The Council Hall buzzes with tension as I enter. Cardinals Antonelli, Lombardi, and Visconti sit together on one side of the long table, a united front. Other Curia members fill the remaining seats, their expressions ranging from curious to concerned. Cardinal Sullivan and Sister Lucia enter behind me, taking seats to my right. Father Tomás stands discreetly near the door, while Father Domenico, to everyone’s surprise, takes a seat directly beside me.
Several cardinals look surprised at Sister Lucia’s presence and Father Domenico’s prominent position. Women, even those as theologically accomplished as Lucia, rarely attend these high-level Curia meetings, and Father Domenico, while respected, has never been part of the upper inner circle.
“Thank you all for coming,” I begin, remaining standing as they all take their seats. “I understand Cardinal Antonelli wished to discuss security protocols.”
Antonelli clears his throat. “Yes, Holy Father. In light of recent events, we believe stricter measures are necessary to ensure your safety.”
“I appreciate your concern, Eminence. However, before we address that, I wish to discuss a matter of greater importance to the Church’s future.”
I see the flicker of confusion in Antonelli’s eyes, the subtle glance he exchanges with Lombardi.
“As you know, I’ve been reflecting deeply on our Church’s mission in the modern world. Prayer and recent events have led me to believe we must reexamine certain teachings that have become barriers between the faithful and God’s love.”
The room grows very still. I can almost feel the collective intake of breath.
“I am calling for a special synod to discuss three areas of Church teaching: our approach to homosexuality, the requirement of clericalcelibacy, and our understanding of marriage.”
Cardinal Lombardi’s face flushes dark red. “Your Holiness, surely you can’t be serious.”
“I am entirely serious, Eminence. The Church must evolve to better reflect Christ’s message of inclusive love.”
Cardinal Visconti leans forward, his jowls quivering with indignation. “Holy Father, with all due respect, these teachings are founded on centuries of tradition and scriptural interpretation. The natural law itself dictates the complementarity of man and woman. To question this is to question the very foundation of our moral theology.”
“And the vow of celibacy,” Lombardi adds sharply, “is a sacred commitment that allows priests to devote themselves fully to their flock without the distraction of family obligations. It is a gift, not a burden.”
Cardinal Antonelli’s approach is more measured, more dangerous. “Your Holiness, while I appreciate your pastoral concern, we must consider the unity of the Church. Such radical changes would create confusion among the faithful and potentially lead to schism. Is that truly what you wish your papacy to be remembered for?”
The implied threat hangs in the air—a reminder that popes who push too hard can find themselves isolated, undermined, or worse.
“Tradition is valuable, Cardinal Visconti,” I respond calmly, “but it is not infallible. Our understanding of scripture has evolved throughout Church history. Once, the Church used scripture to support slavery, to deny women basic rights, to condemn scientific discovery.”
“Those are false equivalencies,” Visconti sputters.
“Are they?” Sister Lucia speaks up, her voice steady. “If I may, Your Eminence. Regarding homosexuality, we must remember that Jesus himself never spoke against it. The passages most often cited come from Leviticus and certain Pauline letters, which also condemn eating shellfish and wearing mixed fabrics.”
Cardinal Lombardi scoffs. “This is absurd. Sister, you’re cherry-picking scripture.”
“No more than those who use isolated verses to condemn love between people of the same gender,” she counters. “When Jesus was asked about the greatest commandment, he said to love God and love your neighbour. He did not add exceptions.”
“As for clerical celibacy,” I continue, “we must remember this was not required in the early Church. Peter himself, our first Pope, was married.”
“A disciplinary tradition that has served the Church well for centuries,” Antonelli argues.
“Has it?” Cardinal Sullivan speaks up. “The Eastern Orthodox churches allow married priests, as do certain Catholic rites. Many Protestant denominations have married clergy. They serve their communities admirably.”
“We are not Protestants!” Lombardi pounds the table with his fist.
“No, we are not,” I agree calmly. “But we can learn from them, just as they can learn from us. Unity does not require uniformity.”
Cardinal Chen, who has been listening quietly, suddenly speaks. “If I may, Holy Father. In Asia, we face unique challenges in evangelization. One significant barrier is the perception that Catholic teaching on these matters is Western and colonial rather than truly universal. A thoughtful reconsideration might actually strengthen our witness, not weaken it.”
A murmur ripples through the room. Chen’s intervention is unexpected by most — while well respected, he is typically quiet during discussions at this level.
Cardinal Visconti seizes on this. “So we should change divine truth to make conversion easier? That is spiritual colonialism in reverse, accommodating eternal principles to temporal culture!”
“Is it divine truth we’re discussing, or human interpretation?” FatherDomenico asks quietly, speaking for the first time. All eyes turn to him, many with surprise that he would enter this debate, a humble father speaking up against powerful cardinals.
“The Church’s teaching on homosexuality has evolved significantly over time,” he continues. “From total silence in the early Church, to medieval penances, to our current language of ‘intrinsic disorder.’ Which of these represents divine truth, Eminence?”
