‘Habemus Papam!’ We have a pope!
The words rang out from the loggia of St. Peter’s Basilica like a trumpet of joy across the Eternal City: Habemus Papam! White smoke, billowing against a Roman sky at dusk, had already signaled the moment—but now it was made flesh. The See of Peter has a shepherd once again.
After days of prayer, silence, and solemn deliberation within the Sistine Chapel, the College of Cardinals has chosen a new successor to St. Peter—the 267th pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church. As bells tolled in unison and crowds surged with breathless anticipation, the curtain parted above the square, and from that sacred balcony, history stepped forward robed in white.
Below, the cobblestones of St. Peter’s Square bore the weight of countless pilgrims—some tearful, some jubilant, all awash in the light of something eternal. Flags waved, candles flickered, and the world held its breath. For a moment, the ancient and the now clasped hands.
And then he emerged.
He is Pope Leo XIV.
Born Robert Francis Prevost in Chicago, Illinois, he is a son of America, and now, a father to the world. A professed member of the Order of Saint Augustine, his life has been shaped by mission, humility, and fidelity—from the streets of the Midwest to the parishes of Peru, where he served as bishop, teacher, and shepherd to the people.
He is the first American pope in the history of the Church. He is the first Augustinian pope, walking in the intellectual and pastoral tradition of St. Augustine—a heart ever restless until it rests in God.
In choosing the name Leo XIV, he invokes the lion-hearted legacy of Leo XIII—a pope of reason and righteousness, who spoke to the soul of the modern world. It is a name that carries courage. It is a name that dares to lead.
As the world watched, silent and stunned, Pope Leo XIV gazed over the sea of the faithful—his flock—with the eyes of a shepherd who knows the weight of the staff he now carries. His voice, when it came, was gentle, but beneath it stirred the deep timbre of history.
The square erupted. Flags unfurled. Bells rang. The Church, for a breathless moment, stood as one—from Rome to Manila, from Lima to Chicago, from cloister to cathedral.
The first American pope now sits where Peter once sat. The ancient keys have found new hands. And somewhere, in the fold of heaven, Augustine smiles.
The Church walks forward. Not in darkness. But in light.
Habemus Papam.
