Rev. Paul John Kalchik

Argentina has given Pope Leo XIV an amazingly warm welcome, and in doing so has reopened a rather uncomfortable question about his predecessor. Why did Jorge Bergoglio never return as Pope to the country that formed him? On Monday, an estimated 2.5 million people attended Leo's Mass in Buenos Aires. Last night, around a million young people gathered to pray, sing and celebrate with the successor of Peter. The scenes have been astonishing, full of joy, emotion and unmistakable and very encouraging Catholic enthusiasm. Yet Pope Francis, who spent twelve years urging the Church to go out to the peripheries, build bridges and overcome ideological divisions, never returned to his own homeland. He explained that a planned visit in 2017 had been disrupted by elections and scheduling difficulties, but that hardly explains an absence lasting his entire pontificate. We have repeatedly been told that Argentina's political divisions made a visit too difficult, but those divisions haven't disappeared. Pope Leo has simply walked into the middle of them and received a welcome of extraordinary warmth and affection. Shortly before his death, Archbishop Héctor Aguer offered a more uncomfortable explanation: he suspected Bergoglio feared that his reception would not match the enormous crowds attracted by John Paul II. That is Aguer's interpretation, not an established fact, and we cannot know whether Francis himself would have received an equally rapturous welcome but the contrast is extraordinary. An American Pope has achieved something Argentina's own Pope never attempted: bringing millions of Argentines together around the successor of Peter, however briefly, in an extraordinary public celebration of their Catholic faith. Perhaps the most revealing thing about Leo's visit is that he has demonstrated how the papacy can transcend the very political divisions that supposedly kept Francis away. One cannot help wondering what might have happened had Bergoglio gone home.

What I am trying to highlight here really is the undeniable contrast between a Pope who spent twelve years advocating dialogue and encounter yet never visited his homeland, and a successor who has done so and been greeted by millions.

You can read bishop Wang's message in full here abdiocese.org.uk/news/bswm

Pope Leo XIV is increasingly providing the doctrinal clarity many Catholics have been waiting for. So why is Cardinal Fernández still running the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith? Cardinal Joseph Zen has now publicly urged Leo to replace Fernández. Posters attacking the cardinal have appeared on the streets of Buenos Aires, while Die Tagespost reports an extraordinary dispute between Vatican dicasteries over an explanatory note whose claims about SSPX sacramental faculties appear to conflict with provisions authorised by Pope Francis himself. These developments are not all equally significant, but together they illustrate something deeply troubling: a growing crisis of confidence in the competence, judgement and credibility of those entrusted with some of the Church's highest offices. What makes this particularly fascinating is the apparent contrast with Leo's own developing pontificate. In France and Argentina, he has spoken with refreshing clarity about conversion, the sanctity of life, the limits of interreligious dialogue and the impossibility of invoking supposedly "pastoral" considerations to justify what we know to be wrong. Yet Fernández, Roche, Grech and Hollerich remain influential figures within a Curia still profoundly shaped by the priorities of Pope Francis. I have written a new essay for REGINA Unscripted examining this contradiction, the evidence of tensions within Rome and the increasingly urgent question of whether Leo intends to translate his theological clarity into meaningful institutional reform. A Pope does not govern the Church through speeches alone. He governs through the men he appoints, the authority he delegates and the decisions he makes. After eighteen months, surely it is reasonable to ask: when will clarity in preaching become clarity in governance? Read Leo's Quiet Corrections Are No Longer Enough on REGINA Unscripted: reginaunscripted.org/2026/11…

