Here at Busted Halo our motto is “faith shared joyfully,” and the announcement of Chicago-born Robert Prevost as Pope Leo XIV has been one of the most remarkable moments of shared joy in recent memory for Catholics around the world, and particularly here in the United States. Over the past week, we have all been having conversations with friends, family, and colleagues about where we were when we heard the news, and how we reacted. Shock, wonder, and joy are — more or less — the universal reactions. So, before this moment fades into the background, we wanted to collect and share some of these stories.
Today and Monday, we will be posting reflections from Busted Halo staff and contributors that capture where we were when we heard the announcement that we had white smoke issuing from the chimney and that the man stepping out onto the balcony was from the United States. We hope that reading these stories contributes to your own joy in this wonderful moment for our Church!
I was standing in a Vietnamese café, patiently awaiting my milky tea, when I received a text in all caps: “WHITE SMOKE!” I moved like an alarm had sounded; throwing my laptop on the nearest table and opening a live stream, and sure enough there was white smoke and some very cute seagulls. I clapped, I hopped, and I realized I was the only person in this small building to seem aware of what was happening. Everything around me was business as usual — well, except for the excitable woman with the milky tea jumping up and down in front of a laptop (me).
I wondered if I should tell someone, announce it to the café? No, yells of smoke generally don’t inspire joy. But this was a huge moment for Catholics and non-Catholics alike. The election of a new pope signifies a shift in history. This moment resonated with me deeply as this was my first papal conclave since becoming Catholic 10 years ago. Pope Francis had been a loving, welcoming presence during my journey into the Church. This next pope could be that bridge-builder for someone else.
My tender thoughts were interrupted by my laptop dying and the realization I had no charging cable. So, I rushed to my car, tuned my radio, and heard from a commentator that there was movement on the balcony. Cue speed racer moves. As I turned onto my street, the crowd hushed, and I heard “Habemus Papam…Prevosto” What? Is that right? An American? I rushed into my house, flipped on the television and — for a wild moment — I wondered if someone else might emerge onto that balcony.
But there he is, Pope Leo XIV. And when he opens with “Peace be with you” in Italian, I do indeed feel a peace settle in my heart.
“I assumed you were dead,” my brother said. What other explanation could there be for my silence following his 12:12 text (White Smoke!) and 1:16 follow-up (American Augustinian! Villanova grad!)?
Blame it on the weather. After five drizzly days in Maine — where my husband and I had come to ready our summer cottage for the season — the sun appeared and we plunged into garden cleanup, sans phones. I remember glancing at the Catholic church across the harbor, thinking, “If we get a new pope, I wonder if they’ll ring the bells?” (Apparently not.)
At 1:50, I wandered inside and discovered my blown-up phone. Calling my brother — a graduate of (then) Augustinian-run Msgr. Bonner High School outside Philadelphia — I got an earful about Pope Leo XIII and Catholic Social Teaching. Too much too soon! Where was the time machine that would whisk me back 98 minutes to watch the announcement in real time?
Oh, there it was, sitting on the kitchen table. I opened my laptop, pulled up YouTube, and watched David Muir and Fr. James Martin receive and react to the astounding news.
Since then, I’ve been riveted by a litany of personal connections to the new pontiff. My mother taught theology at Bonner for 25 years; there’s a photo of Fr. Prevost visiting during her tenure, which means Mom (now gone to God) probably met the pope. In college, he worked as a groundskeeper at the cemetery where my grandparents are buried. A friend at Merrimack met him several times. And don’t get me started on people from Chicago!
In Cherished Belonging, Fr. Greg Boyle writes about God as Meister Eckhart’s “Wild One.” Rather than simply trying to get butts in pews, Boyle insists, “this wild, astonishing God may have more spacious plans for us.”
I’m fastening my seatbelt.
RELATED: Ten Quotes To Get To Know Pope Leo XIV
I was sitting in my office with the livestream of the chimney up, waiting for the smoke like the rest of the world. I had already been planning on going live on my twitch channel (twitch.tv/frevancsp) to share it, but I was not prepared for it at the fourth vote. I was so overcome with joy and excitement that I was shaking a little. I began to frantically type “Habemus Papam!” into the channels of fellow Catholic streamers while going live on my own channel.
In a few minutes, I was gathered with so many wonderful folks from the twitch Catholic and Christian communities watching and waiting in great anticipation. When I heard the name “Prevost,” I was floored. I sat mouth agape in joy and awe at the news that had been announced. An American pope, in my lifetime! I was so overcome with emotion, lost in the amazement of it all. Honestly, the whole feeling was and is quite indescribable. And I feel incredibly blessed not just by Pope Leo XIV’s presence to the Church, but the way I could share it with my twitch community. It was a lot of fun and a great insight into the life of the Church to share it there live.
My son Thomas and I were in the car driving back from an errand across town. It was lunchtime, and we had the radio on, listening to the coverage of the choosing of the pope. We heard the radio announcer say, “We see white smoke.”
At that point, we happened to be very hungry, so I pulled into Taco Bell. Thomas said, “No, not now. Don’t order food now. We won’t be able to hear the announcement.” A girl’s voice came on through the drive-thru speaker: “May I help you?” she said. I quickly gave our order. I spoke fast because I didn’t want to talk over the pronouncement of the new pope. “We’ll have two Soft Taco Supremes and two Hard Tacos. Oh, and a senior Diet Pepsi.”
Luckily, I got our order in before the announcer told the world who the new pope was: “It’s Cardinal Prevost.” Thomas and I cheered. “From the United States.” We screamed even louder. We knew what a historic moment this was. There had never been an American pope. I drove up to the window to pick up our food. “Is everything OK?” the girl asked, handing us our food in brown paper bags. “Everything is great,” I said. “They just announced that we have an American pope. They just picked a new pope.” The girl looked at us a little bit dumbfounded. She must not have been a Catholic.
I know that Thomas and I will never forget this experience. It was one of those life-changing events, made even more salient by our wacky location. If Jesus, Mary and Joseph and all the saints were looking down on us at that moment, they would have gotten a chuckle. This moment shed new light on the phrase “The sacred and the profane.”
I sat curled up in the corner of the couch, feeding my 3-week-old son, eyes locked on the television as I waited along with the rest of the world to find out the identity of the next leader of the Church. The anticipatory buzz around the papal conclave was a welcome distraction from the more challenging parts of early motherhood. Between a tough labor, an unexpected second hospital stay due to complications, and the general sleeplessness of the newborn stage, I wasn’t feeling a whole lot of peace, though I was desperately seeking it.
I paused to wipe milk from my son’s chin. Just then, movement on the balcony. Habemus Papam! The astonished reactions from the anchors. An American pope! The roars of the crowd in St. Peter’s Square. And moments later, the appearance of Cardinal Robert Prevost, now Pope Leo XIV, visibly moved as he took in the sea of supporters — his life, and the history of the Church, forever changed.
He shared his first words in Italian: “Peace be to all of you.” I felt myself tear up (not hard these days) as I listened to the new pope’s address, reminding us that we are all held by God and capable of a peace that drives out fear. With my own life forever changed by the birth of my second child, it was a message that I needed to hear. After all, there’s a sacredness to new beginnings — the holy turning of a new page that both humbles and empowers. Who knows what the next chapter of the Church — or our lives — might bring?
I watched the celebrations continue to unfold, the Holy Spirit offering me a newfound sense of peace during this vulnerable time — a reminder that I too am held by God, just as I hold my own bundle of hope and light right here in my arms.
