There is No Vocations Crisis

All across the country parishes are merging, Masses are split between different times at multiple sites, vocations directors are expressing alarm, bishops are restructuring diocesan ministries, and there are thousands of parishes without a resident priest.¹ Every fact in that list is true, but the story that we tell about them isn’t.

Today, the most conservative ratio of practicing laity to active diocesan priests is roughly 860.² This is a crowd easily served by two Sunday Masses of 430, with canon law providing for bination.³ How are 860 practicing Catholics per active priest too many?

The ratio is more than sufficient: we have more priests per practicing Catholic today than at the statistical peak of Catholicism in the United States.⁴ And that doesn’t even tell the whole story. Today’s numbers are not analogous to the peak’s. Then, nearly every priest alive was active, because priestly retirement only became common after the Council.⁵ Today, a third of diocesan priests are retired, and while some are infirm, many still say Mass and hear confessions.⁶ If we count every living priest, today’s ratio of practicing laity to total priests is better than the Golden Age itself.⁷

And the priests are not counting alone. There are 18,425 permanent deacons,⁸ and nearly 40,000 paid lay ministers who do the catechesis, youth work, and pastoral care that once fell to priests and sisters;⁹ in 1970 permanent deacons did not exist and there were not yet enough lay ministers for them to be tracked. There have never been more ordained men relative to practicing Catholics.¹⁰ So where is the panic coming from?

The Church is in crisis, but the framing is all wrong. The ratios hold not because the Church is healthy, but because the number of priests and the number of practicing laity have declined together. One number has not collapsed: the number of parishes. The endpoints of 1970 and today hide a hump in the interim decades from a building boom as the Church chased the laity to the suburbs, followed by closures that erased the boom,¹¹ even as the nominal Catholic population grew by more than eighteen million.¹² Practicing laity has fallen by more than half, the parish footprint has decreased by about a tenth, and so the average practicing congregation has been cut in half.¹³ The priesthood can easily serve the practicing Catholic laity, but it can’t staff 16,125 parishes. The stagnant parish footprint and decreasing number of priests mean that there are more parishes than active diocesan priests,¹⁴ and the number of parishes without a resident priest has grown sevenfold. It is this Detroitification of the Catholic Church that has conjured up the narrative of the vocations crisis.

The collapse of the laity and the priesthood are not two separate crises; one is downstream of the other. Vocations are formed from the practicing laity, so a smaller laity will mean fewer priests. It’s no coincidence that ordinations have fallen almost exactly as fast as the practicing population. Measured against the nominal Catholic population, vocations have collapsed. Measured against the Catholics who still practice, they never did.¹⁵ The vocations pipeline is not broken: its source is dying. A priestly vocation is a call that a young man ordinarily answers only after a certain kind of formation, when he has seen the care that the priest can give to others, when he has been surrounded by those who take vocational questions seriously, and when he knows what it means for the priest to stand at the altar and say, “This is my Body” and “This is the chalice of my Blood”. A priestly vocation and a practicing Catholic are formed in a certain kind of place.

During its late-19th and early-20th century heyday, St Stanislaus Kostka in Chicago had 40,000 parishioners. To have a ratio equivalent to today’s diocesan ratios, and counting only half of those parishioners as practicing, St Stan’s would have needed roughly 23 priests; a ludicrous number that no American parish has ever had.¹⁶ St Stan’s pastoral model, where a single priest served a huge number of laity, was enabled by proximity; nearly all of St Stan’s poor Polish laity lived within a 20-minute walk of the parish. This is what the urban American parish looked like before it was broken up. Holding attendance constant, experienced Catholic density, a measure of how many Catholics the average Catholic lives near, has dropped by 53% since the early 1950s. When including the fall in attendance, experienced practicing density has dropped by 81%. That’s a decrease from 969 practicing Catholic neighbors per square mile to 180.¹⁷ If a mile walk takes roughly 20 minutes, in the early 50s the average practicing Catholic could easily walk to something on the order of 2000 other practicing Catholics. Today, that number is about 400.¹⁸ Integration is built from proximity, and experienced density is how its loss can be measured. If we had the same level of density as in the early 1950s, our priests could easily serve all of the practicing laity. But the question was never about the priests. It was about the laity: when they stopped practicing, and when they began to scatter.

Decline Started Before the Council

The standard traditionalist narrative about the decline of the Catholic Church in the West goes something like this:

The Second Vatican Council, or, generously, those who bore its banner, ushered in reforms that stripped the liturgy of its sacred nature and diluted the Church’s traditional teachings to accommodate the modern world. These reforms led to a lack of reverence for the Eucharist, catechetical confusion, a loss of Catholic identity, and hence a sudden collapse in the years after the Council’s implementation. Given that the Council was shared by the entire West, and that the Church collapsed across the entire West, it is the only thing that can explain the magnitude of collapse all at the same time.

This is a valiant sense-making effort, but still wrong. By 1961 the rate of diocesan ordinations per million Catholics had already fallen by 28% in seven major European dioceses compared to the 1950s average. But ordinations are the product of years of formation, and answering the call to a priestly vocation in the first place requires a formation that inculcates a supernatural mindset. As such, ordinations are a lagging indicator of decline: as goes the ordination class of today, so went the laity nearly a decade ago. Therefore, looking at seminarian numbers can help us pinpoint when exactly the decline started. In the Archdioceses of Boston and New York seminarians peaked in 1953 and declined thereafter. The Galveston-Houston diocese hit an all-time high of 100 seminarians in 1959 that has not yet been surpassed even while the see’s Catholic population has increased by nearly five times since then. Four of seven major European dioceses had fewer seminarians in 1959 than in 1951.¹⁹ The decline in seminarians preceded the Council by a decade. This raises the question: what broke the Western vocations pipeline in the 1950s?

In Bryan Wilson’s 1966 work Religion in Secular Society he argues that secularization is linked to the decline of close knit small scale community and the shift towards national scale societies. Sabino Acquaviva’s 1961 The Decline of the Sacred in Industrial Society documented the death of traditional rural Catholicism in Italy. Jean-Charles Falardeau documented the social damage that migration had done to the church in Quebec as early as 1952. Gabriel Le Bras and Fernand Boulard studied French Catholicism before, during, and after the decline and concluded that it was due to the death of the integrated rural parish and Catholic school. The mechanism of community decline causing secularization was so widely accepted among scholars that Peter Berger attempted to move from concrete history to theoretical framework in The Sacred Canopy. This was the dominant view of sociologists of religion before anyone could see the effects of the Second Vatican Council.

The liturgical havoc, the catechetical chaos, and the mass exodus of priests prompted by the Council added a layer of institutional disorientation on top of the structural implosion already underway. The acceleration of the decline after 1965 is real, and cannot be explained solely by the destruction of the integrated walkable communities at the center of Catholic life. Even so, the Council was but the gasoline to a fire that had raged under the floorboards for decades. We have spent sixty years litigating that gasoline, but it’s time we reckoned with the fire.

It Happened Everywhere

Nearly every Western country experienced mass spatial migrations that destroyed Catholic communities and traditional ways of living roughly between 1950 and 1975. In the United States this took the form of a flight to a specific suburban style with its own unique pathologies, but the particulars differed by country. What was consistent was the spatial disruption that destroyed community, and the lack of integration in the newly adopted form. That’s the fire.

Prior to the mid 20th century French Catholicism was primarily rural and agrarian. These rooted communities were centered around their local parish and Catholic school. In the late 40s the French started to flee the countryside for the cities. This migration was so sudden and violent that in 1964 the Cardinal of Paris affirmed the construction of 142 new churches in the suburbs ringing Paris.²⁰ The need for sacramental and communal infrastructure in these new suburbs was so great that the Archdiocese dropped tent churches, inflatable churches, and pre-built parish gathering spaces right into high-rise suburban public housing projects.²¹ One such suburb, Sarcelles, saw an over 500% population increase of ~43,000 people between 1954 and 1968, yet two of its churches closed in the 1970s.²² In 1975 the diocese of Evry in the southern ring of Paris indefinitely postponed building a new church, thinking it would be “useless, even counterproductive”.²³

The Spanish economic miracle from the mid 1950s to the early 70s prompted a mass movement to the cities. In 1960 there were over 8,000 seminarians in Spain, but by 1970 that number had fallen to just under 5,000.²⁴ Pablo Pérez López from the University of Navarra summed it up: “the decline in the knowledge and practice of the Christian faith responded above all to a change in lifestyles… It was a mutation that first affected the place where people lived: Spaniards emigrated massively to the cities in those years.”²⁵

In the 1960s Quebec’s Quiet Revolution saw Catholicism nearly wiped out. In the span of a decade Mass attendance, vocations, and the fertility rate crashed while schools and hospitals were seized from the Church by the state. Traditionally, the collapse of Quebecois Catholicism is explained by precisely this institutional seizure. Quebec had two waves of internal migration: one in the late 19th and early 20th century to the cities, and then one in the 1950s and on to the suburbs. What set Quebec apart is that the church was able to keep up with the urban migration, and gradually subdivided parish territories to accommodate the growing urban population. Even while practice remained high, sociologist Jean-Charles Falardeau documented that the parish’s domination over community life was weakening as compared to life in the rural village.²⁶ Then in the 1950s, American style suburbanization and the steady fall of population density in the central city began. In 1960 an all-out collapse started as the flight to the suburbs intensified and the Church was unable to reconstitute communal life. The two migrations are the argument in miniature: where the Church could reconstitute proximity, practice held, and where it could not, practice collapsed. The suburban dispersal was the fire; the government’s seizure of schools and hospitals was the gasoline. Quebecois Catholicism never recovered.

Ireland is the control case. With a Mass attendance rate of roughly 90% in 1961 and 91% in 1975, Irish Mass attendance was completely unfazed by the Second Vatican Council. In Moral Monopoly, Tom Inglis cites the breakdown of the integrated parish-school-community life as a cause of the death of the country’s faith practice. In the 1990s Ireland had its own suburbanization and Catholic practice collapsed within a generation; the Church could not face the shock of the abuse crisis without the integrated communities that held the faithful together. Granted that Ireland experienced substantial economic growth, suburbanization, and the full legalization of birth control within 10 years, the collapse cannot be pinned solely on suburbanization.²⁷ What is beyond doubt is that it was not the Second Vatican Council.

The same story played out in Germany through the breakup of the Katholisches Milieu, with the Ontzuiling of the Netherlands, Italy’s mass migrations during the miracolo economico, and the UK’s slum clearances. ²⁸ What the new forms had in common was a dis-integrated environment that formed their residents in ways that are contrary to the practice of the Catholic faith. This destruction of integrated community was not the sufficient cause of the collapse, but the necessary condition for the other shocks of the 20th century to be efficacious.

What the Ghetto Was

We use the word “ghetto” to describe the bad part of town, the place you don’t want to go, where you won’t be safe. But for the American Catholic of the urban immigrant parish it was the place where you couldn’t walk outside without seeing a priest, religious, or the neighbors who would one day bury you. The territorial community of the parish given by canon law and the spatially dense community around it enabled a life saturated by the Church. The average day began with church bells, seeing fellow parishioners at work, pausing for the noon Angelus bells, striking up a conversation with another neighbor who was also a parishioner on the way to your front door, having a family dinner with a rosary afterwards, and then heading to the Sängerbund for recreation. Every time you walked by your parish, which was often, you would cross yourself in reverence of the Eucharist inside, and on Corpus Christi would process through the neighborhood proclaiming His real presence to all. Whether it was walking by a statue of Mary in a window or helping your neighbor shovel their sidewalk, Christ was everywhere. In the ethnic ghetto even the lax families showed up to church on Sunday because people expected them to be there, and they got their kids baptized and sent them to the local Catholic school because it’s just what you did. Catholicism was not just a set of thoughts, but an entire way of life.²⁹

It’s true that this world had real ugliness too. Catholics of different ethnicities and races had deep hatreds of each other and would refuse to integrate their communities by enforcing their parish boundaries with violence. The neighborhood was sacred because its life revolved around the parish and its rituals. The violent defense of the neighborhood from the encroachment of out groups was the perversion of that sacredness. While the racial prejudice was contingent on the time, it’s inevitable that any intimate place-based community will exhibit some degree of insularity.

The duties and obligations that came with this way of life also led to individual constraints that today we might find unacceptable. But it was these obligations and duties that built your life; the funeral you couldn’t miss and the feast day celebrations you had to help put on became the funeral where you would be mourned and the feast day celebrations that were put on for you. Living in the ethnic ghetto was to experience a unified fabric where every facet of your life was part of a larger whole that you were immersed in every time you stepped outside.³⁰

Suburbia’s Native Religion

Every Sunday the 3,000-car parking lot of the nondenominational megachurch near your house overflows with people from 30 miles around. The church has three worship services, and a bookstore coffee shop that’s only open on Sundays. People spend an hour or three there at most. This is the epitome of the American Christian life: a sealed compartment where one can come and go at will, separated from every other part of life. Though this is the stereotypical form of American Christianity, its roots run much deeper.

In the 1790s a group of socially and economically elite evangelical Church of England adherents in the UK began to coalesce into a movement. This evangelical movement’s morality went on to reform the British Empire and define the Victorian Age; among its members were William Wilberforce, who spearheaded the movement to abolish the slave trade, Charles Grant, who chaired the directors of the East India Company, and Lord Teignmouth, who governed India. Despite their social and political action culminating in the abolition of the slave trade, they’re known by the place where they lived. Clapham was a semi-rural village within a short carriage commute to London, and most importantly, far away from the vices of city life. This is why the Clapham Sect chose it as the site for an intentional religious community built around single family homes where the family and the individual were the primary units of piety. This place, where spatial boundaries enforced the strict delineation of work, home, commerce, and church, was the first suburb.³¹

As an intentional religious community built by evangelicals, Clapham reflected their particular understanding of anthropology and ecclesiology. The Clapham Sect believed in a moment of experience in which the individual receives an assurance of being saved; William Wilberforce dated his to 1785 or 1786.³² Evangelicals think this is an unmediated moment of grace between Christ and the individual’s soul triggered by faith alone. In their view, the church is not the universal sacrament of salvation,³³ but merely a body where those who know they’re saved gather. A salvation that is atomic, individual, and completely interior can be moved from any built environment and mode of life to another. It requires nothing other than the individual’s certainty. This is anathema to the Catholic. The Church teaches that salvation is uncertain and progressive; that rather than possessing salvation, one hopes for it.³⁴ By Catholic teaching, without another person the ordinary means of salvation are closed. Another person baptizes you, and hears your confessions, the Eucharist is consecrated by another and received in community, and Holy Orders is passed down by the hands of a bishop whose lineage flows back to the apostles. The Catholic life well lived requires proximate access to the sacraments, and to the community that you receive them from.

