On May 8, jubilant peals of church bells echoed across Eastern Christian communities as they welcomed the new Bishop of Rome. Pope Leo XIV’s election inspired waves of excitement—but also curiosity. How would a pontiff of American heritage and rooted in the Augustinian order connect with the ancient faith traditions of the East?
From the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica, the newly elected Pope declared: “I am a son of St. Augustine, an Augustinian.” With this affirmation, he bridged centuries and continents, invoking the memory of one of Christianity’s foundational thinkers. Augustine of Hippo—born in modern-day Algeria, educated in Carthage, and buried in Annaba—remains a towering figure of African theological heritage.
The order that bears Augustine’s name is grounded in his profound vision: love for the Church, unity among believers, and transformative service to the world. Its members seek God through contemplation, action, and a commitment to human dignity, often delving into current moral and philosophical questions with Augustinian depth.
Before ascending to the papacy, Leo XIV led the Vatican’s Dicastery for Bishops—a post that shaped ecclesial leadership worldwide. Analysts believe he played a role, direct or indirect, in key appointments such as that of Bishop Hanna Jallouf in war-ravaged Aleppo in 2023. This quiet diplomacy reflects a deep concern for the suffering Church in the Middle East.
In a gesture heavy with symbolism, Pope Leo XIV recently visited the Maronite College in Rome, discussing communion between Rome and the Eastern churches. He left the meeting with two gifts: a relic of St. Maron and a statue hewn from sacred Lebanese cedarwood.
More intimately, a Peruvian report revealed that the pope carries handwritten Arabic prayers with him—a quiet testimony to his inner spiritual dialogue with the East.
The word “peace” reverberated ten times through his inaugural address—beginning with the timeless invocation: “Peace be upon you all.” While often linked to Islamic greeting customs, this blessing traces its roots to ancient Semitic traditions and was spoken by Christ himself.
In a powerful moment of solidarity, the pope reposted a haunting photo of Syrian child Omran Daqneesh—his bloodied face emerging from rubble—captioned with a Jesuit priest’s anguished question: “Have we closed our hearts to Syrian refugees? Even the children?”
During his first Mass as pontiff in the Sistine Chapel, Pope Leo XIV drew inspiration from St. Ignatius of Antioch, concluding with a passage from his letter to the Romans: “I will truly be a disciple of Jesus Christ when the world will no longer see my body.”
This reflection, he said, lies at the heart of Christian leadership—a call not to authority but to loving sacrifice. He reminded the faithful that the Church of Rome must lead not through dominance, but, as St. Ignatius wrote, “with love.”