Full report from InfoVaticana here infovaticana.com/en/2026/11/…

Pope Leo XIV has appointed a new Archbishop of Barcelona, I think the choice offers a fascinating insight into the direction of his pontificate. Fra Octavi Vilà Mayo is a Cistercian monk, former Abbot of Poblet and Bishop of Girona, appointed to that diocese by Pope Francis in 2024. He succeeds Cardinal Omella, a central figure in the Francis-era establishment and member of the former Pope's inner circle of advisers. Interestingly, Vilà was reportedly the preferred candidate of Omella and Cardinal Cobo of Madrid, suggesting that Leo has little appetite for an immediate purge of the existing hierarchy. But there is more to this appointment than ecclesiastical politics. Vilà is steeped in Benedictine spirituality, with its emphasis on prayer, discipline and the centrality of Christ. He has previously warned that the Church cannot afford to lose its identity and predicted a future of smaller, more committed Christian communities, an assessment remarkably reminiscent of Joseph Ratzinger. Most strikingly, in his first message to Barcelona today, he explicitly identifies evangelisation as the Church's indispensable mission, speaking of bringing the Gospel to unbelievers, bringing lapsed Catholics back to the faith, and proclaiming the Word of God in season and out of season. There are questions about his record, particularly his approach to Catholics attached to the traditional liturgy, and his commitment to synodality places him firmly within the vocabulary of the Francis pontificate. Nevertheless, perhaps something interesting is emerging here. Pope Leo may not be seeking a revolution in personnel so much as a reorientation of priorities: preserving ecclesial communion and institutional continuity while restoring greater emphasis to Christ, conversion and the Church's missionary mandate. That would be a characteristically quiet form of reform, but its success will depend on whether episcopal appointments translate theological clarity into actual governance. The real test of the Leonine papacy may not be whom Leo removes, but what he expects of those he chooses to retain and promote.

A full report on this interesting development on @RealAdVaticanum here advaticanum.com/article/form…

The shocking departure of a former European SSPX district superior, just months after the Society’s schismatic episcopal consecrations, looks like a devastating indictment of the direction it has taken. But it is where he has chosen to go that makes this development truly extraordinary...and raises some profoundly uncomfortable questions for the SSPX leadership. Fr Patrick Duverger, formerly the SSPX district superior for Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg, has left the Society and been welcomed into a traditional Latin Mass community served by the Priestly Fraternity of Saint Peter (FSSP), under the authority of the local diocesan bishop. His successor, Michel Poinsinet de Sivry, was among the four men consecrated bishops by the SSPX in July, without the authorisation of Pope Leo XIV. Consider the historical irony. In 1988, Archbishop Lefebvre's illicit episcopal consecrations precipitated the departure of priests who founded the FSSP precisely because they believed that fidelity to the traditional liturgy could not justify separation from Rome. Thirty-eight years later, following another set of episcopal consecrations, a former SSPX district superior has found a home in the very Fraternity born of that original rupture. We do not yet know whether the July consecrations prompted Duverger's decision, and it would be premature to suggest an exodus. But his departure follows that of another former European district superior, Fr Firmin Udressy, who left in 2024 after more than twenty years of priestly service. Udressy's own explanation was revealing: he had come to desire a priesthood exercised in genuine communion with the Church's hierarchy and the universal Church. Let's be clear, this is not a dispute between those who love tradition and those who despise it, these are priests formed by the SSPX, deeply attached to the Catholic inheritance, who have nevertheless chosen to exercise their priesthood within the Church's recognised structures. Surely therein lies the uncomfortable ecclesiological question the SSPX cannot indefinitely evade: at what point does an extraordinary response to a crisis become a permanent alternative to the Church's own authority? Catholic tradition is not a possession to be defended against the Church, nor is communion with Peter some optional administrative arrangement that can be suspended until Rome becomes sufficiently agreeable. Apostolic tradition and apostolic communion belong together. There are legitimate grievances about the treatment of traditional Catholics, and Rome must take them seriously. But the failures of ecclesiastical authority cannot become a justification for establishing a parallel ecclesial existence. The tragedy would be for a movement founded to preserve Catholic tradition to lose sight of something essential to that tradition: the Church is not merely where the ancient liturgy is celebrated, but where the Catholic faith is professed cum Petro et sub Petro — with Peter and under Peter.

