The Spirit of St. Augustine: Reflecting on the Major Themes of Pope Leo’s First Year
At the one-year anniversary of the election of Pope Leo XIV, I would like to reflect on some of the key themes of his papacy thus far. The intention is not an exhaustive survey of all of his actions—I leave that to the vaticanisti who follow his day-to-day doings. I will focus mostly on what emerges from magisterial documents, which have more weight than other more informal remarks, as well as his homilies, or his sermones ad populum, if you will.
In the spirit of Saint Augustine, Pope Leo has shown himself to be a skilled communicator, particularly in his homilies. In examining these one finds a keen ability to clearly communicate how the liturgical readings of the day communicate something strikingly relevant to the occasion or group to whom he is speaking. The themes I will focus on are: care for the poor, outcast, and marginalized; idolatry; synodality; and mission.
Pope Leo has continued the legacy of Francis, and Catholic Social Teaching in general, in being a vocal advocate for the poor, outcast, and marginalized. This is particularly clear in his promulgation of the Apostolic Exhortation, Dilexi Te, to all Christians, on love of the poor. Although mostly generated by Francis, Leo adopts these words and ideas as his own. (This also affirms the continuity of Church teaching, not unlike how Francis took up the document of Benedict XVI, Lumen Fidei, and promulgated it.)
We do see Leo, however, express many of its core themes throughout his writings and homilies. For instance, in the Apostolic Letter, In Unitate Fidei, he writes: “We cannot love God whom we do not see without loving our brother and sister whom we do see (cf. 1 Jn 4:20). Love for God without love for neighbor is hypocrisy” (§11). Dilexi Te offers a clear overview of just how central care for the poor has been to the Church throughout its history, noting key figures and movements who have been exemplary in this regard, and how Christians today must not only continue but greatly improve our efforts in this work, as new challenges emerge. It offers a strong reminder that care for the poor, outcast, and marginalized is not only a duty, but “a source of extraordinary renewal for the Church and society, if we can only set ourselves free of our self-centeredness and open our ears to hear their cry” (Dilexi Te §7).
Indeed, our solidarity with the poor means encounter with Christ himself, who identifies his very self with those in need (Matt 25:40), and is thus integral to our salvation (§5). Pope Leo, while still a cardinal, had noted that much of the resistance to Francis from Catholics in the U.S. had been because of his remarks on economic ills, but Leo has not refrained from emphasizing this central teaching. “I often wonder, even though the teaching of Sacred Scripture is so clear about the poor, why many people continue to think that they can safely disregard the poor” (§23). Much of this neglect stems from the allure of consumer culture, where “the illusion of happiness derived from a comfortable life pushes many people toward a vision of life centered on the accumulation of wealth and social success at all costs,” leading to a “throwaway culture” that discards even people, and tolerates indifference (§11).
He also continues the legacy of Pope Francis in denouncing a “deified market” with a one-dimensional focus on profit, that embeds structural injustices that cause much destruction and violence, particularly for the poor and for creation:
From without, death is always lurking. We see it present in injustices, in partisan selfishness, in the oppression of the poor, in the lack of attention given to the most vulnerable. We see it in violence, in the wounds of the world, in the cry of pain that rises from every corner because of the abuses that crush the weakest among us, because of the idolatry of profit that plunders the earth’s resources, because of the violence of war that kills and destroys (5 April 2026).
Indeed, the theme of idolatry is mentioned quite frequently as a root cause of many ills.
I had noted upon his choice of name, that Leo XIII was concerned with idolatry in the modern world, that this might emerge as an area of focus for Leo XIV, and indeed it has. Some of these idols include “technology, money, success, power, or pleasure” (9 May 2025). These idols are effectively “substitutes” where we seek salvation in things other than God, or which distract us from life in God.
