I’m not certain where I first borrowed the idea. I only know it wasn’t original to me. 

I used it in sermons a couple times. Probably in a blog post, too. Whenever I was facing some intractable problem, something so broken I couldn’t even imagine what a solution might look like; when I didn’t really know how to offer hope.

I would say something like, “In the goodness and vastness of God, perhaps even right now, there is a young child in Lagos, a little boy in Lima or a little girl in Vancouver, whom God has chosen to bring us…”  Peace. Wisdom. Unity. 

I’m not sure I ever believed I would see it in my lifetime.

Now, I feel like I have, in Pope Leo XIV.

Robert Prevost and I grew up just blocks from each other in the suburbs on the south side of Chicago — Riverdale and Dolton. Of course, we never met. Bob is three years older than I am, closer to my sister’s age. He went to Catholic school. I think I can remember being intrigued and attracted and a little bit afraid of the statue of Mary in front of his school (which is now closed). I certainly remember the kerfuffle at my public school when a teacher showed up on Ash Wednesday with a smudgy cross on her forehead. And I remember the blocks and neighborhood around his home. We had friends very nearby. My family moved away when I was seven, so my chances to know or bump into Bob were limited.

Those of you in West Michigan almost certainly know that later Bob attended St. Augustine Seminary (now, also closed) on the shores of Lake Michigan, right outside Holland. Just last summer, I parked beside the old building on my way to the beach.

All of this feels like more than a neat novelty, an odd coincidence, or a light brush with fame. It feels to me like God was and is at work in unlikely places. To my sermonic rhetoric about “maybe somewhere there is a little child in Mumbai…” it feels as though God has answered: 

“There was a little boy in Riverdale…” 

And that gives me hope.

While I don’t remember where I first heard this “somewhere there’s a child” rhetoric, I do recall that Alistair MacIntyre, after exploring modernity’s moral chaos, concludes his After Virtue by writing, “We are waiting…for another—doubtless very different—St. Benedict.” Nice. I doubt, however, that St. Benedict, despite his many qualities, has enough suction to stir many people beyond those who read Scottish philosophers. I also think of Kundun, Martin Scorsese’s film about Buddhist monks in 1937 searching for the next Dalai Lama, and finding a two year old boy in a remote Tibetan village. In Scripture, it brings to mind Samuel being sent to Jesse’s family to anoint a new king, or the magi following a star in search of the King of the Jews. 

If I’m honest, I don’t only rely on this “somewhere there’s a child” rhetoric when facing some monumental fracture in the world. I have used it, and use it still, when I’m too weary, angry, exasperated, or lazy to move toward a solution myself. It seems impossible or inconvenient. Something I don’t want to do. Something I don’t think I can do. 

• Who will heal this nation and overcome the bitter red/blue divide? Somewhere, there’s a child in Galveston… 
• Who will help the whole Church welcome and embrace LGBTQ+ people? Somewhere, there’s a child in Glasgow… 
• Who will finally help us confront our catastrophic climate crisis? Somewhere, there’s a child in Schenectady…
• Who will undo the vast inequities between rich and poor? Somewhere, there’s a child in Cairo…

Maybe that’s passing the buck. Delusional. Irresponsible. Or maybe it’s a way of hanging on to some hope.

Just as I never met Bob Prevost, I am no expert on Pope Leo XIV. But I like him. A lot. I respect him immensely. I won’t attempt an analysis of his first encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas. The internet is already flooded with them. And they’re overwhelmingly positive. On a daily basis I would guess that Leo’s life is like simultaneously playing eight games of three-dimensional chess, while my understanding of his role is closer to a game of checkers.

“For such a time as this,” Mordecai’s famous words to Esther, has never been a favorite biblical quote. I’ve heard it invoked too many times by ambitious and arrogant Christians to propel their own dreams and candidacies forward. That’s said, I wonder if the College of Cardinals — guided by the Holy Spirit, to be sure — felt something like this when they elected Pope Leo. Given what is happening in the United States, the temperament of the president, and the religious nature of so many of his supporters, this was the time when the world needed an American pope. 

A few days ago, I was listening to a jaded secular skeptic online, someone from whom I’ve only heard scorn and snubs of Christianity. Speaking of Pope Leo, he said “He’s the most important anti-fascist figure in the world today.” 

Wow! I sat up in disbelief. What did that guy just say?

“The most important anti-fascist figure in the world today.”

Somewhere, there was a little boy in Riverdale. Thanks be to God.