by Marco Baratto
From the very first days of his pontificate, Pope Leo XIV has found himself at the center of a heated debate in the United States. On American social media and within the most polarized media circles, his figure was immediately labeled: for some, a "Marxist," an illegitimate pope hostile to traditional values; for others, a moral symbol of resistance against Donald Trump's populism and the religious right. From the outset, Pope Leo has been trapped in a political reading of his ministry — one that has little to do with its spiritual dimension.
The recently published apostolic exhortation has only intensified this climate of confrontation. Every word Pope Leo speaks, every gesture he makes, every sentence extracted from his speeches is now interpreted through the ideological lens of America's two great camps. For Democrats, the Pope is an ally promoting an inclusive vision attentive to environmental and social issues; for Republicans, he is a suspect leader, too lenient toward multiculturalism and too critical of capitalism and America's national identity.
If there is one open question within the Church today, it is undoubtedly "The American Question." It is not merely a matter of U.S. politics but of the very structure of Catholicity — the Church's ability to remain universal in a world increasingly divided into opposing factions.
Pope Leo is fully aware of this fracture. Deep down, he knows that in the United States, faith has been pulled into a political and cultural conflict with no middle ground. On one side stands the radicalized progressive world, which tends to interpret the Gospel through the lens of social justice and inclusion; on the other, the radicalized MAGA movement ("Make America Great Again"), which claims to defend Christian faith as a bastion of identity against secularization. Both, however, end up reducing the Christian message to a political instrument, losing sight of its spiritual and universal meaning.
This climate of confrontation has inevitably affected American Catholics themselves. They appear very different from their ancestors — the Italian, Polish, and Irish immigrants who built the first Catholic parishes in America, inspired by the missionary and humble spirit of figures like Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini, whom the Pope recently cited in his apostolic exhortation. That generation of Catholics lived their faith as a journey of integration and solidarity, not as a political weapon.
Today, the picture has changed. Many American Catholics now come from a cultural context shaped by Evangelical Protestantism. This has brought with it great religious fervor but also strong individualism, a more moralistic theology, and, at times, a sense of faith as national affirmation rather than universal belonging. The result is a deeply divided American Church — torn between two souls struggling to recognize one another within a single communion.
Pope Leo watches this scenario with concern. He likely knows that what is unfolding is not merely a political fracture but a slow American schism: a gradual spiritual and cultural separation from Rome that could, over time, lead to the formation of a sort of "American National Church," with its own ideological references and political agenda, independent of the Pope's universal magisterium.
The root of this crisis is both ancient and profound. In the United States, religion has always been closely intertwined with politics — often to the point of confusion. The difficulty of distinguishing between Throne and Altar is nothing new, but today it takes on new and more dangerous forms. Many Catholics — Republican and Democrat alike — can no longer separate their faith from their political affiliation. The Pope is judged not by his spiritual authority, but by how much he "pleases" or "displeases" political leaders and favored media outlets.
Yet Pope Leo does not ignore this complexity. He knows his task is not to take sides but to remind everyone that the Church belongs to no nation, no ideology, no political faction. The Pope is, by definition, universal: he represents not the interests of one people but the communion of all peoples in faith. For this reason, even though he was born in America, the moment he became Pope he ceased to be a U.S. citizen in any meaningful sense. His allegiance is to Rome, not Washington; to the Church, not America.
Many Americans, however, struggle to accept this. To them, an "American Pope" remains, deep down, an American. But this misunderstanding betrays the very nature of the papacy. The Pope is not a representative of any nation but the successor of Peter — a figure who transcends borders, allegiances, and flags. And yet, in American public debate, he continues to be framed in national terms: "the left-wing Pope," "the globalist Pope," "the anti-American Pope."
Such an attitude, over time, risks weakening the American Church from within. When the Pope is reduced to a political figure, faith becomes ideology, ecclesial communion dissolves, and the Church loses its prophetic power. Pope Leo's mission is therefore an arduous one: to hold together a Church that mirrors the fractures of the modern world — to restore dialogue where everything tends toward confrontation.
Ultimately, the American Question is far more than an internal conflict among U.S. Catholics. It is a test for the universal Church. It reveals how far faith can resist the pressure of politics and national identity. With his firmness and global vision, Pope Leo XIV reminds us that the Gospel belongs neither to the right nor the left, neither to Americans nor Europeans, but to all humanity.
And in that truth lies the real challenge of his pontificate: to reconcile a divided Church without surrendering to the logic of the world — to remind everyone that the Pope is not American, Italian, or Argentine. He is, simply, the Pope.