In reflection on the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea, he notes that in the creed’s profession of belief in one true God, “Christians are therefore called to turn away from lifeless idols to the living and true God” (cf. Acts 12:25) (In Unitate Fidei §6). He asks people to honestly examine their conscience as to what is really being worshipped, particularly as reflected in our lifestyles:
What does God mean to me and how do I bear witness to my faith in him? Is the one and only God truly the Lord of my life, or do I have idols that I place before God and his commandments? Is God for me the living God, close to me in every situation, the Father to whom I turn with filial trust? Is he the Creator to whom I owe everything I am and have, whose mark I can find in every creature? How do I treat creation, the work of his hands? Do I exploit and destroy it, or do I use it with reverence and gratitude, caring for and cultivating it as the common home of humanity? (§10).
This also points to just how destructive to ourselves and creation consumerism is, and yet how many are blind to this reality.
In his Ash Wednesday homily, he notes how turning back to God and away from the idols is truly liberating:
Scripture teaches us that opposing idolatry with worship of the living God means daring to be free, and rediscovering freedom through an exodus, where we are no longer paralyzed, rigid, or complacent in our positions, but gathered together to move and change. How rare it is to find adults who repent—individuals, businesses and institutions that admit they have done wrong! (18 February 2026).
This indicates also an idolatry of the flawless self that we portray to others, particularly on social media. There has also been a resurgence in the illusion of strength as power, that stems from a fear of being seen as weak, or from other insecurities. Citing Paul VI’s Ash Wednesday homily, he notes “modern man’s ‘tremendous capacity for delusion, self-suggestion, and systematic self-deception about the reality of life and its values’” (18 February 2026).
In another homily, in Monaco (of all places), he again reflects on the liberating work of being free from idols:
First, liberation takes the form of a purification from the “idols” that defiled the people (Ez 37:23). But what are idols? The prophets use this term to refer to all those things that enslave our hearts, deceiving them and corrupting them. [. . .] Idolaters are thus narrow-minded people who look at what captivates their gaze, ultimately darkening it. And so, the great and wonderful things of the earth become idols and bring about forms of slavery—not for those who lack these things, but for those who gorge themselves on them, leaving their neighbor in misery and sorrow. Liberation from idols is thus deliverance from power understood as dominion, from wealth turned into greed, from vanity masquerading as beauty . . . As Saint Augustine taught: “man is liberated from their dominion when he believes in him who has given an example of humility” (De Civitate Dei VII, 33).
And he then goes on to make a comment on the counterfeit “joy” that comes from gambling, in the shadow of the Casino de Monte-Carlo, no less: “Therefore, dear friends, bring happiness to others through your faith, by manifesting authentic joy, which is not won through a wager, but shared through charity. God’s love is the source of this joy” which he specifies, is experienced in our love for the most vulnerable (28 March 2026).
And it was in the context of idolatry that he denounced the proliferation of war and demagoguery in the world, which caught the attention of some leaders. I had noted at the start of his papacy that Leo would have to deal with what Pope Francis had called a “piecemeal” and “fragmented” World War III, and this has become even more so the case with intensifications of and additional conflicts. In the prayer vigil held on 11 April 2026, Leo notes how much of the violence in the world today stems from idolatry and how Christianity offers an alternative way of peace:
A Kingdom in which there is no sword, no drone, no vengeance, no trivialization of evil, no unjust profit, but only dignity, understanding, and forgiveness. It is here that we find a bulwark against that delusion of omnipotence that surrounds us and is becoming increasingly unpredictable and aggressive . . . Death enslaves those who have turned their backs on the living God, turning themselves and their own power into a mute, blind, and deaf idol (cf. Ps 115:4-8), to which they sacrifice every value, demanding that the whole world bend its knee. Enough of the idolatry of self and money! Enough of the display of power! Enough of War! True strength is shown in serving life.
It has been, indeed, the role of every pope to denounce war, seeing all violence as a human failure, instead advocating for diplomacy, negotiations, conversation in the service of upholding human dignity, with a special consideration that war always more gravely affects the most vulnerable. The Church “advances without hesitation, proclaims the Gospel of peace and instills obedience to God rather than any human authority, especially when the inherent dignity of other human beings is threatened by continuous violations of international law” (11 April 2026).
Rather than the idolatry of power, Christ offers a way of peace. Rather than a messiah as a conquering military hero, Jesus the Christ is the suffering servant who constantly opts for peace in the face of mounting violence. In his Palm Sunday homily, Leo made a refrain of: “Jesus, King of Peace.”
