Dear Protectors of the Deposit of the Faith,
Let’s lift a glass and toast the late Pope Francis, who, over his twelve-year papacy, pulled off a miracle of sorts: he made me a better Catholic. While I acknowledge his beautiful focus on mercy, it was not through his eco-encyclicals that could double as UN manifestos, but through the relentless trial of his reign. As *UnHerd* so aptly put it, “Jorge Mario Bergoglio was unique in his extraordinary skill at destruction, sometimes creative, often not.” That destruction shook us to our core, yet through God’s grace and the grit of tradition, it forged in me—and likely in you—a fiercer faith, a holier resolve, and an ardent zeal for defending the Church through Corpus Christi for Unity and Peace.
Let’s not mince words: Francis’s papacy was a wild ride, and not the joyful kind at a parish festival. From his “who am I to judge?” soundbites to the theological landmines buried in Amoris Laetitia’s footnotes, we were gripping our rosaries like lifelines. Synods on “synodality”? Curbs on the Latin Mass? The Fiducia Supplicans bombshell that stunned continents by greenlighting same-sex blessings, defying biblical clarity on marriage? It was enough to make a saint weep. Add to that the shielding of figures like Zanchetta and Rupnik while sidelining stalwarts like Cardinal Burke, and you’ve got a recipe for traditionalist heartburn.
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