Last week, I had the privilege of witnessing a truly historic moment: the election of Cardinal Robert Prevost to Pope Leo XIV.

The announcement came as a surprise to many (an American?!), and quickly turned into a celebration. I played only a small role in CNN’s coverage of the papal conclave, but what a thrill to be there in person. That first Sunday of his papacy, St. Peter’s Square swelled with tens of thousands of people, music echoing through the stone colonnades. One exuberant marching band even broke into the anthemic YMCA — a bold choice — to the crowd’s delight.

The moment that touched me most: Pope Leo, newly elected, singing (!) the Regina Caeli for his first Sunday prayer.

I’m not Catholic. And yet in that moment, the connection between Pope Leo and the faithful gathered below was something tangible.

It’s too early to say what direction Pope Leo will chart for the Church. But as an American abroad, he has already set a global tone — speaking fluently in both Spanish and Italian. He is a dual citizen of the U.S. and Peru, shaped by decades of missionary work in the Andes.

For someone like me — an American(ish) kid who grew up between cultures, juggling languages, passports, and identities — that matters.

What has impressed me most is how Pope Leo’s carefully chosen words seem to resonate with people across a wide spectrum. I’ve listened to progressive Catholics pore over his speeches, thrilled by subtle signals (synodal!) that he might continue the reforms begun by Pope Francis. At the same time, conservative commentators have taken heart in what they see as a return to tradition—from his Latin blessings to the red mozzetta.

I’m in no position to predict where he’ll lead the Church. I’m just hoping we’ll get pictures of the Pope playing tennis (yes, he’s a tennis fan). And that I’ll be lucky enough to see it.