(LifeSiteNews) — My dear sons and daughters in Christ,

Welcome to another episode of A Shepherd’s Voice.

We have come to another moment in the life of the Church that calls for faith, for patience, and for clarity of soul. A new pope has been elected – Leo the Fourteenth – and I know that for many faithful Catholics, especially those who love the Church’s Tradition, this moment brings not only questions, but sorrows, concerns, and fears for the future. And yet, we also remember that every new pontificate begins with the possibility of grace. We do not know what he may yet do. We entrust him to God’s mercy, and we pray that he will be given the strength and courage to defend the faith with clarity and love.

It is no secret that this new Holy Father comes from the heart of a movement in the Church that has, over the last decades, distanced itself from doctrine, loosened its hold on tradition, and often sought to please the world more than to challenge it. These things must be said plainly, but they must be said not in bitterness, not in a spirit of rebellion, but in truth and love. At the same time, we must remember that a man’s past does not always dictate his future. God has worked surprising reversals in the hearts of leaders before, and He can do so again.

Let me begin, then, with a word from Sacred Scripture, one that has been a strength to the Church in every age of suffering:

“God is our refuge and strength: a helper in troubles, which have found us exceedingly” (Psalms 45:2).

We are not orphans. Christ is still with His Church. He reigns. Even in her Passion.

Today I want to share with you a reflection – not a condemnation, not a forecast of doom, but a reflection. And I want to do it by looking at two men who bear the same name: Leo XIII, and now, Leo XIV. Two men. Two moments in history. Two very different paths. And yet one Church. One crown. One crucified King.

Let us go back for a moment to Pope Leo XIII.

He was elected in 1878, after the long pontificate of Blessed Pius IX. The world was changing rapidly. The temporal power of the papacy had fallen. The Church was surrounded by the forces of modernism, socialism, atheism – and many inside the Church were already beginning to adapt themselves to the spirit of the age.

READ: What are Pope Leo XIV’s priorities and why did he choose that name?

And yet Leo XIII stood firm. He wrote Rerum Novarum, affirming the dignity of labor, but grounding it in divine law, not in revolutionary slogans. He issued more encyclicals on the Rosary than any pope in history. He composed the Prayer to St. Michael the Archangel. And he consecrated the entire world to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

He knew that modern errors could not be defeated with diplomacy alone. They had to be met with doctrine, with holiness, and with unwavering fidelity to the truth.

Pope Leo XIII was not a man of bombast. He was a man of vision. A man who looked evil in the face and answered with the full force of Catholic teaching. He didn’t dilute it. He didn’t disguise it. He proclaimed it. And in so doing, he gave the Church a sure compass for the century that followed.

Now we have another Leo. He has taken a name that carries great weight, and with it, perhaps, an unconscious prayer to follow in the footsteps of his namesake. We hope and pray that this name will inspire him to rise above the spirit of the age and take up the mantle of true shepherding.

And we do not yet know what he will write, or say, or do. But we do know where he comes from. We know the trajectory he has followed. And it is no secret that he has aligned himself with the progressive path charted by Pope Francis: a path that often places dialogue above doctrine, accompaniment above clarity, and pastoral adaptation above objective truth.

Again, I say this not in a spirit of rebellion, but in a spirit of sorrow – and resolve. Because you, the faithful, deserve to hear the truth plainly, and be reminded that your faith does not rest on the preferences or prudence of any one man. It rests on Jesus Christ. It rests on the Deposit of Faith. It rests on the promises of God, who said:

“Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matthew 16:18).

What does it mean when sometimes there seems to be failure in that promise? What does it mean when a Pope himself seems to lead the Church down a road of confusion?

It means this: that we are walking with Christ in His Passion.

This is not a metaphor. It is the reality of our time.

Just as Our Lord was crowned with thorns, mocked in royal garments, and proclaimed “king” by those who did not believe in His kingship, so too the Church, His Mystical Body, now endures a time when outward honor sometimes masks inward suffering. A time when the crown is not golden, but pierced. This is not the age of triumph. This is the Garden of Gethsemane.

