Growing up Pentecostal, my introduction to Catholic life came slowly and almost accidentally when a friend started sharing about her upcoming confirmation in between Pre-Algebra and English class.
“You get a new name? That’s so cool,” I said excitedly.
“Meh,” she responded.
Unlike me, she was not a burgeoning theology nerd. Her baptismal name was probably just going to be Mary, and it would only come at the end of a very long, very tedious catechism class. Still, I thought, a new name was a better deal than the paper baptismal certificate that I got—and then promptly lost.
In college, I learned more. I met a charismatic Catholic professor who showed me a side of Catholic life that had been invisible to me (I still contend that you have not seen anything until you’ve seen an old-school mountain preacher, hanky in hand, wiping sweat, and preaching revival on Teresa of Avila). Eventually, I went on to attend graduate school at a Jesuit-run institution, where I sat in class with would-be priests, Franciscan brothers, and many lay Catholics who wanted to serve their Church.
Over time, I found that I appreciated the Catholic world. I understood its appeal, its mixture of history, diversity, and authority. It was a blend of openness and certainty that appealed to me. “If I ever become a Catholic,” I liked to quip, “it will be because of the Pope, not despite Him.”
I’m not sure they understood, but I have found that I am not the lone Pentecostal who appreciates the Catholic world. The recent passing of Francis and the elevation of Robert Prevost have shown just how interested many Pentecostals are.
Argentinian evangelist Luis Palau recalled how he admired Francis’s “heart of service,” Pentecostal leaders in Uganda called Francis “Africa’s friend,” and Pat Robertson’s CBN dedicated almost three hours of special coverage to the funeral of Francis. While Francis was particularly distinct in his outreach to Pentecostals, Leo XIV has also seen a tentative amount of positivity from the Pentecostal world. Samuel Rodriguez, the president of the National Hispanic Christian Leadership Conference and pastor of an Assemblies of God megachurch, called Prevost’s election a “watershed moment,” and God TV, an international charismatic media network, sent their congratulations to Prevost on his election via Facebook.
What is happening? Are Pentecostals falling in love with the pope?
Well… it is complicated.
Pentecostals vs. the Pope
The earliest Pentecostals certainly had no love for the papacy. Their periodicals were awash with anti-Catholic, and specifically anti-papal, sentiments. Pentecostal missionaries to Catholic countries bemoaned the way “Romish” practices had corrupted the people, and the conversions of Catholics were particularly potent examples of the power of God. Yet, this was more than a pro-Protestant agenda.
Many Pentecostals embraced a specific form of dispensationalist theology built by earlier evangelical thinkers like Henry Grattan Guinness, whose work connected historical events to end-time prophecy and Roman counter-apologetics. By the interwar years, Pentecostals had taken Grattan’s ideas and turned them up to eleven, tying them to what Tara Zhara has identified as a growing tide of anti-globalist politics. As the editor of the Latter Rain Evangel lamented, “The Spirit of federation and cooperation is making great strides,” and that this “Great Apostasy” was pulling the Church ever closer to Roman—and European—domination. The Roman Catholic Church was a key player in these end-time scenarios, with the papacy being the seat of the soon-coming Antichrist. In that role, the pope would ride the seven-horned, and ten-headed beast from Revelation 17, a prophetic image for the League of Nations and the unified “world-church.”
While wildly colorful, these prophetic visions were a distinctly pentecostal way to tap into broader cultural trends of the moment. By the mid-19th century, anti-Catholic sentiments had become a way to assert a particular nativist vision of Christian America. In future decades, these sentiments had taken on broader transnational and religious significance. John Wolffe argued that late-19th-century anti-Catholicism provided a sense of cultural cohesion in the North Atlantic world at a time when Church-State relations were weakening. Similarly, John Maiden, among others, has shown, anti-Catholic sentiments helped smooth over the differences between evangelicals and fundamentalists in interwar England. By tapping into these currents, Pentecostals were staking a claim in the theological marketplace of ideas. For example, many of the articles referred to above were excerpts from other evangelical periodicals, like the Plymouth Brethren’s Our Hope. While still ostracized by some in the evangelical camp, Pentecostals could, at the very least, claim kinship in their vehement opposition to Catholics and their pope.
