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244. The Puzzle of Pope Leo XIV. Towards a Geopolitics of the New Papacy

It is still too early to get an idea of ​​what Leo XIV’s papacy will be like. Only now are the first biographies starting to come out (e.g. Matthew Bunsun, Leo XIV. Portrait of the First American Pope, 2025; Christopher White, Pope Leo XIV. Inside the Conclave and the Dawn of a New Papacy, 2025; Antonio Preziosi, Leone XIV. La via disarmata e disarmante, 2025), generally with a hagiographic or journalistic tone. While Pope Prevost takes his first steps, many are starting to ask what his main directions and priorities will be.

For now, it is possible to move by clues and traces that need to be collected and interpreted. On the geopolitical front, the magazine Limes has tried to draw a conceptual map for what lies ahead for Pope Leo. The Roman Catholic Church, with the Vatican at its center, is also a player on the global chessboard; it represents 1.4 billion people (18% of the world’s population), has diplomatic relations with most countries, and has a say in the main documentation of global politics. It is not surprising that a geopolitical magazine dedicated an entire issue to it: The Puzzle of Pope Leo, Limes (5/2025).

The starting point is precisely the choice of the word “puzzle,” i.e. a picture to be guessed from the few available elements. Here are some suggestions from the various articles, many coming from political scientists, journalists, and (a few) theologians of moderate progressive culture, with the exception of R. Reno, editor of the conservative American magazine First Things.

First, the person of the pope is bearer of unusual traits: a “Latin Yankee,” a “Pan-American” man, a Euro-American, a personality with a “hybrid” cultural identity and a calm and determined character. A “lion” among other global lions (e.g. Trump, Putin, Xi Jinping). A son of the Fourth Rome (the USA) on the throne of the First Rome in a world where overall balances are being redefined in the presence of wars and threats of war. The initial impression is that, after the geopolitical shuffling of cards by Francis (who appeared hostile to Ukraine and Israel, subject of China, and emotionally distant from the US and Europe), Leo brings the boat of Peter to sail in the direction of the Atlanticism that was of John Paul II, slender towards the West and skeptical about the still “far” East (e.g. China). It is true that there would have been no Leo XIV without Francis, but the current pope is not a replica of the previous in the geopolitical positioning of the Church of Rome.

The choice of the name Leo is another clue that many observers focus on. Leo XIII, the predecessor in choosing the name, wrote the encyclical “Rerum Novarum” (1891), which opened the Catholic Church to the social question and living conditions of workers. Leo XIII inaugurated the era of the Social Doctrine of the Catholic Church. The analysts of Limes read in Prevost’s choice to call himself Leo the commitment to address the social issue par excellence of this generation: artificial intelligence (AI). There are already signs in this direction, but many expect an encyclical (i.e. the highest authoritative document by a Pope) dedicated to AI, believing that the Roman Catholic Church is the only global moral agency able to subvert the exclusive interests of the war industry and the techno-globalist powers.

Another piece of the Leo puzzle is its relationship with the USA and North American Catholicism. As is well known, Francis was not loved by a consistent part of American Catholics, and financial support for Rome’s budget has decreased significantly over the years, also due to American disaffection with Pope Francis. Now, Leo is asked to sew up the tear and restart the donations that the Catholic Church desperately needs for its bleeding budgets. Then there is the relationship with the US Administration, especially with the “catholic” vice president, J.D. Vance, who interprets a conservative Catholicism but is not exactly deferential towards ecclesiastical authorities. Soon after his election, there has been no lack of opportunities for polemics between Vance and the Vatican on migration policy and also on the interpretation of the ordo amoris, i.e. the differentiated responsibilities of Roman Catholic action. Leo XIV faces the challenge of resetting and re-establishing relationships, keeping together the legacy of Francis and the American Catholic system.

A final consideration needs to address the relationship with Protestantism, although limited to the US context. Many of the geopolitical issues at stake involve “ecumenical” relations with the Orthodox patriarchates of Moscow and Kiev, or inter-religious relations such as those with the Jewish world. But what about Protestantism? Many observers (by the way, all Catholic, some practicing, most nominal) note the state of “crisis” of American Protestantism: polarized, jagged, angry, flattened with or against Trump, under the shadow cone of politics rather than living in its own light. The crisis also has to do with the nationalist culture that, for them, is a child of Protestant individualism. In their view, in the fractured context of North American society, Catholic communitarianism (i.e. the Catholic insistence that human life is life-in-community in the context of the Catholic Church) would be better equipped than Protestant individualism to offer a prospect not only of economic wealth but also of social welfare. In this sense, “Rome alone” would be able to build a third way between the woke culture of the left and the nationalism of individualistic conservatism. There is an expectation that Pope Leo will be able to exert an attraction from Protestantism towards Roman Catholicism in American society. Evangelicals should be aware of these trends and consider Rome as a spiritual competitor rather than an ally, due to her different account of the gospel from the biblical one.