The Clapham model of single family homes separating the life of work, home, and church was replicated writ large in the UK and then exported across the Atlantic to the United States. Philadelphia was home to one of the country’s first railroad suburbs, with this becoming the suburb’s stereotypical form.³⁵ This suburban lifestyle had become the normative lifestyle for the American upper class by the early 20th century. After World War II, the federal government mass produced the suburb through the FHA, the GI Bill, and the interstate highway system in a housing construction boom the likes of which the country hasn’t seen since.³⁶ What Clapham had chosen, federal policy made the default. In pursuit of a government subsidized middle class prosperity, Catholics moved into these suburbs en masse and traded the Angelus bell for the 30-minute commute to Mass.

The suburb’s destruction of the faith community removes the context in which faith makes sense and is continuously confirmed. In The Sacred Canopy Peter Berger calls this communal reinforcement the plausibility structure, and documents its erosion as a force of secularization.³⁷ The plausibility structure’s communal reinforcement does not make faith any more true; it makes it obvious. Faith doesn’t fail by refutation, but by the erosion of the community that makes up the plausibility structure; faith turns from something that is obvious into a choice.

The evangelical anthropology built into the suburb also dissolves the embodied nature of the faith. For the Catholic, you have to go to Mass, and you have to be present in front of the priest for the absolution to ontologically change your soul’s relationship with God. But in the suburb the Catholic faith is forced to survive in the only way that it can: interior assent. In A Secular Age Charles Taylor describes this lack of embodied practice as excarnation. Suburban Catholicism is excarnated Catholicism: the inversion of what Christ did for us. In the same stroke that suburbia forces faith into interior assent it erodes the plausibility structure that sustains that interior assent. Embodied practice is its own evidence: the man kneeling beside you simultaneously adores God and shows you that this is real. Faith and its expression are a single act, and the Church has never separated them. The evangelical sees belief as complete in itself and demotes the act to mere proof: a second act to be performed afterwards or not at all. The suburb builds that distinction into your way of life: the suburb is where the second act stops being ordinary.

The destruction of the plausibility structure and the excarnation dispose their residents to the formative end state of suburbia: what Taylor calls the buffered self.³⁸ The buffered self is the state of being in which an individual perceives meaning as coming from within themselves rather than from the things of the world outside of them. It is the sealed compartment of the suburban home and private car internalized by the individual through decades of the form catechizing its residents. In the suburb the American Catholic effectively becomes Protestant while retaining the Catholic label.

It’s no wonder that Catholicism in the post-war United States collapsed while evangelicalism thrived; Protestantism had a suburban-adapted form in evangelicalism that Catholicism didn’t. Catholicism will be outcompeted when it operates inside a built environment that is evangelical anthropology made manifest. Clapham was a tight-knit intentional and walkable religious community that sowed the seeds for the optionality that the suburban megachurch has reaped. The logic of the buffered self is inherently unstable; once you choose your church, what’s to stop you from choosing no church at all? The freedom to choose everything has eroded the very foundation of faith: the sense of the givenness of everyday life that comes from community and the embodied practice of its belief.

There is a remnant of devout suburban Catholics who have attempted to return to the integrated life of faith that sustained those before us. They’ve built robust homeschooling co-ops and classical schools, clustered around good parishes, and established networks of mutual aid that constitute small recoveries. These Catholics have rebuilt by brute force of will the integrated life of faith inside of a form that destroys its very nature. If Catholicism could live on interior assent alone, they would not have needed to build anything to live an intense life of faith. A true counterexample would be the intensely faithful Catholic family thriving in suburbia’s dispersion with no community and no institutions, but these families are astonishingly rare. What the remnant achieves by heroism, proximity once made ordinary.

The word heresy comes from the Greek word hairesis, meaning “choice”. If modernity democratized heresy, then the suburb is its architecture. Every individual has their choice of grocery store, their choice of parish, their preferred faction of Catholicism, or the choice not to be Catholic at all. By making choice mandatory, the suburb makes heretics of us all.³⁹

Dis-integration

The Church sees original sin as a privation of original justice with dis-integration—a departure from the original integritas of the soul before the fall—as a consequence. It manifests as dis-integration between God and the soul, dis-integration between the higher intellect and the passions, and dis-integration between peoples. Sanctification then is the gradual re-integration that takes place in this life that foreshadows the complete integration of the life to come. Just so, suburbia has a spatial liturgy of dis-integration where all things are separate from one another. There is a compartment for work, a compartment for family, a compartment for community, a compartment for shopping, a compartment for education, and a compartment for religion.

This spatially manifested dis-integration leads to the privation of the conditions under which people are usually disposed to receive grace. Grace is God’s alone, but the built form can dispose us to cooperate with it. A suburban life is one where the altars and the priests remain, but the ecosystem around them has disappeared. In Catholicism, Henri de Lubac argues that salvation is intrinsically social. To demonstrate this he recovers the positive meaning of “there is no salvation outside the Church”, by pointing out that the Church is the body of believers and that it is only through this body of believers that you can be saved. God is the logos, the ground for all meaning and intelligibility. As the logos, He is the transcendent source of the social fabric that binds people together and allows them to understand each other. This is why sin is an offense against both neighbor and God; He yearns for us by connecting us to each other.

Catholicism is a faith that sees the ordinary means of the reception of grace as being mediated through the other, the particular. The Son assumed flesh in the world in time and place so that we might contact the universal through His particularity. Romano Guardini argues that modern technology abstracts us away from particularity and so starves us of the universal.⁴⁰ This is what the suburb is. It is an abstraction that uses zoning and land use ordinances to ban the mixed uses that create the conditions for encounter and leaves us little to love. The suburb deprives us of the given particulars of the other, our neighbors, and so leaves us famished for the universal. This is what we mean when we call the suburb “soulless”.

Lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi. Right prayer leads to right belief, which leads to right living. Generally attributed to Prosper of Aquitaine, the first couplet of this phrase was always about communal prayer; the rule of prayer he is referring to is “the sacraments of the priestly supplications”.⁴¹ The integrated life of faith exemplified in the American context by the ethnic ghetto created the conditions for a lex orandi that sustained the community’s lex credendi, and led to an integrated lex vivendi. The suburb is not the absence of a lex orandi. It is a rival one that is predicated on an intrinsically private model of salvation that forms its own lex credendi, and sustains its own lex vivendi. This lex vivendi catechizes its residents into the buffered self that is ordinarily incapable of sustaining Catholic life.

Other groups have defeated suburbia through community-binding technology. The suburban Modern Orthodox, such as those in the Five Towns just outside of Queens, must live within the eruv and observe the ban on driving on the Sabbath.⁴² These laws have led them to create integrated walkable communities around their synagogues that restore proximity at the cost of a very small livable area. Mormons have preserved territoriality through their strictly geographic ward system, essentially just the Catholic rule about territorial parishes but actually enforced, as well as a very demanding community life.⁴³ As case studies in the effects of losing both territoriality and proximity we have Catholicism and Conservative Judaism. In 1950 Conservative Jews voted to lift the Sabbath ban on driving cars to synagogue, and only to synagogue, in order to preserve communal worship for those who had already moved out of walking distance.⁴⁴ Since then, Conservative Judaism has seen a large decline in its share of Jewish adults, with the chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary calling the lifting of the ban a mistake in 2003.⁴⁵ By the movement’s own later reading, the car broke the synagogue-centric Conservative Jewish community by making attendance voluntary and enabling the community’s dispersion; the Catholic parish seems to have died the same death.

A dis-integrated way of life cannot ordinarily transmit the faith to the next generation. And it doesn’t. Of the young Catholics that disaffiliate, half report leaving by 13 years old.⁴⁶ A generation of children formed by conditions that are fundamentally anti-Catholic, and already gone before they can fully comprehend that it was their soul at stake.

Real Assent

In Grammar of Assent, St. John Henry Newman draws a distinction between notional and real assent. For Newman, notional assent is a purely abstract understanding in which “the mind contemplates its own creations instead of things”. On the other hand, real assent “is directed towards things, represented by the impressions which they have left on the imagination”.⁴⁷ Newman saw real assent as assent made operative and therefore as a more powerful assent than the merely notional. Real assent means that Christ’s death on the cross, and the vocation to live as a beloved child of God until unity with Him in the next life, are not simply therapeutic notions, but the operative framework of an entire life. Newman uses the abolition of the slave-trade to demonstrate:

“The iniquity, for instance, of the slave-trade ought to have been acknowledged by all men from the first; it was acknowledged by many, but it needed an organized agitation, with tracts and speeches innumerable, so to affect the imagination of men as to make their acknowledgment of that iniquitousness operative.”⁴⁸

The abolitionist campaigner’s real assent was made concrete through objects that made impressions on others, and these impressions disposed them to their own real assent.

While real assent makes itself concrete, it is not activism. The nun in her cell who spends her days praying for the world has the most realized assent. What distinguishes the life of the nun from the life of the excarnate believer is not the level of activity. It is the level of notionality. By destroying community, suburbia destroys the social conditions that propagate real assent to the next generation. With belief starved to the merely notional level, suburban Catholicism ordinarily does not manifest itself, and so rarely serves as a vector for the transmission of real assent.

Newman finally gives us the language we’ve been grasping for: Christendom is real assent elevated to self-sustaining culture. Just as the form of the suburb has silently catechized us towards notionality and unbelief, so will a world built for sacramentality catechize us towards the faith made real. But you can’t think yourself to a plausibility structure and internet debates aren’t embodied practice.

The political Christendom of our ancestors propagated real assent through institutions that often perpetuated themselves for generations, but in order to restore any kind of Christendom in our age we must first rebuild the social engine that created it. In every era, that engine has been embodied practice in a built environment that makes community as easy as stepping out of your front door.

Little Christendoms

During the early Church’s ascendancy the Roman emperor Julian the Apostate wrote a series of anxious letters to pagan priests about the Christian problem; pagans were losing the war of conversion. He writes:

“For when it came about that the poor were neglected and overlooked by the priests, then I think the impious Galilaeans [the name given by Julian to Christians] observed this fact and devoted themselves to philanthropy. And they have gained ascendancy in the worst of their deeds through the credit they win for such practices”.⁴⁹

In Tertullian’s Apology he records how pagans responded to Christian charity:

“But it is mainly the deeds of a love so noble that lead many to put a brand upon us. See, they say, how they love one another, for themselves are animated by mutual hatred; how they are ready even to die for one another, for they themselves will sooner put to death.”⁵⁰

The urban Christianity of the Roman Empire spread through the social networks of believers as they gave intense witness. Christianity grew by roughly 40% a decade as pagans encountered the special care Christians gave to women, the newborn, the poor, and those afflicted by the Antonine and Cyprianic plagues.⁵¹ Roman cities were not converted by a better argument. They were converted by the intense witness of Christian believers so completely and totally that the word that we use to refer to a polytheist, “pagan”, means “rural”.⁵² To be pagan was to be isolated from the intensity of Christian community and practice. Centuries after the collapse of the Western Roman Empire, the mechanism ran for a second time. The Benedictine monastery’s concentrated cell of prayer, work, education, hospitality, and stability converted the unmoored peoples left in the wake of the dead empire and gave the West the lifeline it needed to rebuild.⁵³ The monastery was the particular mechanism of the early medieval era, but we can apply its concentration and the intensity of its practice evangelizing its environs to our own time. Concentrated Christian communities have evangelized civilizations before, and in much worse circumstances than ours.

This is being done right now. Just not by us. The Hasidim of Crown Heights live out a common vision of inter-generational community that manifests as a shared way of life in a country that is largely indifferent to them. In the early and mid-20th century Crown Heights, a Brooklyn neighborhood of about 1.4 square miles, was home to around 75,000 Jews and roughly thirty large synagogues. Most notably, the Chabad-Lubavitch movement moved their headquarters to the neighborhood in 1940. As Jews fled Crown Heights in the 1960s and 70s Rabbi Schneerson, the leader of Chabad, announced that he would not be leaving and that abandoning the old, poor, and infirm was against Jewish law. Chabad stayed in Crown Heights. Catholic priests urged their laity to stay too, but saying it was no longer enough.

Today, Crown Heights is home to 35,000 Jews, 65% of whom attend synagogue at least monthly against the metropolitan average of 23%.⁵⁴ There are only around 90,000 Chabad-Lubavitch adherents in the US, but more than a third of American Jews report having interacted with them and they have been the fastest-growing Jewish movement since 1945.⁵⁵ Chabad concentrates and welcomes all Jews, just as the early church concentrated and welcomed all nations to join the body of Christ. Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger thought that small communities of conviction would be essential to the Church in the modern era. As he says, “Christianity will again be characterized more by the mustard seed, where it will exist in small, seemingly insignificant groups that nonetheless live an intensive struggle against evil and bring the good into the world — that let God in”.⁵⁶

The lapsed are no doubt harder to evangelize through the inoculation of having “grown up Catholic” than someone who has never had contact with the Church, but the conversions of the early church didn’t depend on the evangelized being pagan. It depended on unmet human needs: loneliness, lack of intimacy, poverty, and the search for meaning. The social conditions of the suburb have created the glut of unmet human needs that we will respond to. Like the Christians of the early Church and the Benedictines of the early Middle Ages we must concentrate in order to make our way of life visible and joinable. One family in a subdivision is invisible, but a neighborhood living their faith together is magnetic. Concentration is not withdrawal. It is how we start making converts again.⁵⁷

I have started to refer to the inter-generational community of intense practice as a Little Christendom. I have no blueprint or Twelve-step program for building a Little Christendom, and creating such a program might be impossible: every community may be too particular. If it could be made, it could only come from the lived experience of having built the community already. What I do know are the principles that the blueprints will have to build off of. I also know that the social community must come first. It is what will make the very soul of our society Christian, and make any political resolution operative.⁵⁸

Concentration

In order to sustain a rich community life that inter-generationally transmits real assent and shows the witness of an intense Christian practice to the world we will have to concentrate. We will have to live close to one another in environments that enable that proximity. Ordinarily this is the parish, but it could also be a monastery.