A Cold War and a Quick Thaw
Anti-Catholic ideology continued to dominate Pentecostalism into the early 1950s, with commentators still pointing out “unholy” practices of the Catholic Church. This rhetoric only began to flag as a new, more-deadly opponent came into view: godless Communism. In 1954, Billy Graham declared that “the greatest and most effective weapon against Communism [was] a born-again Christian.” Pentecostals were in lockstep. Having joined Graham’s National Association of Evangelicals in the 1940s, groups like the Assemblies of God and Church of God gradually shifted their rhetoric. While anti-Catholic tirades still dominated missionary accounts, cautious openings were being made in denominational periodicals. By 1955, the Church of God Evangel’s religious news section reported positively on cooperation between Catholics, Protestants, and Jews to fight indecent literature. By 1959, Pentecostal pastors could openly admit that “Evangelical Christians are considerably closer to Catholics on certain issues than they are to modernistic, liberal, or neo-orthodox Protestants.” By the 1960s, neutral—even positive—accounting of Catholic news was common in most Pentecostal publications.
Catholics were also making headway towards Pentecostals, both institutionally and spiritually. In 1964, Paul VI invited a Pentecostal minister, South African David DuPlessis, to be an observer to the third session of the Second Vatican Council. DuPlessis went on to become a tireless advocate for Pentecostal-Catholic dialogue. By 1967, Catholics Ralph Keifer and William Storey brought interest in Pentecostalism down to the lay level at Duquesne University. Having been baptized in the Spirit at a Charismatic Episcopalian service, they decided to focus their upcoming student retreat on the Holy Spirit. Using Pentecostal literature, they led Duquesne students into a charismatic experience. The “Duquesne Weekend” went on to birth the Catholic Charismatic Renewal Movement, which received a cautious approval from Pope Paul VI in 1971. One year later, an official Pentecostal-Catholic dialogue was opened, and the Catholic Charismatic Renewal Movement has been acknowledged by virtually every pope since Paul VI. Today, Catholics make up roughly 1/3 of Christians who identify as Pentecostal or Charismatic.
Ambiguity and Ecumenism
So, it seems we are in a golden age of papal love amongst Pentecostals. One third embraces the pope, at least theoretically, by default, and the rest seem far more open.
If only it were that easy.
While ecumenical dialogues continue, so do ever-shifting cultural and political landscapes. While Francis went above and beyond in his efforts to reach out to Pentecostals, the anti-Catholic and anti-globalist roots run deep within the Pentecostal camp. In 2014, Italian Pentecostals joined with other evangelicals to express deep concern that Francis’ ecumenical outreach was a long con to expand “catholicity at the expense of biblical truth.” Upon Francis’ passing, Charisma News posted links to Jonathan Cahn’s prophetic interpretation of a lightning strike in Buenos Aires as a divine sign against Francis—an interpretation that would be welcome in any 1930s Pentecostal periodical. Lastly, with the election of Prevost, Worship activist Sean Feucht warned that Leo XIV was “a globalist and woke Pope from the West.” On a personal side, most of the Pentecostals I know who are involved in ecumenical dialogue do so quietly with little denominational backing or fanfare for fear of creating backlash in the pews.
Anti-Catholic voices continue to have a strong influence within many Pentecostal networks, and those voices have remained remarkably persistent. Ultimately, it is hard to speak for all Pentecostals. Pentecostalism is a broad movement characterized by its global connections, local particularities, and cultural entanglements. If its past is any indicator of the future, Pentecostal-Catholic engagement will live or die by the winds of broader theological and geo-political environments. While some groups will continue to find common cause on cultural or social issues, a rising tide of nationalist groups is calling into question the legitimacy of communal ties that extend beyond the nation-state.
Do Pentecostals like the pope? It’s hard to say. Only time will tell, and this historian of Pentecostalism will be watching.
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