What’s in a name?
We all know that Juliet gave us this classic line, noting that (I paraphrase) even if you called a rose a hippopotamus, it would still smell as sweet as it did before you called it a river horse.
Things did not work out so well for that young Capulet, however, and the world at large has often taken a different view of names, according them an almost talismanic power.
Is that rational? You might as well ask, “Is the Pope Catholic?” which brings me to my theme.
When, to the surprise of many, the Chicago-born Robert Francis Prevost got the nod from the College of Cardinals, the white smoke had not yet dissipated before the world was atwitter about the name the first American Pope had chosen: Leo.
What did it mean? I canvassed several knowledgeable friends about our new Pope. The responses ranged from cautious optimism all the way to avid enthusiasm. “All early signs are very positive,” quoth one pal who worked in the Vatican for Pope Benedict. “I think he will be a great pope.”
Given the source, I take that as a Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.
Many respondents, and much of the general media commentary, noted Prevost’s choice of “Leo” as his papal name. Was the choice significant? Most thought it was. And if it was significant, what did it mean?
Prevost is now Pope Leo XIV. Much media commentary speculated that Prevost chose the name in homage to (or inspired by) Pope Leo XIII, whose papacy ran from 1878 until his death in 1903.
Leo XIII has become known as “the Social Pope,” the “Pope of Workers.” His famous (in Catholic circles) encyclical Rerum Novarum (1891) was both a plea to address “the misery and wretchedness pressing so unjustly on the majority of the working class” and a defense of private property. Leo rejected both socialism (“it is clear that the main tenet of socialism, community of goods, must be utterly rejected”) and the exploitation of the poor.
It is certainly possible that Prevost had Leo XIII in mind when he chose the name “Leo.” But I like to think that he might have harkened back to Leo the Great, the first Pope Leo, whose pontificate ran from AD 440 to 461.
It is said that the honorific “Pope” was first applied to the Bishop of Rome during (or perhaps because of) Leo’s papacy. Among other things, he was a diplomat of the first water. Leo’s tenure came during the waning, chaotic years of the Western Roman Empire.
Valentinian III, who reigned from AD 425 to 455, presided over a collapsing empire. Rome itself had been sacked by Alaric the Visigoth in 410. By 450, the big new threat was Attila the Hun. Honoria, Valentinian’s sister, had been forced into an unhappy marriage. She is said to have written to Attila asking for assistance and enclosing a ring as proof of her earnestness. Attila interpreted the gesture as an offer of marriage and demanded half the empire as Honoria’s dowry. Rebuffed, Attila invaded Italy in 452, sacked Aquileia, and prepared to march on Rome.
By this point, the legions were no match for the Huns. Valentine dispatched an embassy to Attila that included Leo, who is said to have convinced the Hunnic general to give up his invasion.
Whether it was Leo’s golden tongue or simply promised quantities of real gold that did the trick remains a matter of debate. Nevertheless, the taming or diversion of Attila enhanced Leo’s already great stature. Attila died soon thereafter, possibly the victim of a ruptured esophagus after a drunken feast (or, according to another story, a knife wielded by his bride on their wedding night). Leo went on to become Leo the Great, a notable Doctor of the Church whose writings on the dual nature of Christ informed the proceedings of the Council of Chalcedon in 451.
All this might seem hopelessly remote from the concerns of the world in 2025. I am not so sure. In the early 450s, the world order was threatened by widespread migrant invasions, social and economic unrest, and political disintegration. Leo I was a beneficent stabilizing influence, a social as well as a theological cynosure. Perhaps his successor had his example in mind while flipping through the Rolodex of possible papal names.
Very interesting article. I’m not Catholic, but I was very concerned by the direction Francis took the church and angered by its purported involvement in the illegal alien invasion. The church should have known it would harm the USA. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what twelve million unvetted illegal aliens (hundreds of thousands of whom were criminals) can do to a First-World country. We knew that there were many anti-American parts in motion during Trump’s first term, and we now know that the machinery was aimed at the US. The entities involved had their motivations: Trump’s tariffs against a criminal China, Democrats’ bloody-minded opposition to anything he did, the perils to both of his winning the upcoming election, and a wider cast of characters wanting their old world back. That would have provided cover enough for peripheral actors. I’m not saying outright that the Catholic Church was involved in the illegal alien invasion. But it can’t be just a coincidence that the new Pope was a missionary in Peru for many years. Much of 2019 and part of 2020 would have been enough time for the larger conspiracy to create the logistics for an invasion of Third World people. So, I hope that Leo XIV dispels the suspicion by becoming a Pope like John Paul II. That would go a long way toward reconciliation.
A number of orcs from the Enemedia have attempted to make the argument that the elevation of American Cardinal Prevost to Pope is an intentional affront and challenge to President Donald Trump. Such sophistry is to be expected; consider the source.
However, there is another theory that I think has more relevance–and importance–in the election of Cardinal Prevost to Pope. And as it is with much in life, it has to do with money–or the lack of it.
This article explains this theory, and frankly, it makes imminently more sense than the tortured logic of Enemedia lap dogs.