Pope Leo XIV’s impromptu Tuesday chats with reporters at Castel Gandolfo mark a break from tradition, blending accessibility with risks of controversy in a transparency-hungry era.
Newsroom (16/12/2025 Gaudium Press ) In the serene hills just outside Rome, where the papal summer residence of Castel Gandolfo overlooks Lake Albano, a new ritual has taken root in the life of the Catholic Church’s supreme pontiff. Every Tuesday evening, as Pope Leo XIV concludes his routine day of rest and prepares to return to the Vatican, he pauses for an informal encounter with the assembled press corps. This “doorstep scrum,” reminiscent of the ad hoc media gaggles favored by politicians and celebrities, allows reporters to pose questions on the pressing issues of the day—often touching on world politics or matters within the Church itself. The Holy Father responds spontaneously, without prepared remarks, marking a departure from centuries of papal precedent.
This practice, which began in earnest in early September, represents a striking innovation for the papacy. No previous pope, not even the media-savvy Pope Francis, who frequently granted interviews during his tenure, has engaged in such regular, unstructured interactions with journalists. While in-flight press conferences, inaugurated by Pope St. John Paul II during papal travels, bear some resemblance, they occur infrequently and under more controlled circumstances. Pope Leo’s motives for adopting this approach remain opaque, though the habit appears to have originated serendipitously in June, when Italian journalist Ignazio Ingrao from state broadcaster RAI approached the pontiff as he departed Vatican Radio territory near Rome. The exchange flowed naturally, with Leo addressing topics close to his heart: sustainability, environmental concerns, and threats to global peace.
For observers, this shift erodes a longstanding barrier that has traditionally insulated the pope—regarded as the Vicar of Christ—from the immediacy of public scrutiny. Proponents celebrate the down-to-earth, spontaneous quality of these interactions, which project the pontiff as folksy and approachable. In an age defined by democratic ideals, demands for accountability, and a relentless 24/7 news cycle, such openness can make the pope seem less remote and more human. This is particularly resonant amid the Vatican’s recent history of scandals, including clerical sex abuse, financial improprieties, and governance failures, which have intensified calls for transparency. These scrums allow the faithful to better know Leo, who remains an enigmatic figure to many, and provide him a platform to teach, disseminate his messages to broader audiences, and apply Church doctrine to contemporary crises.
Yet, the same attributes that endear this practice to some also sow seeds of concern. Critics argue that these informal encounters risk conflating the sacred dignity of the Petrine office with the transient glamour of political celebrity, potentially undermining the pope’s pastoral role and public relations gains. Since initiating the Castel Gandolfo routine, Leo has been drawn into commentary on specific policy debates, often sparking unintended controversy. A notable instance occurred in October, when a reporter from EWTN inquired about Cardinal Blase Cupich of Chicago bestowing a “lifetime achievement” award on pro-abortion Democratic Sen. Dick Durbin of Illinois. Leo, admitting he was “not terribly familiar” with the details—a cue that some believe should have prompted restraint—framed his response around a “seamless pro-life ethic.” He suggested that opposition to abortion alone does not suffice if one also supports the death penalty or “inhuman treatment of immigrants,” implicitly critiquing U.S. bishops who opposed the award and aligning against aspects of the Trump administration’s policies.
The fallout was swift: though Durbin ultimately declined the honor, Leo’s words exacerbated divisions within the Church and broader society. In other sessions, the pope has ventured into U.S. immigration policy, urging President Trump against a military invasion of Venezuela. More recently, when pressed on a U.S. peace plan for the Russia-Ukraine War, Leo demurred, noting he had “not read the whole thing” but nonetheless critiqued elements that he saw as eroding the longstanding alliance between Europe and the United States. Without directly naming him, Leo alluded to President Trump’s remarks on Europe as attempts to fracture a vital partnership. Media outlets interpreted this as an uncommon papal rebuke of a sitting American leader.
These episodes raise profound questions about the prudence of such engagements. At its core, the papacy is not a political or technocratic role but a spiritual one: the pope serves as Christ’s vicar, tasked with guiding souls toward eternal truths. His pronouncements demand meticulous reflection, prioritizing transcendent matters over temporal politics, which can easily be co-opted for partisan purposes. Informal remarks, though not magisterial—reserved for formal teachings—may be misconstrued as authoritative by the public.
Historical precedents underscore this caution. Pope St. John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and especially Pius XII navigated topical issues with deliberate restraint. Pius XII, in particular, avoided media entanglements that could appear partisan. His successors often addressed current events through general applications of Church doctrine—moral and social teachings—allowing journalists to draw connections. This approach honored subsidiarity, deferring specifics to local bishops or Vatican diplomats like the secretary of state. It also preserved the essential “set apart” nature of the priesthood, reflecting Christ’s headship without implying superiority or clericalism. Such distance enhances the mystique and authority of the office, akin to the regal reserve of monarchs like Queen Elizabeth II, whose rare interviews bolstered her stature.
Moreover, no external pressure compels the pope to opine on every domestic or policy detail; unlike elected officials, he answers ultimately to God, not an electorate. Abundant avenues exist for papal communication—homilies, official messages, magisterial documents—on his own terms. By contrast, doorstep interviews unfold on the media’s timetable, demanding instant responses that invite missteps, doctrinal ambiguities, and exploitable controversies.
Given these challenges, Pope Leo and his advisors might wisely reassess the practice. Implementing safeguards, such as predefined “rules of engagement,” could mitigate risks. Alternatively, discontinuing the scrums entirely—perhaps alongside the in-flight conferences—might prove the sounder course. In matters papal, as in much of life, silence often speaks volumes, preserving the sanctity and efficacy of the Church’s highest office.
- Raju Hasmukh with files from NCRonline
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