Re-integration

We must seek places that can sustain an integrated social, work, educational, and faith life. Concretely, this means that the manner of our concentration must destroy the thirty-minute commute to Mass, throw out the liturgy of the school pickup and youth extracurricular ferrying, and kill the hour and a half long commute to work.

Bindingness

We will have to build institutions that make staying easier than leaving. Mormons have the ward system, while the Orthodox have the eruv, and the inability to drive cars on the Sabbath. Concentration and integration make staying pleasant, but bindingness makes leaving cost something. Obvious Catholic binding technologies include substantively Catholic schools, homeschool co-ops, and childcare networks. Other possible but high-cost options include collective land ownership, loan societies, and professional patronage networks.

I don’t suggest that the reader join a commune or radically uproot their life. I suggest marginal improvement. Most practically, building a Little Christendom means making decisions about the next job, the next move, and the next school with the aim of concentrating around a parish that will sustain an integrated life.

Recovery

For too long have the Church’s factions bickered and blamed each other for our decline while the real problem has been that we lost the conditions to ordinarily pass down the faith. The traditionalist is right that the liturgy forms the faithful, the integralist that the political order shapes its people, and the liberal that the Church must meet the marginalized. But without a durable and integrated community, the liturgy forms no one, the political order never arises, and the marginalized go unmet. Every moment we spend bickering is a moment we don’t build the future of the Church.

We have made it through the last half-century gauntlet of dysfunctional American Catholicism purely by unearned grace. We cannot save that broken model by living it more intensely. If we want to pass our faith to our children we must change. The conditions in which we live must change. We must refuse the half-truth narratives of decline. That choice will be the difference between arguing our children into every point of the faith as our environment ensures that we’re always on the back foot, versus an entire community demonstrating the truths of the faith by embedding those truths into its way of life.

The word the Greek New Testament’s commandments use for neighbor is not a word at all. It is a phrase, ὁ πλησίον, that makes the adverb for “near” into a noun to literally mean “the one being near” or “the near one”. The Vulgate preserved this meaning by rendering it as proximus, the nearest one.⁵⁹ We have isolated ourselves from each other, distanced ourselves from the ordinary conditions of loving one another, and thereby lost sight of the geographic imperative in the commandment to love your neighbor as yourself.

We can still reject the forms of life that isolate us from each other. We can recover the conditions to pass down the faith and love those who are near to us. The church bells are ringing, and we can still rebuild the community near enough to hear them.

Source: Aedificemus · andrew.warfield@protonmail.com

Introduction

Catholics are never required to believe in any private revelation—even those the Church has deemed “worthy of belief.” Private revelations are distinct from the public revelation completed with the death of the last Apostle. This teaching, articulated clearly in the Catechism of the Catholic Church underscores that public revelation—completed in Christ and entrusted to the Church—is sufficient for drawing men to salvation. CCC 67, states:

Throughout the ages, there have been so-called “private” revelations, some of which have been recognized by the authority of the Church. They do not belong, however, to the deposit of faith. It is not their role to improve or complete Christ’s definitive Revelation, but to help live more fully by it in a certain period of history. Guided by the Magisterium of the Church, the sensus fidelium knows how to discern and welcome in these revelations whatever constitutes an authentic call of Christ or his saints to the Church.

Christian faith cannot accept “revelations” that claim to surpass or correct the Revelation of which Christ is the fulfillment, as is the case in certain nonChristian religions and also in certain recent sects which base themselves on such “revelations.”

Consequently, these “revelations” must be received with discernment, humility, and the understanding that their purpose is pastoral, not doctrinal. They may help individuals live the faith more fully, but they are not to be considered essential to it.

Nevertheless, within certain traditionalist circles, private revelations—especially Marian apparitions and mystical locutions—play an outsized role in shaping spiritual life and theological outlook. Here, alleged supernatural phenomena are sometimes treated not merely as devotional aids, but as authoritative sources of truth, superior even to the teachings of the Magisterium. This attitude is often exacerbated when such revelations are unapproved by the Church, for their lack of endorsement paradoxically enhances their allure, casting them as “hidden truths” obscured by a compromised or faithless hierarchy.

This chapter explores how such attitudes reflect a deeper crisis of trust in ecclesial authority—a crisis that reveals itself not only in the content of these beliefs, but in the very metaphysical, anthropological, and ecclesiological assumptions that underpin them. It critiques not the idea of private revelation itself, but the subculture of exaggerated supernaturalism that emerges when private revelation is elevated beyond its proper place, leading to distorted eschatologies, suspicion of the Church, and sometimes an implicit embrace of spiritual elitism.

This tendency to elevate private revelation as a stabilizing authority emerges, in part, from a desire for supernatural certainty amid ecclesial and cultural change. It often accompanies an over-idealization of pre-conciliar expressions of the faith, which are viewed as more authentic or incorruptible because they appear to have “stood the test of time,” that is, until they didn’t. Yet, having been set aside by the Church’s authority shows that their permanence was never as self-evident or essential as some claim.

When a preference for older customs and theological styles evolves into rigid clinging to pre-Vatican II teachings and disciplines—to the exclusion of those of the living Magisterium—it may stem from a misunderstanding of the Church’s capacity for development and change, or a lack of confidence in the Church’s present leaders. These leaders are sometimes seen as compromised solely due to changes they have facilitated, especially those changes introduced at—or as logical corollaries of—Vatican II. These changes are viewed as ruptures, under the false impression that development or change—“making modern”—is the equivalent of the strictly defined heresy of “modernism.”^[1]

Search for Supernatural Stability

This excessively strict adherence to older and ostensibly more stable forms of religion originates in large part from a misconception that emerged during the immediate post-Tridentine period. In response to the challenges posed by the Protestant Reformation, the Catholic Church adopted an increasingly defensive posture, leading to the crystallization of certain ecclesial practices and formulations. Notably, this included mandating a largely uniform celebration of the Mass through the promulgation of the Missal of Pius V.^{[2] [3]}

This led some to adopt the false impression that the Church is static and unchanging. However, this idea contradicts what the Church has always taught and the teachings of Vatican II, which emphasized the necessity of renewal and reform.^[4] The Church, following the mandate of Vatican II, has been called, as the great 20th-century theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar puts it, to “raze the bastions”^[5]—to leave that defensive crouch and to initiate what the post-conciliar popes have referred to as the New Evangelization.^[6]

The Church must occasionally relinquish, reconfigure, or temporarily set aside cultural expressions of herself that, while historically significant, are not intrinsic to the Faith and may impede its mission of evangelization. For instance, Gothic and Baroque architectural styles, though beautiful and evocative, are often perceived as relics of pre-modern ideologies. An excessive attachment to these forms can inadvertently reinforce misconceptions that the Church clings to outdated, anti-intellectual beliefs incompatible with modern rationality, science, and societal progress—regardless of the original intent or significance of these styles.

In a secular world shaped by scientism and rationalism, secular audiences frequently misconstrue historical ecclesial aesthetics as symbols of superstition and anti-intellectualism. These misconceptions, while often based on superficial associations, hinder the Church’s ability to engage meaningfully with contemporary society and require proactive and strategic responses from the Church. Indifference by the Church to modern sensibilities risks alienating potential evangelization opportunities. A triumphalist stance, dismissive of cultural and intellectual shifts, is a luxury the Church cannot afford when the salvation of souls is at stake, and when her political power is severely diminished, and her moral authority is denigrated (due in part to the faults of her members).

This perception of anti-intellectualism is not without basis, even if it overlooks the Church’s significant contributions to intellectual life—most notably, the very development of the university system. Historically, the Church has expressed strong critiques of certain Enlightenment ideals and, at times, resisted aspects of modernity that were otherwise constructive.^[7] As a result, the secular world has often highlighted the Church’s slow adaptation to social and scientific developments, as well as instances of lingering superstition. Consequently, the Church is actively invested in dispelling this misconception that it is hostile to reason or out of touch with contemporary developments in philosophy, anthropology, or science, fully aware that doing so may involve considerable sacrifice and reform.^[8]

However, this ongoing process of reform has left some Catholics feeling disoriented and unmoored. turning to private revelation and apparitions—approved and unapproved.

They have historically played significant roles in Catholic spirituality. Apparitions of the Virgin Mary, saints, and even souls in Purgatory have often been reported in times of crisis, offering guidance and inspiring faith.

Yet, an overemphasis on private revelations has sometimes led to troubling tendencies. In such cases, legitimate ecclesial authority is disregarded, and private revelations—rather than Public Revelation or the Church’s teaching authority—become the primary lens through which truth is interpreted. This undermines the Church’s role as arbiter of Divine Truth as contained in the deposit of faith—an authority entrusted to her as an extension of Christ’s own authority.^[9] As Pope Francis has stated, “There are some exaggerations regarding Marian apparitions,” That’s why, the Church remains “always very careful” about them. Faith “finds its roots” in the Gospels, not in apparitions.^[10] This is self-evident, as the Catholic faith cannot be fundamentally based on hidden or esoteric knowledge. Doctrinal certainty cannot rest on sources that are not publicly accessible or objectively verifiable, since this would undermine the universality and reliability of the Church’s teachings.

Sensationalism and Esotericism

Fascination with private revelations can often veer toward sensationalism and esotericism. Apocalyptic themes, intricate prophecies, and vivid visions, such as those of the end times, including prophecies of global cataclysm, and modern concepts like a “new world order” contrast sharply with the abstract and nuanced philosophical nature of official Church teachings. They captivate the imagination, offering a sense of urgency and spiritual excitement that is emotionally charged, making them more experientially significant for those seeking certainty and direction in an uncertain world. This esoteric dimension can also create a sense of belonging among adherents, who sometimes see themselves as the possessors of special knowledge, and often set apart from the broader Church community, or spiritually elite.

Distinguishing between true and false apparitions necessarily requires a discernment of spirits and prayer, always with reference to what the Church has already declared regarding them. St. Vincent Ferrer, renowned as the “Angel of the Apocalypse” for his dynamic preaching on the Four Last Things, offers clear guidance on how to regard those who claim to have received visions or allocutions. Treating the issue with the same caution the Church recommends, he writes,

[T]ake little account of their visions, their extraordinary sensations, their ecstasies and raptures, and should they assert anything contrary to faith, holy scripture and morals, despise their visions, look upon them as pure follies and treat the ecstasies and raptures of such people as the results of a diseased imagination. If, however, their sentiments and language are in perfect accord with the dogma of religion, with what we are taught in the sacred writings, and there is nothing in them that is offensive to morality, then we must not despise them, for this would be to despise the things of God. Yet it will be well not to entirely rely on them, since it frequently happens, and especially in spiritual temptations, that falsehood is concealed under the appearance of what is good and virtuous. Often does the devil avail himself of these appearances in order to deceive, and diffuse more easily his fatal poison, when there is less reason to suspect him. I am of opinion that, on such occasions, it will be more pleasing to God not to pass judgment on these extraordinary matters, despite the appearance of truth with which they are clothed, and to leave them for what they are worth, unless they occur to persons whose probity, prudence and humility are so far beyond the reach of suspicion, that we have every reason to suppose that they can neither fall into illusion nor be misled by the spirit of the devil. Even then, though we may approve of the visions and supernatural sentiments of such persons, it is not absolutely necessary to credit them on account of all these qualities which distinguish them, but only because of the conformity of these facts with Catholic faith, morals, the words and teachings of the saints. ^[11]

St. Vincent Ferrer’s sage advice thus reminds us that true spiritual discernment must be grounded in humility and a firm adherence to the Church’s teachings, lest we fall prey to the dangerous deceptions that can arise from misguided zeal for the supernatural.

A Deficient Metaphysical Vision

Another critical dimension of this issue lies in the metaphysical framework from which it arises. It is essential to distinguish between healthy and unhealthy metaphysical, ontological, and anthropological visions. To see rightly is to see as God sees: “God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good” (Gen 1:31). This is not naïve optimism, but a metaphysical imperative. Every created thing possesses positive existence by virtue of having been willed and formed by God. Sin may disfigure, but it cannot erase the original imprint of divine purpose. Even in the midst of brokenness, grace is at work: “Where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more” (Rom 5:20).

This sacramental vision—the ability to perceive the intrinsic goodness woven into creation—is fundamental to the Christian life. When we consider an object, an idea, or a cultural moment, we ought to begin by discerning the good it contains. To begin with suspicion rather than wonder is to adopt a fundamentally un-Christian posture. Indeed, as St. Gregory the Great once wrote, “we make idols of our concepts, but wisdom is born of wonder.”

In contrast, the overemphasis on sin in certain traditionalist approaches fosters an isolationist mentality that can distort the Gospel and impede the Church’s mission of evangelization. A worldview that sees primarily corruption risks neglecting the Church’s redemptive task—not merely to condemn, but to consecrate the world. Christ does not redeem the world through coercion, but through reverent love: by entering into its suffering, absorbing its violence, and rising with a glorified body that bears the wounds of love. The Church, as His mystical Body, must do the same—leading creation back to God not by force, but by transfiguration.

This demands a vision that is both integrative and universal—one capable of embracing l’aggiornamento without compromising the deposit of faith. The Church must learn to read the signs of the times with Eucharistic eyes: eyes that discern not only what is sinful or disordered, but also what is still good, what longs for healing, and what may be offered back to the Father. The modern world, like every age, is a mixture of light and darkness. Grace does not avoid complexity; it works within it.

To see the good in modernity for instance, is not to excuse its errors but to affirm that no cultural moment is without value, no idea entirely devoid of grace, no era wholly bereft of redemptive potential. The Church must therefore be both critical and constructive—courageous in confronting the idols of the age, but even more committed to illuminating what is worthy, true, and beautiful within it. Her task is to revivify creation in the light of Christ.

This requires not conquest, but a contemplative stance—one of reverence. Through baptism, we participate in Christ’s priestly work of sanctification, drawing all things into harmony with their original and final end in God. Whether it be culture, art, sexuality, economics, or ecology, each domain of life is called to be transfigured by grace. This is the true path of sanctification: to let grace begin to fulfill nature, here and now.

In the end, as St. Paul writes, “God will be all in all” (1 Cor 15:28)—not because the world has been crushed beneath divine power, but because it has been lovingly gathered, healed, and made whole. As Christ Himself promised, “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all things to myself” (John 12:32).

