Page 24

“I believe,” Father Domenico says, “that the Holy Spirit has been preparing hearts for longer than you realize. Your election was not an accident, Marco.”

His use of my name, so paternal and affectionate, warms me. “Then help me prepare. The meeting is in less than an hour, and I expect significant opposition.”

The three of us huddle together, discussing strategy, anticipating arguments, refining my approach. When Cardinal Sullivan and Sister Lucia return with their materials, they find us deep in conversation.

“I see our circle has expanded,” Sullivan observes with approval.

“We’ll need every ally we can gather,” I reply. “Father Domenico believes we may find support in unexpected quarters.”

Sister Lucia nods thoughtfully. “I’ve had similar impressions. Cardinal Chen from Hong Kong has expressed progressive views privately, and the African Cardinal Mwangi, while traditional in many ways, has spoken about the need for a more pastoral approach to these issues.”

“The key,” Father Domenico says, “is to frame this not as abandoning tradition, but as deepening our understanding of it. The Church has always evolved, always grown in its understanding.”

“Exactly,” I agree. “We’re not rejecting our past; we’re building on it.”

As we finalize our approach, I feel a sense of purpose stronger than anything I’ve experienced since becoming Pope.

This isn’t just a tactical move to distract from our investigation—though it will serve that purpose.

It’s a step toward the Church I believe Christ truly envisions: one of radical inclusion and love.

“It’s time,” Cardinal Sullivan says, checking his watch.

I stand, smoothing my cassock. “Thank you all. Whatever happens in that room, remember that we serve something greater than institutions or traditions. We serve the living God whose primary command was love.”

* * *

The Council Hall buzzes with tension as I enter.

Cardinals Antonelli, Lombardi, and Visconti sit together on one side of the long table, a united front.

Other Curia members fill the remaining seats, their expressions ranging from curious to concerned.

Cardinal Sullivan and Sister Lucia enter behind me, taking seats to my right.

Father Tomás stands discreetly near the door, while Father Domenico, to everyone’s surprise, takes a seat directly beside me.

Several cardinals look surprised at Sister Lucia’s presence and Father Domenico’s prominent position. Women, even those as theologically accomplished as Lucia, rarely attend these high-level Curia meetings, and Father Domenico, while respected, has never been part of the upper inner circle.

“Thank you all for coming,” I begin, remaining standing as they all take their seats. “I understand Cardinal Antonelli wished to discuss security protocols.”

Antonelli clears his throat. “Yes, Holy Father. In light of recent events, we believe stricter measures are necessary to ensure your safety.”

“I appreciate your concern, Eminence. However, before we address that, I wish to discuss a matter of greater importance to the Church’s future.”

I see the flicker of confusion in Antonelli’s eyes, the subtle glance he exchanges with Lombardi.

“As you know, I’ve been reflecting deeply on our Church’s mission in the modern world. Prayer and recent events have led me to believe we must reexamine certain teachings that have become barriers between the faithful and God’s love.”

The room grows very still. I can almost feel the collective intake of breath.

“I am calling for a special synod to discuss three areas of Church teaching: our approach to homosexuality, the requirement of clerical celibacy, and our understanding of marriage.”

Cardinal Lombardi’s face flushes dark red. “Your Holiness, surely you can’t be serious.”

“I am entirely serious, Eminence. The Church must evolve to better reflect Christ’s message of inclusive love.”

Cardinal Visconti leans forward, his jowls quivering with indignation.

“Holy Father, with all due respect, these teachings are founded on centuries of tradition and scriptural interpretation. The natural law itself dictates the complementarity of man and woman. To question this is to question the very foundation of our moral theology.”

“And the vow of celibacy,” Lombardi adds sharply, “is a sacred commitment that allows priests to devote themselves fully to their flock without the distraction of family obligations. It is a gift, not a burden.”

Cardinal Antonelli’s approach is more measured, more dangerous.

“Your Holiness, while I appreciate your pastoral concern, we must consider the unity of the Church. Such radical changes would create confusion among the faithful and potentially lead to schism. Is that truly what you wish your papacy to be remembered for?”

