On May 30, 2026, the President of the United States posted a short and scathing sentence on his social network: «"Someone should explain to the Pope that the mayor of Chicago is useless, and that Iran cannot have a nuclear weapon."» The target is named, the tone is that of a rebuke. Donald Trump was addressing Pope Leo XIV—a Chicago native, elected successor to Peter in May 2025—to criticize him for granting an audience to the Democratic mayor of his hometown, Brandon Johnson. This detail reveals something fundamentally new in the relationship between the White House and the Holy See: the American president is no longer content with simply challenging the Pope's positions on peace or immigration; he now presumes to teach him who deserves to be received and for what purpose. The image of Caesar instructing the Bishop of Rome on his associations—this is a scene that Church history thought had been relegated to the archives.
To understand the symbolic violence of this gesture, one must grasp its immediate context. Leo XIV had received at the Vatican a delegation of forty-six people led by Brandon Johnson, who had come to Rome to discuss immigration, restorative justice, and pastoral care in disadvantaged neighborhoods. The meeting lasted nearly an hour. The Pope, born and raised in this city, posed a disarmingly humane first question: «"How's Chicago doing?"» Johnson, for his part, described Leo XIV as «"a magnificent human being"» and invited him to return to his hometown in 2027. Nothing about this audience went beyond the ordinary pastoral framework of a Bishop of Rome receiving elected officials from a major city. But for Donald Trump, whose administration is simultaneously waging war against Iran and pursuing a policy of mass repression on immigration, this simple act became an intolerable political provocation.
The outrage of power in the face of evangelical freedom
An escalation unprecedented in recent history
This is not the first friction between Trump and Leo XIV. From the very first weeks of the pontificate, tensions had emerged over immigration, the war in the Middle East, and the threat to destroy the Iranian people, which the Pope had described as «"completely unacceptable"». In April, after a speech by the Pope against the war from St. Peter's Basilica, Trump had called him a «" weak "» and «" null "» in foreign policy. But the May 30th post crossed a qualitative threshold: for the first time, a sitting American president addressed Peter's successor as an ill-informed subordinate, urging him to learn from a geopolitical reality of which he was apparently ignorant. This was no longer a disagreement between two institutions; it was an attempt at control.
This development has very concrete effects beyond mere rhetoric. In media circles close to the American government, campaigns to discredit Leo XIV have begun circulating among Catholics who have been politically evangelized along conservative lines. The goal is not to convince the Pope—it is to destabilize his moral authority in the eyes of a segment of his own flock. This is a war of influence waged within the Church itself, an attempt at a silent schism between an American Catholicism committed to nationalist ideologies and a papacy that refuses to submit to them.
The theological basis of the disagreement
What deeply irritates the Trump administration is not just the personality of Leo XIV—it is his encyclical Magnifica Humanitas, published on May 25, 2026. In this 45,000-word text, the Pope explicitly denounces what he calls «"the violent culture of power"» and demands that we move beyond the theory of the «"just war"» too often used as a tool to legitimize any armed conflict. He writes that «"War is not only waged, but also culturally prepared through simplistic narratives, friend-enemy logic, disinformation, and fear."». The workings of the Trump administration's political communication could not be described more precisely.
This is where the conflict between Trump and Leo XIV ceases to be a mere disagreement between individuals and becomes a clash of moral civilizations. The Pope is not speaking as a politician—he is speaking as a witness to the Gospel. And the Gospel, precisely, contains that terrible passage from the Book of Revelation that empires have always tried to silence: «Fallen is Babylon the Great, who made all nations drink the wine of her shameless fury.» (Rev 18:2-3). In the writings of John of Patmos, Babylon is not simply a city: it is organized imperial arrogance, power that considers itself the measure of all things. Leo XIV, without explicitly citing this text, embodies its living exegesis.
Prophetic tradition versus Realpolitik
The Pope is not a diplomat
Trump has insinuated, on several occasions since the election of Leo XIV, that the Pope «"He was appointed simply because he is American."» — implying that an identity-based or partisan logic would explain his election. This is a radical misunderstanding of the nature of the papal office. Leo XIV himself clearly stated this on the plane taking him to Algeria: «"I am not afraid of the Trump administration, nor of speaking out about the message of the Gospel. I am not a politician."» This phrase is not a pose: it is the very definition of the Petrine ministry as understood by Catholic tradition since Gregory the Great.