He did not arm himself, or defend himself, or fight any war. He revealed the gentle face of God, who always rejects violence. Rather than saving himself, he allowed himself to be nailed to the cross, embracing every cross borne in every time and place throughout human history. Jesus, King of Peace, who rejects war, whom no one can use to justify war. He does not listen to the prayers of those who wage war, but rejects them, saying: “Even though you make many prayers, I will not listen; your hands are full of blood” (Is 1:15). “In his wounds, we see the hurts of so many women and men today. In his last cry to the Father, we hear the weeping of those who are crushed, who have no hope, who are sick and who are alone. Above all, we hear the painful groans of all those who are oppressed by violence and are victims of war (29 March 2026).
Another theme that I noted Leo had indicated early on would be significant is that of synodality, and with this the need for unity in the Church. Along with synodality, or “walking together,” being a pilgrim Church, there is the theme of listening (cf. A Fidelity that Generates the Future §22). Although synodality is a key element of the implementation of Vatican II as a way of renewal and unity, it has caused some division. It emerged, particularly from the conclave, that some cardinals are highly critical of the synodal approach, and that this was a point of contention. Some saw the synodal approach of Francis as causing division, and so were claiming to seek unity, which some have indicated really meant a repeal of Francis’s reforms.
It is striking that Leo has been an advocate for unity—making his motto: “In Illo uno unum” (“In the one Christ we are one”)—while also being clear that the synodal way is here to stay. So, there will be some challenges in bringing about the fruits of synodality, but Leo has been nurturing the themes of walking together, pilgrimage, and even frequently using the analogy of “constellations” that guide a journey, using the phrase per aspera ad astra (“through difficulties to the stars”).
It is fitting for an Augustinian pope to advocate these themes, as two key motifs for Augustine were how we walk with Jesus as our inner teacher who accompanies us along the way, and how we are like pilgrims journeying to the City of God. In doing so, Leo envisions a dynamic Church that is not afraid to move forward as pilgrims and apostles. In his homily on the Epiphany he says:
The ancients referred to homo viator, and indeed all of our lives are a journey. The Gospel challenges the Church not to be afraid of this phenomenon, but to appreciate it, and orient it toward a God who sustains us. [. . .] Let us ask ourselves: is there life in our Church? Is there space for something new to be born? Do we love and proclaim a God who sets us on a journey (6 January 2026).
And in the Easter season, on his visit to Angola, he highlights how the Church is like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, walking with the risen Jesus:
Dear friends, the Good News of the Lord, even for us today, is precisely this: he is alive, he has risen, and he walks beside us as we journey along the path of suffering and bitterness, opening our eyes so that we may recognize his work and granting us the grace to start afresh and rebuild the future. The Lord walks alongside the two disappointed disciples, who are running out of hope. As their travelling companion, he helps them to piece together the fragments of that story, to look beyond their pain, to discover that they are not alone on the journey and that future, still inhabited by the God of love, awaits them (19 April 2026).
Another interesting element that could be seen as incorporated into synodality is the role of Catholic education and universities in forming good members of the Body of Christ who are able to live lives of reasoned faith. That hearts and minds are well formed as they embark on an educational journey that will become a lifelong journey toward truth. In doing so they strengthen the Body of Christ. In celebration of Gravissimum educationis, the Apostolic Letter Drawing New Maps of Hope offers a vision of Catholic education. “‘Every man is capable of truth, yet the journey is much more bearable when one goes forward with the help of another.’ Truth is sought in community” (Drawing New Maps of Hope §3.2). There is a particular richness in the navigational language he uses:
Since its origins, the Gospel has generated “educational constellations”: experiences that are both humble and powerful, capable of interpreting the times, of preserving the unity between faith and reason, between thought and life, between knowledge and justice. In stormy weather, they have been a lifeline; in calm weather, they have been a sail unfurled. A beacon in the night to guide navigation (§1.2). “This heritage is not set in stone: it is a compass that continues to point the way and speak of the beauty of the journey” (§1.3).