These analyses are not theological and do not grasp central elements of the papacy as an ecclesiastical institution which is based on doctrinal commitments. In this sense, they only grasp the “political” side of Rome but not her theological vision. However, they can help start to put together the pieces of the beginning of this pontificate puzzle.

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243. The Bishop of Rome. What is the Future of the Papacy?

The recent death of Pope Francis and the subsequent election of Leo XIV to the papal throne have reignited media interest in the papacy. Beyond the attention given to the personalities of individual Popes, what is the office of the Pope? What are his prerogatives according to the Roman Catholic Church? How does this institution fit into the global world and in the ecumenical relationships outside of Rome?

These questions are all considered in the newly released study document by the Vatican Dicastery for Promoting Christian Unity: “The Bishop of Rome. Primacy and Sinodality in the Ecumenical Dialogues and in the Responses to the Encyclical Ut Unum Sint” (2024; henceforth BoR). The 170 page text surveys the ongoing ecumenical dialogue concerning the role of the Pope and the exercise of the Petrine Ministry. Its remote context is the invitation made by Pope John Paul II exactly thirty years ago. In fact, in his 1995 encyclical “Ut Unum Sint,” the then Pope asked Church leaders and theologians “to find a way of exercising the primacy which, while in no way renouncing what is essential to its mission, is nonetheless open to a new situation” (n. 95).

On the one hand, in John Paul II’s view, the papacy was to be maintained in its essentials; on the other, it was presented as open and willing to rethink itself in fresh and accepted ways. Almost twenty years later, Francis spoke of his desire to see a “pastoral conversion” of the papacy (The Joy of the Gospel, 2013, n. 32) that would make it at the service of the whole of Christianity, indeed the whole world. Among other things, his insistence on referring to himself as “the Bishop of Rome,” rather than with other titles claiming universal authority, was a way to encourage such a process of acceptance.

The document brings together the fruits of the ecumenical dialogues on the ministry of the Pope in response to the invitation by John Paul II. It is not a synthesis of Roman Catholic teaching on the papacy, but rather a summary of the discussion generated by Ut Unun Sint, as expressed in 30 official responses and 50 documents that reference it. Its goal is to seek a form of the exercise of the papacy that is shared by all churches that participate in the ecumenical movement with the Roman Catholic Church, e.g. Eastern Orthodox, Oriental, Anglican, and historic Protestant.

BoR provides a state-of-the-art document where one can find important indications of the evolution of the papacy, with some insights on possible future outlooks. Here are some interesting findings.[1]

Infallibility?
Since its definition, the 1870 Roman Catholic dogma of papal infallibility has been a stumbling block between Rome and the other churches, on both sides of the East-West divide. As it was formulated then, this prerogative of the Pope simply could not be accepted by non-Catholics. However, BR suggests a way forward.
 
As far as the hermeneutics of Vatican I is concerned, it has become an accepted ecumenical principle to interpret it in the light of Vatican II (nn. 61 and 66) and therefore placing infallibility in the wider context of Vatican II ecclesiology. The latter stressed the collegiality of bishops (the Pope being one of them and never to be considered in isolation from them) and recognized a more active role for the laity in the life of the church. Vatican II’s ecclesiology underlines “communion” and considers the Pope as part of it. The infallibility promulgated at Vatican I should be “re-received” (n. 145), i.e. re-interpreted, against the background of Vatican II.
 
Then, BoR distinguishes between the text of the dogma of infallibility and its intention. The former may seem overly juridical and authoritarian, but the intention was to protect and serve the indefectibility of the whole Church (n. 70). This is a concern that can be shared by all ecumenical Christians. If Vatican I can be interpreted in this way, even non-Catholics may be prepared “to acknowledge papacy as a legitimate expression of the Petrine ministry of unity” (n. 73).
 
