Speaking at the Leonine Forum in D.C., a friendly yet direct question was posed to me: “Why are you not a Catholic?” The questioner pointed out my expressed appreciation for the early Church Fathers, my admiration for Thomas Aquinas, and an ethical stance that resonated with John Paul II’s theology of the body during my lecture.
Answering such a profound question succinctly at the close of a lecture is challenging. My dedication to Reformed Protestantism is rooted in numerous significant aspects. These encompass authority, salvation, the essence of ministry, and the profound meaning of sacraments, to mention a few. While acknowledging the valid critique that Protestantism might not sufficiently emphasize Mary’s role, I contend that the Catholic Church elevates her to a position exceeding biblical justification. However, presently, my primary reservation about Catholicism centers on its current leader: Pope Francis. In my response, I aimed for respectful communication with my audience. Nevertheless, I felt compelled to express that the current Pope embodies the characteristics of a liberal Protestant, albeit in papal attire. As a Protestant, I am deeply aware of the detrimental impact such figures can have.
J. Gresham Machen, a prominent Presbyterian figure during the Fundamentalist-Modernist controversy, posited that confessional Protestantism and Roman Catholicism were distinctly separated from liberal Christianity. This separation, he argued, was partly due to their shared commitment to supernaturalism. They concurred, notably, on the actuality of the empty tomb on the third day. Machen suggested that the former represented variations within Christianity, whereas the latter constituted an entirely different religious category. Updating this analysis for today, I would argue that liberal Christianity’s defining trait isn’t necessarily the denial of the supernatural. Instead, it’s characterized by a prioritization of the natural over the supernatural, even within a framework that acknowledges the supernatural. There’s a pronounced focus on the worldly and a diminished appreciation for the transcendent. Joel Osteen, a Protestant, exemplifies this aptly. While I don’t doubt his belief in the Resurrection, this doctrine seems instrumental, at best, to his Christian vision—a vehicle for personal contentment and material prosperity. This perspective mirrors those, across the political spectrum, who seem to prioritize partisan politics and influence in D.C. over the more fundamental aspects of Christian life: regular worship, catechesis, and discipleship.
Ironically, Pope Francis appears to align with this liberal Protestant paradigm. Many of my acquaintances have converted to Catholicism in recent decades, often motivated by intellectual or aesthetic considerations. It’s ironic that the intellectual depth of historic Catholicism and its remarkable aesthetic achievements seem to be precisely what the Pope views with ambivalence. Both of these observations point towards a concerning trend within Christian circles: the erosion of the transcendent in favor of the immanent, a classic precursor to doctrinal and spiritual challenges.
Indications of this shift became apparent during the confusion surrounding blessings for same-sex relationships. A leader firmly grounded in Christian doctrine and confident in its truth would have navigated this issue with clarity and decisiveness. Such a leader, anchored in the transcendent, would prioritize divine judgment over human opinion. The recent announcement of a special pilgrimage for the LGBTQ community during the 2025 Jubilee Year, titled “Church: Home for All, LGBT+ Christians and Other Existential Frontiers,” further illustrates this inclination. This pilgrimage includes a prayer vigil for LGBTQ Catholics on September 5 at the Church of the Gesù in Rome, followed by a symbolic passage through the Holy Doors of St. Peter’s on September 6.
As an external observer, I can only speculate about the internal Vatican politics influencing this decision. However, it’s evident that the Church is allowing contemporary, secular perspectives—categories seemingly at odds with Catholic teachings on sexuality and the human body—to shape the Jubilee celebration. Regardless of the pastoral intentions, this move conveys an impression of either disregard or ignorance, not just towards traditional Catholicism, but towards orthodox Christianity as a whole.
Liberal Protestants have historically lagged in their social doctrines. In the 1960s, they engaged in dialogues with Marxists just as Marxism began to crumble under its internal contradictions. Similarly, the Anglican Church’s move to bless same-sex couples occurred well after societal acceptance of gay marriage had become widespread. Pope Francis seems to continue this pattern by offering an LGBTQ pilgrimage precisely when the very notion of a unified “LGBTQ community” is being questioned, as the diverse groups find themselves united mainly by opposition to traditional norms rather than shared positive values.
Confessional, orthodox Protestants should not find satisfaction in Rome’s increasing resemblance to liberal Protestantism, a long-standing adversary. The Catholic Church still possesses significant resources and institutional influence to impact the ongoing debates about human identity and purpose. Should Rome falter on these critical issues, the world will become a more inhospitable place for everyone. To paraphrase Elrond from Lord of the Rings, our roster of allies is dwindling. And, unfortunately, Pope Francis’s actions do not seem to be reversing this trend.
