You don’t have to believe in God to find hope in Pope Leo ‹Literary Hub

Regardless of your bench, your prayer carpet, your meditation cushion or your absence, something quietly seismic has just happened on Thursday in Rome. A new pope emerged on the balcony of the Saint-Pierre basilica, flashing in the sun, the beginning of a new chapter that we did not know that we needed. And although it is tempting to reject the papal elections as simple rituals for the devotee, we will miss something essential – something almost electric – if we do not notice what this moment really offers the world in general. The arrival of this pope, at the moment, in this particular crucible of history, has far beyond the limits of Catholicism. It is a global cultural change disguised as white dresses.

We are not a people who currently knew what to do with hope. Look around. Hope has been demoted from virtue to the luxury article. This is something we are talking about with nostalgia or suspicion, something mentioned in marketing slogans, but we have rarely felt in our guts. War simmer and flares. Like, everywhere. The planet burns and floods with mounting indifference. Politicians challenge hollow ideologies disguised as solutions. The algorithm nourishes us with despair in increasingly addictive doses. In this context, the idea of ​​a single person – even a pontiff – considering a shared spark of optimism seems picturesque, even naive.

And yet, was it not precisely the atmosphere in 2008, when a skinny child with a funny name went on the stage and said to us: “Yes, we can”? The election of Barack Obama has not only made history – it has changed emotional time. You could feel the barometric pressure of world change. He represented competence, yes. Intelligence, absolutely. But above all, he represented the possibility of renewal. Hope was not a vague feeling; He has briefly became a world feeling. We dared to believe that things could change.

This is the kind of moment when the church – and more broadly, the world – looks now. Because this new Pope, who is ultimately proven, is not a position as much as a vacuum. An emptiness of faith – not necessarily in God, but in the human project itself. Timing could not be more urgent. The old pope, as well intentioned, was a transitional figure: kind, thoughtful, but limited in age, bureaucracy and a church that still does not know if it was ready to evolve. His resignation was more a murmur than a roar. The world has not stopped. The algorithm barely hiccups.

But the installation of a new pontiff – even, or in particular the first American pope – has the potential to be quite different. Not because it will wave a wand and will make injustice disappear, but because its simple presence could change the tone of the global conversation. The Catholic Church is one of the last land institutions that always stage its leadership transitions as epics. He always carries a kind of theatrical mythical gravity that cuts the noise. Whether or not you care about the doctrine, you think something happens when a new pope comes to power.

If an imperfect institution can start to correct courses – can show vulnerability, humility and a goal – then maybe there is a model for all of us.

And this symbolic power, at the moment, is worth its gold weight. Because symbolism, when done well, becomes a substance. Consider what it would mean – not only for Catholics, but for all those who look at – for this new Pope to speak clearly about the climate, poverty, violence, inclusion, doubt. Consider what it would feel for him to openly recognize what so many institutions will not be: that we are all, on a global scale, a kind of moral vertigo. That it’s not just you. This despair is not a private failure but a community injury.

This does not require dogma. This does not even require belief. It just forces someone to look at the world and to say: “It’s not like that.” And coming from someone whose work is from Berger souls, this declaration – if itself – could unravel cynicism which defines our time so completely. We have become so jaded, so constantly betrayed by our leaders, that we are desperate for a silhouette that simply does not braid. Someone who does not try to sell us something, does not try to win an election, is not indebted to lobbyists, and yet dares to speak to the highest parts of ourselves.

This does not mean that the church has no blood on its hands. This is absolutely the case. His sins are well documented and, in many cases, unforgivable. But that is part of what makes this moment so delicate and powerful. The moral authority of the Church is bruised, perhaps permanently. And yet, paradoxically, it makes its efforts to recover moral relevance all the more significant. If an imperfect institution can start to correct courses – can show vulnerability, humility and a goal – then maybe there is a model for all of us. If the Vatican can recognize the pain while preaching healing, then maybe we can too.

So yes, it’s a moment. Not because of man alone, but because of what the moment requires of man. A pope who simply supports the tradition will disappear in the fog of the disinterest. But a pope who dares to speak prophetic – not in the mystical sense, but in morale – could catalyze something rare: the rebirth of the hope of the public. It is not a little thing. It is not a characteristic card feeling. It’s tectonics.

Because hope, true hope, does not concern optimism or naivety. It’s about solving. It is a question of choosing to worry about everything around you insists on apathy. A hopeless world is a world by the edge. And we waste. A pope ready to name this – not to soften it, not to disinfect it, but to name it – could be the kind of unexpected tonic that this moment calls. Not a Savior, but a signal.

And frankly, we are a people that hurts me for the signals. Not signs of the sky, necessarily, but signs of each other that we always want to try. That we have not abandoned decency, dignity, progress. If this pope can even deliver a ribbon of this signal, he may have a disproportionate impact. Not because we all start to return to the mass, but because we could start to come back against each other.

So no, you don’t need to be Catholic to worry about it. You don’t even need to believe in God. You just have to believe that there is still a role for moral courage in public life. And if this new pope has the audacity to embody this, to remind us – even by passing – that the world is not yet finished, then it could end up being the rare type of leader who does not only inherit a throne, but wins a place in collective conscience.

Because hope, to its most powerful, is contagious. And it takes only one clear voice to start a new chorus.