As the Church mourns the death of Pope Francis, the founder of Domus Dei joins with countless others in praying fervently for the repose of his soul. We commend him to the mercy of Almighty God, and we do so with sincerity. The Petrine office he held commands our respect, and as Catholics, we are bound to love the Church, her visible head on earth, and the divine structure Christ instituted.
Yet in this moment of mourning, we must also reject the temptation to surrender the airwaves to untruth. Already, we are seeing a surge of sentimental revisionism—glowing eulogies that ignore or downplay the grave confusion, pain, and division that so many of the faithful experienced under this pontificate. Out of a well-meaning desire to be respectful, many voices—even some among the traditionally minded—have begun to rewrite history in real-time. But we say with loving urgency: charity is not at odds with clarity. In fact, true charity requires clarity.
Silence in the face of injustice is not virtue. To pretend that the wounds inflicted during this pontificate never happened, simply because the shepherd has passed, would be to compound those wounds further. It would be to look away while the sheep—many of whom were ridiculed, exiled, or spiritually abandoned—are blamed once again for simply trying to remain faithful to what the Church has always taught, always practiced, and always held sacred.
Domus Dei exists, in part, to be a voice for these forgotten Catholics—those who were labeled “rigid,” “backwards,” or “Pelagian” for their love of tradition and reverence. We are not speaking up to “bash” the Pope. God forbid. We speak with gravity and sobriety. We speak so that the suffering of countless families, priests, and religious who were cut off from the traditional rites they loved—and often without explanation or compassion—will not be erased from history.
Yes, Pope Francis accomplished things that some found laudable. But he also issued Traditionis Custodes, a document that not only restricted the Traditional Latin Mass but implicitly cast suspicion on all who loved it. He displaced faithful bishops. He allowed confusion to flourish around marriage, sexuality, and Church discipline. He permitted ambiguity to stand where clarity was urgently needed. He cultivated a Church where the shepherds often appeared more tolerant of dissenters than of devout sons and daughters.
To speak of this now is not “too soon.” The time to speak is precisely now—when narratives are being shaped and when the suffering Church, particularly the Traditionalist faithful, are at risk of being swept aside once more. Truth is not a weapon. It is a healing balm when spoken in love. And love does not pretend wounds do not exist.
Pope Francis, like all of us, stands now before the judgment seat of God. We hope and pray that he died in His grace and entered into His mercy. But the effects of his pontificate remain with us. If we do not speak of them now, we allow future generations to inherit a false picture of the last decade—one painted in pastels, glossing over a reality that, for many, was marked by alienation and grief.
Domus Dei will remain steadfast in its mission: to promote the Catholic Faith in all its truth, beauty, and unbroken tradition. We pray for our former Pope, as we must. But we also speak for the Church that still suffers, still hopes, and still longs for a shepherd who will confirm his brethren in the fullness of Catholic truth—unambiguously, boldly, and with fatherly love.
May the Holy Popes of old intercede for the next Successor of Peter. And may the Church be blessed with a pontiff who will bind up her wounds, restore what was cast down, and allow all that is sacred, venerable, and fruitful in her Tradition to flourish once more.
“Charity leads me to warn you; truth forbids me to be silent.”
— St. Augustine of Hippo