Shemaine Bushnell Kyriakides
When I heard the news that the new pope was American, I was stunned.
The first American in history to become the head of the Roman Catholic Church. A man from my own country now holding one of the most powerful spiritual positions on Earth at the same time that Donald Trump is back in the White House. Two Americans, both in global leadership roles, one political and one spiritual. The contrast couldn't be more striking.
It didn’t take long before people started speculating. Sky News anchors, half-jokingly, asked, “Did Trump make this happen too?” But under the laughter, there was real concern: was this the beginning of a new world order dominated by America? Would Trump try to influence the Pope, shaping both church and state in his image? Even I felt a flicker of anxiety. It felt like something out of a conspiracy theory or a Nostradamus prophecy.
But when Pope Leo XIV stepped onto that balcony, something about him immediately shifted the mood.
He didn’t speak in English. He spoke fluent Latin, Spanish and Italian. His words went not to Washington but to Chiclayo, Peru, his “beloved diocese,” where he had served as a missionary bishop for two decades. He didn’t look or sound like the typical American leader. In fact, he seemed to go out of his way to distance himself from his American roots. That caught my attention.
Later, I read a CNN op-ed that was actually quite intriguing, and frankly, it changed the way I saw the moment. The writer pointed out what many of us missed: that this may have been a smart, strategic move by the Cardinals. Not a sign of American control over the Church, but quite the opposite. A way to send a message that there is more than one version of what it means to be American and that the Church, even under an American pope, would not fall in line with political nationalism.
Pope Leo’s background, living in poverty among the marginalized, rejecting power politics, and caring for the poor, mirrors the legacy of Pope Francis. According to the article, he was even critical of Trump’s immigration policies and challenged American leaders like J.D. Vance on their interpretation of Catholic values. In other words, he’s not Trump's pope.
Maybe that’s exactly the point.
At a time when the U.S. is pushing harder on borders, pulling back from global cooperation, and cutting support for the vulnerable, the Church now has a leader who has lived with the poor, speaks the language of the marginalized, and sees his role as a bridge, not a wall.
Maybe this isn’t the start of some new American dominance after all. Maybe it’s something else entirely, a quiet, steady counterbalance. A reminder that true spiritual leadership isn’t about power or control but about compassion, humility, and a higher purpose. And no matter what Trump believes or how far he pushes his agenda, this pope won’t be part of it. In fact, he might be the voice that pushes back, gently but clearly, on behalf of those the world too easily leaves behind.
**Read the entire op-ed in Greek in this Sunday's Kathimerini print edition in Greek.
