Page 28

“For supporting your reforms,” she corrects. “The message is clear—anyone aligning with your vision faces consequences.”

I close my eyes briefly, feeling the weight of responsibility for those suffering on my behalf.

“I’m not afraid, I can handle myself just fine” Sister Lucia adds, seeing my expression. “But this coordinated opposition… it’s more organized than I anticipated.”

“They’re trying to isolate you,” Sullivan says. “Cut you off from theological support, from the bishops, eventually from the faithful.”

Before I can respond, Father Tomás appears at the door with Archbishop Chen Wei.

“Your Holiness, Archbishop Chen has arrived from Hong Kong with urgent information,” Tomás announces.

Chen bows slightly as he enters. His presence is unexpected—he should be overseeing missionary work in Asia.

“Archbishop, this is a surprise,” I say, rising to greet him.

“A necessary one, Holy Father.” His English carries a slight accent. “I’ve come directly from an emergency meeting of Asian cardinals in Singapore. We’ve been monitoring the situation here with concern after the declaration of the Synod.”

“Please, join our discussion,” I gesture to the growing circle of chairs.

Chen takes a seat, his expression serious but not defeated. “Your Holiness, while Europe may be resistant, the Church in Asia and Africa sees your reforms differently. Many of us believe the time has come for a more inclusive theology.”

Hope flickers within me. “You’ve discussed this with other cardinals?”

“Twenty-seven cardinals from Asia, and through Cardinal Okoye of Zimbabwe, thirty-four from Africa. We represent nearly half the College.” Chen produces a folder.

“We’ve drafted our own response to support your synod.

Not as a challenge to tradition, but as its natural evolution in a global Church. ”

I take the document, scanning the signatures with growing amazement. These aren’t just any cardinals—they represent the fastest-growing Catholic populations on earth .

“The Global South stands with you, Holy Father,” Chen says simply. “We believe your vision serves the universal Church, not just Western concerns.”

“Tell me more about how these issues are viewed in your regions,” I ask, genuinely curious.

Chen leans forward. “In Asia, Holy Father, we’ve always existed alongside other faiths.

In Japan, Korea, Vietnam—Catholics are minorities who must engage respectfully with Buddhist and Confucian traditions.

This has taught us to distinguish between essential doctrine and cultural expressions of faith. ”

“And regarding homosexuality?” I ask directly.

“Complex,” Chen acknowledges. “Traditional Asian cultures have their own prejudices, certainly. But our theological approach differs from the European model. In the Philippines, for example, Catholic theologians have developed a ‘theology of encounter’ that emphasizes pastoral care over condemnation.”

He opens a folder and hands me several papers.

“These are theological papers from Manila, Seoul, and Bangalore addressing same-sex relationships through cultural and scriptural lenses different from the European tradition. They argue that the ‘intrinsic disorder’ language reflects medieval European categories of natural law that don’t translate well to Asian philosophical traditions. ”

I scan the papers with interest. “These haven’t been published in Rome, I would have read them had they been.”

“They were submitted to theological journals here but immediately rejected as ‘not aligned with Church teaching,’” Chen says with a slight smile. “Yet they represent serious scholarship from some of our finest theologians.”

“And Africa?” I ask, knowing this region is often portrayed as uniformly conservative.

“More diverse than European cardinals claim,” Chen replies. “Cardinal Okoye has compiled perspectives from across the continent. While many African bishops maintain traditional views on sexuality, their approach to pastoral care often differs significantly from European models.”

He produces another document. “This paper from theologians in South Africa and Kenya proposes a ‘theology of family inclusion’ that maintains traditional marriage while creating pastoral space for LGBTQ Catholics. They draw on African communal traditions that prioritize belonging over exclusion.”

“I’ve never seen these perspectives,” I admit.

“They’ve been systematically excluded from the conversation,” Chen says. “The European-dominated Curia has effectively silenced theological diversity while claiming to represent universal tradition.”

“And clerical celibacy?” I ask, knowing this is another contentious issue for my proposed synod.

“In Asia, we’ve faced critical priest shortages for generations,” Chen explains. “In some regions, the faithful might see a priest once a month or less. Many of our theologians have developed nuanced positions on married clergy based on practical pastoral needs, not just abstract theology.”

He hands me another paper. “This is from theologians in Indonesia and the Philippines. They examine Eastern Catholic traditions that already allow married priests and propose adaptations for other regions. They also explore indigenous models of spiritual leadership that could inform a more flexible approach to priestly ministry.”

I feel a growing sense of possibility as I review these materials. “These perspectives could transform our dialogue.”

“Exactly, Holy Father. The Church universal is not monolithic. When Cardinals Lombardi and Visconti claim to defend ‘tradition,’ they mean a specifically European tradition that represents only one expression of our faith. ”

Chen’s eyes grow intense. “In Hong Kong, I’ve watched young Catholics leave the Church not because they reject Christ, but because they feel the institutional Church rejects them.

