What If Religion Was Never About Faith

The world watched in astonishment as the Conclave of Cardinals made an unprecedented decision—electing Robert Francis Prevost, the first U.S. citizen, as Pope Leo XIV. The New York Times called it a defining moment, but such an event was once unthinkable. As European monarchs battled for supremacy for centuries, the Papacy was more than a spiritual guide—it was a political force. Popes didn’t merely bless rulers; they shaped their destinies. Their decrees dictated the course of empires, subtly aligning governance with royal ambitions and Church priorities. The Vatican was never simply an institution within power—it was power itself.

This power has long existed as a duality, mirroring the doctrines of good and evil that the Church preaches. Some Popes championed education beyond the nobility, fostering creativity, funding masterpieces, and encouraging intellectual exploration. Others feared an educated underclass, seeing it not as a vessel for enlightenment but as a threat to their control.

When suppression failed, the clergy’s attempts to contain knowledge collapsed under the weight of individual curiosity. In that tension lies an uncomfortable question: What if religion were never about faith? Some may call such speculation heretical—an affront to Christian doctrine. It is not. It is a challenge to the spectacle of papal succession itself. What about this ritual commands global attention? Who truly benefits when a new Pope ascends? And now, with the first American holding this seat of power, what does it signify? Is this a moment of spiritual renewal, or merely another chapter in the Vatican’s long, unbroken tradition of institutional strategy? If religion was never about faith, then what was its true purpose? Was it about control—carefully crafting influence over rulers and shaping the course of empires? Was it a pursuit of wealth and status, hidden beneath divine justification? Or was it about securing its place within governance, ensuring no separation between Church and state power?

The Vatican has survived centuries of upheaval, adapting, evolving, and remaining at the center of influence. Now, with an American holding the title of Pope, does this mark a transformation—or merely another chapter in its long tradition of institutional strategy?” For centuries, Popes didn’t simply exist alongside monarchs; they controlled them. Papal decrees didn’t merely guide rulers—they were dictates to them. Consider Pope Gregory VII’s Investiture Controversy, where he directly challenged imperial authority, a controversy that lasted for fifty years, or Pope Innocent III, who wielded immense political power over European dynasties, making and breaking kings at will. The Church wasn’t just an institution of faith. It was a mechanism of influence that secured control over political structures.

This duality, the Church as both a source of enlightenment and suppression, shaped the fate of nations. Some Popes championed education, funding the Renaissance’s most significant artists and thinkers. Others feared that literacy among the masses would unravel their power, leading to bans on books, restrictions on intellectual freedom, and censorship under the Index Librorum Prohibitorum (Index of Forbidden Books). Which brings one to an uncomfortable question: Was religion ever truly about faith? Some may call this heresy, but it is simply a challenge to the spectacle of papal succession itself. What forces command global attention in this selection process? Who benefits from the elevation of a new Pope? And now, the first American assuming the role, does this mark the Vatican’s adaptation to global power shifts, or is it another moment where faith serves something greater than belief itself?

The Vatican has survived upheaval, adapting, evolving, and remaining at the center of influence. Now, with an American holding the title of Pope, does this mark a transformation or merely another strategic evolution?

History offers an unsettling precedent. Even Popes celebrated for their reformist ideals, such as Leo XIII, who championed the working class, operated within the same structures that ensured the Church’s survival. His Rerum Novarum encyclical spoke of justice for laborers, yet it also reinforced the Church’s presence in shaping social policy. Will Pope Leo XIV usher in genuine transformation, or does his leadership reaffirm the Vatican’s enduring mastery of adaptation?” For centuries, Popes didn’t simply exist alongside monarchs; they controlled them. Papal decrees didn’t merely guide rulers—they were dictates to them.

Consider Pope Gregory VII’s Investiture Controversy, where he directly challenged imperial authority, a controversy that lasted for fifty years, or Pope Innocent III, who wielded immense political power over European dynasties, making and breaking kings at will. The Church wasn’t just an institution of faith. It was a mechanism of influence that secured control over political structures.” As centuries passed, the Vatican’s grip on monarchy loosened—not by choice, but by necessity. The rise of nation-states, secular governance, and economic liberalism forced the Church to adapt.

When Pope Leo XIII issued Rerum Novarum in 1891, the Papacy was no longer the supreme ruler of kings but a force that shaped policy through ideological influence rather than direct decree. Leo XIII’s encyclical framed the Church as an advocate for the working class. Yet, it ensured Catholic doctrine remained central to labor policy, reinforcing the Vatican’s relevance in a rapidly industrializing world. With Pope Leo XIV assuming the seat of power, the Church faces another pivotal moment. Unlike past Popes who dictated governance to monarchs, Leo XIV must operate within a world where religious institutions influence policy through moral authority rather than decree. Is his leadership continuing the Vatican’s ability to adapt from direct rulership to ideological persuasion? Or does he represent a shift in direction that might reassert Catholic power in a way that echoes the political control of earlier centuries?”

With Pope Leo XIV assuming the seat of power, the Church faces another pivotal moment. Unlike past Popes who wielded direct control over monarchs, Leo XIV must operate within a world where religious institutions shape policy through influence rather than decree. His leadership represents the Vatican’s continued evolution—adapting, positioning itself within modern political structures, and navigating power dynamics without overt command. History offers an unsettling precedent. Even Popes celebrated for their reformist ideals, such as Leo XIII, who championed the working class, operated within the same structures that ensured the Church’s survival.

His Rerum Novarum encyclical spoke of justice for laborers, yet it also reinforced the Vatican’s presence in shaping social policy. The world is watching and wondering what this new Pope will do. What direction will he take the Catholic Church, and how will he interact with the current leaders? The citizens of countries that have embraced autocratic governance are paying the price, while the wealthy see their wealth increase at the expense of others who face a daily struggle. Many in those countries are of the Catholic faith and wonder what this new Pope can do for them. The days of papal edicts from the Pope that once threatened excommunication would be utterly meaningless today.

The power of the Papacy has significantly diminished along with the Catholic Church’s stature. The world is watching and wondering what this new Pope will do. What direction will he take the Catholic Church, and how will he engage with the current power landscape? In an era where edicts and excommunications no longer dictate the influence of religious institutions, but by subtle negotiation within political and economic frameworks, the Church faces a different challenge. Nations embracing autocratic governance are witnessing growing inequality—the wealthy consolidating their fortunes while the working class struggles under systems designed to maintain their subjugation.

Many within those nations are of the Catholic faith and are left wondering what this new Pope can offer them. However, Leo XIV does not wield the authority of his predecessors; the days when Papal decrees could unmake monarchs are long past. The Vatican, once the undisputed architect of empires, now fights for relevance in a world where the battlefield is influence rather than control.

Will Leo XIV recognize this shifting terrain and position the Church as a meaningful force in shaping global ethics? Or will his leadership serve only as another carefully calibrated evolution in the Vatican’s long history of adapting without truly transforming? The answer, as always, lies not in faith alone—but in strategy.