During the six days spent covering Pope Leo XIV’s June 6-12 apostolic journey to Spain, I lost count of the moments that gave me a lump in the throat.
There was a sense that I was witnessing a rare event in today’s world: an expression of genuine affection toward a person who, for believers, represents a connection with the divine. For those who do not believe, he is a herald of universal values and humanism.
Even for us journalists who traveled with Leo aboard the papal plane, the pope remains a mystery to be unraveled.
We come from very diverse backgrounds. There were Catholics, of course — some practicing, others not as much. Others were atheists and agnostics, and for them, the Vatican is just another beat. Instead of covering sports or general news, fate has them covering the smallest country in the world.
But everyone had to admit that what we witnessed in Spain far exceeded the expectations of both locals and outsiders. This is a country where — as in much of Western Europe — Catholicism is largely ignored or mocked thanks to criticism over the historical ties to Francisco Franco’s dictatorship and clerical sexual abuse scandals.
In other words, the affection shown by Spaniards (and Latin American immigrants) in the streets was astonishing for a society in which Catholicism has largely been cast aside as a relic of the Middle Ages.
The media, the country’s royal household, and even local governments were all on Team Leo. The streets had spoken: it was possible to be Catholic again in Spain.
Unforgettable moments
In Madrid, the Greek goddess Cybele (Cibeles in Spanish) stands tall as a popular tourist attraction over Madrid’s most famous square. But on the morning of Corpus Christi Sunday, she seemed to have vanished.
The 1.2 million people in the square had turned their gaze toward a crucified Christ visible on the stage for Mass.
The scenes from the pope’s tour through the city that morning were breathtaking. Everywhere one looked, the streets were packed to the brim. Catholics from all over the country — including many immigrants from Latin America — wanted to accompany the pope.
The most surprising part of the trip’s Madrid leg was perhaps his appearance at the Santiago Bernabéu Stadium (home of the Real Madrid soccer team), where Leo seemed to open up, speaking impromptu in a style unfamiliar even to us Vaticanistas. Then legendary Spanish actor Antonio Banderas, of all people, made an eloquent, solemn profession of faith that captivated everyone, starting with the pope.
The defining image of his stop in Barcelona was undoubtedly the blessing of the tower of Jesus Christ at the legendary (and still unfinished) Basilica of the Sagrada Familia. As in Madrid, Leo was accompanied by the country’s reigning monarchs, King Felipe and Queen Letizia, adding a majestic feel to the whole affair.
During his final stop in the Canary Islands, the pope delivered a twofold message. In the port of Arguineguín, he heard testimonies and showed solidarity with those who have left their homeland under conditions of slavery: the place is often called the “dock of shame” in Spain, a place where recently arrived African migrants often live in deplorable conditions.
The next day, in Santa Cruz de Tenerife, he called on human traffickers to repent of their crimes against humanity.
I would also add to the trip’s Hall of Fame the voices of Renzo and Valentina, two children who gave us unforgettable moments during the stop in Barcelona. Renzo asked the pope a series of moving, difficult questions, while Valentina, who is blind, offered a magnificent explanation of a model of the Sagrada Familia tower for Leo and the king and queen.
A royal welcome
But there was a moment during the trip — at the very beginning — when it felt like I was living in a fantasy world. For someone from a country with no army and no monarchy, the pope’s reception with military honors at the Royal Palace in Madrid felt otherworldly.
The country’s royals embody an institution historically linked to the Catholic faith, even if the current royal family is not known for being particularly devout.
But their presence — along with that of the queen emerita Sofia — lent the trip’s most important moments a particular dignity. And the monarchs themselves seemed to find their most solemn purpose walking alongside the Vicar of Christ.
Felipe’s father, King Juan Carlos I, had the chance to welcome both St. Pope John Paul II during his five visits to Spain, and Pope Benedict XVI during his three visits. But this was all new to King Felipe given that the beginning of his reign coincided with the pontificate of Pope Francis, who turned down repeated invitations to visit the Iberian country. (Coincidentally, Queen Letizia publicly distanced herself from religious practice during the same period.)
But finally, 12 years after their coronation, Felipe and Letizia got their moment: a chance to showcase their institutional and historical weight by welcoming the bishop of Rome.
Those of us who were present at the events watched as Catholics gave the monarchs and the pontiff rousing ovations, while directing boos toward politicians.
The display made it clear that Catholics remain the monarchy’s staunchest supporters: not simply a silent majority, but a demographic that can mobilize en masse when summoned by the Holy Father.
For all the historical symbolism in their welcome of the pope, it was an unscripted moment that gave us the biggest evidence that a genuine friendship had been forged: when Leo’s papal plane broke down right before leaving the Canary Islands, Felipe stepped in by sending his own royal plane to give Leo a ride home to Rome.
