Hey Mum!
Remember a couple of months before you died, when you told me the Freemasons had installed Pope Francis? And that he was in cahoots with Obama, who was the Antichrist? You waved your iPad at me, with the YouTube page open that laid it all out. And I said, kind of testily, that Catholics are supposed to believe the Holy Spirit chooses popes, without help from secret societies. And that Obama was just a former president, not a supernatural force bent on destroying the Church and the Constitution for good measure. You gave me that smug smile, but dropped it. No blowup that evening.
Well, guess what happened a few weeks ago? Your “Freemason puppet” Pope Francis went to his reward. And you would not be happy about his replacement.
Pope Leo was Francis’s protégé—pulled up through the ranks by “that liberal,” as you called him. And the new Pope promises to build on his predecessor’s legacy.
Here’s a twist, though: Pope Leo is an American. And he has a MAGA brother. No, seriously. The Vicar of Christ on Earth has to deal with a sibling who posts about turning Gaza into a parking lot and calls Nancy Pelosi the c-word. While Pope Leo is drafting encyclicals about loving thy neighbor, his brother is on Facebook explaining why parents of trans kids are “shitty” and Democrats should be rounded up and tried for treason.
I cannot stop imagining their family group chat:
POPE LEO: Are we getting one gift for Liam’s First Communion or—
MAGA BROTHER: THE REAL RACISTS ARE THE DEMOCRATS!
POPE LEO: Maybe a Mandalorian backpack?
MAGA BROTHER: DISNEY RUINED STAR WARS WITH WOKE!!
POPE LEO: …
MAGA BROTHER: DEEP STATE!
POPE LEO: Anyone have Aunt Pam’s lasagna recipe?
MAGA BROTHER: GEORGE SOROS CONTROLS THE PASTA INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX!
Can you picture this year’s Christmas dinner? The Pope shows up with his seven-layer dip and gets accosted with, “The Walmart cashier said ‘Happy Holidays’ to me to deliberately persecute Christians—what are you gonna do about it, Your Holiness?!”
But here’s the thing—this Pope has been dealing with that red-capped rage robot for years, and he keeps showing up. He leads with grace. Accepts the contradiction. He doesn’t block his brother or send him Snopes links to obliterate his latest delusions (I know you hated when I did that). He just stays in the room, even when it’s unbearable.
Which makes me think about us. After Dad died, you used to say no one understood you. That you were alone in your worldview. You wanted me to join you there, and I couldn’t. Well, this guy—the Pope’s brother—might have been your person. You could’ve sent him your Q-adjacent Catholic conspiracies about Biden’s FBI making Latin Mass illegal and bonded over your belief that vaccines are the devil’s own work. You would’ve felt seen.
And maybe that’s what breaks my heart most. Not that you believed the conspiracy theories, but that you felt so alone with them.
I remember feeling alone, too. When I left the Church—which felt like tearing off a limb—you punished me with silence. Canceled visits. Pulled out of that Red Sox-Cubs game Matt had gotten tickets for as a surprise for Dad, a way for him to bond with his father-in-law because they were both from Chicago. You took that away from all of us. And I was furious. Justifiably.
But this Pope—dealing with his own family fracture—makes me think maybe faith isn’t about being right. Maybe it’s about staying engaged and sitting with what unfolds.
Because if Pope Leo can show up to that group chat, again and again, while his brother rages about “LIBTARDS FORCING US TO USE PAPER STRAWS”—if he can keep doing the work of grace without the illusion of agreement—maybe that’s something I can strive for in my own walk with God and family.
So I’m not back in the Church, Mum. The old issues that tore me away are still there. But I’m open to being guided by its wisdom, if only from the outside. To understand that we’re all just trying to make sense of this life, and that there are some powerful algorithms out there designed to replace connection with anger and suspicion. Too many family group chats are battlefields where it’s not safe to just ask for a recipe. We have to change that. The Pope with the MAGA brother may be the one to show us how.
I just wish it had been in time for the two of us.
Be well. Say hi to Dad—hope he’s not bugged that the pontiff is a White Sox fan. Nobody’s perfect.
With love,
Steph