It’s not every day that a cardinal compliments a pop star. But on Tuesday, Nov. 11, Cardinal José Tolentino de Mendonça, prefect of the Vatican Dicastery for Culture and Education, did just that. “When a creator like Rosalía speaks of spirituality, it means she grasps a deep need in contemporary culture to get closer to spiritual reasons, to foster an inner life, to value religious experience as a fundamental experience,” he said in reference to Spanish pop star Rosalía’s new album “Lux.”

I have been a fan of Rosalía since 2018, when her breakthrough, flamenco-inspired album “El Mal Querer” achieved international popularity and critical acclaim. Singing primarily in Spanish, Rosalía is particularly influential in Spain and Latin America. Nonetheless, she has crept into the U.S. mainstream with the success of her 2022 album “Motomami,” which was characterized by reggaeton elements and a more electronic sound than her earlier work.

Given that Rosalía has become known for her experimental, genre-bending approach to Spanish-language pop, I was prepared for something new on “Lux.” But Rosalía’s new album, Released Nov. 7, has proved to be even more stunning (and more Catholic) than I anticipated.

The album is an absolute thrill. It is musically and lyrically delicious—sophisticated, yet marked by an undeniable clarity of artistic vision. And as Cardinal Mendonça pointed out, this vision has everything to do with a very Catholic spirituality. On “Lux,” the divine and the human are inextricably linked: Rosalía talks about the world by talking about God.

The cover of “Lux” depicts Rosalía in an outfit resembling a Catholic nun’s habit and veil. Adorned in white, Rosalía’s arms are crossed across her chest and trapped within the fabric of her dress, creating a straightjacket of sorts. In the music video for “Berghain,” Rosalía wears the iconic Alexander McQueen rosary heels and appears in an apartment decorated with a statue of the Virgin Mary on a table and an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus over her bed.

There is a long history of pop stars, particularly female artists, using Catholic imagery to create an aesthetic rich with symbolism and drama. On the surface, Rosalía’s visual choices are reminiscent of what we have seen in the past. But as soon as one engages with the music on “Lux,” it becomes clear that Rosalía has created a concept album with no real precedent.

The originality of “Lux” begins with the sound of the music itself. Rosalía introduces classical music to her repertoire, having recorded the album alongside the London Symphony Orchestra. The melancholy of the piano; the drama of the string instruments; the exquisite, operatic sound of Rosalía’s voice when she belts out her lyrics: These elements come together to create music that feels modern yet timeless.

Adding to the album’s distinct sound is the fact that “Lux” features lyrics in 13 languages. Rosalía, who has a Spanish and Catalan ethnic background with some Cuban heritage, is a two-time Grammy Award winner for best Latin Rock or Alternative Album and an 11-time winner at the Latin Grammy Awards. But on “Lux,” her fourth studio album, she incorporates other languages, like Ukrainian, German, Latin, Catalan and Arabic, alongside the Spanish lyrics of her previous work.

The effect of this linguistic and stylistic diversity is an album that takes work to understand. Yet if one is patient enough to decipher “Lux,” what one finds is just as intriguing as the album’s dynamic sound: a search for salvation through God, a fascination with religious figures and traditions, an embodiment of a distinctly feminine spirituality.

The tone is set by the opening track, “Sexo, Violencia y Llantas,” which evokes the tension between the human and the divine. Singing in Spanish, Rosalía contrasts “sex, violence, and tires/ Bloodshed, coins in throats” against “flashes, doves, and saints/ Gracе, the fruit, and the weight of thе scales.”

On the single “Berghain,” Rosalía also frames God as offering salvation from human struggle. Her collaborator, the Icelandic singer-songwriter Björk, sings with operatic intensity: “The only way to save us is through divine intervention/ The only way I will be saved (Is through) divine intervention.”

Later, on the short track “Mundo Nuevo,” Rosalía once again echoes a similar idea about life beyond Earth, singing, “I would like to renounce/ This world entirely/…To see if in a new world, I could find more truth.”

Many of the references on “Lux” are directly inspired by Scripture and the lives of the saints. On one of my favorite tracks, “Reliquia,” Rosalía sings, “I’m not a saint, but I’m blessed,” and repeats the refrain: “I’m your relic/ I’ll be your relic.” Similarly, on “Divinize,” Rosalía begins the song with a verse about “the apple/ that is forbidden.” The song later includes the lyric “pray on my spine, it’s a rosary.”

And then there’s “Mio Cristo Piange Diamanti,” a song that  is based on the relationship between St. Francis and St. Clare of Assisi. Though these figures are never named, the song is an intimate address from one individual to another, steeped in spiritual respect and admiration. “How many punches were given to you/ That should have been hugs?” Rosalía sings, “And how many hugs/ Have you given that could have been punches?” And of course, the lyric of “My Christ in diamond/ I carry you, I carry you always” would remind any Catholic listener of Jesus himself.

These references only scratch the surface of Rosalía’s discussion of religion on “Lux.” The album’s Catholic tone is present through all of the work’s most poignant themes: dependency, humility, physical transcendence. This spirituality seems earnest. In an interview with The Guardian, Rosalía described herself as being sincerely religious, saying: “I pray every night before I fall asleep…. It’s a very personal relationship with God.”

“Lux” is a triumph based on Rosalía’s artistry and creativity alone. Its early success (over 42.1 million streams on Spotify in its opening day, breaking a record for a Spanish-speaking female artist) is well deserved and commendable for an album that breaks the mold so completely.

And for Catholic pop listeners like me, the album is a rare treasure: a successful, culturally relevant piece of music that does not appropriate our faith but revels in it—depends on it, even—to communicate a message about the presence of the divine in our human relationships and internal worlds. What more could you ask for?

Brigid McCabe is an O'Hare Fellow at America Media.