For the first time in 55 years, fewer than half of Americans support the death penalty, but the most interesting question for Catholics is not whether public opinion has changed, it's whether the Church's teaching has changed and what we actually mean by doctrinal development. A new Gallup poll finds that just 49% of Americans favour capital punishment for convicted murderers, compared with 45% who oppose it. In 1994, support stood at 80%. Although the latest figure is statistically similar to last year's 52%, the longer-term movement is unmistakable. There are compelling reasons for Catholics to welcome a declining willingness to execute convicted criminals. The possibility of wrongful conviction, inequalities in the administration of justice, the disturbing record of botched executions and the availability of secure imprisonment all raise serious questions about whether the state should exercise such an irreversible power. The dignity of a human being does not disappear because he has committed a terrible crime, and the possibility of repentance remains a profound Christian consideration. Yet the Catholic discussion cannot end there, because it raises a theological difficulty which I do not believe has been satisfactorily resolved. In 2018, Pope Francis revised paragraph 2267 of the Catechism to declare the death penalty inadmissible because it constitutes an attack upon the inviolability and dignity of the human person. The accompanying doctrinal explanation presented this as an authentic development in continuity with previous teaching. But the Church's historical position was not simply that capital punishment was an unfortunate necessity reluctantly tolerated by less enlightened societies. Scripture, the Fathers, St Thomas Aquinas and successive popes recognised that legitimate public authority could, under certain conditions, impose death as a just punishment for grave crimes. That judgement was understood in relation to justice, the common good and the moral authority of the state. This creates a serious question about continuity. If capital punishment is intrinsically an attack upon human dignity, how could the Church have defended its legitimacy for so many centuries? Conversely, if the practice was not intrinsically immoral, on what precise grounds has its moral status changed? One possible answer lies in distinguishing an act's moral character from the circumstances in which it may legitimately be undertaken. Modern states possess means of protecting society that were unavailable to earlier generations. We may therefore conclude that executions are no longer justified under contemporary conditions without claiming that the Church's previous moral teaching was fundamentally erroneous. Indeed, this was substantially the approach taken by St John Paul II, who argued that cases in which execution was absolutely necessary had become extremely rare, if not practically nonexistent. It provided a powerful argument against contemporary capital punishment while retaining an intelligible relationship with the Church's historical position. The difficulty with the 2018 formulation is that its appeal to the inviolability of human dignity appears to go beyond a judgement about necessity or changed social circumstances. Human dignity was not discovered in 2018. If it renders capital punishment morally impermissible in principle, then we must explain how that conclusion relates to the authoritative teaching which preceded it. This is not an argument for restoring executions, still less for treating the lives of convicted criminals as disposable. It is an argument for theological honesty. Catholics should be capable of opposing the death penalty in practice while acknowledging that the relationship between the revised Catechism and the Church's earlier teaching remains a legitimate subject of serious theological examination. We also shouldn't imagine that a Gallup poll can resolve the matter. Public opinion may help create the political conditions for abolition, but it cannot determine the content of divine revelation or establish whether a proposed doctrinal development is coherent. What is at stake extends beyond capital punishment. The Church's credibility depends upon our confidence that authentic doctrinal development deepens our understanding of revealed truth rather than simply replacing yesterday's moral conclusions with today's preferred judgements. We can welcome a society becoming less willing to take the life of a criminal without pretending that the Church has always taught precisely what she teaches today. The task is to explain the continuity honestly, not to make the historical difficulty disappear.

I agree wholeheartedly with my friend Professor Larry Chapp. There comes a point when the desire to avoid disruption risks perpetuating a far more damaging instability: the erosion of confidence in the Church’s doctrinal authority. The Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith exists to safeguard and articulate the deposit of faith, not to generate further uncertainty about its meaning. The appointment of Fr Thomas Joseph White OP would signal something profoundly important about the direction of this pontificate: that theological precision, intellectual seriousness and fidelity to the Church’s perennial teaching are once again paramount. As Larry rightly observes, this is not fundamentally a question of theological factions. It is about restoring the distinction between authentic doctrinal development and ambiguity masquerading as development. Unity cannot be sustained indefinitely by managing competing interpretations of the truth. Authentic ecclesial unity is founded upon the truth itself. Pope Leo has increasingly supplied the theological clarity the Church so urgently needs in his preaching. The time has come for that clarity to find expression in the governance of the Church.