The implied threat hangs in the air—a reminder that popes who push too hard can find themselves isolated, undermined, or worse.

“Tradition is valuable, Cardinal Visconti,” I respond calmly, “but it is not infallible. Our understanding of scripture has evolved throughout Church history. Once, the Church used scripture to support slavery, to deny women basic rights, to condemn scientific discovery.”

“Those are false equivalencies,” Visconti sputters.

“Are they?” Sister Lucia speaks up, her voice steady.

“If I may, Your Eminence. Regarding homosexuality, we must remember that Jesus himself never spoke against it. The passages most often cited come from Leviticus and certain Pauline letters, which also condemn eating shellfish and wearing mixed fabrics. ”

Cardinal Lombardi scoffs. “This is absurd. Sister, you’re cherry-picking scripture.”

“No more than those who use isolated verses to condemn love between people of the same gender,” she counters. “When Jesus was asked about the greatest commandment, he said to love God and love your neighbour. He did not add exceptions.”

“As for clerical celibacy,” I continue, “we must remember this was not required in the early Church. Peter himself, our first Pope, was married.”

“A disciplinary tradition that has served the Church well for centuries,” Antonelli argues.

“Has it?” Cardinal Sullivan speaks up. “The Eastern Orthodox churches allow married priests, as do certain Catholic rites. Many Protestant denominations have married clergy. They serve their communities admirably.”

“We are not Protestants!” Lombardi pounds the table with his fist.

“No, we are not,” I agree calmly. “But we can learn from them, just as they can learn from us. Unity does not require uniformity.”

Cardinal Chen, who has been listening quietly, suddenly speaks.

“If I may, Holy Father. In Asia, we face unique challenges in evangelization. One significant barrier is the perception that Catholic teaching on these matters is Western and colonial rather than truly universal. A thoughtful reconsideration might actually strengthen our witness, not weaken it.”

A murmur ripples through the room. Chen’s intervention is unexpected by most — while well respected, he is typically quiet during discussions at this level.

Cardinal Visconti seizes on this. “So we should change divine truth to make conversion easier? That is spiritual colonialism in reverse, accommodating eternal principles to temporal culture!”

“Is it divine truth we’re discussing, or human interpretation?” Father Domenico asks quietly, speaking for the first time. All eyes turn to him, many with surprise that he would enter this debate, a humble father speaking up against powerful cardinals.

“The Church’s teaching on homosexuality has evolved significantly over time,” he continues. “From total silence in the early Church, to medieval penances, to our current language of ‘intrinsic disorder.’ Which of these represents divine truth, Eminence?”

Cardinal Antonelli’s eyes narrow. “Father Domenico, with all due respect to your years of service, this is not a matter for simple priests to decide.”

“On the contrary,” Cardinal Mwangi says, his deep voice commanding attention. “The sensus fidelium—the sense of the faithful—includes all baptized believers, not just the hierarchy.”

Another surprise. Cardinal Mwangi, from Kenya, has always been considered traditional. His intervention creates visible confusion among Antonelli’s allies.

“The African Church faces different challenges than Europe,” Mwangi continues. “But we too see young people leaving because they perceive our teaching as lacking compassion. Perhaps it is time to listen more and pronounce less.”

The debate grows increasingly heated. Cardinal Visconti cites natural law; Sister Lucia counters with historical context for those very concepts.

Antonelli warns of doctrinal confusion; Sullivan speaks of pastoral realities.

Through it all, I watch the dynamics carefully.

The conservative bloc is clearly rattled, but what surprises me most is the nuanced support emerging from unexpected quarters.

Cardinal Esposito from Brazil, normally quiet in these meetings, speaks eloquently about the pastoral challenges of ministering to LGBTQ Catholics in his diocese.

Archbishop Navarro from the Philippines questions whether our current teaching truly reflects the merciful Christ he preaches to the poor .

Most surprising is Cardinal Russo, usually aligned with Antonelli, who ruefully admits, “My nephew left the Church because he felt rejected for who he is. I could not answer his questions about God’s love in a way that kept him in the faith.

Perhaps… perhaps we should at least listen to these experiences. ”

Antonelli shoots him a look of pure shock and betrayal.

