A Memorial Day meditation about Pope Leo XIV's message call for peace to the world

Bridge Builders In A Broken World
By Maria Shriver
May 24, 2025
I've Been Thinking...

Pope Leo XIV building bridges in a troubled world

Pope Leo XIV has had me thinking ever since I attended his inaugural mass last Sunday. I haven’t been able to shake him since I got home.

There were no shortage of other stories competing for my attention this week. Some of them provoked outrage (like the news of the young Jewish couple shot outside the Israeli embassy or that people continue to starve in Gaza). Other stories stirred disbelief (like the president’s commercialization of the office to advance his personal wealth, or his confrontational meeting this week with the South African president)...

But thankfully, Pope Leo helped me rise above the noise and heartbreak of the week. My experience seeing him in Rome didn’t just stay in my head. It settled in my heart.

I saw his gentle gaze and smiling eyes up close. I watched him look down at his papal ring and stare for just a moment too long, as if to fully grapple with the enormity of his new role. I could tell he was moved and, at the same time, totally comfortable in his own skin.

Since attending his inaugural mass, I’ve been listening, learning, and absorbing. I listened to his thoughts on the need for critical thinking skills in today’s world. I loved that. I listened to his teachings about building bridges through dialogue and connection, joining together as one people, united in peace. I listened to him express his fears about becoming pope, which I found refreshing. And I took note when he announced that, under his direction, the Vatican would host peace talks between Ukraine and Russia.

The bridge builder—this man of peace—is off to a remarkable start.

On this Memorial Day, a day to honor those who gave their lives serving in wars for our country, I am grateful to Pope Leo for stressing the importance of peace. So many have died fighting for our freedom, and so many are still losing their lives due to war. I’m hopeful that peace can be achieved in all places where war still rages. I’m grateful for the pope’s words on this subject and for his behind-the-scenes maneuvering with those who attended his inaugural mass or watched from beyond.

All of us need someone who has spent their life preparing for this kind of moment. Someone who has prepared in every way to stand strongly in this moment. 

When I look at Pope Leo and reflect on all he went through to get to this place, I’m reminded of the value of preparation.

Here is a man who has been preparing his whole life for this moment.

A man who thinks deeply, reflects daily, and prays constantly. He’s well-read, well-educated, and well-traveled. He seems to have emotional intelligence in addition to intellectual intelligence. Those are all important qualities for leadership, especially in times like these.

Our world is complicated. The issues we face are complex. There are no easy answers to the problems that sit on any leader’s table.

I imagine your kitchen table might hold its own complex issues—financial challenges, family and caregiving concerns, mental health struggles, demands on time, and other wants, needs, and desires. No doubt that each of us has had to think and discern about how to juggle both the ordinary and complex. I know I have—and that I still do.

Times such as this require calm. They require centered, confident responses to the issues that come up every minute of every day.

When I think ahead, at times the future can feel daunting. I find myself thinking about things today that I never thought about as a young girl or as a young mother. I listen to my adult children discuss their fears about climate change, about artificial intelligence, and about bringing kids into such a fragile world. Their view of politics and politicians is ugly, divisive, and uninspired. That breaks my heart.

There were no shortage of other stories competing for my attention this week. Some of them provoked outrage (like the news of the young Jewish couple shot outside the Israeli embassy or that people continue to starve in Gaza). Other stories stirred disbelief (like the president’s commercialization of the office to advance his personal wealth, or his confrontational meeting this week with the South African president)...

But thankfully, Pope Leo helped me rise above the noise and heartbreak of the week. My experience seeing him in Rome didn’t just stay in my head. It settled in my heart.

I saw his gentle gaze and smiling eyes up close. I watched him look down at his papal ring and stare for just a moment too long, as if to fully grapple with the enormity of his new role. I could tell he was moved and, at the same time, totally comfortable in his own skin.

Since attending his inaugural mass, I’ve been listening, learning, andabsorbing. I listened to his thoughts on the need for critical thinking skills in today’s world. I loved that. I listened to his teachings about building bridges through dialogue and connection, joining together as one people, united in peace. I listened to him express his fears about becoming pope, which I found refreshing. And I took note when he announced that, under his direction, the Vatican would host peace talks between Ukraine and Russia.

The bridge builder—this man of peace—is off to a remarkable start.

On this Memorial Day, a day to honor those who gave their lives serving in wars for our country, I am grateful to Pope Leo for stressing the importance of peace. So many have died fighting for our freedom, and so many are still losing their lives due to war. I’m hopeful that peace can be achieved in all places where war still rages. I’m grateful for the pope’s words on this subject and for his behind-the-scenes maneuvering with those who attended his inaugural mass or watched from beyond.

All of us need someone who has spent their life preparing for this kind of moment. Someone who has prepared in every way to stand strongly in this moment. When I look at Pope Leo and reflect on all he went through to get to this place, I’m reminded of the value of preparation.

Here is a man who has been preparing his whole life for this moment.

A man who thinks deeply, reflects daily, and prays constantly. He’s well-read, well-educated, and well-traveled. He seems to have emotional intelligence in addition to intellectual intelligence. Those are all important qualities for leadership, especially in times like these.

Our world is complicated. The issues we face are complex. There are no easy answers to the problems that sit on any leader’s table.

I imagine your kitchen table might hold its own complex issues—financial challenges, family and caregiving concerns, mental health struggles, demands on time, and other wants, needs, and desires. 