A Ministry of Unity in A Reunited Church
“Is a primacy for the whole Church necessary?” is the question that opens paragraph 75. Many ecumenical dialogues have recognized the need for it for three reasons.
 
First, the apostolic tradition. From the 4th century and definitely so from the 7th century, the See of Rome was considered “the first in the hierarchy” (n. 76), although, as already noted in an earlier section, this primacy is due to political reasons and not biblical ones. Rome was the capital of the empire, and the bishop of Rome began to be seen as presiding over the others because of the importance of the city of Rome in the Roman Empire (n. 78).
 
Second, the ecclesiological argument. For those churches that have an episcopalian form of government (i.e. led by a bishop), it is obvious that what happens at the local level should happen at the universal level. In other words, if a bishop is given authority over a local diocese, it is appropriate that the world as a whole has a bishop ruling over it.
 
Third, a pragmatic argument. Many churches readily admit “the need for global instruments of communion” (n. 84) that are capable of resolving conflicts between local churches and representing them before the global world. Some dialogues have also argued that the ministry of unity granted by the papal office would also serve a reinvigorated, common mission (n. 86).
 
Looking back at the history of the development of the papacy, BoR recalls what Joseph Ratzinger wrote in 1982, i.e. “Rome must not require more of the East than was formulated and lived during the first millennium” (n. 91). This is in line with John Paul II’s openness to change without altering the essentials of the papacy. Moreover, in the first millennium, “communion” was lived out in primarily informal ways, rather than being carried out within “clear structures” (n. 93). The authority of the Roman Pope was mainly characterized by a “primacy of honour” (n. 94).
 
How to overcome the gap between the primacy of honour (ecumenically acceptable by the East) and the primacy of jurisdiction (as it was developed in the second millennium by the Roman Catholic Church) remains an open question (n. 98). The way forward is to see how the “communal” (all,i.e. Christians), collegial (some, i.e. the bishops) and personal (one, i.e. the Pope) dimensions of church life interplay (n. 116) and find ways that are compatible with the different traditions. What BoR bears witness to is the reality that all ecumenical partners are willing to engage the issue constructively.

Three Key Steps for the Ecumenical Future of the Papacy
After surveying the main contents of BoR, it is time to look at the document within the broader context of the present-day ecumenical setting and to try to become acquainted with its theological narrative. According to the fruits of the ecumenical dialogue gathered in the document, the Papacy will have a future as a world-wide, religious institution at the service of the reunited Church. None of the ecumenical partners questions this prospect. It is a matter of how and when, not if and why. Gone are the times when, from both East and West, the Roman Catholic Papacy was seen as a non-biblical, insurmountable stumbling block that needed to be removed. It seems that if one wants to be “ecumenical” today, she needs to come to terms with a slightly modified Papacy in terms of its attitudes and titles, but with no change as far as the theological substance is concerned.
 
In order to appraise what is at stake, one needs to appreciate the trajectory that the Roman Catholic Church has been able to influence over the last 60 years since the Second Ecumenical Council (1962-1965). Here are three important steps that have given shape to the ecumenical framework behind BoR:

1. “Complementary,” no longer “conflicting”
It was the 1964 Vatican II document on ecumenism that said: “these various theological expressions (e.g. those of the Eastern churches) are to be considered often as mutually complementary rather than conflicting” (Vatican II, Unitatis Redintegratio, 1964, n. 17). The principle of complementarity and compatibility was extended to all doctrinal matters. Ecumenical theology sees all differences as belonging to the same reality that is accessible from various angles and interpreted as mutually enriching rather than mutually exclusive. This has become the premise of present-day ecumenism.

Among other things, this means that the evangelical recovery of the gospel captured in the “Christ alone,” “Scripture alone,” and “Faith alone” of the Protestant Reformation is now seen as an “emphasis” to be integrated in the Roman Catholic whole, rather expressing the Christian faith in opposition to the Roman Catholic flawed account of the gospel. The papacy is no longer seen as an institution at the center of a theological conflict, but as an essential part of the Church, in which complementary views are possible and accepted.

2. From “differentiated consensus” to “differentiated exercise”
In 1999, the Roman Catholic Church and the Lutheran World Federation signed the “Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification” (JDDJ), one of the dividing doctrines in the 16th century. JDDJ claims that the document “encompasses a consensus in the basic truths; the differing explications in particular statements are compatible with it” (JDDJ, n. 14). This approach was later defined as “differentiated consensus”: Catholics and Lutherans can agree on the basics of justification and maintain their respective emphases as compatibile. The “differentiated consensus” was later used to foster ecumenical dialogue that would consider doctrines as made of modular units (some of which people can agree upon while disagreeing on others), instead of treating them as aspects of an integrated whole.