“Holy Father,” Cardinal Lombardi finally says, his voice strained, “these proposals would fundamentally alter Church teaching. They cannot be decided hastily.”

“I agree completely, Eminence,” I say, surprising him. “That’s why I’m calling for a synod—a time of prayerful discussion and discernment. I’m not issuing decrees today; I’m opening a dialogue.”

“A dialogue that will cause confusion among the faithful,” Antonelli warns.

“Or perhaps one that will bring hope to those who have felt excluded,” I counter. “The Church has survived far greater challenges than honest conversation.”

Sister Lucia adds, “The early Church in Acts debated whether Gentile converts needed to follow Jewish law. They chose inclusion over tradition. The Church didn’t collapse—it grew stronger.”

For nearly two hours, the debate continues. I notice something interesting: the more passionately Antonelli, Lombardi, and Visconti argue against these reforms, the less they mention security protocols or the Vatican Bank. Their focus has shifted entirely, just as I’d hoped.

But something else is happening too—the Curia is not responding as a monolithic block.

The fault lines are more complex than simply progressive versus conservative.

Some traditionally minded cardinals show openness to discussion, while some usually progressive voices express caution about moving too quickly.

Finally, I raise my hand for silence. “We’ve had a productive initial discussion. I will issue a formal announcement about the synod. It will be held in two weeks time. In the meantime, I ask each of you to pray and reflect on these matters.”

“And what of the security concerns, Holy Father?” Antonelli asks, suddenly remembering his original purpose.

“I appreciate the Swiss Guard’s diligence,” I reply smoothly. “Captain Lombardi has briefed me thoroughly. I see no need for additional restrictions at this time.”

Before Antonelli can protest, I stand. “Thank you all for your candour today. Let us go forward in a spirit of openness and respect, as Christ would have us all do.”

As the cardinals file out, many in animated conversation, Sullivan, Lucia, Father Domenico and Father Tomás remain behind.

“Well,” Sullivan says quietly when we’re alone, “that certainly got their attention.”

Lucia’s eyes sparkle with barely suppressed amusement. “Cardinal Lombardi looked like he might have a stroke when you mentioned married priests.”

“What surprised me,” Father Tomás says, “was the support from unexpected quarters. Cardinal Russo has never contradicted Antonelli before today.”

Father Domenico nods sagely. “The Spirit moves in mysterious ways. Many have held these thoughts privately for years, afraid to speak them aloud. Your courage gave them permission to voice their true hearts.”

“They’ll be completely focused on fighting these reforms,” I say. “Which gives us room to maneuver on the financial investigation.”

“And the reforms themselves?” Sullivan asks carefully. “Was that truly just a distraction?”

I meet his gaze steadily. “No, James. The distraction is tactical, but the reforms are from my heart. I believe in them completely.”

Father Domenico places a gnarled hand on my shoulder. “And now, perhaps, you understand why God called you to this position, Marco. Not despite who you are, but because of it.”

His words echo in my mind as we disperse to our various tasks. Perhaps he’s right. Perhaps my own journey—my struggles with identity and belonging—have prepared me uniquely for this moment in the Church’s history.

As Father Tomás helps me prepare for my next appointment, he hesitates at the door.

“Your Holiness, there’s a secure message from Prime Minister Valentini. He requests an update on today’s events.”

I feel warmth spread through me at the mention of Matteo’s name. “Tell him—” I pause, considering protocol, then decide against it. “Actually, I’ll speak with him directly. Please arrange a secure call for this evening.”

Tomás nods, a hint of understanding in his eyes. “Of course, Holy Father. And may I say… I’m proud to serve your papacy. Truly.”

As he leaves, I turn to the window, looking out over St. Peter’s Square.

Somewhere out there, Matteo is fighting his own battles against the same corruption.

Tonight, I’ll tell him about this unexpected groundswell of support, about the allies emerging from the shadows.

Together, perhaps we can truly change things—not just expose corruption, but build something better in its place.

The thought fills me with a hope I haven’t felt since becoming Pope—a hope born not just of love for one man, but of love for the Church I’ve dedicated my life to serve.