Such a renewed vision would center on the metaphysical goodness of creation, affirming that holiness is not achieved by fleeing the world but by engaging it with reverence, discernment, and love. Rather than retreating into isolation or suspicion, the Church is called to sanctify the world from within—drawing all things into their fulfillment in Christ. By reclaiming this positive metaphysical outlook, the Church can push back against the cynicism, fear, and despair that often characterize certain traditionalist attitudes, replacing them with a hopeful, incarnational, and constructive approach to faith and culture.

Twentieth-century theologians, Hans Urs von Balthasar and Louis Bouyer, both exemplified this renewal through their exploration of the aesthetic^[12] and cosmic^[13] dimensions of reality. Their theological vision speaks intuitively to the modern imagination, offering a compelling synthesis of beauty, transcendence, and incarnational truth—elements essential for renewing the Church’s engagement with the world. Likewise, their contemporary Karol Wojtyła—later Pope St. John Paul II—advanced this vision through his distinctive personalist philosophy. Drawing deeply from the phenomenological tradition, particularly the works of Max Scheler and Edmund Husserl, and influenced by Christian existentialists such as Gabriel Marcel, Wojtyła affirmed the sacramental meaning of lived experience. His thought sought to bridge Thomistic realism with existential and phenomenological insights, especially in exploring the uniqueness of the person, the moral dimension of freedom, and the richness of the interior life. Together, these thinkers offer a theological grammar capable of reawakening the Church’s contemplative gaze and grounding her mission in a more hopeful, integrative, and incarnational worldview.

A renewed vision can also challenge persistent tendencies among some Catholics toward heretical beliefs such as Gnosticism,^[14] Jansenism,^[15] Pelagianism,^[16] and Manichaeanism,^[17] that can undermine and distort the Church’s mission. These errors often present themselves as spiritual rigor or doctrinal purity, yet they function as evasions: offering escape routes from the hard but necessary work of reconciling false dichotomies between matter and spirit, nature and grace. Instead of engaging the world with discernment and hope, such tendencies retreat into dualism or moralism, weakening the Church’s incarnational witness and obscuring the redemptive breadth of the Gospel.^[18]

In line with von Balthasar’s call to “raze the bastions” and promoting an open and engaging posture, this renewed vision would enable the Church to interact more effectively with contemporary society, fostering a deeper commitment to charity towards those outside the Church, and conveying a more accurate representation of the good news of the Gospel—its message of hope and redemption.

Distrust of the Magisterium

How can the Church effectively act as one communion—one Body of Christ in the world—when it is so internally divided? At the heart of the traditionalist turn toward private revelations lies a deep-seated distrust of the Magisterium. Much of this distrust stems from a perception of the institutional Church as a political body—one entangled in partisanship, corruption, or hidden agendas. These perceptions are further intensified by the belief that essential knowledge is being deliberately withheld from the faithful. Theories that the Vatican possesses hidden knowledge that is being suppressed or concealed from the wider Church only deepens the sense of alienation. This creates a self-reinforcing and conspiratorial mindset—a closed feedback loop of suspicion and cynicism—that renders authentic ecclesial dialogue nearly impossible and distances these communities from the Church’s pastoral and sacramental life.

Enthusiasm

As previously noted—and as Ronald Knox insightfully explores in his classic work, Enthusiasm: A Chapter in the History of Religion—this clinging to apparitions and private revelations—what Knox labels “ultrasupernaturalism”—often reflects a desperate desire for stability or an emotional assurance of God’s presence. This tendency expresses itself in a longing for the miraculous—not as a sign that points beyond itself, but as a necessary proof of divine nearness, felt on a psychological and social level. Adherents of this ultrasupernaturalism often envision a reality in which nature and sin are not redeemed or perfected by grace, but utterly destroyed. Such a vision stems from an ahistorical and overly idealized view of both the Church and the world. This impulse toward the miraculous is not inherently wrong—there is, after all, a place for genuine spiritual enthusiasm. But as Knox warns, when the thirst for spiritual experience becomes an end in itself, it risks devolving into a distortion of the faith. In this way, it parallels the form of modernism condemned by Pope Pius X in Pascendi Dominici Gregis, where subjective religious experience becomes the ultimate criterion of truth. Knox writes,

[The enthusiast] expects more evident results from the grace of God than we others. He sees what effects religion can have, does sometimes have, in transforming a man’s whole life and outlook; these exceptional cases (so we are content to think them) are for him the average standard of religious achievement. . . . He has before his eyes a picture of the early Church, visibly penetrated with supernatural influences; and nothing less will serve him for a model. . . .^[19]

This longing for a visible, unceasing supernaturalism often leads to disillusionment, and, paradoxically, to despair when reality fails to conform to the idealized image. It mistakes the extraordinary for the normative, and in doing so, undermines the quiet but profound work of grace in the ordinary rhythms of sacramental and ecclesial life.

As Knox observes, this hyper-emphasis on the supernatural risks collapsing into a kind of gnostic puritanism, wherein true religion is equated with a wholesale rejection of the world. Within this framework, reality is perceived as nearly wholly depraved, and holiness is measured by the extent to which one renounces even the good and beautiful aspects of life—elements viewed as irredeemably tainted by sin.

This distorted vision often fuels an obsession with cultural purification, manifesting in combative “culture war” mentalities, hyper-moralism, and a fixation on perceived threats to moral order—particularly around issues of sexuality. Yet such a posture misrepresents the Church’s teaching, which holds that every person, including those who identify as LGBT, possesses inherent dignity as a being made in the image of God. As the Church recently affirmed, “every human person possesses an infinite dignity, inalienably grounded in his or her very being, which prevails in and beyond every circumstance, state, or situation the person may ever encounter.”^[20] The Church teaches that all human nature is wounded by sin, and thus all are in need of grace—not to erase their humanity, but to heal, elevate, and rightly order it. In this light, grace perfects nature not by condemning the person or demanding erasure of identity, but by calling each individual into chastity, friendship, and communion with God according to their vocation. The Church does not promise the elimination of struggle but the sanctification of it. This incarnational vision stands in stark contrast to moral puritanism and cultural retrenchment. Rather than fleeing the world or treating it as unredeemable, the Church affirms that grace works within the complexities of human life—offering a path to holiness rooted in love, not fear; transformation, not exclusion.

In such communities, extreme ascetical practices often become the norm, and austerity is elevated as the primary sign of sanctity. The spiritual climate can grow harsh and unforgiving, as failure is not seen as a moment for mercy or communal support, but as a potential breach through which Satan gains a foothold. Those who falter are often marginalized or shunned until they prove themselves worthy once more—typically through sheer willpower—revealing underlying Pelagian tendencies. This mindset cultivates an atmosphere of extreme moralism, where fear of contamination outweighs the Gospel’s call to accompaniment and mutual building up within the Body of Christ.

These quasi-gnostic beliefs are often accompanied by a subtle but pervasive tendency toward presumption. Access to so-called “secret knowledge” is interpreted as a sign of divine favor or even predestination, reinforcing the illusion of spiritual superiority. In this context, self-proclaimed “prophets” frequently emerge, driven by psychological impulses that blend a longing for existential significance with a perceived sense of divine mission. Such individuals often see themselves as uniquely enlightened, possessing insights that allegedly set them apart from the rest of the faithful.

This perceived spiritual exceptionalism fosters a dangerous elitism and a growing sense of separation from the wider Church. The words of the “prophet” can come to be treated as beyond question, gradually assuming an authority that rivals—or even supersedes—that of the Magisterium. In turn, the community begins to form around these charismatic figures and their revelations, developing rigid, insular “dogmas” that are increasingly detached from the Church’s broader theological tradition. Over time, this dynamic creates a closed, self-reinforcing system marked by spiritual pride, isolation, and resistance to ecclesial correction or communion.

Luisa Piccarreta and the Divine Will Movement

One notable example is the Divine Will movement centered on Luisa Piccarreta, a 20th-century Italian mystic and author of The Book of Heaven. While Piccarreta lived a life of reputed holiness and her cause for canonization is underway, the Vatican’s Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith has expressed serious concerns regarding the theological formulations present in her writings. A 2019 review identified ambiguities of a theological, Christological, and anthropological nature—though not doctrinal errors—that necessitated further study. Certain expressions used by Piccarreta—such as “living in the Divine Will”—may have spiritual value when properly interpreted, but they can be misunderstood in ways that imply pantheism, eliminate human freedom, or minimize the importance of sacramental life. As such, her writings should not be used in public devotion without ecclesial oversight, and they are not approved for doctrinal teaching.

According to the Dicastery for the Causes of Saints, the continuation of the canonical process now hinges on the publication of a typical and critical edition of her writings. This edition, to be published under ecclesial supervision, must include detailed introductions and annotations aimed at preventing misinterpretation—particularly where past readings have obscured the primacy of God’s merciful love or promoted a distorted mysticism of reparation rooted in an exaggerated fear of divine justice.

The Divine Will theology emphasizes total conformity to God’s will as the supreme goal of the Christian life. As one writer explains, according to this spirituality:

the Gift of the Divine Will [is] a grace that enabled [Piccarreta] to live in the Will of God much as Adam and Eve did before the fall. Jesus referred to the granting of this grace as the advent of the Third Fiat of God—the first being the Fiat of Creation, followed by the Fiat of Redemption. This final Fiat would be known as the Fiat of Sanctification.

. . . Luisa’s writings explain that living in the Divine Will here on earth is the fulfillment of Jesus’ prayer “Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” In this state, God lives and operates directly in the soul because it is fused with His Will, so that only one Will operates.^[21]

However, similar to other mystical movements that hinge on purported secret knowledge, it risks creating an insular dynamic. Some adherents interpret Piccarreta’s visions as conveying a “new era” of spirituality that supersedes earlier spiritualities. This can lead to a quasi-gnostic mindset in which her revelations are treated as a higher or purer form of Christianity—resulting in diminished attentiveness to ecclesial correction and a form of elitism.

The spiritual authority of the Church may be diminished in favor of “prophetic” revelations like those attributed to Piccarreta, especially when such revelations are treated as normative or necessary for salvation. Although the Church encourages the faithful to value mystical insights with discernment, elevating any private revelation above what the Magisterium judges to be appropriate for the Faithful, constitutes a distortion of the Faith. The risk is not only theological confusion but also the displacement of Christ’s definitive Revelation and the authority of his Vicar with personal spiritual experiences that are not universally binding.

In Sinu Jesu vs. The Diary of St. Faustina

Another example of the challenges surrounding modern claims to private revelation can be seen in the contrast between two influential texts containing alleged private revelation: In Sinu Jesu: When Heart Speaks to Heart—The Journal of a Priest at Prayer and Divine Mercy in My Soul: Diary of St. Faustina Kowalska. While both texts purport to convey direct communications from Jesus to their recipients, they are received in strikingly different ways within traditionalist circles. In Sinu Jesu has gained popularity among traditionalist and conservative Catholics, often being treated with uncritical reverence, despite its newness with a still-living author. In contrast, The Diary of St. Faustina, despite bearing the Church’s highest approval and forming the foundation for the globally celebrated Divine Mercy devotion, is sometimes met with skepticism by the very same communities. This irony is worth highlighting, since traditionalist Catholics like to claim to place such a strong emphasis on time-tested orthodoxy.

Unlike The Diary of St. Faustina, which underwent decades of theological scrutiny and was publicly championed by a pope-saint, In Sinu Jesu remains relatively new, and though Dr. Dawn Eden Goldstein, through evidence, has conclusively demonstrated that its authorship can be attributed to Fr. Mark Kirby, a Benedictine priest of Silverstream Priory, Fr. Kirby himself has not publicly confirmed this attribution, thus leaving questions pertaining to accountability unresolved.^[22]

Although In Sinu Jesu, like The Diary, carries an imprimatur, its approval has been controversial. Notably, the censor librorum assigned by the Bishop of the Diocese of Meath, where Silverstream Priory is located, was Peter Kwasniewski—a friend of Fr. Mark Kirby, a self-identified traditionalist, and a professed Benedictine Oblate. Significantly, Kwasniewski’s wife, Clarissa, became a Silverstream Benedictine Oblate just a few months before the book received its imprimatur. Consequently, the censor who declared the book “doctrinally sound” has a direct familial connection to Silverstream Priory and is spiritually associated with the purported author, Fr. Kirby. As Dr. Goldstein points out:

canon law requires that a censor “[lay] aside any favoritism” (CIC, c. 830 §2). For that reason, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops emphasizes in its “Permission to Publish” guidelines that censors “ought to be persons . . . who are known to be impartial.” Given that Peter Kwasniewski’s wife was officially—by nature of her oblation—a spiritual daughter to Kirby, it is difficult to imagine how the professor could have met the expectation of impartiality.

It is also worth noting that although Peter Kwasniewski has taught theology and has published extensively in that field, none of his degrees are in theology. He possesses a BA in liberal arts and an MA and PhD in philosophy. Although canon law does not specify a minimum academic degree for censors, bishops normally require censors of theological works to possess either a canonical licentiate in sacred theology (STL) or, failing that, a theology PhD. I personally know of no other instance in which a work of theology received a nihil obstat from a censor deputatus who did not have a theology degree.

Nonetheless, or perhaps, because of this connection with Fr. Kirby, this book is often embraced enthusiastically within traditionalist communities, whereas The Diary of St. Faustina, championed by Pope St. John Paul II and formally approved after decades of investigation, is dismissed by some traditionalists due to its emphasis on divine mercy over judgment and its association with post-Vatican II spirituality—particularly the institution of Divine Mercy Sunday.

The discrepancy in reception between these two texts raises concerns about the standards by which private revelations are evaluated in the traditionalist milieu. As Dr. Dawn Eden has also observed in her critical analysis of In Sinu Jesu:

Books of private revelations published during the century prior to the Second Vatican Council typically carried a disclaimer in which the author would insist he or she had “no intention of attributing any other than a purely human authority to the miracles, revelations, favors, and particular cases recorded in this book.” (See, for example, the “Protest of the Author” in St. Alphonsus Ligouri’s devotional classic The Glories of Mary.) Given Kirby’s love of tradition, it is striking that nowhere does In Sinu Jesu, either in its introduction or in its text, make any effort to temper its claim that its messages are authentic divine revelations.^[23]

The disparity between The Diary, and In Sinu Jesu highlights a need for consistent theological scrutiny and ecclesial guidance in the reception of private revelations. The fact that St. Faustina’s Diary, bearing the Church’s fullest approval, is treated with suspicion, while In Sinu Jesu, lacking even a confirmed author, is embraced without hesitation, reveals the inconsistency, subjectivity, and ideology at play when choosing which alleged revelations to embrace.

