The death of Pope Francis on Easter Monday marked the end of a complicated chapter in the life of the Catholic Church. His was a papacy defined by a deep concern for the marginalized, a preference for dialogue over confrontation, and a pastoral tone that often left some faithful longing for sharper doctrinal clarity.
As the cardinals gather in Rome this Wednesday to choose his successor, American Catholics should not treat the conclave as a distant ceremony. What happens in that room will shape how the church responds to a world in moral freefall. While much of Europe forgets its Christian identity, China asserts control over the church’s mission, and leftist ideologies race ahead of the church’s response — reshaping culture faster than Rome has shown a willingness to confront — the question is not just who will bear the title pontifex. It is whether the next pope will speak with the clarity and courage needed to guide the church through a world increasingly hostile to truth.
It is tempting to believe that these debates are foreign. After all, America is not Europe. We are not facing a crisis of empty cathedrals or hostile governments seizing church property. In fact, under the current administration, religious freedom in the United States has found new breathing room. Faith-based schools, hospitals, and adoption agencies are no longer under constant legal threat from their own government. The White House is no longer treating faith as a problem to be managed.
But this is not the case across the globe. And even in America, these protections rest on unstable ground. If the church hesitates in the face of moral confusion and cultural decay, the weight of resistance will fall more heavily on families and lay leaders striving to remain faithful. While the gates of hell will not prevail, the need for clear teaching and firm leadership is urgent. We do not presume to direct the church’s course, but we can pray for a pope who strengthens the faithful by proclaiming the truth without apology.
Nowhere is the danger of soft diplomacy more obvious than in China. Days after Pope Francis’ death, the Chinese Communist Party appointed two new bishops without any input from the Holy See. This was not an accident. It was not a miscommunication. It was a deliberate show of control, and it was the direct result of years of compromise.
The Vatican’s secretive deal with Beijing, first signed in 2018 and renewed since, gave the CCP regime leverage and legitimacy while offering little in return. Faithful underground Catholics have continued to bear witness under immense pressure, often without visible support from Rome. When a government that jails priests and bulldozes churches is allowed to select its own bishops and still be treated as a legitimate partner, the message is clear.
At times, political accommodation has seemed to take precedence over bold witness. The so-called “patriotic church” recognized by the Chinese government does not teach the faith handed down by the apostles. It teaches loyalty to the state, not to Christ. In this arrangement, bishops are selected for their alignment with party values, not for their fidelity to Catholic doctrine. The result is a distortion of the church’s mission, where the altar is repurposed as a platform for nationalism and truth is subordinated to ideology.
This is not just about China. It is about whether the church will reassert itself as a moral voice in an increasingly immoral world. Much of Europe, once the heart of Christendom, now struggles to maintain even cultural memory of the faith. In France, churches are burned or empty. In Germany, growing divisions between local clergy and the Vatican have sparked open defiance on issues of doctrine and church governance. In the United Kingdom, even prayer can lead to arrest. One Catholic woman was arrested for silently praying near an abortion facility, revealing how narrow the space for public expressions of faith has become.
Through it all, Rome has often erred on the side of caution. The fire that once animated Pope John Paul II, who faced down totalitarianism not with diplomacy but with conviction, has cooled. The church is called not to retreat but to lead with courage and truth. In this moment, we pray for a shepherd who can lead with clarity, offering stability and hope in a time of widespread confusion.
For American Catholics, this moment matters more than it may seem. We are not immune to the rot that has taken hold elsewhere. Our institutions are under cultural siege. Our children are being raised in a world that mocks the faith, distorts the truth, and offers confusion as compassion. Yet amid the decay, there are signs of new life: young families returning to tradition, parishes growing in conviction, and an increasingly engaged laity. What we pray for is not a distant figurehead or a cautious diplomat. We pray for a father who teaches with love, corrects with truth, and strengthens with courage. The next pope will not change the faith, but he will shape how confidently the church lives it.
The conclave is not a political convention. It is a spiritual decision with political consequences, guided by our Lord. American Catholics should be praying not for a pope who reflects the spirit of the age but for one who challenges it. A man who will speak the truth with courage and humility. A man who will strengthen what is good, confront what is harmful, and walk with the faithful striving to do the same. We are praying for a shepherd who will embody the Gospel with conviction and compassion and who will inspire confidence in the church’s witness to the world.
No matter who is chosen, the task before us remains. Raise your family. Defend the church. Speak the truth. The eternal battle for hearts and minds continues, and the need for courage and clarity has never been greater. We pray for a pope who will strengthen and encourage the faithful, but we do not fear the outcome. The Holy Spirit is guiding the church, and Christ Himself has promised that the gates of hell shall not prevail against her.
Matt Miranda is a U.S. Navy Submarine Veteran, law student and editor at Faith and Country. His work explores law, culture, and public policy with a focus on religious liberty.
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