The magic of a faith in full swing. The Pope in Latin America

When people say that numbers – those cold, hard statistics – cannot explain everything, they are stating a truth, albeit a rather obvious one. Yet the fascination with commas and percentages, lines and half-lines, histograms and pie charts, is something deeply ingrained. The human temptation to explain the world in this way is extremely strong, not least because it lends one the air of an expert in the field, a scientist, a serious observer who, from the heights of his hermitage, scrutinises movements and changes. Hence the usual, repetitive refrains about the collapse of faith, empty churches and the decline of the West, which, in the end, though battered, is still very much there. Yet emotions, the heart, and tears—the many tears that have marked the face of this Pope who, despite his health problems, has done everything in his power to return to his second home, Peru, and, by cultural and geographical extension, to South America—tell a different story. 

The heart cannot be measured, but if one pays even the slightest attention, its beat can be felt. Every time the hymn ‘Alma misionera’ begins, Leone is moved; he watches the crowd moving to the rhythm of the music and sings along, smiling with rapture and amazement. So much for the end of history and the death of God (as Friedrich Nietzsche meant to say).

For years it has been claimed, almost as if it were dogma, that Latin America had been overrun by sectarian hordes. Advertising, money, television, radio, and gurus in suits. Aggressive proselytising, from one end of the continent to the other, from the favelas to the affluent neighbourhoods of the megacities. The Catholics, poor souls, dwindling in number, divided, with their hierarchies often accused of having entrenched themselves in their own circles and of no longer understanding the common sentiment. Administrators rather than shepherds, let alone among the somewhat disoriented flock. Then, suddenly, in Buenos Aires, two and a half million people turned up in the square for the Pope’s Mass. And just as many gathered outside the Basilica of Our Lady of Luján. ‘A historic moment’, ran the full-page headline in La Nación. More than those who welcomed John Paul II forty years ago. More than Rome sees at its large mass gatherings, including World Youth Days. This took place in Buenos Aires, in an Argentina that had long described itself as rather cold at the mere mention of priests, as secularised as – and perhaps even more so than – many other countries in the region. Now it too has succumbed to the inevitability of secularisation, which is often indistinguishable from the indifference towards religion that pervades elsewhere. In Uruguay, for example, the first stop on the long and much-anticipated journey of Leo XIV, the Yankee from Chicago who holds in his heart that strip of land he left behind last: Peru. The thoroughly American Pope, who votes with unashamed pride in the Illinois mid-term elections but who has not altered a single stop on the itinerary of his ‘expedition’ to South America, even though he had a lobe of his lung removed just a month ago.

It was in Uruguay that the Pope put his finger on the sore spot: the lack of interest in what faith represents and means today. He said this there because it is the homeland of proud and long-standing anti-clericals, but it was a message valid anywhere in the world, including Europe. It was during the vigil with young people at the Centenario Stadium in Montevideo. “Being with you this evening allows me to share a reflection on something that many Christian communities are experiencing today: the advance of secularisation and an increasingly widespread religious indifference. In many places, the faith is no longer passed on as naturally as it was by previous generations, and the number of people who go through much of their lives without a regular relationship with the Church, or with religious practice, is growing.” We are beginning to discover, the Pope said, “what it means to be a minority. But, even in these circumstances, there are those who persevere: parents who pray with their children, teachers who seek to live out and bear witness to the faith, young people who have discovered Christ and wish to follow him even when they feel alone; there are communities that continue to gather and priests who travel great distances to bring the sacraments to the faithful. Thinking of all this, a small biblical town kept coming to mind: Bethlehem’. And what does Bethlehem have to do with it? Well, Jesus was born there, and yet ‘it remained small. Nothing had changed in terms of its size or its political importance. Perhaps – and these are Leone’s words again – Bethlehem can teach us something about this reality: when there are few of us, when our strength wanes, or when we realise that our social presence is no longer the same, there is a risk of beginning to judge our situation by very human standards. The Gospel invites us to look at things differently. God chose Bethlehem, and this choice alone is enough to ensure that we do not equate smallness with insignificance’. Small, then, but far from insignificant. Indeed, as Ratzinger said, far more convinced of who they are and what they represent: creative minorities.

During his South American tour, Leone spoke at length in official addresses, homilies and off-the-cuff remarks. The media have devoted considerable coverage to his remarks directed at current leaders, in particular Javier Milei, who was publicly chastised for being a free-market advocate, paying little heed to the poor and – needless to say – a friend of Trump’s. It is clear that the Pope did not sing the praises of his host’s policies, but ultimately: he did nothing different from what Popes typically do when speaking in such circumstances. In September, he gave the same treatment to Emmanuel Macron at the Élysée Palace; in June, his address to the Cortes in Madrid caused a stir. The criticism is not directed at the individual: the Pope upholds the values of the Gospel whilst keeping an eye on the reality of this world. And, to quote him, if this is engaging in politics, then he has engaged in politics. Beyond that, however, Leo XIV’s speeches have also conveyed much more.

