When I heard he took the name Leo, I couldn’t help but grin.
The last Pope Leo gave us the groundbreaking encyclical “Rerum novarum.” He wants to build on Leo XIII’s legacy, I thought. Like Francis before him, he’s grounding us in our great tradition of Catholic social teaching.
“Rerurm novarum,” after all, is considered the foundational document in the modern era of Catholic social thought. Published in 1891, Leo XIII was writing against the backdrop of the industrial revolution. He was concerned with the right to dignified labor and the just treatment of workers.
In his first formal address this past Saturday, May 10, our new Chicago-born pope confirmed this thinking. “Pope Leo XIII…addressed the social question in the context of the first great industrial revolution. Today, the church offers to all her treasure of social teaching in response to another industrial revolution and the developments of artificial intelligence.” The question of human dignity in the era of artificial intelligence is a pressing one.
But Leo XIII wasn’t the first Pope Leo. History — and basic counting — tell us that there were at least a dozen Leos before lucky number thirteen arrived on the scene. What might we learn from them?
In this week or so since the conclusion of the conclave, I’ve found myself most enchanted by the story of the original Pope Leo: the first pontiff of his name, declared both a saint (in 461) and a Doctor of the Church (in 1754).
In 452, Rome was under threat of invasion by Attila the Hun. Pope St. Leo the Great rode out to meet the would-be conqueror with nothing but his papal attire and his faith in the God who loved him. Though we do not know exactly what words were exchanged, we do know that Attila spared Rome. As a result, Leo was hailed as a great peacemaker and diplomat.
The great pope had less success when met by the invading Vandal army — led by King Genseric — in 455. Again, Leo rode out to meet the conqueror, but his pleas for peace failed. Rome was sacked. Leo I was able to convince Genseric to spare some of the holiest places in the city, though: the Archbasilica of St. John Lateran and the Basilicas of Sts. Peter and Paul. In those sacred temples, citizens took refuge. The pope saved as many lives as he could. Leo himself then played a pivotal role in rebuilding and restoring the city in the invasion’s aftermath.
From the very first moment — the very first scene, in fact — of his papacy, Pope Leo XIV has spoken of peace. “Peace be with you all,” he declared from the balcony — a peace, he hoped, that would resound in each of our hearts.
“It is the peace of the risen Christ,” the pope continued. “A peace that is unarmed and disarming, humble and persevering. A peace that comes from God, the God who loves us all, unconditionally.”
Leo, I think, is describing quite well the kind of peace that motivated his earliest namesake: unarmed, disarming, humble and persevering. But Leo XIV is clearly not limiting his call to peace as one trapped in the distant past. On Sunday, the pope turned his prayer to countless arenas of violence that plague our world today: Ukraine, Gaza, India, Pakistan — “How many other conflicts are there in the world?” he lamented.
In these dawning moments of a new papacy, we already hear the echoing cries for peace and justice in our world, and a desire that through true peace, we might find full human flourishing.
I, for one, am deeply struck by this image of Leo the Great standing unarmed, humble and persistent, before warmongers who desire violence and conquest. He quite literally goes out to encounter the other, to build bridges where there otherwise would be only destruction and debris. I wonder how Leo XIV will follow in the footsteps of this particular predecessor, what actions and gestures our new pope will take in his own efforts to build bridges of peace.
But I also know that we are all called to the work of peace, that peace is the fruit of persistent concern for the dignity of others. If there’s one thing I learned in writing my book, “Finding Peace Here and Now: How Ignatian Spirituality Leads Us to Healing and Wholeness,” it’s that we’re each called to the work of peace in our own place, in our own way, building upon our own unique set of skills, passions and experiences.
Few of us are likely to stand between would-be conquerors and the literal gates of our city. But each of us can, in the great tradition of Catholic social teaching, seek the good in and for one another, building up a society that protects and upholds the dignity in each of us and all creation.
Unarmed. Disarming. Humble. Persevering. Let these words be on our lips as we go out into the world intent on being and building peace.