No doubt that each of us has had to think and discern about how to juggle both the ordinary and complex. I know I have—and that I still do.

Times such as this require calm. They require centered, confident responses to the issues that come up every minute of every day.

When I think ahead, at times the future can feel daunting. I find myself thinking about things today that I never thought about as a young girl or as a young mother. I listen to my adult children discuss their fears about climate change, about artificial intelligence, and about bringing kids into such a fragile world. Their view of politics and politicians is ugly, divisive, and uninspired. That breaks my heart.

It’s so different from the image I had growing up. Back then, politics was where people went to work if they wanted to change the world.

The political leaders of my time were well-educated and inspiring.

They had served their country. They were well-respected and well-mannered. Sure, they disagreed, but they did so with respect. They gave you hope. They gave you a sense that it wasn’t their first rodeo, and that they understood the country, the American people, and the world at large. To me, as a young girl, they seemed prepared for the job at hand.

I’ve thought a lot over the years about the importance of preparation and working your way up the ladder, so that when your moment comes, you’re ready. Of course, none of us ever feels fully ready when stepping into a new leadership role—whether it’s as a mother, a father, a caregiver, or a boss.

I remember when I was thrust into the role of First Lady of California.

Every day, I thanked God for the experience I had in journalism and politics—for the fact that I understood the push and pull of the job before I ever set foot in the Capitol. The same was true when I became an anchorwoman. I was terrified, but grateful I had spent years in the field—writing, producing, reporting. I had years under my belt, so to speak.

I say all this to honor the years of preparation so many put in across various professions. Before they operate on someone. Before they lead a state. Before they assume a high-level job—or a complex one that, as the pope said, requires critical thinking, reflection, and discernment.

It’s so different from the image I had growing up. Back then, politics was where people went to work if they wanted to change the world.

The political leaders of my time were well-educated and inspiring.

They had served their country. They were well-respected and well-mannered. Sure, they disagreed, but they did so with respect. They gave you hope. They gave you a sense that it wasn’t their first rodeo, and that they understood the country, the American people, and the world at large. To me, as a young girl, they seemed prepared for the job at hand.

I’ve thought a lot over the years about the importance of preparation and working your way up the ladder so that when your moment comes, you’re ready. Of course, none of us ever feels fully ready when stepping into a new leadership role—whether it’s as a mother, a father, a caregiver, or a boss.

I remember when I was thrust into the role of First Lady of California.

Every day, I thanked God for the experience I had in journalism and politics—for the fact that I understood the push and pull of the job before I ever set foot in the Capitol. 

In fact, the same was true when I became an anchorwoman. I was terrified, but grateful I had spent years in the field—writing, producing, reporting. I had years under my belt, so to speak.

I say all this to honor the years of preparation so many put in across various professions. Before they operate on someone. Before they lead a state. Before they assume a high-level job—or a complex one that, as the pope said, requires critical thinking, reflection, and discernment.

Memorial Day. ⭐ It’s also the unofficial start of summer—traditionally a time when some take amomentary step off the hamster wheel. Some get married. Some travel. Some take breaks to rest or to visit with family. As for me, this weekend I find myself in a place of deep contemplation and exploration.

My book tour is now behind me. It was a busy several weeks, but it was an inspiring, moving, and thought-provoking experience. It was as if I’d been preparing for this moment my whole life.

And speaking of preparation, I wish you all could have been at the WAM Forum with me this past week.

To be in the room with people who have dedicated their lives to curing disease—to solving the health challenges that plague millions, especially those of us who are aging—was awe-inspiring.

They are thinking deeply about Alzheimer’s, about aging, about women’s health, about caregiving, science, research, and how to support the most vulnerable among us. You would have left feeling hopeful. I know I did.

So as I head into this holiday weekend, I’m prepared to spend some time thinking about my “yeses.” As I wrote last week, I’m prepared to think about what it means to be a bridge builder and a uniter like Pope Leo. We can’t leave that job to one person. We all have roles to play.

I also want to reflect on the role of this publication, in particular. I want to ask myself where it’s going, if it’s serving a purpose, and if it’s necessary in a time like this. I want it to be, so I have to drill down and ask whether it’s helping people build their meaning lives and whether it’s bringing hope and meaning to those who need it. I’m well aware that there are now thousands of publications vying for your time, attention, and resources. That’s why one has to be excellent and necessary and prepared to meet the moment at hand.

I’m also prepared to think about the unimaginable. What haven’t I thought about? What might surface if I give my mind the freedom to roam? It’s a good time to put it all on the table and ask: Do I still want what’s here? Is what’s on my table serving me? Is it serving others—those I care about and love?

It’s as good a time as any to think about your one meaningful life—how precious it is, how fragile it is.

Reading about the hopes of the young Jewish couple struck down this week in Washington DC simply because they were Jewish should send a chill down all of our spines. They were planning to be engaged, now their families are planning funerals. We are all vulnerable in this moment. Therefore, shouldn’t we all want to come together in this moment to protect one another, care for one another, support one another, build bridges towards one another?

I hope so because the alternative leaves us all alone, unprotected, unsafe. We can come together and we must.

Happy Memorial Day, my friends. I hope you smile this weekend. 

I hope you laugh. I hope you talk to someone who inspires you. And I hope you take a moment to think about your own role in bringing about peace—for yourself, your family, and the world.