Now, BoR shows that the same approach is extended to the Papacy. It involves a “differentiated exercise of the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Rome” (n. 150), spanning from full jurisdiction (the Roman Catholic Church), to “primacy of honour” (Anglican, Oriental and Orthodox churches), to a global leadership role (historic Protestant churches). Ecumenical partners will have the possibility of accessing a “differentiated exercise” of it, picking the aspects they like and leaving aside those they are less happy with. The Papacy will remain for all, although it may look somewhat different from its Roman-second millennium outlook and perhaps closer to its first millennium shape.

3. Open to change, not renouncing the Roman Catholic “essentials”
Now we can see that the invitation given by John Paul II in 1995 was not out of context; on the contrary, it was a reflection of the ecumenical mindset already affirmed at Vatican II and a further development of it. The rules of the game suggested by John Paul II (i.e. open to minor changes, carrying on the essentials) were accepted and are now considered as the shared consensus of the ecumenical movement.
 
BoR stands on the shoulders of the post-Vatican II attempts made by Rome to call all Christians to be united, overcoming past divisions, seeing all traditions as complementary, and building this unity on differentiated consensus. The other side of the coin is that Rome will at the same time stick to the “essentials” as they are embedded in its doctrinal system – the Papacy being one of them.
 
The ecumenical unity envisaged by BoR will have the Roman Pope at the center: in a sense, the Roman Catholic business as usual, now updated and conformed to the ecumenical age. BoR is the latest example of the Catholic absorption of different ideas and former opponents, provided they accept that Rome will not change its foundational theological committments that are outside or against biblical teaching, and will instead further expand its synthesis that goes beyond gospel boundaries. Biblical Christianity is not an appeased sub-section of Roman Catholicism but a gospel alternative to a system that is not grounded on Scripture Alone as its ultimate authority and on Faith Alone as to how salvation is to be received. 

[1] Reference to sections of the document will appear in parentheses.

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242. Why Not Be a Roman Catholic? Ask Jerry Walls

A prominent Roman Catholic theologian, Matthew Levering, recently wrote a book entitled Why I Am Roman Catholic (2024). As a result, it was to be expected that a Protestant author would write a mirror book on why not. It is the case with Jerry L. Walls, Why I Am Not a Roman Catholic. A Friendly, Ecumenical Exploration (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2025), professor of philosophy at Houston Christian University. Actually, Walls did not read Levering’s book beforehand and perhaps wasn’t even aware of it, but it doesn’t really matter. Books and digital resources in the intersection between the Roman Catholic-Protestant divide are mushrooming, and defending why and why not one is Roman Catholic or Protestant is becoming a literary genre in itself.
 
Each book has a story behind it. Walls recalls his. He tells how he participated in different informal dialogues with influential Roman Catholic scholars and theologians, only later realizing that these initiatives were aimed at encouraging conversions to Rome. Reflecting on these experiences and others led him to further clarify why he was not a Roman Catholic, also thinking of the growing number of former evangelicals who have converted to Rome in recent years under the influence of aggressive RC apologists who oftentimes use “dubious reasons, spurious arguments, and misinformation” (xvi). Walls’s book, therefore, has an apologetic thrust, even though he readily qualifies it in terms of the subtitle: while critical of Roman Catholicism, he wants to write in a friendly and ecumenical way.
 
Walls is not new in this field. Together with Kenneth Collins, a few years ago, he penned the more substantial tome Roman but Not Catholic: What Remains at Stake 500 Years after the Reformation (2017; my review of the book is here). There, he critiqued Rome for having lost its catholicity (i.e. biblical universality) at the expense and on the altar of its Roman-centered claims. This new book reiterates the same basic critique but adds a new flavor to it.
 
So, why is Walls not a Roman Catholic? Briefly stated: because he rejects both papal infallibility and the Marian doctrines, two doctrinal tenets of the Roman Catholic Church to which Rome has given dogmatic status, something “analogous to the role of the resurrection of Jesus in classic creedal orthodoxy” (8). The book is a sustained critique of the Roman claims regarding the papacy and Mariology.

