The Final Obedience: How Pope Leo XIV Might Save the Church by Being Catholic
Chapter I — The Papacy: That Glorious Trap
The papacy is not what modern minds imagine it to be. It is not a throne, nor a talk show, nor a publicity stunt that tours the world in a white Fiat. It is, quite frankly, a trap. A holy trap. The moment a man accepts it, he is no longer free. He cannot speak as he pleases, dress as he pleases, tweet as he pleases, or even retire to a quiet corner of Bavaria to write theological memoirs.
No, he must speak with the voice of Peter, wear the white of martyrdom, and walk a tightrope over the chasm of heresy with a flaming torch in one hand and a leaky Barque in the other.
It is precisely because it is such a terrifying thing that the papacy can save the world.
Chapter II — Pope Francis and the Gift of Fog
Pope Francis, may God reward him (perhaps in ways more spiritual than honorary), brought to the Church a gift—though not the one he advertised. He gave us fog. Thick, clinging, synodal fog, in which sheep bump into wolves, and wolves wear conference lanyards. He spoke often of “accompaniment,” though it was not always clear where we were being accompanied to—except perhaps into ever more ambiguous footnotes and pastoral paradoxes.
He gave us Fiducia Supplicans, which blessed things without approving them, Amoris Laetitia, which opened communion to some while denying it to others, and Traditionis Custodes, which preserved tradition by suppressing it.
It was like watching a man hug the Catechism while quietly rewriting the index.
But perhaps all this fog had a purpose. For fog, when thick enough, makes men long for the sun.
Chapter III — Leo XIV: The Unexpected Clarity
And now comes Pope Leo XIV. No doubt the journalists sighed. “Another Leo?” they muttered, thumbing through their tired profiles and waiting for the first Tweet that might offend someone. But this Leo is different—not because he is bold, but because he is normal. And in this age, normal is revolutionary.
If he is truly the pope we hope he is, he will not startle the world with innovation, but with restoration. He will not "reimagine the Church," but remember Her. He may smile, yes, but he may also say “No”—which, in this age of affirmation, is the most loving thing a father can say.
He may not abolish the ambiguity Francis authored, but he may speak plainly enough to render it irrelevant.
Chapter IV — On Cleaning Up After Jesuits
It is a curious thing, but Jesuits make excellent kindling and dreadful janitors. They light fires but rarely clean up after them. One must hope that Leo XIV, whether or not he carries a Jesuit past, understands this. Fiducia Supplicans must be clarified. Amoris Laetitia must be interpreted in continuity, not contradiction. And Traditionis Custodes—well, it should be locked safely away where it can do no more harm, perhaps next to Pope Honorius’s least impressive letters.
Leo need not condemn Francis. He need only complete him. For ambiguity is not doctrine, and the Church is not a labyrinth but a lighthouse. A good pope does not invent light; he simply pulls back the shutters.
Chapter V — On Expecting Miracles, but Not Magic
Let no one expect Pope Leo XIV to be a magician. He cannot wave a crozier and erase confusion. But he can do something far greater—he can teach truth clearly, live it humbly, and suffer for it bravely.
He can restore reverence to the liturgy—not with pomp, but with purpose. He can speak about sin—not with fury, but with fatherhood. He can call men and women back to their vocations—not by inventing new ones, but by sanctifying the old.
He can remind the world that being Catholic is not a brand, not a mood, not a progressive experiment, but a cross-shaped path leading to a tomb that is empty.
Chapter VI — The Final Obedience Revisited
When Leo XIV accepted the papacy, he accepted death. Not the violent death of Peter in Rome, perhaps, but the daily death of ego, ambition, and reputation. The pope is not a celebrity, and if he is, he is failing. He is a servant of the servants of God, and servants do not trend.
We pray that Leo dies to self daily, so the Church may live more fully. We pray that he silences the noise with truth, not tactics. We pray that he has the courage to undo with a whisper what was done with thunder.
Let Francis be remembered as the pope who started conversations. Let Leo be remembered as the one who finished them.
Chapter VII— The Conclusion: The Keys, the Knot, and the Knife
Christ gave Peter the keys not to decorate his belt, but to open and close, bind and loose. Francis tied a knot. Leo, God willing, holds the knife.
Let him cut clean. Let him speak clearly. Let him love boldly. And may he do it all not in his own name, but in the name of Peter—who learned to lead not by holding on, but by letting go.
That is the final obedience. And if Leo embraces it, the gates of Hell will once again learn what it means to tremble.