The uncritical interpretation of private revelations presents a serious concern, particularly when such texts shape ecclesial attitudes without adequate theological discernment. In Sinu Jesu, for instance, places notable emphasis on the sanctity and spiritual authority of priests. While this focus can inspire deeper reverence for the priesthood and encourage priestly holiness, it also carries the risk of reinforcing an implicit hierarchy of sanctity between clergy and laity that risks marginalizing the vocation and dignity of the laity. This misreading may obscure the Church’s teaching that the distinction between ordained and lay vocations is not one of holiness, but of mission, eschatological sign value, and sacramental function. When left unchecked, such an imbalance can contribute to a subtle yet pervasive clericalism, portraying priests as the sole or privileged mediators of divine grace. This undermines a holistic vision of the Church, in which both clergy and laity, participate fully and actively in the life and mission of Christ as full members of the People of God.

Ultimately, unlike The Diary of St. Faustina, and its accompanying Divine Mercy devotion, In Sinu Jesu has not yet received the level of authoritative evaluation necessary for widespread liturgical or pastoral integration. While the text may offer spiritual edification on a personal level, its alleged revelations should not be treated with the same theological weight or ecclesial confidence as those that have undergone formal discernment. Continued engagement with such works must remain subject to the judgment of the Church and approached with caution.

The Third Secret of Fatima and the “Hermeneutic of Suspicion and Conspiracy”

The 1917 apparition at Fatima, where the Virgin Mary appeared to three shepherd children in Portugal, is one of the most renowned private revelations in modern Catholic history. The Apparitions of Fatima are a prime example of how private revelations can imbibe dual meanings and foster complex subcultures in the Church. On the one hand, a healthy acknowledgement of the Fatima Message can aid spirituality, encouraging gentle devotion and a commitment to holiness. On the other hand, a darker subculture has also arisen, fixated on apocalyptic themes.

Sensationalized interpretations of the Fatima message have given rise to conspiracy theories, including the controversial belief in a fake Sister Lucia and a hidden message supposedly suppressed by Vatican officials, as well as unhealthy legalist attitudes related to the consecration of Russia requested by Our Lady of Fatima.^[24]

Marian apparitions, such as those at Fatima, often become central to ecclesial movements, with devotees believing that the messages provide a divine roadmap through modern turbulence. And while this can provide a certain emotional reassurance and resource to consult for appraisal of one’s spiritual health, for many, these revelations serve as alternatives to a “compromised” See of Peter, which they believe has strayed from the truth. The Fatima apparitions, with their prophecies about the end times and warnings regarding the errors of Russia, are interpreted as divine endorsements of these conspiratorial notions.

Central to this discourse is the enigmatic Third Secret of Fatima, ^[25] which some argue has had parts deliberately suppressed by the Vatican. Fr. Nicholas Gruner, who leads the Fatima Center (distinct from the official World Apostolate of Fatima), have promoted hardline interpretations of the known messages, asserting that the Church has concealed crucial aspects,^[26] particularly regarding the warnings of imminent global catastrophe and the need for consecration to the Immaculate Heart of Mary.^[27]

Gruner and his followers claim that these messages highlight a persistent crisis within the Church, emphasizing that the “diabolical revolt” referenced by Sister Lucia in her correspondence with Pope Paul VI points to a profound and ongoing crisis that the Vatican has ignored. They argue that this presumed concealment not only undermines the authenticity of the Fatima message but also the urgency of the call for repentance and consecration, which they believe is crucial for the salvation of souls.

Contrary to these assertions, Kevin J. Symonds, in On the Third Part of the Secret of Fatima, posits that the Vatican has, in fact, disclosed the essential elements of the Third Secret, as the Vatican assures us. He refers to a little-known letter from Sister Lucia, wherein she articulates the message of the Third Secret as a reflection of the “diabolical revolt” not as a separate revelation but as a contextual underpinning to the known prophecy. This interpretation counters the speculation that there remains an undisclosed portion of the secret that foretells dire consequences for the Church.

The scholarly landscape surrounding Fatima is fragmented, with much research conducted primarily in European contexts and subsequently unavailable in English. This has resulted in a skewed understanding among English-speaking Catholics, leaving room for sensationalized interpretations and conspiracy theories that dominate discussions around the apparitions. Notably, some traditionalists have posited theories such as the existence of a “false” Sister Lucia, further muddying the waters with claims that the true Lucia was “replaced” after the 1960s.^[28]

Carlos Evaristo, a commentator on the Fatima apparitions, and interpreter for Sister Lucia, notes that many devotees transition from traditional devotions to more speculative and esoteric literature. This shift often leads to engrossment in theories about Vatican cover-ups and impending disasters, fostering a form of “brainwashing” driven by fear and distrust. Evaristo emphasizes the challenge of reorienting individuals once they have embraced these sensational narratives, as these beliefs become deeply ingrained and resistant to change. This underscores the powerful hold that sensationalism and conspiracy theories can have on those seeking certainty in a changing world. In 2016, the Vatican reaffirmed that the entire content of the Third Secret had been disclosed, and no further hidden documents exist. The Vatican Press Office, citing recent statements made by then Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, wrote in a May 21 Communication:

Several articles have appeared recently, including declarations attributed to Professor Ingo Dollinger according to which Cardinal Ratzinger, after the publication of the Third Secret of Fatima (which took place in June 2000), had confided to him that the publication was not complete.

In this regard, Pope emeritus Benedict XVI declares “never to have spoken with Professor Dollinger about Fatima”, clearly affirming that the remarks attributed to Professor Dollinger on the matter “are pure inventions, absolutely untrue”, and he confirms decisively that “the publication of the Third Secret of Fatima is complete”.^[29]

However, due to the prior decades of speculation—fueled in large part by independent publications like The Fatima Crusader—many traditionalist communities continue to question the official version. This illustrates how once private revelations are interpreted outside the authority of the Church, it becomes difficult to reestablish trust or correct doctrinal distortions.

Further Case Studies: Medjugorje, Garabandal, and La Salette

Medjugorje

The apparitions at Medjugorje, beginning in 1981, have attracted millions of pilgrims and spawned a global movement. Despite the devotion it inspires, Medjugorje remains controversial, with the Vatican only recently granting approval for official pilgrimages while still withholding a final judgment on the supernatural nature of the apparitions. The site’s commercial success and the ongoing messages purportedly from the Virgin Mary have fueled both fervent belief and critical skepticism.

The controversy surrounding Medjugorje shows a prime example of some of the complexities regarding private revelations in our contemporary age. On one hand, the apparitions have led to numerous conversions, increased devotion, and reports of miraculous healings. On the other hand, the Vatican has expressed concern about the authenticity of the messages and the conduct of the visionaries. The mixed messages from Church authorities have created a sense of ambiguity that both supporters and skeptics of Medjugorje have exploited to bolster their respective positions. This ambiguity allows the faithful to interpret the apparitions in ways that align with their pre-existing beliefs and biases, further entrenching their views.^[30]

Thus, whether or not the visions are authentic, the movement surrounding Medjugorje has taken on a quasi-independent life of its own—one that, at times, appears to resist ecclesial authority, foster spiritual consumerism, and promote sensationalism. In this sense, the movement can be seen as both exploitative and subtly rebellious: not necessarily in overt defiance of Church teaching, but in its tendency to operate on the margins of Church oversight while commanding deep spiritual authority among followers.

Garabandal

Similarly, the apparitions in Garabandal, Spain (1961–1965), have been a source of intense debate. The seers reported visions and messages from the Virgin Mary, emphasizing penance and conversion. However, the lack of official Church approval and the failure of certain predicted events to occur have cast doubt on the authenticity of the apparitions. Yet, like Medjugorje, Garabandal continues to attract a devoted following.

The Garabandal apparitions are notable for their dramatic and apocalyptic content, which includes predictions of a great warning, a miracle, and a chastisement. These elements have captured the imagination of many Catholics who are drawn to the prophetic nature of the messages, and have a proclivity for pessimism. Despite the Church’s reluctance to endorse the apparitions, the faithful continue to visit Garabandal and spread its messages, often citing personal experiences of spiritual renewal and miracles. This persistence displays the deep emotional and spiritual impact that such apparitions can have, regardless of official recognition.

La Salette

The apparition of Our Lady of La Salette in 1846 has also been a focal point for traditionalist speculation. The alleged prophecy that “Rome will lose the faith and become the seat of the Antichrist” has been cited ad nauseum by radical traditionalists to argue against the legitimacy of the current Church hierarchy. Most, if not all subscribers to this apparition, however, are unaware that this portion of the text was not part of the originally conveyed message and was only later produced by the La Salette seer, in disobedience to her bishop, after years of reading unapproved apocalyptic literature.^[31] For this reason, naturally, this portion of the prophecy was placed on the Vatican’s Index of Forbidden Books. The story of how this occurred is recounted here,

Melanie . . . later found it difficult to comply with cloistered life, and was heavily influenced by lurid apocalyptic writings, as well as less than scrupulous advisors who wished to coax the secret out of her. Finally, in 1879, she released a greatly expanded version of the secret, including new interpretations of the true secret as well as completely new revelations unmentioned in the 1851 version. All these new embellishments were indiscriminately ascribed to Our Lady of La Salette, resulting in an apocalyptic tract many times longer than the authentic secret submitted to the Pope in 1851. This tract contained prophecies that were either in tension with the Catholic faith, as in its assertion that Rome would apostatize, or, more commonly, proven to be historically false in the course of time. This false apocalypse circulated under the title of Apparition of the Blessed Virgin on the Mountain of La Salette, bearing the imprimatur of Bishop Zola of Lecce. The fact that a French tract had to seek the imprimatur of an Italian bishop should arouse our suspicions, and indeed, Melanie had been instructed by her bishop not to publish any prophecies. After joining a convent in 1851, Melanie invented fantastic stories of her miraculous childhood, playing with the child Jesus and leading animals in a religious procession. Her behavior became progressively bizarre, as she had hysterical fits and threatened to bite her superior. She was never allowed to become a sister, and instead was sent off to England in 1855. There she claimed to hear voices and witness miraculous events. Away from her bishop, she began to make apocalyptic prophecies. . . . It is in reaction to this thorough rejection by the Church hierarchy that Melanie wrote her new tract, full of bitter invective against a supposedly faithless clergy. Not contrary to faith and morals in the narrow sense, it received an imprimatur, but in 1880 the Holy Office forbade her to write further tracts. Few copies of the 1879 tract were circulated, and it was published again more widely in 1904. A third printing in 1922, with a new imprimatur, finally resulted in Rome’s placing of the tract on the Index of Prohibited Books in 1923.^[32]

For many traditionalists, sadly, the seeming stability offered by such revelations is seen as more reliable than any temporal authority, as it comports with their skepticism of all institutional authority, and strengthens their already-apocalyptic worldview. The belief that trustworthiness and stability is better found in private supernatural revelations, than in the teachings provided to the Church by the pope reflects also an ecclesiological misunderstanding, and a lack of trust in the indefectibility of the Church, which receives divine assistance in all that it formally teaches. This reliance on private revelations underscores a broader existential search for certainty in an era marked by rapid change. The psychological comfort of believing in a fixed, divine plan can also be immensely appealing, especially when contrasted with the perceived uncertainty surrounding contemporary Church teachings.

New Guidelines and Centralization of Authority

In response to the challenges posed by the proliferation of private revelations, the Vatican has sought to centralize its authority over the investigation of alleged supernatural phenomena. Recent norms issued by the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith emphasize the need for local bishops to consult with the Vatican before making any public statements regarding the authenticity of such events.^[33] This move aims to streamline the discernment process and ensure consistency in the Church’s approach to these phenomena.

This centralization reflects a recognition of the global impact of private revelations and the need for a unified approach to their investigation and approval. By requiring local bishops to seek Vatican approval, the Church hopes to prevent the spread of unverified and potentially harmful messages. This policy also aims to protect the faithful from being misled by sensationalist claims and to maintain the integrity of Church teachings.^[34]

The new norms, represent a significant shift from past protocols that allowed greater autonomy for local bishops. They also limit approval to the issuance of a Nihil Obstat, meaning “nothing stands in the way” of devotion, which is a much different judgment than the judgment that the revelation is positively authentic. By requiring Vatican approval for final judgments, the Church seeks to curb the spread of speculative and sensational interpretations. This centralization is intended to provide clearer guidance to the faithful and mitigate the risk of doctrinal errors and sectarianism.

While the DDF’s involvement aims to bring a more rigorous and standardized approach to evaluating private revelations, it remains to be seen how this will impact the deeply ingrained subcultures within traditionalist movements. The challenge will be to balance the need for oversight with respect for local pastoral contexts and the genuine spiritual experiences of the faithful.

Impact of New Norms

A recent example where these guidelines have been applied is Our Lady of All Nations. This title refers to a series of alleged Marian apparitions reported by Dutch visionary Ida Peerdeman in Amsterdam between 1945 and 1959. Peerdeman claimed the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to her 56 times with prophetic messages, including predictions of major events (for example, a vision foreshadowing the death of Pope Pius XII) and calls for the Church to proclaim a new Marian dogma of Mary as “Co-Redemptrix,” alongside promoting a distinctive image and prayer under that title. These private revelations gained a following, but Church authorities were cautious: in 1956 the local Bishop of Haarlem declared there was no evidence of anything supernatural (non constat de supernaturalitate), and in 1974 the Vatican’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith definitively judged the apparitions as not of supernatural origin (constat de non supernaturalitate), a ruling personally approved by Pope Paul VI.^[35] Subsequent bishops grappled with the devotional fervor—in 1996, veneration of Our Lady of All Nations (the image and prayer) was allowed so long as the apparitions themselves were not recognized, whereas in 2002 a successor controversially declared the visions authentic without consulting Rome, contributing to confusion among the faithful.

