Two Americans on a collision course

Two Americans took centre stage yesterday, yet they could hardly be more different.

First, we witnessed vintage Donald Trump as he proclaimed the GREATEST TRADE DEAL EVER DONE. As President, he clearly relished the spotlight, showcasing his self-professed prowess as a dealmaker, enthusiastically cheered by those around his desk in the Oval Office—as well as by our own Prime Minister.

His characteristic style was on full display: bold declarations, grand gestures, and an unyielding confidence that his approach to leadership and negotiation was unparalleled.

At that very moment, history was unfolding in Rome: a new Pope had been elected. And you couldn’t imagine someone more unlike Donald Trump. The newly chosen pontiff, Robert Prevost, would now be known as Pope Leo XIV. Fittingly, white smoke billowed from the Sistine Chapel just as the White House press conference concluded, symbolising the beginning of a very different kind of leadership.

An American—but far from being an America-first nationalist. No MAGA slogans from this humble, Chicago-born prelate. Interestingly, he is regarded almost as much a cardinal from Latin America due to the many years he spent as a missionary in Peru before becoming a bishop there.

“A bishop is not supposed to be a little prince sitting in his kingdom,” he mused last year, “but rather called authentically to be humble, to be close to the people he serves, to walk with them and to suffer with them.”  Consequently his time in Peru, serving communities often mired in poverty and struggle, shaped his worldview in profound ways.

That, for me, says everything. His decade as a parish pastor and seminary teacher in Trujillo, northwestern Peru, is a testament to his humility and lack of personal ambition. Clearly, he wasn’t busy crafting an impressive CV to climb the Church’s ranks—quite the opposite. His focus was on community, education, and spiritual nourishment, with little concern for accolades or recognition.

In his opening address, Pope Leo XIV spoke directly to his role as Pontiff, i.e.: bridge-builder: “We are disciples of Christ; Christ goes before us, and the world needs his light. Humanity needs him like a bridge to reach God and His love. You help us to build bridges with dialogue and encounter so we can all be one people, always in peace.” 

His choice of words—'dialogue' and 'encounter'—speaks volumes about his approach. Where walls are often built, Pope Leo XIV intends to construct pathways. Where division thrives, he seeks reconciliation.

The contrast to Donald Trump is stark. Trump bulldozed his way into the White House with single-minded determination, pulling up the drawbridge to any who dared to disagree. His leadership was defined by assertiveness, often to the point of confrontation—prioritising visible success over consensus-building.

Pope Leo XIV’s approach couldn’t be more different. His vision is one of collective unity and spiritual healing rather than political triumphs.

The big question now: how will these two men get along? It seems inevitable that their paths will clash—a collision of two worldviews, two understandings of power, and two radically different ways of leading. Trump’s view of power is transactional and immediate, built on tangible results and political muscle. Pope Leo XIV’s, however, is inspired by the Holy Spirit and shown in service and by hearts transformed.

We’ve seen this tension between raw political might and spiritual authority before—even during the trial of Jesus. Pilate, as the Roman governor of Judaea, wielded absolute power. He declared to Jesus, “Do you refuse to speak to me? Don’t you realise I have power either to free you or to crucify you?” (John 19:10).

There was no doubt who held the levers of power as Roman soldiers drove nails into Christ’s wrists. Yet, his resurrection victory shattered all conventional understanding of political power.

It was Joseph Stalin who famously scoffed, “The Pope! How many divisions has he got?” And the answer for all Christians, if you count the angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, is quite a lot!  But only visible to the eyes of faith.

I recall John Paul II's visit to his native Poland in 1979 soon after his election as Pope. That pilgrimage was more than symbolic; it was a showdown between two concepts of power. A historian from the University of Warsaw reflected: “This was the pebble that started the avalanche that changed the geopolitical situation of not only Eastern Europe but the entire world.”

I vividly recall how the communist authorities orchestrated a greeting for Pope John Paul II in a muddy field, assuming no one would kneel before him in their best clothes. But they did. Those mud-stained garments became badges of honour—a silent yet powerful act of resistance. For the communists, it was a failure of imagination. They underestimated the power of faith over political intimidation.

I don’t foresee an easy path for Pope Leo XIV. Nor for the new Archbishop of Canterbury set to be appointed this autumn. Christian leaders march to a different drum than political figures, especially those within authoritarian regimes.

As Jesus replied to Pilate: “You have authority over me only because it was given to you by God.” Pilate, of course, had no grasp of what Jesus meant, though perhaps on some intuitive level, he sensed that Jesus wielded an authority far beyond his understanding.

And so, we pray for Robert Prevost—Pope Leo XIV—as he steps into his role as a voice for Christ in an unloving and disordered world. And for the right person to be appointed Archbishop of Canterbury.