The new Pope, formerly Cardinal Prevost, will be known as Pope Leo XIV. Is it too early to know the significance of this name? 09/05/2025

One of the joys of watching a papal election – beyond the extraordinary and weirdly gripping choreography and theatre of the whole affair – is its unpredictability, and thus the sheer space there is for speculation.

How much should we read into the fact that the new pope, formerly known as Cardinal Prevost, took time to speak in Spanish and talk about Peru in his opening address? What can we take from the fact that he retweeted an article in the National Catholic Reporter entitled “JD Vance is wrong: Jesus doesn’t ask us to rank our love for others”? What should we make of the fact that he appeared wearing the traditional mozetta, which his predecessor had eschewed in 2013?

Not sure. No idea. Don’t know.

In amidst all this, one further question is why did he choose the name Leo? It’s a good question because the choice of name is one of the few hard “statements” that a new pope can make in his opening moments. It doesn’t signal everything, but it’s clearly not arbitrary. Cardinal Ratzinger chose the name Benedict in homage to Benedict of Nursia, founder of the Benedictine Order and first patron saint of Europe, and in memory of Benedict XV, who was pope during World War I, thereby signalling his interest in the evangelization of Europe. Cardinal Bergoglio took the name Francis in honour of St. Francis of Assisi, famed for his humility, poverty, and love of all creatures, thereby signaling an interest in creation that became fully visible in his encyclical Laudato Si’.

The honest answer to the question of why Cardinal Prevost chose the name Leo is “We don’t know”. But here are two suggestions.

Leo I was bishop of Rome during a period of extraordinary political turmoil in the mid fifth century. The known world’s greatest power was crumbling, violent armies threatened from the north and the east, and Rome was beset by refugees and poverty. Leo energised the Church’s response in these inauspicious times, but he also went further, crossing the line, so to speak, in order to meet and negotiate with the infamous, hostile Attila the Hun. Although we don’t know much about the content of his negotiations, they appear to have been successful, and Attila withdrew from Rome. The whole enterprise must have been… a risk.

Leo XIII was elected in 1878, at a time of near–comparable turbulence. The forces of capital and labour, liberalism and socialism, the individual and the state, modernity and tradition, materialism and the spirit faced off against one another, with extreme distrust, bordering on hatred, sometimes slipping into violence. The Church was seen by many as part of the problem in all this, all too often siding with the forces of wealth and tradition, despite its rhetoric about care for the poor.

Into these choppy waters, Leo launched a remarkable craft. The first modern use of an encyclical – originally just meaning “circulating letter” but coming to mean a papal letter to bishops and beyond on matters of doctrine or moral – is considered to be Pope Benedict XIV’s Ubi Primum issued in 1740. But Leo XIII is credited with starting (what came to be known as) the modern tradition of Catholic Social Teaching, with the encyclical Rerum Novarum on the “Rights and Duties of Capital and Labor”. “The elements of the conflict now raging are unmistakable,” the encyclical began, “in the enormous fortunes of some few individuals, and the utter poverty of the masses.”

Rerum Novarum was (and remains) a remarkable document (beginning a remarkable tradition) which sought to bridge many of these chasms. It was very careful to talk about the duties of capital and labour. It articulated a relational understanding of the human person that avoided the extremes of individualism and collectivism. But in doing so, it did more than just reach across the divide. It made a powerful and provocative case for workers’ rights.

“To sum up,” it concluded, “we may lay it down as a general and lasting law that working men’s associations should be so organized and governed as to furnish the best and most suitable means for attaining what is aimed at, that is to say, for helping each individual member to better his condition to the utmost in body, soul, and property.” In a world in which unions were often feared, loathed and even banned as dangerously revolutionary, this was itself revolutionary stuff.

Both Leo I and Leo XIII were not only bridge builders, working for peace, reconciliation and a stable and fair path forward in difficult times. They travelled across those bridges, to potentially hostile territory, and make risky gestures to enable that peace. In the choice of his papal name, Cardinal Prevost may be signalling his willingness to do that same. Alternatively, he may not be. We’ll see.

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