This case has since been revisited under the Vatican’s new norms for private revelations which, as stated previously, require consultation with Rome prior to a verdict. In line with this approach, the Amsterdam devotion to the Lady of All Nations has been cautiously affirmed in its pastoral value—the Marian title and prayer were deemed theologically acceptable—but always with the caveat that this does not imply approval of the apparitions themselves. Indeed, under the new norms the DDF took the unusual step of publicly reiterating its prior negative judgment from 1974, publishing that ruling to dispel persistent doubts and explicitly warning that the faithful should not promote the Amsterdam “messages” as authentic revelations.^[36]

End Times Obsession

Related to the question of apparitions is a fascination with the End Times. This fascination refers not to a healthy and responsible concern for one’s eternal fate, but rather to an intense focus, and orientation of one’s temporal and not only spiritual life around the end times. Such a spirituality is often characterized by an excessive preoccupation with apocalyptic prophecies, signs, and divine punishments. A healthy concern for preparation for whatever may come must be recognized as distinct from the kind of obsession which can become a central aspect of spirituality, overshadowing other elements of faith.

This fixation often revolves around specific private revelations that are believed to provide gnostic insight into the events leading up to the Second Coming of Christ including global catastrophes, the rise of the Antichrist. and divine judgments. They appeal to a feeling, whether real or perceived, based on analysis that the world is in a state of moral decline and departure from the Faith, and are seeking assurance that God will intervene to restore order and justice. This analysis though, is largely subjective, and depending on what statistics and metrics are being measured, can fluctuate wildly.

The messages conveyed through the private apparitions associated with these themes are often interpreted as urgent calls to repentance, with the promise of divine protection for those who remain faithful. However, they can also foster a sense of anxiety and fear, as believers may feel compelled to prepare for imminent disaster through stocking up on food and water, building water, and stockpiling weapon ammunition, rather than focusing on their spiritual growth and relationship with God.

Such obsessions can lead to a distorted spiritual outlook, where fear of impending doom overshadows the message of hope and redemption inherent in the Gospel. This gnostic element can also foster a sense of exclusivity among believers who perceive themselves as the only true faithful—usually defined according to criteria derived from a self-serving bias. The greater danger here lies, however, in reducing the Catholic Faith to eschatological speculation and a lifestyle or behaviors revolving around this speculation.

A Great Sign

In many apocalyptic apparitions, the notion of a “great sign” is central. This sign is often described as a miraculous event that will serve as a divine warning or a call to repentance for humanity which could take the form of cosmic disturbances, supernatural phenomena, or even global catastrophes. The problem here, of course, is that objective criteria for interpreting such an occurrence are never described, or simply do not exist apart from the magisterium’s judgment. Some “doomsday prophets” appeal to a gnostic sense, or the obvious significance of such an occurrence, or simply that all “true believers” will recognize this occurrence as “the sign” by a special grace.

This state of constant anticipation or anxiety can foster a mindset where ordinary means of grace—such as the sacraments, prayer, and works of charity—are undervalued. Instead of living out the Faith, believers can become preoccupied with searching out supernatural events.

In the Gospels, Jesus often warns against the desire for signs and wonders, emphasizing instead the importance of faith and repentance. In Matthew 16:4, He says, “A wicked and adulterous generation looks for a sign, but none will be given it except the sign of Jonah.” This warning is a reminder that true faith does not rely on spectacular displays of divine power but on trust in God’s word and promises, which are most often manifested in the ordinary and humble circumstances of everyday life.

The tendency to seek signs can lead to a superficial spirituality that prioritizes external phenomena over internal conversion. It can also open the door to deception, as individuals may be more susceptible to false prophets or misinterpretations of natural events as divine interventions. Jesus’ admonition encourages believers to focus on the essentials of faith—love of God and neighbor—rather than becoming consumed by the search for extraordinary signs.

The Book of Revelation as Ultimate Hermeneutic

Many believers regard the Book of Revelation as a master key for interpreting apocalyptic apparitions. With its striking imagery and prophetic tone, this final book of Scripture is often viewed as a roadmap to the end times. As a result, some attempt to correlate its symbols and events directly with those found in modern private revelations, merging biblical prophecy with contemporary supernatural claims.

However, this interpretive approach can be problematic. It reduces Revelation to a rigid, literalistic framework shaped more by private opinion than by ecclesial discernment. The Church affirms that Revelation is a highly symbolic and theologically rich text, meant to be interpreted within the living Tradition and under the guidance of the Magisterium. When co-opted as a lens for decoding private revelations, it can lead to misreadings that obscure its central message: not the prediction of precise events, but the ultimate victory of Christ and the hope offered to His Church in every age.

The Antichrist

The figure of the Antichrist is a central theme in many apocalyptic apparitions, and it has captured the imagination of believers for centuries. The Catechism of the Catholic Church affirms the reality of the Antichrist. It states:

Before Christ’s second coming the Church must pass through a final trial that will shake the faith of many believers. The persecution that accompanies her pilgrimage on earth will unveil the “mystery of iniquity” in the form of a religious deception offering men an apparent solution to their problems at the price of apostasy from the truth. The supreme religious deception is that of the Antichrist, a pseudo-messianism by which man glorifies himself in place of God and of his Messiah come in the flesh.^[37]

The Catechism teaches that this deception is not limited to the end of time. Rather, it “already begins to take shape”^[38] whenever human beings attempt to realize within history a messianic hope that, by its nature, can only be fulfilled beyond history—in the eschatological judgment. The Church has consistently rejected such attempts under the name of millenarianism, especially in its secularized forms. These include political ideologies or utopian systems that promise salvation through human power alone, offering a counterfeit kingdom apart from grace. The Church calls such efforts “intrinsically perverse” because they mimic the Christian hope for renewal while cutting it off from its divine source.

Importantly, this passage does not condemn Christian efforts to renew the world or pursue authentic human progress. On the contrary, Christians are called to help build up the Kingdom of God here and now. Christ inaugurated His Kingdom in history, and the Church continues His mission through the sacraments, the proclamation of the Gospel, acts of mercy, and the promotion of justice and human dignity. The Church urges the faithful to transform the world from within, as leaven in the dough. But this temporal work is always oriented toward and dependent on the final consummation of the Kingdom at Christ’s return. The Catechism warns against those who present political ideologies, revolutions, or utopian blueprints as total solutions—substituting human plans for divine providence and imagining that the Kingdom of God can be fully realized by human means alone.

In recent decades, the rise of apocalyptic private revelations has led some to apply these warnings in distorted ways. In particular, suspicion surrounding the figure of the Antichrist has increasingly been turned inward—toward the pope himself. While the Church has always rejected the Protestant-era accusation that the pope is the Antichrist,^[39] certain traditionalist subcultures have begun to cast him as a kind of precursor to the Antichrist or as a passive enabler of apostasy. Though rarely stated explicitly, the underlying logic of conspiracy-driven interpretations associates the papacy—especially as shaped by Vatican II—with the forces of deception described in eschatological prophecy.

This dynamic is further fueled by a hermeneutic of rupture that interprets development or reform not as progress but as betrayal. In this climate, even without explicitly calling the pope the Antichrist, some traditionalist circles treat him as functionally aligned with the spirit of Antichrist—one who prepares the way for the final deception by undermining tradition and truth.

Such preoccupations distort the spiritual life of believers, fostering fear, mistrust, and a posture of permanent suspicion. The impulse to identify Antichrist figures can also feed into a dualistic, us-versus-them mindset that categorizes others, usually public figures, as either wholly evil or wholly good. This is contrary to the Church’s vision, which affirms that every person, no matter how flawed, bears the image of God. When that foundational truth is forgotten, the result is a worldview closer to Manichaeanism than Catholicism—one that sacrifices charity, complexity, and communion in favor of ideological purity and control.

The Three Days of Darkness

Catholic apocalyptic folklore often features a chilling and theatrical scenario known as the Three Days of Darkness. According to the prophecy, the entire earth will be plunged into a preternatural night while demonic forces roam freely. Only those who barricade themselves indoors—refusing to open the door even to familiar voices, which are said to be demons imitating loved ones—will survive. The faithful are instructed to pray the Rosary and rely solely on blessed beeswax candles for light; all other sources will allegedly fail. Anyone who ventures outside or peers through a window is said to perish instantly.

Over the past century, these vivid and terrifying descriptions have fueled the Catholic imagination, functioning more as a kind of religious horror genre than credible eschatology. The prophecy has been popularized by pamphleteers, retreat speakers, and now Internet influencers, becoming a touchstone for end-times speculation. Yet despite its dramatic appeal, the historical and theological foundations beneath it are remarkably thin.^[40]

The prophecy is most often linked to Bl. Anna Maria Taigi (17691837), yet no contemporary document records her predicting a global three day darkness. The earliest mention appears decades after her death, when her aged spiritual director, Fr. Raffaele Natali, reportedly told interviewers in 186364 that she had spoken of “three days of darkness” and recommended shuttered windows and constant prayer. Because this testimony is secondhand, late, and never subjected to formal ecclesiastical review, scholars view the attribution with caution.

A second layer of authority is sometimes claimed by citing letters ascribed to St. Pio of Pietrelcina (Padre Pio) that supposedly endorse the prophecy. These letters were exposed as forgeries in the mid 20th century: the Capuchin order and the Archdiocese of Bamberg publicly disavowed them, noting that Padre Pio had been under obedience not to write after 1924, and had maintained this obedience. Consequently, his name adds no credible support to the prophecy.

Advocates sometimes cite the ninth plague of Egypt (Exod 10:2123) or the apocalyptic darkness of Revelation 6:12; 16:10 as a foreshadowing. These passages, however, describe only either past events or symbolic visions and never specify a future threeday blackout. A search of official Vatican documents likewise returns no occurrence of the phrase “three days of darkness,” underscoring that the prophecy enjoys no magisterial standing.

Modern visionaries who repeat or embellish the prophecy have not undergone the diocesan investigations required for ecclesial approval, and several high profile cases (e.g., Fr. Michel Rodrigue) have been formally rejected.^[41] Given the shaky documentary trail, the forged testimonies, and the absence of Church endorsement, Catholics are free—indeed, well advised—to regard the Three Days of Darkness as pious folklore rather than certain prophecy.

The Illumination of Conscience and The Great Warning

Another commonly alleged prophecy refers to the Illumination of Conscience (and associated Great Warning and Miracle). Primarily associated with the alleged Marian and angelic apparitions at Garabandal, Spain (1961–1965), where the seers predicted a coming “Warning” that would precede a global “Miracle” and possible “Chastisement.” Though the phrase Illumination of Conscience was not used at the time, it has since been adopted—especially in later devotional literature—as shorthand for a moment of universal self-knowledge and divine judgment, interpreted as a divine intervention meant to spark repentance before the final judgment.. Frequently portrayed as a merciful act of God, it is said to offer humanity one final opportunity to return to Him.

Its modern popularity owes much to recent prophetic literature—particularly Christine Watkins’ 2019 book The Warning—and online platforms such as Countdown to the Kingdom, which aggregate alleged messages from contemporary visionaries. However, some of these visionaries, such as Fr. Michel Rodrigue, have faced disciplinary action or disavowal by ecclesial authorities,^[42] raising further concerns about the reliability of the prophecy’s modern presentation.

This narrative has gained considerable traction in certain Catholic circles, particularly within apocalyptic devotional literature and online prophecy platforms, where it is often treated as a pivotal event in the eschatological timeline. Believers are encouraged to prepare through prayer, penance, and deep examination of conscience. The Illumination is framed as a grace-filled opportunity for reconciliation with God—though some iterations claim that certain individuals may die of shock upon confronting the full gravity of their sins.

Despite its popularity, the Church has never officially approved the Garabandal apparitions. Local bishops have consistently issued a “non constat de supernaturalitate” judgment, meaning the supernatural character of the events has not been confirmed—a position reiterated by Bishop José Vilaplana of Santander as recently as 2007. Although private pilgrimages to Garabandal are permitted, the alleged messages remain unrecognized and without ecclesial endorsement.

While the call to repentance is a central theme of the Christian faith, it must be grounded in love and trust in God’s mercy. An overemphasis on dramatic, fear-based narratives risks distorting the spiritual life. Fear of the Lord is rightly understood as reverence, not terror. To dwell in constant dread of divine punishment undermines the joy and freedom offered by the Gospel. As St. Paul exhorts believers to “work out your salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil. 2:12), this is best understood as a caution against presumption, not against trust, and is not an invitation to live in a state of spiritual anxiety. Whether or not such a warning or illumination is real, Christians must interpret all eschatological claims through the broader lens of Catholic teaching on sin, grace, mercy, and redemption.

To dwell in a state of dread undermines the Gospel’s invitation to hope, trust, and intimacy with the God who is “rich in mercy” (Eph. 2:4). Authentic conversion flows not from panic, but from encountering God’s love—a love that “casts out fear” (1 Jn. 4:18). As Pope Francis reminds us, “God never tires of forgiving us; we are the ones who tire of seeking his mercy”^[43] When fear becomes the dominant lens through which we interpret our relationship with God, it distorts both His character and our understanding of grace. Any spirituality that prioritizes terror over trust, or justice over mercy, should not be mistaken for deeper faith. Rather, it is a dangerous distortion—one that risks replacing the Gospel with anxiety and exchanging God’s fatherhood for an image of tyranny.

The End of the Present World and the Mysteries of the Future Life

Another widely read spiritual work in apocalyptic circles is Fr. Charles Arminjon’s The End of the Present World and the Mysteries of the Future Life, notably impacting St. Thérèse of Lisieux, who described reading it as “one of the greatest graces of my life.” The book offers deep reflections on eschatological themes, aiming to redirect focus toward eternal realities. However, some readers have noted that Arminjon’s depictions of divine judgment and purgatory are particularly intense. The Sisters of Carmel, for example, observe: “Some of Father Arminjon’s references about purgatory are more severe than the customary teaching of the Church,” even while affirming the value of his exhortations to prepare for eternity. While not heterodox, such depictions can foster an overly fear-based spirituality that distorts the tone of Christian hope.

By concentrating on eschatological events to the exclusion of the world, the book may inadvertently encourage a neglect of the incarnational vocation to engage the concrete challenges of life—social, cultural, and physical—that define the Christian witness in the present.

It’s also important to remember that God created the world not only as a testing ground but also as a gift for humanity to enjoy and steward. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches,

“Of all visible creatures only man is ‘able to know and love his creator.’ He is ‘the only creature on earth that God has willed for its own sake,’ and he alone is called to share, by knowledge and love, in God’s own life” (§356).