As far as the papacy is concerned, Walls takes issue with the dogma of papal infallibility. This papal doctrine is a distillation of Catholic doctrine, yet it is based on faulty history and has generated excessive claims. In sum, Peter was not the first pope, and there was no monarchical bishop in Rome up to the end of the second century. Moreover, as far as the political role associated with Rome is concerned, “Roman authority rested in no small part on the fact that it had been the capital city, not on an irrevocable conferral of authority by Christ” (25). Walls’s argument moves on by highlighting the terrible record of the lives of many popes across history, many of whom were corrupted and “very bad men” (31). To prove the point, he provides a gallery of impious popes who were involved in perverse politics and immoral affairs, thus showing how the historical records are another factor that undermines the dogma. There is no biblical support for the claim that Peter is the first Pope (Walls discusses some exegetical points in Matthew 16 in the Appendix, pp. 181-185), no historical witness up to the end of the second century to back up the role of the bishop of Rome, no spiritual motivations behind his authority other than the political significance of Rome as the capital of the empire. After quoting and discussing a plethora of Roman Catholic scholars providing contrary evidence to the Catholic claims, Walls argues that papal infallibility lies on too poor foundations to be a binding belief for Christians.
 
Moving to the Marian claims, Walls exposes the “Marian maximalism” that led Rome to dogmatize Mary, e.g. the 1854 dogma of the immaculate conception and the 1950 dogma of the bodily assumption, and is still brewing in the prospect of proclaiming her “co-redeemer” (87). His conclusions are trenchant: “Popular Marian piety in Roman Catholicism has morphed into infallible dogmas that make Mary far more central to the faith than scripture warrants” (100).
 
After presenting his two main objections to the Roman Catholic Church, Walls deals with apologetic arguments often put forward by popular defenders of the Roman Catholic faith over against Protestants. Oftentimes, we hear the rehearsed saying that if one refuses the authority of the Church of Rome, she becomes her own pope following an individualistic religious path. Although this is a possibility and a danger, the “You are your own pope” type of argument is a caricature of Protestantism. The evangelical faith has historically affirmed the apostolic authority of Scripture, at the same time recognizing degrees of authority in councils and creeds and leaving room for disagreement on secondary issues.
 
Approaching dialogue in fairness and charity is a constant point made by Walls. In an interesting chapter, he observes that some North American popular Roman Catholic apologists depict Protestantism in straw-man terms, often “comparing the best of Rome with the worst of Protestantism” (148) and presenting Rome as “the panacea for all ills” (150). To disillusioned evangelicals who are enticed and enchanted by these poor apologetic and golden portraits of Rome, Walls urges them “to resist the Roman fever and to think twice before taking the Tiber plunge” (152).

The reality is that Rome is not the solid, stable, and unified bullwark that some of its defenders paint it to be. If one only scratches the surface, he can find all types of Catholics (e.g. traditional, cultural, liberal) and all kinds of beliefs and practices in Rome. Indeed, because of their lax views on morality and doctrine, “most Roman Catholics are functional liberal Protestants” (157) because they do not endorse, let alone practice, what their Church teaches them. Walls goes as far as to say that Rome is “a church that is functionally a radically pluralist Protestant denomination” (171) with factions that stand on very different sides, even fighting one another. Compared to it, Evangelical Protestantism in all its denominational diversity is “a far more impressive model of true unity” (171).
 
The final chapter sums up Walls’s main argument, which is also found in the more extensive 2017 book written with Kenneth Collins. Here it is: Roman Catholicism is not the best form of Catholic Christianity. Actually, it is a “constricted view of catholicity” (179) because it is founded on a “rickety biblical and historical foundation” and is also “rotten in many places because of its recurrent corruption” (179). With Walls being one of the promoters of the 2017 “A Reforming Catholic Confession”, “Reformed catholicity” or “mere Protestant orthodoxy,” or whatever you want to call it, is for him a far better version of the Christian faith (xvii).
 
Walls’s book is full of fine and well presented apologetic points. Especially his critical remarks on the papacy and the lack of biblical and historical foundations as far as the first two centuries of the church are well argued for. The book also signals a growing awareness in North American evangelical circles that Roman Catholicism is a “competitor” that is gaining strength and making some inroads among disillusioned evangelicals. After years of evangelicals trying to show how much we have “in common” with Catholics (e.g. the “Evangelicals and Catholics Together” initiative) and, more recently, how the “Great Tradition” is our shared platform, it is refreshing to see evangelical scholars engaging Roman Catholicism apologetically, kindly and firmly refuting some of its foundational claims and hinting at far better biblical alternatives.
 
