Leo XIV and the Legacy of Leo XIII: A Name That Bears a Vision

When the newly elected pope stepped out onto the loggia of St. Peter’s Basilica and took the name Leo XIV, it wasn’t just a nod to tradition. It was a deliberate echo of a name carried by thirteen popes before him, beginning with Leo the Great, the 5th-century Doctor of the Church renowned for defending orthodoxy and engaging the turbulent politics of a collapsing Roman Empire. But it is perhaps Leo XIII—the late 19th-century “Pope of the Rosary,” philosopher, social reformer, and prolific writer—whose influence may be most relevant today.

This isn’t to suggest a simplistic “here’s what to expect” from the new pontificate. Rather, it invites a reflection: if a name signals affinity, inspiration, or continuity, then the choice of “Leo” may shed light on the spiritual, intellectual, and pastoral vision that Pope Leo XIV hopes to continue.

Pope Leo XIII (1878–1903) left behind a papal record unmatched in volume and ambition. He issued 88 encyclicals, tackling everything from political authority, socialism, and slavery to devotion, philosophy, and the dignity of Christian life. For many, he is remembered first and foremost for Rerum Novarum (1891), his foundational encyclical on the rights of workers and the responsibilities of capital. But to stop there is to glimpse only a corner of the legacy.

Early in his pontificate, Leo XIII signaled his priorities with Aeterni Patris (1879), a passionate call to restore Thomistic philosophy as the intellectual backbone of the Church. This would become, arguably, the most influential theological document of the last two centuries. He saw in St. Thomas Aquinas not just theological rigor but a framework to meet the challenges of modern rationalism, scientific skepticism, and ethical relativism. This sparked a Thomistic revival that reshaped seminary education for decades and positioned the Church not against reason, but as its most faithful steward.

The 19th century was a time of political upheaval and ideological ferment, and Leo XIII waded directly into it. In Immortale Dei (1885), he outlined the proper relationship between Church and state, insisting that civil authority is legitimate only when grounded in divine law. Libertas (1888) offered a philosophical rebuttal to liberalism’s unmoored view of freedom, defending instead the idea of liberty ordered toward truth and virtue.

He confronted secularism and socialism head-on in Quod Apostolici Muneris (1878), and later, Graves de Communi Re (1901), where he explored the concept of Christian democracy—not as a political party, but as a moral vision of society rooted in solidarity and subsidiarity.

In In Plurimis (1888) and Catholicae Ecclesiae (1890), Leo XIII denounced slavery, emphasizing the dignity of every human being and urging missionary efforts to uphold justice and freedom. These were not abstract pronouncements but targeted messages to bishops in Brazil and Africa, places still grappling with the legacy of the slave trade.

Perhaps no pope has done more to elevate the rosary to a central place in Catholic devotional life. Beginning with Supremi Apostolatus Officio (1883), Leo XIII issued eleven encyclicals on the rosary, often released annually each September or October. In Octobri Mense (1891), Magnae Dei Matris (1892), Laetitiae Sanctae (1893), and others like Adiutricem (1895) and Diuturni Temporis (1898), he promoted the rosary as a powerful spiritual weapon against the forces of secularism, materialism, and division.

Leo XIII believed the rosary wasn’t just private devotion; it was a force for cultural renewal, a way to refocus Christian life around contemplation, humility, and the mysteries of salvation. This might resonate deeply with Pope Leo XIV, emerging as he does from the United States—a nation where Catholic identity often lives or dies in the home, parish, or devotional life, more than in national policy. He did, after all, conclude his first remarks as pope with a reminder that on the date he ascended to the papacy, the Church celebrated Our Lady of Pompeii and led the recitation of a Hail Mary.

Long before Vatican II, Leo XIII took significant steps toward ecumenical engagement, particularly with the Eastern Churches. In Orientalium Dignitas (1894), he recognized the dignity and legitimate diversity of the Eastern rites, calling for the protection of their liturgical traditions and autonomy. In Praeclara Gratulationis Publicae (1894), he issued a broad appeal for Christian unity—acknowledging the pain of division while urging reunion grounded in truth and charity.

Other encyclicals like Paterna Caritas (1888), aimed at Anglicans, and Satis Cognitum (1896), on the unity of the Church, reveal a pope willing to engage theologically and pastorally with the divided Christian world. The latter laid an almost prophetic foundation for the century ahead: “Scattered and separated members cannot possibly cohere with the head so as to make one body. . . . And so dispersed members, separated one from the other, cannot be united with one and the same head. . . . Separated from the head they must of necessity die. . . . What is cut away from the mother cannot live or breathe apart. . . . As long as it was in the body, it lived; separated, it forfeits its life” (5). Leo XIII’s focus would not be reengaged in such thorough and dramatic form until Vatican II’s Unitatis Redintegratio and John Paul II’s Ut Unim Sint. Leo, again, way ahead of his time.

Leo XIII was no anti-modern obscurantist. In Providentissimus Deus (1893), he issued one of the Church’s most important documents on the study of Scripture, encouraging rigorous scholarly methods while safeguarding the divine inspiration of the Bible. In Divinum Illud Munus (1897), he offered a deep meditation on the Holy Spirit, emphasizing personal holiness, the gifts of the Spirit, and renewal of the Church from within.

His final years included Mirae Caritatis (1902), on the Holy Eucharist, reminding the faithful that the center of Christian life is not politics or philosophy, but the living presence of Christ in the sacrament of love.

So what does it mean that Pope Leo XIV has chosen this name? We can’t draw a straight line from one pontificate to another—nor should we. The challenges of 1900 are not the challenges of 2025. But names are chosen with purpose. To choose “Leo” is to evoke a legacy—one that combines theological clarity, philosophical engagement, social concern, and devotional fervor.

Leo XIII showed that a pope could be a scholar and a pastor, a philosopher and a Marian, a reformer and a traditionalist. He was, in many ways, a modern pope for a modernizing world. That legacy may offer a fruitful blueprint—or at least a spiritual kinship—for a new pope coming of age in the complexities of the global Church.

In times of uncertainty, the Church often looks to its past—not to retreat into it, but to rediscover the roots of its mission. Pope Leo XIII’s writings show a Church unafraid to speak to the world with depth, precision, and boldness. His was a vision of faith that embraced both the ancient and the new, the mystical and the rational.

By choosing the name Leo, Pope Leo XIV may be calling us to remember a pope who believed the Church must think deeply, pray constantly, teach clearly, and love generously. It’s not a program, but a profile—a reflection, perhaps, of what kind of shepherd he hopes to be.

---