Pope Leo’s most challenging observation during his prison visit was that human beings can flourish through their limitations. That deserves consideration well beyond the prison walls, because we increasingly understand freedom as the removal of whatever obstructs our desires. On that account, dependence is humiliating, restraint is oppressive and fulfilment means acquiring ever greater control over our circumstances. Yet someone can possess considerable freedom of movement while remaining enslaved to addiction, resentment, greed or the need to dominate others. Conversely, a person deprived of liberty can begin to acquire the honesty and self-command that previously escaped him. Recognising this does not make imprisonment good in itself, excuse degrading conditions or diminish the suffering of victims. It does expose the inadequacy of treating freedom simply as the ability to do what we want. Sometimes our desires themselves need to change, and the encounter with a limit becomes the moment when we finally recognise that. Leo’s intervention suggests a demanding Christian understanding of rehabilitation: helping a person become capable of choosing the good, rather than merely waiting for the day when he can resume choosing without external restraint.

"When I was in prison, you came to visit me". Pope Leo’s visit to a Buenos Aires prison raises a difficult question: do we believe that someone guilty of a serious crime can become more than the worst thing he has done? Meeting prisoners today, Leo expressed the hope that a new life is possible, a demanding Christian claim, especially when we remember that the consequences of an offender’s actions may remain with other people for the rest of their lives. Forgiveness cannot restore a murdered person to a family, erase abuse or make betrayal inconsequential. Forgiveness does not mean repentance removes the need for punishment, restitution where possible and protection against further harm. A claim to have changed must never become a convenient way of escaping scrutiny. Yet despite this responsibility itself assumes that a person is more than an object to be managed. We hold people accountable because their choices matter and that same moral seriousness requires us to recognise that their subsequent choices matter too: whether they acknowledge what they did, abandon their excuses and begin the difficult work of living differently. There's a temptation to divide society into people whose futures deserve investment and people whose pasts have permanently disqualified them. Christianity resists that division without pretending that everyone can safely be trusted. A prison chaplain can believe in a man’s capacity for repentance while accepting that he must remain in custody. Hope does not require the suspension of judgement. The Church’s presence in prison therefore makes an uncomfortable claim upon the rest of us. We must take wrongdoing seriously enough to demand accountability, and human dignity seriously enough to refuse to declare a person beyond the possibility of conversion. Neither obligation becomes easier because the other exists.

I love Archbishop Broglio’s observation that someone described Traditionis Custodes as “a solution in search of a problem.” It captures something of the really troubling nature of the entire approach of the Francis pontificate to the traditional liturgy. The stated objective was ecclesial unity, yet the practical consequence has often been to alienate precisely those Catholics who are most passionately committed to the Church’s sacramental life, doctrinal integrity and continuity with her own history. Of course there are traditionalists whose attitude towards legitimate ecclesiastical authority is deeply problematic, but that is a question of ecclesiology and obedience, not an inherent defect in a liturgy that nourished countless saints. Pope Benedict XVI understood something that seems to have been forgotten: unity does not require uniformity, and the Church’s inheritance is not a threat to her future. After all, the Catholic Church is not a liturgical monoculture. She embraces the Byzantine, Alexandrian, Armenian, Syriac and other venerable liturgical traditions, including those of the Syro-Malabar and Coptic Catholic Churches, each expressing the same Catholic faith through its own distinctive spiritual and liturgical inheritance. This extraordinary diversity is not regarded as an obstacle to ecclesial unity but as a manifestation of the Church's universality. What binds these communities together is their common faith and communion with the successor of Peter, not the uniformity of their worship. If the Church can accommodate such profound liturgical diversity across East and West, why should the coexistence of the older and newer forms of the Roman liturgy suddenly constitute an intolerable threat to unity? This reality makes Roche's demands about unity look, frankly, myopic. Indeed, it is rather difficult to explain why a Church that speaks incessantly about synodality, accompaniment, diversity and listening should regard the liturgical aspirations of some of her most committed faithful as a problem requiring suppression. Surely the genuinely pastoral response is to welcome Catholics attached to the ancient liturgy into the full life of the Church, insisting upon communion with Peter while respecting their legitimate aspirations. The great irony of Traditionis Custodes is that a measure ostensibly designed to overcome division may have deepened the very divisions it claimed to address. Archbishop Broglio is right to question the premise. Perhaps it is time Rome did the same.