“This Is the Hour for Love”
A personal reflection on Pope Leo XIV’s Inaugural Homily
I watched the livestream of Pope Leo XIV’s inaugural Mass with a cup of coffee in hand and my Bible and Book of Common Prayer open nearby. The early morning light streamed in through the window as thousands gathered in St. Peter’s Square, and I found myself unexpectedly moved—not just by the beauty of the setting, but by the words of a man stepping into one of the most visible roles in global Christianity with humility and grace.
“This is the hour for love,” Pope Leo said. And something in my heart stirred. Yes, Lord. Isn’t that what we need?
As someone from an evangelical Anglican tradition, I don’t always expect to feel spiritually aligned with a papal homily. But this one was different. It wasn’t heavy with ecclesiastical language or cloaked in distant formality. It was personal. Pastoral. Rooted in Scripture and overflowing with love.
The new Pope spoke of Peter—not as the first pope, but as a man who had failed, been forgiven, and called to love more deeply. He reminded us that the Church’s leadership is only ever authentic when it looks like Jesus: not grasping for power but laying down one’s life for others.
“Only if you have known and experienced this love of God... will you be able to feed my lambs.” —Pope Leo XIV
There’s a part of me that wants to say amen to everything Pope Leo said. His longing for a united Church, his call to mission, his heart for reconciliation in a broken world—it resonates deeply. I, too, want to be part of a Church that opens its arms to the outsider, that values diversity without losing its center, which proclaims the gospel not as a weapon, but as a welcome.
And yet, as a Protestant, I also recognize our differences. I don’t see the bishop of Rome as the divinely appointed successor of Peter in the same way Catholic theology does. I believe authority in the Church belongs to Christ alone, expressed through Scripture, and shared among all believers—not centered in one office.
I also want to gently hold onto the conviction that while we can—and should—work with people of other faiths and no faith for the common good, the Church’s mission is ultimately to bear witness to Jesus Christ as the way, the truth, and the life. But think of the power of a Church united in Christ even with our differences.
Unity in Christ means all in love with Christ, full of the love of Christ, unity in Christ is God’s gift to those adopted into His family by grace through faith. And like every functional family we each have different personalities, different gifts, and different opinions on how best to worship God. And that’s a good thing if we love God with all our minds, hearts, and strength and love our neighbors as ourselves.
What moved me most was the Pope’s vulnerability—his acknowledgment of fear and trembling, his confession that he comes as a brother and servant, not a ruler. That feels like Jesus to me.
It reminded me that no matter our tradition, the call is the same: to “love more,” to give our lives for others, to become a leaven of peace and reconciliation in a divided world.
And isn’t that what the gospel is all about? A Savior who stepped into our darkness, not to condemn us, but to love us back to life. A risen Lord who calls each of us—not just Peter—to feed his sheep.
So today, I prayed for Pope Leo. I prayed for the Roman Catholic Church (both firsts for me). I prayed for the Christian church that nurtured me and ordained me as a Minister, and I prayed with renewed gratitude for my Anglican communion which has been water in the desert for me in my retirement years, and I prayed for all who follow Jesus in different corners of his body. I prayed that we will, as the Pope said, walk together as one diverse family toward the heart of God.