Newly elected Pope Leo XIV, formerly Cardinal Robert Prevost, is facing mounting scrutiny over past decisions involving clergy sex abuse cases in Chicago and Peru, raising serious questions about his role in protecting victims and the future direction of the Catholic Church under his leadership.

 

Victims' group alleges Pope Leo XIV mishandled sexual abuse cases involving  priests in Chicago and Peru | CNN

 

As white smoke rose above the Sistine Chapel in 2025, signaling the election of Pope Leo XIV, millions of Catholics around the globe celebrated the dawn of a new papacy. Yet behind the jubilation, a far more troubling narrative has begun to unfold.

The man born Robert Francis Prevost—once a bishop in Peru and later a cardinal in Chicago—has found himself at the center of a growing controversy that threatens to cloud the early days of his papal reign.

Questions are now being raised about his past handling of clerical sexual abuse, both in the United States and abroad, sparking anger among victim advocacy groups and drawing renewed attention to the Church’s long struggle with accountability.

Prevost’s rise to the highest office in the Catholic Church was not entirely unexpected. A member of the Augustinian order, fluent in Spanish, and with a background in missionary work and ecclesiastical administration, he was viewed by many as a bridge between continents and cultures.

His relatively recent appointment as prefect of the Dicastery for Bishops—a powerful Vatican post that oversees the selection of bishops worldwide—further cemented his reputation as a trusted figure in Rome.

But with greater visibility came renewed scrutiny, particularly of his time in Chicago and Peru, and the ghosts of past decisions are now being unearthed.

 

Ex-priest James M Ray claims Robert Prevost, who became Pope Leo XIV earlier this month,  signed off on his move to a Hyde Park monastery near a Catholic elementary school - despite the fact that Ray had already been accused of molesting children

 

The most damning allegations relate to Prevost’s connection with Father James Ray, a priest accused of sexually abusing at least 13 children in the Chicago area.

Though Ray was banned from public ministry as far back as 1991, he resurfaced in 2000, residing at the St. John Stone Friary in Hyde Park, just blocks from a Catholic school and a daycare center.

According to Ray’s own testimony, it was then-provincial leader Robert Prevost who approved the move.

This detail has reignited outrage among survivors and watchdog groups, who argue that such leniency in clerical discipline exposes the Church’s continued failure to prioritize the safety of the vulnerable.

SNAP, the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests, has been especially vocal in recent days. The organization is demanding not only a full investigation into Prevost’s past decisions but also sweeping reforms under his papacy.

They are calling for the creation of a global truth commission, the immediate defrocking of all clergy found guilty of abuse, reparations for survivors, and for Pope Leo XIV to codify a universal zero-tolerance policy as canon law. The message from SNAP is blunt: symbolic change is no longer enough.

 

Prevost had previously served as the head of the Midwest Province of the Catholic Church's Augustinian order

 

Yet this is not an isolated case. During his time as bishop of Chiclayo in northern Peru, Prevost was informed in 2022 by three sisters that they had suffered sexual abuse by a priest during their youth.

Though he allegedly acknowledged the credibility of their accounts, no formal investigation was launched.

The current bishop of Chiclayo has since admitted that the case was mishandled—an admission that adds further weight to accusations that Prevost’s approach to abuse allegations has been slow and insufficient.

The Vatican, for its part, has issued a cautious defense. Officials claim that Prevost followed the appropriate procedures as established by Church norms.

But critics argue that these very procedures are outdated, opaque, and often serve more to protect the institution than to deliver justice.

The growing disillusionment among the faithful is not only about individual wrongdoing, but also about systemic failure. For many, Prevost’s elevation to pope now symbolizes either a missed opportunity for reform—or, potentially, the catalyst for it.

 

Ray lived for two years less than a block away from the St. Thomas the Apostle Elementary School

 

What complicates matters further is the Church’s internal politics. Prevost was viewed as a moderate figure capable of balancing traditionalist and progressive factions.

But his papacy is now in danger of being defined not by theological vision or diplomatic outreach, but by how he handles an issue that has plagued his predecessors for decades.

The question is not just whether Pope Leo XIV will act, but whether he will act decisively and transparently—qualities that have historically eluded many in the Vatican hierarchy.

The broader cultural context also places immense pressure on the new pope. In a world increasingly intolerant of institutional cover-ups and abuse, silence is no longer an option.

The global reckoning with sexual abuse—across religions, industries, and governments—demands a moral clarity that the Church has often lacked.

Any failure to meet that moment may not only tarnish Pope Leo XIV’s legacy but also further erode the moral authority of the Catholic Church itself.

 

Michael Airdo, a longtime lawyer for the Augustinians in Chicago, has instead put the blame on former Cardinal Francis George (pictured)

 

Supporters of Pope Leo XIV argue that he now has the unique opportunity to change the course of history. They point to his deep pastoral experience, administrative competence, and international perspective as assets that could allow him to implement meaningful reforms.

But even among his allies, there is a quiet acknowledgment that this opportunity is fleeting. Each passing day without action chips away at the goodwill that accompanied his election.

Meanwhile, survivors and their families wait. They are not asking for prayers or platitudes, but for tangible change: names released, records opened, abusers removed, and justice served.

The Church cannot claim healing until it acknowledges its wounds. And it cannot move forward until it reckons fully with its past.

As Pope Leo XIV settles into the papal apartments of the Apostolic Palace, the weight of centuries rests on his shoulders.

But perhaps nothing is heavier than the expectation that he might finally do what so many before him have failed to—speak plainly, act boldly, and place the truth above the reputation of the institution. The world is watching. And it will not wait forever.