Some of the key themes demonstrate how education is a human right and a genuine common good. It is not merely vocational training but should form the whole person. Schools should not be isolated from culture, but shaped by and shaping culture, grappling with the questions of our time. It also warns against factors and market logics that instrumentalize education, and warns that while new technologies must be incorporated, it must be done so in a way that can “enrich the learning process, not impoverish relationships and communities” (§9.1).
Catholic educational constellations are an inspiring image of how tradition and future can intertwine without contradiction: a living tradition that extends towards new forms of presence and service. Constellations are not reduced to neutral and inert concatenations of different experiences. Instead of chains, let us dare to think of constellations, their intertwining full of wonder and awakening. In them lies the ability to navigate challenges with hope, but also with courageous revision, without losing fidelity to the Gospel (§11.1).
A final theme that Pope Leo has said much about is clarifying what it means to be a missionary Church that evangelizes the world with open arms. Much of this has to do with demonstrating a more authentic faith in our lives, “making our proclamation more credible” (18 February 2026). And that the world is in need of transformation that brings newness of life to places that have known much loss. In his homily for the Chrism Mass (2 April 2026), he provides a long reflection on the nature of mission. Here he emphasizes the idea of a “Church that is ‘apostolic,’ sent out, driven beyond itself, and consecrated to God in the service of his creatures.” He notes that this entails a kenosis or self-emptying.
Jesus’ journey reveals that the willingness to lose oneself, to empty oneself, is not an end in itself, but a condition for encounter and intimacy. Love is only true when it is unguarded; it requires little fuss, no ostentation, and gently cherishes weakness and vulnerability. We struggle to commit ourselves to a mission that exposes us in this way, and yet there is no “good news to the poor” (Luke 4:18) if we go to them bearing the signs of power, nor is there authentic liberation unless we free ourselves from attachment. Here we touch upon a second secret of the Christian mission. After detachment comes the law of encounter. We know that throughout history, mission has not infrequently been distorted by a desire for domination, entirely foreign to the way of Jesus Christ. [. . .] Consequently, it is not a priority to remember that neither in the pastoral sphere nor in the social and political spheres can good come from abuse of power. The great missionaries bear witness to quiet, unobtrusive approaches, whose method is the sharing of life, selfless service, the renunciation of any calculated strategy, dialogue and respect.
This might mean rejection, in the way that Jesus was rejected. But the “poor, imprisoned, rejected Messiah descends into the darkness of death, yet in so doing he brings a new creation to light.”
He also offered in his homily in Algeria at the Basilica of St. Augustine a striking image that provides a similar vision of what mission might look like:
Dearest Christians of Algeria, you remain a humble and faithful sign of Christ’s love in this land. Bear witness to the Gospel through simple gestures, genuine relationships and a dialogue lived out day by day: in this way, you bring flavor and light to the places where you live. Your presence in this country is like incense: a glowing grain that spreads fragrance because it gives glory to the Lord and joy and comfort to so many brothers and sisters. This incense is a small, precious element that does not draw attention to itself, but invites us to turn our hearts to God, encouraging one another to persevere amid the difficulties of the present time. From the thurible of our hearts may there rise praise, blessing, and supplication, spreading the sweet fragrance (cf. Eph 5:2) of mercy, almsgiving, and forgiveness. Your history is one of generous hospitality and resilience in times of trial. Here the martyrs prayed; here Saint Augustine loved his flock, fervently seeking the truth and serving Christ with ardent faith. Be heirs to this tradition, bearing witness through fraternal charity to the freedom of those born from above as a hope of salvation for the world (14 April 2026).
It is worth noting that the Roman Catholic population of Algeria is less than 0.1%.
These themes will doubtless continue to be developed in his ministry, and new ones will emerge. Of course, much will be revealed when his first encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas is promulgated. My insightful colleague, Sally Scholz, has already offered some indication as to what we might expect there. As for now, perhaps it has been Pope Leo’s living of the Gospel in such a vibrant manner that has been the most inspiring aspect so far. May he continue to be a guiding star for us all, particularly in times of darkness and tumult, as well as an afflatus to fill our sails in fair weather.