This is the foundation of his dignity: “Being in the image of God, the human individual possesses the dignity of a person, who is not just something, but someone” (§357).

Far from encouraging retreat from the world, Catholic doctrine teaches that creation reflects the beauty of its Creator and that humanity is called to discover its harmony, steward it with reverence, and offer it back to God in love (cf. §§299–301, 373). As the Catechism notes, “In reality it is only in the mystery of the Word made flesh that the mystery of man truly becomes clear” (§359).

In conclusion, The End of the Present World remains a significant work of Catholic eschatological literature. But its message must be interpreted within the broader context of the Gospel, which is marked not by dread but by joyful anticipation. A balanced spirituality integrates the promise of eternal life with an incarnational love for this life, recognizing that grace is already at work in history. Faith flourishes not in fear, but in the freedom of relationship with the God who created man out of love and calls him to eternal communion.

It’s Not Always Demons

The focus on the demonic, exorcisms, and the occult within some Catholic circles also raises significant concerns. While the Church acknowledges the reality of evil spirits and the need for spiritual warfare, an exaggerated focus on these elements can lead to a distorted view of the spiritual life.

An obsession with the demonic can have profound effects on the spiritual lives of believers. When the demonic is perceived as a preeminent presence, more present in this world even than God, it can lead to an atmosphere of fear and suspicion, where every difficulty or challenge is attributed to the work of evil spirits. This mindset can overshadow the more positive aspects of the Faith, such as the presence of God’s grace, the power of the sacraments, and the call to love and charity.

An obsessive focus on the demonic can also result in an over-reliance on forms of prayer centered on deliverance prayer and spiritual warfare, especially among men, who are more prone to a warring mindset, to the detriment of other spiritual practices. Not every illness, hardship, or unexplained occurrence should be attributed to demonic influence, nor is every spiritual struggle a sign of occult interference. A mature and healthy faith acknowledges both the natural and supernatural dimensions of life and seeks to integrate them in a way that fosters genuine spiritual growth—without lapsing into superstition, spiritual paranoia, or practices contrary to the Christian faith, such as divinization or the manipulation of spiritual powers.^[44] In recent years, however, there has been a noticeable rise in fascination with occult themes and supernatural control—both in secular culture and among certain religious circles—where individuals, even with good intentions, seek dominion over spiritual forces.^[45] The Church strongly condemns occult practices, recognizing them as contrary to the First Commandment and a potential opening to demonic influence. However, it is important to approach this issue with pastoral sensitivity, understanding the existential or emotional roots of this curiosity, and guiding those drawn to it back to the fullness of Christian truth and sacramental life.^[46]

For some believers, however, the allure of the personal revelations, ecstasies, or visions which may provide spiritual consolations and which are seemingly more compatible with the faith and more innocent, can also be a dangerous temptation, leading them away from the true teachings of the Church. Saint Vincent Ferrer addresses the dangers of false spiritual consolations, warning:

The first remedy against the spiritual temptations which the devil plants in the hearts of many persons in these unhappy times is to have no desire to procure by prayer, meditation, or any other good work, what are called revelations, or spiritual experiences, beyond what happens in the ordinary course of things. Such a desire of things which surpass the common order can have no other root or foundation but pride, presumption, a vain curiosity in what regards the things of God, and, in short, an extremely weak faith. . . .

The soul that attaches itself to . . . false consolations falls into very dangerous errors; for God justly permits the devil to have power . . . to inspire it with sentiments that are false, dangerous and full of illusions, but which the misguided soul imagines to be true. Alas! how many souls have been seduced by these deceitful consolations?

The majority of raptures and ecstasies, or, to call them by their proper name, the frenzies of these forerunners of Antichrist spring from this cause. . . . [One] remedy is to have a horror of every thought and sentiment, however elevated they may be, which gives indications of a desire to penetrate into the secrets of God when you perceive that they are capable of wounding any article of faith or morals, especially if they are contrary to humility and purity for, doubtless, such can come only from the devil. Pay no attention, therefore, to visions that afford no certainty that they are from God, or that they lead you to what is pleasing to Him.^[47]

By fostering a more balanced narrative and engaging in proper discernment, believers can develop a more grounded and mature faith, one that is not easily swayed by sensationalism or fear. This approach encourages a focus on the core elements of Christian spirituality—prayer, the sacraments, love of neighbor, and trust in God’s providence—while maintaining a proper understanding of the role of spiritual warfare in the Christian life. In doing so, the Church can help individuals and communities navigate the complexities of the spiritual world with wisdom and discernment.

Internal and External Critiques

Within the traditionalist movement, while there are some voices that note the excessive focus on private revelations, arguing that such preoccupations can divert attention from the core elements of Catholic faith and practice and advocate for a return to simpler, more traditional devotions that emphasize conversion, prayer, and adherence to Church teachings without the need for sensationalism. These critics are usually also critics of the charismatic movement, or any other experiential or enthusiastic forms of devotion. While this counterbalance is helpful, this can also lead to an error in the opposite direction, as it would exclude anything that could contribute to a more experiential and emotional relation to the faith.

Scholars outside of traditionalism have often pointed to the psychological and sociological impacts of this enthusiasm, esotericism, and sensationalism, noting how it can foster division and create an “us vs. them” mentality, either between adherents of the private revelation against non-Catholics, or even by the perceived “last true remnant” against other Catholics. The emphasis on esoteric knowledge and apocalyptic themes can also lead to a distorted understanding of Catholic doctrine, prioritizing fear and speculation over faith and reason.^[48]

An overemphasis on private revelations can also undermine the Church’s teaching authority and lead to a fragmented and sectarian approach to faith. This can result in a form of religious consumerism, where individuals pick and choose which revelations to believe based on personal preference rather than doctrinal coherence. The focus on apocalyptic and conspiratorial themes can also create a climate of fear and mistrust, which is antithetical to the message of hope and unity that is central to the Gospel.

Media and Communication

Modern media plays a crucial role in spreading and amplifying narratives built on private revelations. Websites, social media platforms, and independent publications dedicated to these phenomena ensure that sensationalist interpretations reach a global audience. This proliferation of information often lacks critical oversight, allowing unverified and extreme theories to gain traction. The rapid dissemination of these messages can create a feedback loop, where sensationalism begets more sensationalism, further entrenching the beliefs within these communities.

The internet has been particularly instrumental in this process, providing a platform for voices that might otherwise be marginalized. Online forums, blogs, and video channels offer a constant stream of content that reinforces the community’s beliefs and suspicions. This digital echo chamber magnifies the impact of private revelations, making them seem more widespread and credible than they might otherwise be. The combination of media accessibility and the inherent drama of the messages creates a potent mix that is difficult to counter with reasoned, doctrinal argumentation.^[49]

The Discernment of Spirits

The discernment of spirits is a crucial practice in Catholic spirituality, particularly when dealing with private revelations and mystical experiences. This process involves distinguishing between thoughts, emotions, and inspirations that come from God, those that originate from the self, and those that might be influenced by evil spirits. In the context of these subcultures and movements—whether charismatic, traditionalist, or otherwise—with excessive focus on private revelations, proper discernment is essential to avoid falling into deception or error.

Traditional Catholic teaching, rooted in the wisdom of saints like Ignatius of Loyola, emphasizes the importance of discernment in evaluating spiritual experiences. St. Ignatius provided detailed guidelines for discerning spirits, advising that true consolations from God are marked by peace, joy, and alignment with Church teachings, while desolations or false consolations often lead to anxiety, confusion, or a sense of urgency that contradicts the serenity of the Holy Spirit’s guidance. Without this discernment, there is a risk of embracing private revelations or spiritual experiences that, though emotionally compelling, may not truly reflect God’s will.

Moreover, the discernment of spirits is not just about evaluating mystical experiences but also about understanding the spiritual movements within one’s soul. This involves a careful examination of the fruits of these experiences—whether they lead to greater love of God, humility, and charity, or whether they foster pride, division, or obsession. In a time when many seek certainty and reassurance through dramatic private revelations, the practice of discernment serves as a safeguard against spiritual pitfalls and helps maintain a balanced and faithful approach to Catholic spirituality.

Private Devotions and Prayer

Prayer is the foundation of discernment and the spiritual life in general. Prayer serves as the primary means through which the faithful connect with God, understand His will, and grow in holiness. It is through prayer that they can cultivate the virtues necessary for fruitful discernment—humility, patience, and openness to the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

In traditionalist communities, there is naturally a strong emphasis on traditional forms of prayer—the Rosary, various devotionals, or penitential practices—pall good in their measure. Unfortunately, the allure of private revelations can sometimes lead to an imbalance, where the content of these revelations begins to overshadow the simplicity and universality of established prayer forms, or conversely, these private devotions can be accentuated to the point of overshadowing more public prayers like the Mass, Divine Office, or Eucharistic Adoration, or of crowding out time for the fulfillment of more ordinary duties like keeping the house clean, working a job, or simply enjoying leisure and family life. While private devotions can enrich one’s spiritual life, they should not replace the core tenets of a balanced life centered on the Eucharist and aided by the teachings of Christ as handed down through the Church. As Aquinas teaches, virtue embraces the golden mean—not a sterile equilibrium, but a lived balance, in humility, navigating the tensions of life with grace, and allowing devotion, duty, and love to coexist in a dynamic, though sometimes untidy, fidelity.

Prayer plays a crucial role here. Regular, consistent prayer helps the faithful maintain a close relationship with God, making it easier to discern whether a particular spiritual experience is leading them closer to Him or away from Him. Ultimately, prayer should lead to a deeper trust in God and His providence, reducing the need for constant reassurance through extraordinary means.

Conclusion

By addressing the sociological and psychological factors that drive the fascination with private revelations, the hierarchical Church can work toward fostering a more unified and spiritually grounded People of God. This requires a concerted effort to educate the faithful about the proper role of private revelations within Catholic spirituality and to promote a deeper understanding of the Church’s teachings and traditions.

^[1] See Pedro Gabriel’s essay, found in Faith in Crisis, Ch. 8, for more on the term “Modernism,” where he explains how the term is misused by traditionalists, and how ironically, due to this misunderstanding over what the term actually means, the true heresy of Modernism sometimes shows up in their communities.

^[2] Pope Pius V, Bull Promulgating the Tridentine Liturgy, Quo Primum Tempore (1570). https://www.papalencyclicals.net/pius05/p5quopri.htm. For a detailed refutation of the notion that Quo Primum mandated the Missal of Pius V for all time, without the possibility of being abrogated by a later pope, see James Likoudis and Kenneth D. Whitehead, The Pope, the Council, and the Mass: Answers to Questions the Traditionalists Have Asked (Rev. Ed. Emmaus Road, 2006), q. 4.

^[3] While the Council of Trent, through Pope Pius V’s Quo Primum permitted the continued use of liturgical rites that had been in existence for over 200 years, many localized uses and distinct rites were suppressed in favor of greater uniformity. Among those discontinued were the Sarum Use (pre-Reformation England), Gallican rites and uses throughout France (including the Uses of Lyon and Paris), and the Beneventan Rite in southern Italy. Though some, like the Bragan Rite of Portugal, technically survived, they nearly disappeared and only later saw partial revivals. In contrast, the Ambrosian, Mozarabic, Dominican, Carthusian, and Carmelite rites continued in use. For a detailed history of these developments and the evolution of the Roman Rite, see Josef A. Jungmann, The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origins and Development (Missarum Sollemnia), trans. Francis A. Brunner (Christian Classics, 2012).

^[4] Pope Francis discusses in his address the proper way to think about change as it relates to the Church. He states: [Here I am quoting] Newman . . . “Here below to live is to change, and to be perfect is to have changed often” . . . [D]evelopment and growth are a normal part of human life. . . . [T]he history of God’s people—the history of the Church—has always been marked by new beginnings, displacements and changes. . . .[W]hat we are experiencing [today] is not simply an epoch of changes, but an epochal change. We find ourselves living at a time when change is no longer linear, but epochal. It entails decisions that rapidly transform our ways of living, of relating to one another, of communicating and thinking, of how different generations relate to one another and how we understand and experience faith and science. . . . I think of the enigmatic expression found in a famous Italian novel: “If we want everything to stay the same, then everything has to change” (The Leopard by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa). The more healthy approach is to let oneself be challenged by the questions of the day and to approach them with the virtues of discernment, parrhesía and hypomoné. Seen in this light, change takes on a very different aspect: from something marginal, incidental or merely external, it would become something more human and more Christian. Change would still take place, but beginning with man as its centre: an anthropological conversion.[9] We need to initiate processes and not just occupy spaces: “God manifests himself in historical revelation, in history. Time initiates processes and space crystalizes them. God is in history, in the processes. We must not focus on occupying the spaces where power is exercised, but rather on starting long-run historical processes. We must initiate processes rather than occupy spaces. God manifests himself in time and is present in the processes of history. This gives priority to actions that give birth to new historical dynamics. And it requires patience, waiting”.[10] In this sense, we are urged to read the signs of the times with the eyes of faith, so that the direction of this change should “raise new and old questions which it is right that we should face”.[11] Pope Francis, Christmas Greetings to the Roman Curia, Dec. 21, 2019. https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/speeches/2019/december/documents/papa-francesco_20191221_curia-romana.html.

^[5] “Bastions,” here refers to those barriers which the Church built up over the centuries, artificially separating the Church from the world. See for more details, Hans Urs von Balthasar, Razing the Bastions: On the Church in this Age (San Francisco: Ignatius, 1993). https://www.amazon.com/Razing-Bastions-Church-This-Age/dp/0898704286. The original edition was written in the 1950’s.

^[6] See for a helpful treatment of this theme, Avery Cardinal Dulles, Evangelization for the Third Millenium (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2009). https://a.co/d/e1tHd6x.

^[7] See for more on this, Joseph T. Stuart, Rethinking the Enlightenment: Faith in the Age of Reason (Nashua, NH: Sophia Institute Press, 2020). https://a.co/d/0rHVAZk.

^[8] “Pope quotes late cardinal, saying church is ‘200 years out of date’” Portland Press Herald, Dec. 21, 2019. https://www.pressherald.com/2019/12/21/pope-quotes-late-cardinal-to-say-church-is-200-years-out-of-date/. Pope Francis notes that the Catholic Church is seriously behind the times. He says, “Cardinal Martini, in his last interview a few days before his death, said words that should make us reflect: ‘The church is 200 years out of date. Why don’t we rouse ourselves? Are we afraid?’”

