Since the College of Cardinals selected Robert Prevost to become Pope Leo XIV on May 8, the first American Pope has generated much attention, with numerous publications attempting to peel back the curtain on the true identity of the new pontiff.
Yet, the Pope himself may have told the world something significant about his vision and philosophy for the papacy through the simple act of choosing a name. The choice of Leo XIV makes Prevost the first pope to take this name since Leo XIII, who led the Church from 1878 to 1903, a critical time at the turn of the 20th century when the world was heading into an industrial and increasingly globalizing era that would soon lead to the First World War.
Based on the tenure of Leo XIII, this choice may indicate that Prevost places substantial emphasis on the Church’s responsibility to care for the poor, as well as the protection of workers’ rights in an era of growing economic inequality. Yet, it also may signal that the new pope aims to chart a middle course in an era of extremes and won’t look kindly on those challenging doctrine or the Church’s hierarchy. If so, such a vision will be deeply rooted in a specific tradition of American Catholicism that emerged thanks to Leo XIII’s teachings.
Pope Leo XIII, born Gioacchino Pecci, ascended to the papacy in an era characterized by the spread of factories and wage labor, the rise of massive fortunes and the growth of worker discontent and organizing, and existential battles between the forces of capitalism and socialism. He responded by launching a transformative intellectual tradition known as Catholic social teaching.
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This body of thought, which had its most notable appearance in his 1891 encyclical, Rerum Novarum, introduced the world to a new approach to the social, economic, and political challenges of the day. Rerum upheld labor unions as a proper exercise of workers’ natural rights to dignity and authentic freedom—and emphasized the obligation of the state to protect their rights and interests. Leo XIII also called for a “remedy…for the misery and wretchedness pressing so unjustly on the majority of the working class.” He underscored the Catholic Church’s care for the poor and its concern for the common good as well.
Yet, Catholic social teaching wasn’t a one-sided doctrine. In Rerum, Pope Leo XIII reflected on “the spirit of revolutionary change” that had “long been disturbing the nations of the world.” Instead of a revolution, this new approach contemplated a middle way between capitalism and socialism, one premised on a cooperative relationship between workers and management.
Another key document written by Leo XIII further emphasized that the Pope was not quite a radical. In 1899, he wrote a papal letter, Testem Benevolentiae Nostrae, which was directed at American Catholics and condemned what he termed the heresy of “Americanism.” The decision to write the letter may have stemmed from confusion and misperceptions about what liberal prelates and theologians in the U.S, were preaching.
Liberal priests, most prominently Isaac Hecker, extolled the virtues of freedom and liberty as it related to the Church in the U.S. In his 1876 book, The Faith of Our Fathers, for example, Baltimore’s James Cardinal Gibbons wrote of his country, “[T]here is no nation on the face of the earth where the Church is less trammeled, and where she has more liberty to carry out her sublime destiny, than in these Untied States.” Twelve years later, St. Paul’s Archbishop John Ireland, proclaimed, “In America, the Church is free—as the bird is free in the air to spread out its pinions and fly whithersoever it wills.”
Conservative critics, both in the U.S., and in the Vatican, viewed these liberal prelates with suspicion because of their openness to engage in inter-religious encounters. Testum indicates that Leo XIII wanted to make clear that the Catholic Church in the U.S. wasn’t spiritually distinct from the global church, and couldn’t go its own way. It showed that, while sympathetic to workers and inequality, he wasn’t prepared to see Church doctrine or the power of the Vatican challenged.
Leo XIII’s legacy, then, was one characterized by deep concern for the plight of workers and the poor, but also one that reflected concern over maintaining hierarchical discipline within the Church. He also wanted to moderate any spiritual experimentation, however illusory in the case of Americanism, that may have suggested the potential for Catholics to stray too far from Church teachings.
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Despite setting limits on the autonomy of the American Church, the social teachings of Leo XIII had enormous influence on Catholicism in the U.S., especially after the horrors of World War I. The National Catholic Welfare Council (now the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, or the USCCB) gave its full support to the philosophy laid down by Pope Leo XIII in Rerum. In 1919, the Council adopted a Program of Social Reconstruction, which supported the institution of living wages, public pensions, and a variety of other government-provided aids for working men and women.
In the following decades, numerous labor priests, such as John A. Ryan, George G. Higgins, Philip A. Carey, Joseph F. Donnelly, and Charles Owen Rice, led the way in advocating for workers. They instructed workers about Catholic social teaching, and operated labor schools to educate them on their rights and on the Catholic Church’s positions on the important economic and social issues presented by the Great Depression and World War II. The Catholic Worker movement, led by Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin, was but one prominent example of the impact and the implementation of Catholic social teaching outside of theology courses and on American city streets. It provided charitable relief and practiced communal labor through its houses of hospitality, which Day envisioned would bring “workers and scholars together” in a place where they could “discuss Christian principles of organization as set forth in the encyclicals.”
Over time, American Catholicism has become fractured between theological conservatives and liberals. Today, the divides increasingly intersect with broader partisan battles outside the Church. In this landscape, Catholic social teaching and debates over the compatibility of Catholicism and Americanism are not mere historical relics of a previous century. They are vital issues that played formative roles in shaping the contemporary Catholic Church that Leo XIV now leads.
Whether the new Pope chose the name Leo XIV to signal his affinity for Leo XIII is probably something only he knows. Yet, in so much as it does, it may indicate both that the new Pontiff is interested in economic matters, especially the struggles of working men and women to scrape by, and the ever-present debates over freedom versus order and the meaning of liberty in a hierarchical institution like the Church. The choice of his name may suggest that while Leo XIV will thrill liberal Catholics on social justice issues, he may lean more toward the Church’s conservative wing when it comes to maintaining doctrinal boundaries.
William S. Cossen is a historian of American religion and nationalism, and the author of Making Catholic America: Religious Nationalism in the Gilded Age and Progressive Era .
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