It might be tempting, particularly for
commentators habituated to a period of papal dynamism, to mistake this for
inertia. The history of the papacy, however, suggests that stabilisation phases
often precede structural reform. Before a pontiff can move decisively, he must
render the Church governable. Leo appears to understand this instinctively. He
has slowed the tempo not necessarily because he lacks a vision, but because he
recognises that pace itself had become destabilising.
The coming years will test whether this “slow
papacy” can translate atmosphere into architecture of the Church’s life. Curial
retirements and the choice of their successors will reveal his personnel
instincts. The handling of the SSPX will demonstrate his model of conflict
resolution. German synodality will almost certainly test his doctrinal red
lines.
After a decade in which the Church often felt
as though it lived in a state of tension, Leo has reintroduced rhythm, reserve
and a little space for reflection. Whether that calm proves merely transitory
or the foundation for something more substantial will determine how history
ultimately judges his pontificate.
Source: https://thecatholicherald.com/article/the-art-of-the-slow-papacy
