President Trump’s half-joking endorsement casts a spotlight on Cardinal Dolan, a media-savvy conservative and complex figure in a divided church.
Irony, or perhaps strategy. When asked who he would like to see succeed Pope Francis, President Donald Trump smiled and replied, “I wouldn’t mind being Pope myself. Wouldn’t that be great? My first choice!” He quickly brushed it off — “But you know, I’m not really interested. They’re all good people.” Only later did he add a hint of seriousness: “If I had to choose, I’d say there’s a very good cardinal in New York.”
The reference was unmistakable: Timothy Michael Dolan, archbishop of New York since 2009, an influential figure in American Catholicism and a known conservative with a strong media presence.
Born in St. Louis in 1950, Dolan showed a calling from an early age, staging pretend masses as a child. After studying in Rome, he was ordained in 1976 and swiftly ascended the ecclesiastical ranks. He served as auxiliary bishop of St. Louis, then archbishop of Milwaukee, and finally archbishop of New York. In 2012, he was made cardinal by Pope Benedict XVI and once led the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
Dolan embodies a traditional yet approachable style of Catholicism: firmly opposed to abortion, same-sex marriage and contraception, but with a folksy charm that resonates with many. He co-authored the “Manhattan Declaration,” encouraging civil disobedience on ethical issues and has long positioned himself as a “priest of the people”— friendly, candid, even humorous. Once, during a mass in Milwaukee, he wore a Green Bay Packers cap to honor the local team.
His ties with Trump are strong, especially compared to his more strained relationship with former President Joe Biden. After a 2024 assassination attempt on Trump, Dolan drew comparisons to Reagan and John Paul II, suggesting God might still have a mission for the embattled former president. In 2018, he accused Democrats of abandoning Catholic voters. He has more recently clashed openly with Vice President J.D. Vance over the church’s role in migrant aid.
Despite his hardline theological stance, Dolan has cultivated an impressive online presence, from YouTube sermons to humorous TV cameos. His nuanced communication has even allowed for gestures of inclusion — he endorsed LGBTQ participation in the St. Patrick’s Day Parade and commented with empathy on NFL player Michael Sam’s coming out, reiterating that all people are children of God, even as he reasserted church teaching on marriage.
But Dolan’s prominence comes with limitations. At 75, he has reached the canonical retirement age. Though he filed no formal resignation, his future seemed modest — until Pope Francis’s sudden death reshuffled the Church’s balance of power. Once marginalized by Francis, Dolan is now viewed as a voice for the conservative wing longing for a shift in direction.
His name, however, faces geopolitical and ecclesiastical headwinds. “The world doesn’t want an American Pope,” says theologian Thomas Massaro, reflecting a broad consensus among scholars. Others point to the potential global fallout, particularly with China, where Pope Francis has invested in delicate diplomatic ties.
The cardinalate, 80% of whom are Francis appointees, largely reflects a more pastoral and inclusive vision. Yet, the cultural and geographic diversity of the electors — many unfamiliar with one another — makes this conclave less predictable than in decades past.
Whether Dolan is electable or not, he remains a key figure in this transitional moment. His role may not be to ascend the throne of St. Peter but to shape the debate, perhaps even playing the role of kingmaker from within the Sistine Chapel.
Featured image by JEROME CLARYSSE from Pixabay
Edited by James Sutton