The book is a helpful resource for evangelicals tempted to convert to Rome and to Roman Catholics attracted to the evangelical faith. More work has to be done to present Roman Catholicism as a fully orbed doctrinal/institutional/sacramental/hierarchical “system” that is not committed to the supreme authority of Scripture (Scripture Alone) and to salvation as a gift of God grounded in the finished work of Christ (Faith Alone). While using similar languages and categories, the pillars of the Roman Catholic Church are different from the biblical account of the gospel that the evangelical faith seeks to bear witness to.
 
The Roman Catholic version of the gospel, based on the self-referential authority of the Roman Church and the blurred and distorted message it gives voice to, is a sufficient reason not to embrace the Roman Catholic faith but to stick to the once and for all given “evangel” (good news) of Jesus Christ.

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241. The clever move of Leo XIV. Five factors of attraction

Not a castling move, and not a simple sidestep—but a knight’s move. In chess terms, that’s how we might describe Operation Leo XIV: unexpected, strategic, and game-changing.
 
Those who expected a castling move—the defensive, conservative strategy that retreats under pressure—have been caught off guard by the conclave’s decision. Prevost is not the embodiment of the traditionalist and restorative Catholicism that certain sectors of the Church of Rome were hoping for. Appointed cardinal by Pope Francis and entrusted with selecting bishops from around the world, Prevost is very much a product of the Bergoglian papacy and aligned with its vision. No rollback or U-turn reversal of the major reforms initiated by the Argentine pope is anticipated.
 
Those anticipating a lateral, diplomatic, wait-and-see approach were also surprised. Among the likely candidates, Cardinal Parolin personified that option: a seasoned diplomat and former Vatican Secretary of State, seen as the favorite to ease tensions, stabilize factions, and buy time for future decisions. His election would have signaled a pause—an effort to cool tempers and calm the chaos stirred by the Francis era.

But the choice of Leo XIV signals something else entirely. Prevost, still under 70, is a “young” pope with the possibility of a long pontificate. This was not a caretaker decision. The conclave didn’t choose a bridge—it chose direction.
 
In chess terms, the election of Leo XIV was a knight’s move: surprising, indirect, coming from the rear, and disrupting the board in ways that force everyone to rethink their position. The game has changed.
 
In the meantime, he is American. Until now, there seemed to be an unwritten rule: the Church of Rome would not elect a pope from a global economic superpower. But with this conclave, that unwritten rule has been broken. The election of Leo XIV shows a mindset liberated from 20th-century geopolitical categories. The majority of cardinals who voted for him came from the Global South—Asia and Africa—demonstrating that the College of Cardinals no longer sees the world through a strictly Western lens.
 
His American identity serves at least two strategic purposes:

  • First, it may seek to undermine the cultural leadership of Trump-style conservative Christianity, particularly in the battle against “woke” ideologies, by reasserting the Catholic Church as the guardian of civilization and moral order.
  • Second, it could serve as a magnet for disillusioned American evangelicals—those growing weary of consumeristic religious options—who see in Catholicism a more stable and historic alternative. In the fluid and competitive religious marketplace of the United States, an American pope could attract significant interest and credibility.

Then, he is an Augustinian. After Francis—a Jesuit marked by intellectual eclecticism and theological creativity—Leo XIV comes from a more grounded, millennia-old order. This background suggests a pope who is more theologically stable, more predictable, and, in a sense, more “traditional.” While not a scholar in the academic sense (though he has taught in Peru), Prevost thinks within a well-defined theological tradition. His approach lacks the originality of Francis, but offers reassurance to those in the Church seeking clarity. His Augustinian identity may be perceived as an olive branch to conservative Catholics, especially those disillusioned by the Francis era.
 
Then, he is an administrator. A canon law expert with a doctorate from the Angelicum, Prevost has served as prior general of the Augustinian Order, bishop in Peru, and more recently as prefect of the Vatican dicastery that selects bishops globally. In short, he’s not primarily a theologian, but a man of governance. After a pontificate marked by institutional confusion, the conclave appears to have chosen someone capable—at least on paper—of managing the complex machinery of the Roman Catholic Church.
 