Your reforms offer hope that Catholicism can be truly catholic—universal in its embrace while unified in essential faith. ”

“These theological perspectives must be part of our synod,” I say decisively.

“There’s more,” Chen continues. “In many Asian countries, Catholics are a persecuted minority. We’ve learned to create networks that operate beyond official channels—secure communications, alternative media, grassroots organization.

We’ve faced the same pressure tactics Cardinal Sullivan described—attempts to isolate reformers, threats of funding cuts, subtle intimidation.

But our circumstances differ from Europe. ”

His eyes gleam with quiet confidence. “Our churches are growing despite persecution. We’re less dependent on Vatican financial structures. These experiences have made us both resilient and resourceful—skills that could be valuable in your current situation.”

For the first time today, I feel the tightness in my chest ease slightly. “This changes the calculation significantly.”

“Precisely.” Chen nods. “And we’ve developed our own theological responses to contemporary questions, often without the luxury of Rome’s approval. Necessity has made us both pragmatic and innovative.”

I study the faces around me—Sullivan’s strategic mind, Lucia’s theological brilliance, Chen’s global perspective. Perhaps I’m not as isolated as my enemies believe.

Father Tomás clears his throat. “Your Holiness, while this support is encouraging, there is another matter requiring attention.” He glances nervously at the others.

“Speak freely, Tomás. Everyone here has my complete trust. ”

He straightens. “There are rumours circulating about your… friendship with Prime Minister Valentini. Specifically, the frequency and privacy of your meetings.”

My heart stutters. “What kind of rumours?”

“Nothing explicit yet,” Tomás says carefully. “But questions about why the Pope needs so many private consultations with the Prime Minister. Why security protocols have been modified for these meetings. Why both of you disappeared during the assassination attempt.”

I feel heat rising to my face. “These meetings concern matters of state security and our joint financial investigation.”

“Of course, Your Holiness,” Tomás says gently. “I’m simply reporting what’s being whispered. Cardinal Antonelli specifically mentioned your ‘excessive meetings’ with the Prime Minister after yesterday’s Curia gathering.”

Sullivan and Lucia exchange glances. Chen studies me with compassionate eyes.

“They’re looking for vulnerabilities,” Sullivan says finally. “Any connection they can exploit.”

I stand and walk to the window again, my back to them while I compose myself.

The thought of not seeing Matteo creates a physical ache I hadn’t anticipated.

These meetings have become essential to me—not just for our work together but for the moments of genuine connection in a world where I’m increasingly isolated.

“Your Holiness,” Sister Lucia speaks softly. “Whatever your relationship is with the Prime Minister, your enemies will use it against you if they can.”

I turn back to face them. “The meetings are necessary for our joint investigation. And yes, I value the Prime Minister’s perspective and… friendship.” The word feels inadequate, but it’s all I can offer publicly.

“Then we must protect both the meetings and your reputation,” Sullivan says pragmatically. “Captain Lombardi of the Swiss Guard—can he be trusted?”

“Completely,” I confirm. “He’s already implementing enhanced security for these meetings.”

“Good. We’ll create official justifications for each meeting—formal diplomatic necessities that even Antonelli can’t question.” Sullivan’s mind is already working on the problem.

“And we should vary the locations,” Chen suggests. “Not always the Vatican. Perhaps the Italian government could host occasionally, making it clearly official business.”

I nod, grateful for their practical approach rather than moral judgment. “I’ll speak with Captain Lombardi.”

“Your Holiness,” Tomás says hesitantly. “May I speak personally for a moment?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve served three popes before you. I’ve seen the isolation of this office, the burden it places on a man’s soul.” He pauses. “Whatever comfort or connection you find in these difficult times… I believe God understands the human heart better than any doctrine can express.”

His words nearly undo me. This from Tomás, who once embodied traditional Vatican thinking but has gradually evolved as he’s witnessed my struggles.

“Thank you, Tomás,” I manage.

Sister Lucia reaches out and briefly touches my hand—a gesture of solidarity that would shock Vatican traditionalists. “We’re with you, Marco. Not just for your reforms, but for you.”

I look around at these four people—my unlikely alliance against centuries of entrenched power. “Then we move forward. With the synod, with the financial investigation, with everything. But carefully, strategically.”

“And your meetings with the Prime Minister?” Sullivan asks gently .

I think of Matteo—his strength, his conviction, the way his presence makes me feel both more human and more connected to the divine.

“They continue,” I say firmly. “With increased security and discretion. Captain Lombardi will ensure both.”

None of them object. In their eyes, I see not judgment but concern for my safety and mission.

“Then let us pray,” I say, “for wisdom and courage. We’ll need both in abundance.”

As we bow our heads together, I add a silent prayer of my own—for Matteo’s safety, for our future, and for the strength to follow this path wherever it leads.