Forgetting Pope Francis for Something Better

In the Middle Ages, the average Catholic had no idea what the Pope said unless a Papal Bull was read in Church. It was a more pleasant time!

From One Peter Five

By Dan Millette

There was a stretch starting in 2018 when I couldn’t get enough of what was going on in the Catholic Church. The McCarrick scandal was breaking, Viganò was on fire, and commentators such as Taylor Marshall and Timothy Gordon made the As the Catholic World Turns soap opera can’t-miss viewing. Though it was the worst of times in the Church, it was the best of times for entertainment. 

I took to writing around then. Like countless others, I imagined I had some profound thoughts to add. The articles flowed easily. There was so much to talk about! The Francis papacy seemed an eternal source of scandal and speculation. One article would be about a corrupt new appointment. Another would be about a subtle heresy embedded in a document. There was the sketchy artwork, the bullying of traditional Catholics, airplane press conferences, dubias, interreligious gatherings, financial corruption, the “Are we in the end times?” speculation, and of course, the never-ending synods (and even synods about synods). How glorious it all was! Once in a blue moon, I wrote something positive and uplifting. But those pieces usually tanked in the ratings department. To put it in Canadian terms, we still watch hockey games for the fights.

The well ran dry. Not in actual fact—these Church scandals never cease—but rather in my stamina to endure. In short, I developed what was later termed Francis Fatigue. And I’ve had it for a while now. Roughly three years ago I penned an article titled: I Have Mentally Checked Out. I’d had enough. Enough of the scandals. Enough of the public humiliation. Enough of the chatter. Enough of the circus. With rare exceptions, I stopped writing on Catholic matters. I turned my attention to other things, like my family. We hiked, fished, hunted, moved to an acreage, grew in numbers, and generally got on with life. It turns out they’re cool people. Who would have known?

Three years later, however, it is time to revisit things.

First, a brief disclaimer: I do not write this to excuse the errors and misdeeds of this papacy. Far from it. Nor do I condemn those admirably reporting and commenting on the state of affairs with true insight, integrity, and charity. God reward them for their courageous efforts.

Now, I must honestly admit why I stopped writing. I was becoming repetitive. Each article was just the same thing, over and over again. Like a joke told too many times that is no longer funny. Like that crude line from The Office—a show I’ve never watched but can never fully escape—with the continuous punch line of, “That’s what Francis said.” Ad nauseam, and with feigned righteous anger. Truthfully, I wasn’t making anyone a better Catholic, much less myself. All I was doing was contributing to the collective Francis Fatigue.

The keyword there is collective. Much of the Francis Fatigue has been collectively heightened. When I wrote there were hundreds—thousands—of other Catholics joining in the melee. Catholic pundits. Catholic YouTubers. Catholic Twitter warriors. Catholic Meme-machines. Wannabee career Catholics desperate to make a few bucks from each scandal. Legions of Catholics, all talking about whatever scraps of outrage could be uncovered for the day while trying to one-up each other—a real group effort of fatigue-building.

As far as I can tell, these antics continue to this day. Anime Luce? Beat that darn horse to death! A new papal encyclical? One faction must skim it to find only the good parts, another only the bad. A weak argument claiming Catholics hate dancing? Stretch the issue for a month or two. And don’t get me started on the “Is Francis the Pope?” marathon. Perhaps the best part is when we Catholics, thirsty for blood—or YouTube subscribers—turn against each other. Did you see Avoiding Babylon’s response to Brian Holdsworth’s reply to Michael Lofton’s video about Taylor Marshall’s meme of James Martin’s article about Bishop Schneider’s book about…where was I? As the Catholic World Turns indeed. It is all part of the Francis Fatigue, instituted by the man himself, and amplified to endless heights by myself and others.

Let me step back now, for my rant has proven one thing: it is three years later and I still have nothing useful to add. It is a mind and heart still mired in the trauma of losing a once held—too deeply held—admiration for the papacy. It all remains so tiring. Not just the talk, nor the scandal, but my frazzled mind. Modern Catholicism is tiring. I am fatigued. It can be difficult to rest. To think. To focus. Three years later I have nothing better to offer. And so, the Francis Fatigue continues. 

I must not end on this dour note. I will share a brief story.

Tired out, I recently went to a Mass during the week. It was Remembrance Day (that’s Martimas or Veteran’s Day for you Anglo-Americans out there – it’s when the rest of the world remembers the Armistice after the Great War). I noted a husband and wife show up for the 9:00 am Mass. I vaguely remembered them and knew they lived 90 minutes away. Were they in town to visit someone? Just passing through? Why were they there? My hometown is out in the bush, a stone’s throw from the middle of nowhere. Whatever the case, they were there, in our nearly empty church, praying quietly, even peacefully.

After this Mass, I rushed out with my wife and kids. Things to do. People to see. Deer to hunt. A busy day off to spend doing things simply because that’s what life is for. It takes great dedication to maintain life.

I learned days later from a reliable source that this husband and wife stayed behind at the church, not just for a few minutes, or even an hour…they stayed all day. They just sat in the pew, praying, talking to Him, listening. No food. No drink. No fatigue. Just Jesus. “I look at Him. He looks at me.” 

I do not ask why—that should be obvious—but how? How can one stay in one place all day? How can one not be fatigued? It is almost as if abiding in Christ brings rest, and meddling excessively in the modern Catholic mess brings fatigue. It is as though there is complete and utter truth in the words, “Come to me, all you that labor, and are burdened, and I will refresh you.” 

Be it three years later or two thousand years later, it doesn’t matter. These words remain and still beckon. Could I not learn from them somehow? Could I not live them someday?

Perhaps this Francis Fatigue can be abandoned yet, for something greater.