That’s not all. Prevost is also a cosmopolitan figure. Fluent in five languages (English, Spanish, Italian, French, and Portuguese), he has wide-ranging pastoral and missionary experience across Latin America and within the Vatican bureaucracy. He is North American and Latin American. He bridges worlds—culturally, linguistically, and ecclesially. In many ways, he is a truly global leader.
 
Then there’s the name: Leo XIV. With thirteen popes before him bearing the name Leo, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly which one inspired him. Still, Leo XIII (1810–1903) stands out: the pope who united Thomistic orthodoxy with social engagement. Perhaps Leo XIV aspires to the same combination—socially engaged Catholicity with a firmer doctrinal framework.
 
For all these reasons, the election of Leo XIV was a knight’s move—unexpected, disruptive, and strategic. From a sense of institutional checkmate under Francis, the Church of Rome now attempts to reposition itself in its relationship with the world, with religions, and with humanity.
 
This new pope will undoubtedly attract interest from the evangelical world. Evangelicals in the Global South may see in him a missionary close to the poor. North American evangelicals may recognize an Augustinian voice who understands the language of tradition. In short, everyone may be tempted to see the pope they want to see.
 
But what must not be lacking is evangelical discernment. Leo XIV is the Supreme Pontiff of the Roman Church, representing a religious system that remains distinct from—and ultimately opposed to—the gospel of Jesus Christ. Whether more or less traditional, more or less conservative, more or less open, these remain internal shifts within Roman Catholicism. With the election of Leo XIV, Rome has shown shrewdness and long-term vision. It is once again positioning itself to bring the whole world under the influence of its ecclesiastical structure.

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240. “The Diversity of Religions is the Will of God”. A Window into Pope Francis’s Theology of Religions

Many Roman Catholics raised their eyebrows when they read: “The pluralism and the diversity of religions, colour, sex, race and language are willed by God in His wisdom, through which He created human beings.” The one who was saying this was Pope Francis in the 2019 Abu Dhabi Statement on “Human Fraternity for World Peace and Living Together”, co-signed with Ahmad Al-Tayyeb, the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar.
 
That God willed (and therefore created) the diversity of colour, sex, and race is unquestionable: these are all good traits of God’s creation. One could argue that as far as language is concerned, the account of the tower of Babel (Genesis 9) should be taken into account to realize that the multiplicity of languages is also the result of sin. But what about the diversity of religions? Is it really the will of God that men and women should worship gods and goddesses other than the One and True God, i.e. the Triune God of the Bible? The straightforward biblical answer is No. Period. However, Pope Francis said Yes.
 
How is it possible? Does the Roman Catholic Church now accept that all religions lead to God? Where does this new view of religions come from? These are all legitimate questions. According to Alberto Caccaro, L’uomo fa la differenza in Dio. La questione cristologica in Jacques Dupuis (Brescia: Queriniana, 2024), in order to to grasp the present-day theological debate on religions within Roman Catholicism, one needs to be aware of the work of the Jesuit theologian Jacques Dupuis (1923-2004). This Belgian theologian, who spent part of his life as a missionary in India, is an important voice that forms the Pope’s theological framework. Pope Francis, himself a Jesuit, does not quote him either in the Abu Dhabi Statement or in the encyclical “All Brothers” on fraternity among all peoples, but Dupuis’s thoughts are part of the backbone of his positive and “fraternal” approach to religions.

Questioning the existing models for thinking about the role of religions (i.e. exclusivism = Christ excludes other religions; inclusivism = Christ includes all religions; pluralism = Christ is one among many religions), Dupuis explored new “frontiers” in light of what he believed to be the “surplus” of the mystery of Christ over the linguistic and institutional forms of Christianity. His theology of religious pluralism was a response to what he considered an oversimplification of traditional accounts and an invitation to rework Christology by recognising the “space” of religions as a constitutive part of Christ and the gospel. In Dupuis’ view, religions are convergent and complementary mediations of salvation, and therefore the task of theology is to elaborate a Christology of religions that corresponds to their role.
 
This study by Caccaro, a Roman Catholic theologian and missionary working in Cambodia, takes up the themes of Dupuis’s reflection precisely from the Christological question and considers Dupuis’s three books on the subject: Jesus Christ at the Encounter of World Religions (English edition: 1991), Towards a Christian Theology of Religious Pluralism (English Edition: 2002) and Christianity and the Religions. From Confrontation to Dialogue (English Edition: 2002).
 