^[9] “He who hears you hears me, and he who rejects you rejects me, and he who rejects me rejects him who sent me.” (Luke 10:16). See also, Second Vatican Council, Lumen Gentium, §20, which states: “Therefore, the Sacred Council teaches that bishops by divine institution have succeeded to the place of the apostles, as shepherds of the Church, and he who hears them, hears Christ, and he who rejects them, rejects Christ and Him who sent Christ.”

^[10] I. Media – published on “The Church is still very careful about Marian apparitions, says Pope Francis” Aleteia, Dec. 12, 2018, https://aleteia.org/2018/12/12/the-church-is-still-very-careful-about-marian-apparitions-says-pope-francis.

^[11] St. Vincent Ferrer, Treatise on the Spiritual Life (Fitzwilliam, NH: Loreto Publications, 2006), 28. Emphasis added.

^[12] Hans Urs von Balthasar, The Glory of the Lord: A Theological Aesthetics, Vols. 1–7, trans. Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis et al., eds. John Riches and Joseph Fessio (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1982–1991).

^[13] See, Louis Bouyer, Cosmos: The World and the Glory of God, trans. Pierre de Fontnouvelle (Petersham, MA: Saint Bede’s Publications, 1988).

^[14] Gnosticism is an ancient heresy asserting that salvation is achieved through esoteric knowledge (gnosis), viewing the material world as inherently evil and created by a lesser deity, thus denying the goodness of creation and the true humanity of Christ.

^[15] Jansenism, emerging in the 17th century, emphasized human depravity and the necessity of divine grace, aligning closely with Augustinian thought; it was condemned for its denial of free will and promotion of moral rigorism.

^[16] Pelagianism, originating in the 5th century, denied original sin’s impact on human nature, asserting that individuals could achieve salvation through their own efforts without the necessity of divine grace.

^[17] Manichaeism, founded in the 3rd century, is a dualistic concept positing an eternal struggle between the forces of good (spirit) and evil (matter), viewing the material world as inherently corrupt and salvation as the liberation of the soul from physical bondage. It can also refer to the idea that good and evil are equal and opposite forces.

^[18] Monophysitism is a 5th-century Christological heresy asserting that Jesus Christ has only one nature, predominantly divine, with his human nature either absorbed or significantly diminished, thereby undermining the doctrine of the full humanity and full divinity of Christ. Pope Francis has sometimes referred to a similar idea being applied to the Church, what he calls “ecclesial monophysitism,” an overly spiritualized and disembodied view of the Church, that emphasizes the Church’s divine aspects to the neglect of its human elements, leading to a disregard for the tangible, communal, and sacramental dimensions integral to its nature.

^[19] Ronald Knox, Enthusiasm: A Chapter in the History of Religion (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1994), 2.

^[20] Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, Dignitas Infinita: Declaration on Human Dignity, April 2, 2024, §1.

^[21] Susan Brinkmann, “Vatican Pauses Review of Luisa Piccarreta’s Writings” Women of Grace, May 2, 2024. https://www.womenofgrace.com/blog/18615.

^[22] Dawn Eden Goldstein, SThD, JCL, published a four-part critical analysis of the book, exploring the question of its authorship, and the theology behind it, where she discovered a number of serious issues, which can be seen here:Dawn Eden Goldstein, “In Sinu Jesu: A Critical Analysis” Where Peter Is, June 16, 2020. https://wherepeteris.com/in-sinu-jesu-a-critical-analysis/.

^[23] Dawn Eden Goldstein, “In Sinu Jesu: A Critical Analysis” Where Peter Is, June 16, 2020.

^[24] In 2002, Dr. Frederick Zugibe, a world-renowned expert on crucifixion, had the opportunity to present to the Carmelite nuns in Coimbra, Portugal, where Sister Lucia, one of the visionaries of Fatima, resided. Seizing the moment, Dr. Zugibe asked Sister Lucia whether the consecration performed by Pope John Paul II fulfilled the request made by Our Lady of Fatima. Sister Lucia confirmed unequivocally, saying, “It was done! The Holy Father willed it. It was done, and you can tell your friends that it was done.” See Steve Mahowald, “An Interview with Dr. Zugibe,” EWTN, Sept./Oct. 2003. https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/library/interview-with-dr-zugibe-3003. Historically, it is widely accepted that Pope Pius XII’s 1942 and 1952 consecrations of the world did not meet the specific conditions outlined by Our Lady, as they did not mention Russia even implicitly, and were not performed in union with the bishops of the world, which some believe was why the war still occurred afterward. Critics of Pope St. John Paul II’s consecration argue that it did not fulfill Our Lady’s request because it did not explicitly mention Russia. However, the Pope implicitly included Russia in his consecration and followed the form Our Lady requested. Our Lady did not require the pope to explicitly mention Russia, but only to perform the consecration in union with the world’s bishops. Pope Francis has also consecrated both the world and Russia to the Immaculate Heart of Mary in union with the world’s bishops. While Sister Lucia and the Vatican have acknowledged the validity of Pope John Paul II’s consecration, Pope Francis’ act should further lay this matter to rest in the eyes of the faithful. For more on this subject see James Likoudis, Heralds of a Catholic Russia (Washington NJ: Blue Army Press, 2023), Postscript. https://a.co/d/iWxZR6D.

^[25] The contents of the Third Secret are reproduced here. With context given for why the contents were not immediately made available to the public. Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, The Message of Fatima. https://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/documents/rc_con_cfaith_doc_20000626_message-fatima_en.html. Archbishop Tarcisio Bertone, SDB, as head of the CDF producing this letter writes, The third part of the «secret»‌‌ was written by order of His Excellency the Bishop of Leiria and the Most Holy Mother . . . on 3 January 1944. . . . The sealed envelope was initially in the custody of the Bishop of Leiria. To ensure better protection for the «secret»‌ the envelope was placed in the Secret Archives of the Holy Office on 4 April 1957. The Bishop of Leiria informed Sister Lucia of this. According to the records of the Archives, the Commissary of the Holy Office, Father Pierre Paul Philippe, OP, with the agreement of Cardinal Alfredo Ottaviani, brought the envelope containing the third part of the «secret of Fatima»‌ to Pope John XXIII on 17 August 1959. After some hesitation, His Holiness said: “We shall wait. I shall pray. I shall let you know what I decide.” In fact Pope John XXIII decided to return the sealed envelope to the Holy Office and not to reveal the third part of the «secret»‌. Paul VI read the contents with the Substitute, Archbishop Angelo Dell’Acqua, on 27 March 1965, and returned the envelope to the Archives of the Holy Office, deciding not to publish the text. John Paul II, for his part, asked for the envelope containing the third part of the «secret»‌ following the assassination attempt on 13 May 1981.

^[26] John Allen Jr., “A Tale of Two Fatimas” NCR Online, May 13, 2010. https://www.ncronline.org/blogs/ncr-today/tale-two-fatimas.

^[27] Matthew Cullinan Hoffman, “The Third Secret and the ‘Hermeneutic of Conspiracy’” Catholic World Report, Nov. 27, 2017. https://www.catholicworldreport.com/2017/11/27/the-third-secret-of-fatima-and-the-hermeneutic-of-conspiracy/.

^[28] See for example, https://sisterlucytruth.org/. By no means, however, is this the only example. See also, https://www.fromrome.info/2022/12/06/did-the-cia-replace-sister-lucy-to-enable-their-vatican-ii-take-down-of-the-church/. For evidence that these claims are baseless, see, “The Prophecy, Consecration, Triumph, and Secret of Fatima explained by Sister Lucia.” Carlos Evaristo, YouTube, July 23, 2017.See also, Steve Mahowald, “An Interview with Dr. Zugibe,” EWTN, Sept./Oct. 2003. https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/library/interview-with-dr-zugibe-3003.

^[29] Holy See Press Office, “Communiqué on articles regarding the “Third Secret of Fatima”, May 21, 2016. https://press.vatican.va/content/salastampa/en/bollettino/pubblico/2016/05/21/160521b.html.

^[30] Father Raymond J. de Souza, “4 Features of the Vatican’s New Documents on Apparitions,” National Catholic Register, May 17, 2024 https://www.ncregister.com/commentaries/new-norms-medjugorje-de-souza-apparitions.

^[31] Jimmy Akin, “La Salette: Sorting Fact From Fiction,” Catholic Answers, January 1, 2000. https://www.catholic.com/magazine/print-edition/la-salette-sorting-fact-from-fiction.

^[32] Daniel J. Castellano “The Authentic Message of La Salette,” Arcane Knowledge, 2007. https://www.arcaneknowledge.org/catholic/lasalette.htm.

^[33] Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, Norms for Proceeding in the Discernment of Alleged Supernatural Phenomena, May 17, 2024. https://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/documents/rc_ddf_doc_20240517_norme-fenomeni-soprannaturali_en.html.

^[34] Mike Lewis, “New Vatican Rules for Miracles and Apparitions.” Where Peter Is, May 17, 2024. https://wherepeteris.com/new-vatican-rules-for-miracles-and-apparitions/.

^[35] Vatican News Staff, “‘Our Lady of All Nations’ of Amsterdam: Pope Paul VI approved a negative judgment,” Vatican News, https://www.vaticannews.va/en/vatican-city/news/2024-07/pope-paul-vi-ddf-our-lady-nations-amsterdam-false.html.

^[36] Hannah Brockhaus, “Vatican reveals details about 1974 ruling on alleged ‘Lady of All Nations’ apparition,” Catholic News Agency, Jul 11, 2024. https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/258257/vatican-reveals-details-about-1974-ruling-on-alleged-lady-of-all-nations-apparition.

^[37] Catechism of the Catholic Church, 675.

^[38] Catechism of the Catholic Church, 676.

^[39] Robert Bellarmine, De Romano Pontifice, book 3, chap. 13, in Opera Omnia, vol. 1 (Paris: Vivès, 1871), 620–35; English trans. in Ryan Grant, On the Roman Pontiff (Post Falls, ID: Mediatrix Press, 2015), 285–97.

^[40] See for more details, Jimmy Akin, “Will There Be Three Days of Darkness?” May 31, 2023. https://jimmyakin.com/2023/05/will-there-be-three-days-of-darkness.html.

^[41] Jimmy Akin, The Apostle of the Last Times? (Fr. Michel Rodrigue) – Jimmy Akin’s Mysterious World, YouTube video, Oct. 16, 2020.

^[42] Jimmy Akin, The Apostle of the Last Times?, Oct. 16, 2020.

^[43] Pope Francis, Evangelii Gaudium, §3.

^[44] Fr. Peter Joseph, STD, “False religion: Generational spirits, curses, healing the family tree,” Where Peter Is, Nov. 21, 2024. https://wherepeteris.com/false-religion-generational-spirits-curses-and-healing-the-family-tree/.

^[45] Fr. Peter Joseph, STD, “Obsessed with the Devil: Ripperger’s Prayer Book,” Where Peter Is, Nov. 11, 2024. https://wherepeteris.com/obsessed-with-the-devil-rippergers-prayer-book/.

^[46] Mike Lewis, “Spanish Bishops warn against ‘Healing the Family Tree,’” Dec. 4, 2024. https://wherepeteris.com/spanish-bishops-warn-against-healing-the-family-tree/.

^[47] St. Vincent Ferrer, Treatise on the Spiritual Life (Fitzwilliam, NH: Loreto Publications, 2006) Ch. 12, 25–27.

^[48] See for another sociological treatment of the phenomenon of Marian apparitions, Sandra L. Zimdars-Swartz, “The Marian Revival in American Catholicism,” found in Being Right: Conservative Catholics in America, Ed. Mary Jo Weaver & R. Scott Appleby (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1995), 213. See also Michael W. Cuneo, The Smoke of Satan: Conservative and Traditionalist Dissent in Contemporary American Catholicism, (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1997), Ch. 5.

^[49] See “Catholic Clickbait: Digital Media & Outrage Culture in the Church,” in Faith in Crisis: Critical Dialogues in Catholic Traditionalism, Church Authority, and Reform (En Route Books, 2025), Ch. 17, for more on this subject.

On July 1, the Society of St. Pius X consecrated bishops at Écône without a papal mandate and against the pope’s explicit prohibition.

The response from Rome was swift: excommunications, and a formal declaration that the Society is in schism, including its lay adherents. On the very same day, the Likoudis Legacy Foundation released its 50th-anniversary edition of Yves Congar’s book Challenge to the Church: The Case of Archbishop Lefebvre, published through En Route Books, with a foreword by Dr. Larry Chapp and an afterword by Andrew Mioni.

Larry invited Andrew and me onto his Gaudium et Spes 22 podcast to discuss this news:

Watch: Larry Chapp, Andrew Mioni, and Andrew Likoudis discuss the SSPX and Congar’s book on Lefebvre

Congar wrote the book in 1976, after Lefebvre’s first illicit priestly ordinations—twelve years before the consecrations of 1988, and fifty years before this week’s. He foresaw where the movement’s logic would inevitably lead: a “state of necessity” hardening into a permanent parallel church, professing loyalty to an “eternal Rome” invented to override the actual one.

Congar’s confrer, Joseph Ratzinger’s question in The Ratzinger Report remains a sharp accompanying refutation of that novelty. He writes: “Is perhaps obedience to the Holy See divisible according to years or according to the nearness of a teaching to one’s own already-established convictions?” Hans Urs von Balthasar, another contemporary of Congar named the stakes of holding to this ecclesiological impossibility, writing in his book, A Primer for Unsettled Laymen that a protesting splinter group may claim to be apostolica and sancta, “but wants to be at the same time the una, which is impossible, and the catholica, which a mere opposition, of its essence, cannot be.”

In the conversation we get into all of it: the repeated papal overtures Lefebvre refused, from Paul VI to John Paul II; the misuse of Quo Primum; what Dignitatis Humanae actually teaches and what it doesn’t; the gap between the SSPX’s public presentation and its lived catechesis; and the question so many traditionalists are now asking—whether one may still attend an SSPX chapel—which is, frankly, the wrong question. I won’t rehearse the arguments here. Watch the conversation.

Fifty years later, the rupture Congar warned of is formal. The book is no longer a warning. It is a prophetic post-mortem.

Challenge to the Church: The Case of Archbishop Lefebvre is available now in paperback from En Route Books.