There’s an American in the Vatican… And he’s not shouting. What sorcery is this?
Right, brace yourselves: the Pope is American now. Yes, really. The 267th head of the Catholic Church — Pope Leo XIV — is from Chicago, land of deep-dish pizza, gun crime, and sports teams that never quite deliver. And yet, somehow, he’s not shouting, waving a flag, or trying to sell you a pickup truck.
AFP/TNS
Born Robert Francis Prevost, the new pope looks like he should be holding court at a Cubs game with a hotdog in one hand and a Coors Light in the other. But instead, he’s up on the balcony of St Peter’s Basilica, speaking to the world like a wise, well-travelled monk who’s seen things, not like your average senator auditioning for a cable news meltdown.
This man speaks multiple languages, has Peruvian citizenship, and spent donkey’s years living in South America, doing actual things to help actual people. Which is so un-American. He’s not tweeting threats at journalists; he’s posting about compassion. Actual compassion. For immigrants. In Spanish.
I know. Take a moment.
You see, unlike the usual American approach to leadership — all chest-thumping, finger-pointing, and shouting about freedom while casually missing the point — this Pope is... calm. Humble. Dignified, even. And rather than posting dodgy memes or telling us who to hate next, he talks about love. Not in the soppy “Buy your wife a diamond or you’re a failure” way, but in the “Jesus wants you to stop being a git” way.
He even wrote — and I’m paraphrasing — that love isn’t a pie to be sliced up; it’s a river that flows wild and free. Imagine that. An American using a water metaphor instead of a war one. No talk of battles, fronts, or enemies. Just a man in a robe, suggesting we be a bit nicer to each other.
Meanwhile, back in Sacramento — that’s California’s answer to a migraine — politicians are too busy accusing each other of supporting paedophiles because they disagree on policy. It’s like watching toddlers throw Lego at each other and calling it governance.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I like strong opinions. But there’s a difference between being strong and being a loudmouthed berk. And that’s the problem with American leadership today — it’s built on being the biggest, boldest, and most bullish buffoon in the room. Want attention? Say something outrageous. Want to be president? Shout louder than everyone else and never admit you’re wrong.
But not this Pope. He doesn’t care for the billionaire class, doesn’t suck up to influencers, and certainly doesn’t tweet like he’s on his third Red Bull and a time limit. He speaks to the common man — the bloke with holes in his shoes and callouses on his hands. And for once, America has exported something to the world stage that isn’t sugar-coated, weaponised, or screaming for likes.
Pope Leo XIV might be the first American pope, but he doesn’t act like one. And that’s exactly why he might just be the pope America needs right now — a reminder that being strong doesn’t mean being cruel, and that leadership doesn’t always involve shouting.
Maybe — just maybe — Americans can stop arguing long enough to listen.
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