These works caused debate not only in the theological academies but also in the Vatican Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith (at the time presided over by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger), so much so that the Congregation sent him a “Notification”, a yellow card for having entered minefield territory, for “serious doctrinal errors” and “ambiguities” in his thinking. Although it generated some heat, this “Notification” had no disciplinary outcome. After Dupuis’s death, the trial was dropped.
 
In Dupuis’s thought, the distinction between Logos énsarkos (incarnate Word) and Logos ásarkos (non-incarnate Word) is central. While the former coincides with the person of Jesus Christ and the biblical account of him and his work, the latter is by its very nature open, spacious and irreducible to any closed codification. On the side of the Holy Spirit, while the Spirit of Christ is associated with the historical person of the God-man Jesus (i.e. the hypostatic union), the Spirit of God “blows where He wills,” and possibly in all religions.

As a Roman Catholic theologian, Dupuis glimpses the problems raised by these insights, and in his theology, one can see the struggle to keep Christology anchored to the incarnate Person of Jesus Christ while opening the non-incarnate Logos to accomodating and welcoming the different religions. The underlying question is: can one find salvation beyond the historical and embodied revelation of Jesus Christ? If yes, as argued by Dupuis, there is room for “differentiated and complementary revelation” and salvation offered by other religions. Since Dupuis wants to affirm both that Jesus Christ is the final revelation in his embodied Person and the possibility for other religions to be revelatory and salvific in his non-incarnate reality. Roman Catholic theology, a master in holding tensions together (et-et), must open its synthesis to the maximum exercise of its catholicity, i.e. its ability to embrace two opposites at the same time.
 
Dupuis speaks of “polarities at play.” In the unresolved polarity between the incarnate Word (biblically attested) and the non-incarnate Word (spacious enough as to include other religions), there would be room for the salvific role of religions. Compared to traditional models (i.e. exclusivism, inclusivism, and pluralism), Caccaro claims that Dupuis’s thought can be understood as “inclusive pluralism” or “pluralistic inclusivism” (91).
 
Even on a first reading, the problems with this position are evident. If the non-incarnate Word is pitted against the incarnate revelation of God in Jesus Christ, doesn’t one devalue the necessary scandal of the incarnation and the cross? If the Spirit and the Father operate outside of and without Jesus Christ, isn’t the unity and harmony of the Trinity endangered? If salvation can be found outside of the incarnate Word, doesn’t conversion to Christ become redundant?
 
Caccamo is helpful at exploring the “acrobatics” of Dupuis’s theology of religions especially as far as his concepts of “surplus” and “superabundance” of the mystery of the Word which cannot be contained in closed and pre-defined schemes of thought.
 
What is perhaps most interesting is to see how his work influenced Pope Francis’s claim that the diversity of religions is the will of God. Dupuis is only the latest development of a long-term process within Roman Catholicism that the Pope echoed. In fact, the theology of religions was given a shock at Vatican II (1962-1965) when it was argued that the plan of salvation includes people who don’t profess faith in Jesus Christ and that those who don’t know the gospel can attain salvation (Lumen Gentium, n. 16). Then, Redemptoris Missio, the 1990 encyclical by John Paul II, stated that “participated forms of mediation of different kinds and degrees are not excluded” (n. 5).
 
A lot of water has passed under the bridges of Roman Catholic theology: from the “anonymous Christianity” of Karl Rahner to the “All brothers” of Pope Francis. Of course, there have been pushbacks here and there (e.g. the 2000 critical declaration Dominus Iesus signed by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger), but the direction seems to be clear. The theology of religions is fertile ground in post-Vatican II Roman Catholicism. It is therefore not by chance that Pope Francis could write that “the pluralism and the diversity of religions, colour, sex, race and language are willed by God in His wisdom, through which He created human beings.” In this sense, the spirit if not the letter of Dupuis’s work was at play in the Pope’s mind.
 
One glimpses a pattern: Dupuis broke new ground in his work, the immediate Vatican reaction was fairly negative, then his main concerns were accepted and integrated, and now they are part of the mainstream teaching of the Roman Church, at least implicitly. Here is how the Roman catholicity works: on the one hand, the traditional exclusivist and inclusivist positions are formally maintained, but on the other hand, they have developed in the “inclusive pluralism” or “pluralistic inclusivism” that Dupuis gave theological weight to in his work. There is no commitment to the ultimate authority of the Bible, and therefore the Roman Catholic system can flex one way or the other away from gospel boundaries.