The cardinal Pietro Parolin, Secretary of State of the Holy See, present at the presentation of Magnifica Humanitas, carefully recalled that the social doctrine of the Church is «"a heritage of wisdom where we find principles for thinking, criteria for discerning and judging"». These criteria are non-negotiable based on electoral majorities or military power dynamics. They are rooted in an anthropology founded on the inalienable dignity of the human person—a dignity that neither economic power nor military superiority can confiscate or condition. It is precisely this intransigence that is so irritating, because it leaves no room for coercion.
The lesson of history: emperors come and go, Peter remains
It would be naive to believe that this conflict is unprecedented in the depths of time. From the Carolingian era to the Investiture Controversies, including the power struggle between Boniface VIII and Philip the Fair at the beginning of the 14th century, temporal power has regularly attempted to instrumentalize, diminish, or neutralize the spiritual authority of Rome. Each time, the Church's long memory has weathered the crisis, not through force, but through unwavering fidelity to its mission. As Ecclesiastes writes, with a lucidity that transcends millennia: «"One generation passes away, another comes, but the earth always remains."» (Ecclesiastes 1:4). The institutional permanence of the papacy does not rest on its political power, but on the continuity of a testimony that transcends reigns.
The theologian and cardinal Víctor Manuel Fernández, prefect of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, who spoke alongside the Pope during the presentation of Magnifica Humanitas, He embodies this doctrinal continuity. The conviction he defends—that the dignity of the human person is the primary criterion for any moral judgment on war, technology, or politics—is precisely what makes the Church impervious to presidential intimidation. The Church may be wounded, marginalized, and slandered in certain circles; it cannot be redefined from the outside according to the interests of the moment.
The American challenge: what kind of Catholicism for what future?
The Battle for the Catholic Soul of the United States
The true gravity of Trump's attack on Leo XIV may not be diplomatic—it is ecclesiological. The United States has approximately seventy million Catholics. A significant fraction of them voted for Trump and have, in recent years, forged a Catholic identity strongly tinged with cultural nationalism, hostility to immigration, and support for power politics. In contrast to this particularistic American Catholicism, Leo XIV embodies a radically different vision: universalist, attentive to the poor, resolutely non-violent, and open to the world—a vision that owes nothing to any political camp, but everything to the prophetic tradition of the Church.
From this perspective, the meeting with Brandon Johnson was a deliberate pastoral act. Chicago is not only the Pope's birthplace; it is a major American metropolis marked by deep inequalities, recurring violence, and a large and vulnerable immigrant community. By receiving its mayor to discuss restorative justice and urban pastoral care, Leo XIV signaled that the Church accompanies human realities as they are, not as propaganda reinterprets them. He did not endorse Johnson's policies; he acknowledged the suffering of the people.
The parable of the sheep and the good shepherd
It is here that the evangelical dimension of the conflict becomes fully apparent. The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Romans, formulates this injunction, which could serve as a pastoral program for the pontificate of Leo XIV: «Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is.» (Romans 12:2). In this case, not conforming to the world means refusing to reduce pastoral care to a calculation of political alliances. The Pope does not choose his interlocutors based on their partisan affiliation, but on the human reality they represent.
Trump's indignation at this audience reveals a conception of the papacy as an extension of American geopolitics—a kind of religious soft power that should serve the foreign policy of the White House. This is precisely the opposite of what the succession of Peter means. John Paul II, whom Brandon Johnson himself invoked when inviting Leo XIV to return to Chicago, traveled to the worst dictatorships of his time not to legitimize them, but to meet the people who suffered under their yoke. This precedent is fundamental: the Pope does not travel according to the preferences of rulers, but according to the geography of human suffering.
Trump's anger at Chicago's invitation for 2027 betrays precisely this: he senses that if Leo XIV returns to his hometown, it will be to embody a vision of America radically different from that which the current administration defends — a welcoming America, reconciled with itself, concerned for the neglected whom the dominant discourse designates as problems to be eliminated rather than as brothers to be embraced.
History, as we know, judges empires by their actions and prophets by the enduring power of their words. When Donald Trump's voice has faded into the archives of Truth Social, Leo XIV's homilies on human dignity and peace will still be read in seminaries and parishes around the world. This is not ecclesiastical arrogance—it is simply the true measure of what it means to speak in the name of the Gospel in the face of the powers of this world.
✝ Biblical references
2 passages · 2 books
I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End. (Revelation 22:13)
Vision of Christ's final victory over evil: hope for persecuted Christians.
→ Explore the Apocalypse Codex
The righteous will live by faith. (Romans 1:17)
Paul's great theological synthesis: sin, grace, justification, and life in the Spirit.
→ Explore the Roman Codex- Magnifica Humanitas: When the Church speaks to man, not to the State — and why this is a profound theological act
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