Times have been difficult for faithful Anglicans around the globe. In early October, the Church of England announced that Sarah Mullaly, a liberal who holds heterodox views, would be appointed Archbishop of Canterbury. Orthodox Anglicans worldwide therefore made the painful decision to split from their mother church. Meanwhile, on this side of the Atlantic, bishops of the conservative Anglican Church in North America have been mired in scandal, including allegations of sexual harassment leveled against recently elected Archbishop Steve Wood.
Late last month, though, something remarkable happened that should give Anglicans—and all Christians—a renewed sense of hope: King Charles III’s state visit to the Holy See. The magnitude of the event cannot be overstated. For the first time since the Reformation 500 years ago, the reigning monarch of England prayed with the pope of the Roman Catholic Church.
The royal visit will not simply do away with the deep theological disagreements dividing the communions, nor can it undo centuries of pained historical conflict. But to see the heads of the English and Roman churches worshipping together is a reminder of what all Christians have in common. Only a truly universal church, united in the shared heritage of the faith, can defend Western civilization against those forces which threaten to undo it.
Of course, though, some sectarians were outraged by the event. One group of Ulster Protestants denounced His Majesty for violating “his Coronation oath and the promises he made before God.” Some radical traditionalist Catholics, including the disgraced prelate Carlo Viganò, also denounced Pope Leo XIV’s ecumenicism for “sanction[ing] the abdication of the Roman Papacy and the humiliation of the Catholic Church.” In both extreme camps, the King and the Pope were seen as somehow betraying their responsibilities as the head of ecclesiastical communities. Clearly the wounds of the Reformation have not fully healed.
But critics are mistaken if they think the point of the royal visit was to wallpaper over the communions’ very real differences. Queen Camilla, for instance, did not wear the white clothing only certain Roman Catholic royalty is permitted to wear before the pontiff (the privilège du blanc), instead donning the black garments traditionally worn by Protestants. The ecumenical service conducted in the Sistine Chapel itself, too, was not a full mass but rather a simple prayer meeting inspired by both tradition’s liturgies (including an English hymn translated by John Henry Newman) led by both the Pope and Archbishop of York Stephen Cottrell. Even as Charles and Leo united in worship, their divisions over doctrine remained clear.
Despite this clear evidence of divisions, though, the visit nonetheless symbolized the hope of a truer, deeper unity. In an inspiring move, the Pope made His Majesty a “Royal Confrater” of the Abbey of St. Paul’s Outside the Walls, a papal basilica in Rome with historic ties to the English Crown. This confraternity is a sign of spiritual fellowship and deep mutual respect. Along with the title, Charles was also given a seat in the church bearing his coat-of-arms and the Latin motto take from the Gospel of John: “Ut Unum Sint”—“That They May Be One.”
Nothing less than the Gospel of Jesus Christ is at the heart of the ecumenical unity represented by the royal visit. The reading at the service was taken from Romans 8, in which Saint Paul writes: “For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for?” Christians may not be visibly unified in one churchly body, but we all share the hope—and the joy—of salvation in Christ. Even if we have (sometimes heated) disagreements about the mechanics of that salvation, the fact that a Pope and a King can celebrate this good news together is a reminder of what truly matters.
As global figures in a modern age, Charles and Leo are both somewhat anachronistic. Unlike the presidents and prime ministers in liberal democracies, the people did not vote them into power. Both are religious figures, which sets them at odds with the prevailing secularism of our day. Kings and popes can seem like medieval throwbacks in our modern world. But in a profound sense, that is exactly what makes the two representatives of the Permanent Things most in need of renewal during times of troubles.
Throughout his life, for example, His Majesty has emphasized the importance of environmental conservation. Unlike the eco-warrior ideology of the Left, however, the King’s conservationism has always had something of a traditionalist bent. The conservative philosopher Sir Roger Scruton once praised the then-Prince of Wales for being “a traditional conservative of a Burkean persuasion, who believes that the bond of society is one of trusteeship, rather than an agreement to divide the spoils among the living.” Charles III’s views on conservation are not driven by anti-human ideological commitments, but rather for a genuine love of God’s creation. In that sense, Charles stands out as a profoundly anti-modern figure, someone who can remind us of the eternal connection between mankind and nature.
Although Leo XIV’s papacy is still young, he has shown a similar concern for man’s place in the modern world. He chose his papal name, for example, to honor the social teaching of his predecessor Leo XIII in Rerum Novarum, an encyclical written during the nineteenth century’s great industrial revolution. Now in the midst of the digital revolution, this new Leo hopes to witness to a changing world the unchanging dignity of the human person. He has spoken out about the potentially existential threats posed by artificial intelligence, and he has vocally defended orthodox Christian teachings on human sexuality and life. And like Charles, Leo has a keen interest in conservationist causes fitting for a man who believes that our Father created this planet through Jesus Christ.
One Vatican observer, Father Martin Browne, called what united the Pope and the King an “ecumenism of our common home.” Both men are committed to preserving what Edmund Burke once described as the “unbought grace of life”—including the spiritual truths at the very heart of Western civilization. As the technological revolution upends every facet of our daily lives, as our politics becomes more and more unhinged, we desperately need men like these to uphold the Permanent Things.
In many respects, this budding alliance between a Roman pope and a Protestant king resembles the seventeenth-century partnership between Pope Innocent XI and William of Orange that Winston Churchill recounted in his biography of his ancestor John Churchill, the Duke of Marlborough. By all accounts, the Dutch Stadtholder and the Roman pontiff should have been at odds with each other. But they were united in their opposition to the imperial absolutism of the French king Louis XIV, who sought to overthrow the balance of powers and achieve hegemony on the continent. Churchill’s description of the military alliance between William and Innocent is moving:
Across the gulf of the Reformation and the Inquisition [Pope Innocent] weighted the swords of Protestant armies. He comforted the Catholic Emperor. He consorted with the Calvinist Prince of Orange. To him more than to any other individual we owe the fact that the wars of William and, after Innocent’s death, of Marlborough were, for Europe at large, secular struggles for worldly dominion, and that the lines of battle were no longer, as in preceding generations, the lines of faith. In the armies of the Grand Alliance Catholic and Protestant troops fought in unquestioning comradeship. The Mass and the Anglican Communion were celebrated side by side in camp and field, while hard by Dutch Calvinists, English Puritans, and Scottish Presbyterians raised their psalms and prayers before—all together—falling, united in hearty zest, upon the common foe.
In their day, William and Innocent allied with each other against despotism. In our time, Charles and Leo have allied against the depravations of hyper-modernity. The ultimate lesson of their example is that whatever real divisions exist between Christians, what matters more than anything is the exalted freedom we have all won through the victory of Our Lord. Only that hope can bind together a civilization that seems intent on tearing itself apart. Only that hope can truly make us one.
Michael Lucchese is the founder of Pipe Creek Consulting, an associate editor of Law & Liberty, and a contributing editor to Providence.