There is a common thread running through all of Robert Prevost’s writings: a return to the fundamentals of the faith and the need for genuine evangelisation. This is not a list of precepts, programmes or actions to be implemented after having been neatly written out at a desk. The example of the saints, in whom “one discerns an extraordinary unity between a passion for the Gospel and a commitment to building a nation rooted in brotherhood and solidarity”. Like Father Brochero, “a true lover of the Lord, who found in prayer the strength of his life”. Going out into the streets following the example of the saints, rediscovering the unshakeable value of small domestic churches, where faith is passed on in a simple and genuine way. “Dear parents and grandparents, young people need to see you praying, drawing near to the sacraments, treating your wives with respect, asking for forgiveness and living honestly even when this requires sacrifice. A child learns a great deal by seeing that his father knows how to kneel before God without feeling any less of a man for it,” he said.

Leone is experiencing this journey as a carefree homecoming, without too many worries. Such worries are for others – those who must anticipate and observe, analyse and study: Argentina could have turned into a sort of pilgrimage in the footsteps of Francis, who had never returned there since his election in the winter of 2013. A continuous tribute, even through the repetition of words and gestures. Yet that did not happen. Leone did indeed remember his predecessor every day, but he did not turn him into a saintly figure to be paraded or shown off to the people. He did not idealise Jorge Mario Bergoglio, a figure who is both beloved and, at the same time, a source of considerable inconvenience in that country; to confirm this, one need only look at the statements made over the years by influential figures in local politics. For Bergoglio was certainly no meek hermit who viewed matters from on high, but rather intervened with impetus and force, without worrying too much about the consequences. Leone was not afraid even to re-contextualise phrases that have become immortal, such as the todos, todos, todos shouted at World Youth Day in Lisbon. The Mother Church, welcoming to all, no matter what questions or baggage, sins or scars they may carry. No questions asked; one does not judge but embraces. During the Vigil with young people (moments that have now become iconic), Leo said that Francis uttered those words “with that insistence so characteristic of him, as if he wished to ensure that no one was left without hearing them. I would like to draw inspiration from those words to speak of what it means to live as disciples of Jesus: all towards Christ, all with Christ, all like Christ”. The form is the same; the substance changes.

Leone is not a man of rupture; this has been said many times before. The aim he has set himself is to mend torn fabric and widen the Church’s tent to welcome anyone willing to enter it: “The diverse sensibilities present within the Church, the strong convictions that animate each person, are a source of richness if they remain anchored to the certainty of unity as a gift received and a task to be undertaken,” he said in Luján. He does not break with tradition but rather recalibrates it. Between Masses and official visits, he has quoted Saint John Paul II countless times; the latter is increasingly becoming a point of reference and a model. He urged the Peruvian young people to bear in mind the words of Benedict XVI, whom he also quoted upon landing in Chiclayo: “The harmony between charity and truth calls us to put our faith into practice, spreading, with renewed joy, the fragrant scent of holiness. Let us remember that, without truth, love slips into mere sentimentality, and truth without love becomes rigid and cold”. He draws on his predecessor’s insights, making them his own whilst clarifying them. Francis, he said in Córdoba, “stated with particular clarity: ‘The Church is not a shop, it is not a humanitarian agency, the Church is not an NGO; the Church is sent to bring Christ and his Gospel to everyone […]. If, hypothetically, it were ever to happen that the Church did not bring Jesus, that would be a dead Church!’. How great, then, is our vocation! To be bearers of Christ’s presence, to make an encounter with Him possible through the Word, the sacraments and a closeness that helps others to recognise His presence in their lives. The people entrusted to your care wish to receive from you what the Church has treasured for them for centuries”.

On the eve of this trip, no one would ever have imagined that three million Peruvians would jubilantly accompany the Pope from the airport to the nunciature. No one could have imagined that in distracted Argentina, mired in perpetual financial crises and bloody political struggles, millions of Catholics of all ages would take part in vigils and Masses. Few regarded Uruguay as a country where, albeit as a minority and facing opposition, the faith thrives. Leo XIV is not the man who liberates from the caudillos; he does not see himself in the role of Simón Bolívar. “Long live Christ!”, he shouted from a window in Córdoba. He is the protagonist, the centre, the name most frequently mentioned by the Pope on this tour. “What enthusiasm! What joy! It is because we all know Christ. Applause for Jesus!”, he said as he emerged from Buenos Aires Cathedral. “The world awaits us and the mission has only just begun. That is why I invite you to commit yourselves to sharing the living hope, which is Jesus Christ, and to letting the Gospel ‘overflow’ into our villages, towns and cities, so that we may proclaim the glory of the Lord to all,” he added in Chiclayo. A journey which, ultimately, perfectly embodies – in words and deeds – the first message of his pontificate: “To fade into the background so that Christ may remain, to make oneself small so that He may be known and glorified, to give of oneself completely so that no one may miss the opportunity to know and love Him”. Not a slogan, but a programme.