Pope Leo’s journey that will define his pontificate

Rome. “They are looking for something.” Of all the answers given by the Pope to the journalists who accompanied him on his four-day trip to France, this phrase was the least widely reported. He was referring to the people of France who thronged the streets, squares, shrines and cathedrals over four days that have marked the history of the still-young pontificate of Pope Leo. Understandably, the media gave ample coverage to his reflections on war – which is always a senseless slaughter – on fake news in the age of artificial intelligence, and on right-wing extremism, which influences the voting behaviour and daily lives of Europeans (and others). But it is in that “they are looking for something” that one might, perhaps, grasp the most powerful message of what was experienced in Paris, Lourdes and Metz. Leo XIV was referring in particular to the eighty thousand young people who, on Friday evening at the Saint-Denis stadium, sang the Salve Regina a cappella, held rosaries in their hands – not brandishing them like spears to be wielded against those who are different – and took thousands of photos with their smartphones whilst the stories of saints and defenders of the faith were being played out on the pitch. For years, the mourners have been singing the same litany incessantly: Europe is lost, faith is dead, secularisation has triumphed. Not least because, as we know, the West has declined. That secularisation has met with success is a fact; France itself is a glaring example of this. This is coupled with the dogmatic adherence to the separation of state and religion, the product of a law dating back 121 years, yet one to which the République remains deeply attached. 

A law and a principle that prevent a president from attending a papal mass and which, on a more mundane level – as is customary in December news coverage in our newspapers – make it impossible for some local mayors to give the go-ahead for a nativity scene to be set up in a public square. Strict secularism clashes with a world moving in a completely different direction, where religion has returned with a vengeance to dominate cultural debate and, not infrequently in a dangerous manner, the political arena. In France, over the last two decades, it was the exponential growth of Islam – and its radicalisation – that set the pace of the debate: the banlieues, the ghetto neighbourhoods, the mosques, the prayer centres. This has fuelled Le Pen’s far-right movement, which today courts the Catholic electorate, even though Marine Le Pen – a staunch secularist – voted to enshrine the right to abortion in the Constitution.

There was no longer any mention of Catholics, however. France, by tradition the eldest daughter of the Church, had buried its own history beneath a slab of marble. Rejecting it. At the turn of the millennium, Valéry Giscard-d’Estaing, who was himself a Catholic, ignored John Paul II’s plea to include a reference to Europe’s Judeo-Christian roots in the Preamble to the European Constitution. ‘Better not,’ replied the President of the Convention: ‘Times have changed; now is the time for neutrality. It’s not Schuman’s world any more!’ Those were the years when the courts ordered the removal of crosses in the Pyrenees because they were a recognisable sign of religious affiliation, and when there were lengthy debates over whether the crosses on ancient municipal banners were still permitted to remain. Then, one afternoon, Notre-Dame caught fire, and some French people saw in that blaze and in the falling spire a wound to their very identity. That moment of realisation was short-lived, but it left a legacy.

Catholic and deeply Marian France re-emerged with great vigour the moment the Pope set foot at Orly Airport, accompanied by the festive ringing of every bell in the republic. At Notre-Dame that afternoon, Leo was moved to tears as the dense crowd shouted “Merci” – thank you – at him. Thank you for giving voice once more to that need for community which they felt had been crushed and somewhat mocked by the remnants of that antiquated anti-clericalism, typical of French academics horrified that the Roman Pontiff had been allowed to celebrate Mass at the Place de la Concorde, where the heads of priests and sovereigns once fell beneath the blade of Monsieur Guillotin. Observers had expected 600,000 faithful, but a further 200,000 turned up—not for a concert, but for a Mass. The Champs-Élysées were thronged with pilgrims, and priests were hearing confessions in the street, seated on pavements or camping chairs. The Italian newspapers were somewhat distracted, busy seeking links, consistencies and discontinuities with previous pontificates, amidst a resurgence of traditionalism, evergreen environmentalism, hospitality and so on. The French newspapers, on the other hand, immediately grasped what was happening. From Le Monde, which, right from the Pope’s first speech at the Élysée, noted a clear spirit—one might say evangelical—in his ‘Yes, Yes’, No No, in his statements on secularism and the Catholic presence in the public sphere (“Offensif”, as the prestigious daily put it in its headline), right through to Le Figaro, which gauged the enthusiasm of a people ready to celebrate. Moreover, observers across the Alps realised that, as Le Figaro itself wrote, “the impact of Leo XIV is immense and extends far beyond the Catholic Church. The Church had been awaiting his arrival, a source of comfort in these times of moral and spiritual crisis. But today, French society as a whole welcomes an authoritative figure who gives meaning to life – that is to say, a sense of direction”. Even Macron realised this, and at the last minute chose to be part of the celebrations by attending Mass in Metz.

There were political speeches and references to local issues – euthanasia above all – but the Pope always returned to that ‘something’ we are seeking. ‘Seeing you gathered here, dear brothers and sisters, heirs to a long and beautiful history of holiness in France, I say to you: draw, in turn, from this source which is the pierced Heart of Jesus. Yes, you thirst for God, for life, for truth, for unity, for peace, for communion, for happiness. You long to rediscover a radiant horizon, to build a renewed nation starting from its roots nourished by faith. Do not keep your faith in Jesus Christ solely for yourselves, but let it overflow to quench the thirst and satisfy the people you meet. It is up to you to bring hope where discouragement and spiritual aridity reign’. Leone did not opt for the ‘youth-oriented’ tone that is, alas, typical of many bishops who, in every corner of the world, are seeking in good faith strategies to prevent entire generations from drifting away after Confirmation (when it is actually celebrated). No TikTok slang: the Pope has opted for words that are very traditional, yet ever-living: “Dear young people, every person’s religious experience expresses this search for meaning that inspires the human soul. In Jesus, the Redeemer of the world, God makes himself known by speaking to people as to friends: He is the source of living water, the light in the darkness. In the joy of faith, therefore, let us exclaim together this evening: for us, to live is Christ!”. Jean-Marie Guenois wrote that “rarely has a Pope been so radical in his appeal to the spiritual imperative of conversion. The homily delivered during Mass at Lourdes on Sunday morning appears to be one of the most powerful of this young pontificate. It is addressed in particular to practising Catholics, but it is also, in the spirit of the Successor of Peter, a spiritual and mystical response to the recent French law on euthanasia”. He spoke of conversion and penance, the requests that the Virgin made of Bernadette Soubirous in 1858. On Sunday evening, as the torchlight procession drew to a close in Lourdes, the Pope said, “How moving it is to see the faithful, from generation to generation, responding with love and trust to the tender invitation of the Virgin Mary. How comforting it is to hear Christians singing hymns full of fervour and faith, and walking, with a light in their hands, towards their Heavenly Mother, the Mother whom Jesus gave us on the Cross. I give thanks to the Lord that I, too, may respond this evening to our Mother’s call by becoming a pilgrim amongst pilgrims”. Some might call this traditional, old-fashioned and outdated language. Perhaps even pre-conciliar. In reality, it is the realisation that the fervour shown during those four days in France is aimed at finding that ‘something’ which is ceaselessly sought.