But let us not despair. Let us remember: Christ was not less a King on Good Friday than He was on Easter Sunday. In fact, it was on the Cross that He reigned in the fullness of love. So, too, the Church does not lose her divine constitution when she is humiliated or misunderstood. She is being purified. She is being crucified with her Lord.

This is not the first time.

In the 4^th century, when St. Athanasius stood almost alone against the tide of Arianism – even when most of the bishops had fallen into error – he held fast to the Deposit of Faith. And it was said of him: “Athanasius contra mundum” – Athanasius against the world.

And he prevailed. Not by compromise. Not by silence. But by fidelity.

In our own day, the temptation is different. It is not open heresy, but quiet erosion. Not a hammer blow, but a slow dissolving of certainty. We are told: “Doctrines change,” “Tradition must evolve,” “The Spirit leads us beyond the Scriptures.” These are lies. They are old lies, dressed in new language. And they must be answered – not with anger – but with clarity, peace, and unshakable truth.

I urge you: know your faith. Read the Catechism – not the new revisions, but the perennial teachings. Read the councils. Read the encyclicals of Pope Leo XIII, Pope Pius X, and yes, even the warnings of Our Lady at Fatima, which spoke of great confusion within the Church.

But even as you read – do not become fearful. Be rooted. Firm. And filled with hope.

Because hope is not optimism. Hope is the virtue that believes in the promises of God even when everything visible seems to contradict them. Hope is what Our Lady had beneath the Cross. Hope is what the holy women had on Holy Saturday. And hope is what you must have now.

Listen to these words of St. Paul:

“We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are straitened, but are not destitute, we suffer persecution, but are not forsaken; we are cast down, but we perish not” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9).

That is the spirit of the Church in her Passion.

I know some of you are wondering, “What do we do now?” You feel disoriented. Maybe even betrayed. You may be tempted to withdraw entirely. But that is not the way.

Now is the time to deepen your prayer. Anchor yourself in the Holy Mass – especially the Traditional Latin Mass, where the clarity of doctrine and the sacrifice of the Cross are preserved so beautifully.

Now is the time to teach your children, not just to “be nice Catholics,” but to be saints. Warriors of virtue. Lovers of truth. Builders of the future.

Now is the time to support your faithful priests. To encourage your religious. To write letters, yes, but also to light candles. To fast. To offer reparation.

The devil wants you to give up. Christ wants you to stand at the foot of the Cross with Him.

And so I tell you: stand. Do not run. Do not curse. Do not slander. But do not lie, either. Do not say, “All is well,” when it is not. Speak the truth, in season and out of season. In love.

We are being sifted. And that is a grace.

As we look ahead, let us not look for earthly triumphs. Let us look to the Cross. The Cross is not the failure of the Church – it is her path. It is the throne from which Christ reigns. And now, in these times of confusion and suffering, we walk that same way with Him.

But remember: Calvary is not forever.

There is a Holy Saturday, yes – a silence. A waiting. But then comes Easter. And in every age, even in the darkest hour, God has raised up saints. He will do it again.

READ: As a priest, Pope Leo XIV opposed the Western media’s pro-LGBT lies and promoted truth

You may be tempted to think that because we now have a pope who will likely follow the liberal path of his predecessor – one who might pull the Church away from her doctrines, from her traditions, from clarity – that all is lost. But it is not so. We do not know the end of his story. Nor do we know what graces God may yet pour into his soul. Let us not judge. Let us instead pray fervently – not only for ourselves, but for him – that he will be a worthy successor of Peter, a lion who guards the flock.

Christ is not surprised. He is not defeated. The Church may be scourged. She may be crowned with thorns. But she is still His Bride. And He has not let go of her hand.

You may remember that Pope Leo XIII, after a vision of Satan’s power over the world, composed the Prayer to Saint Michael. He didn’t do it out of panic. He did it as a man of vision and strength. And we must follow him – not in fear, but in firmness.

“Saint Michael the Archangel, …”

Say it every day. Teach it to your children. Make it part of your armor.

And yes, draw strength from what is still good. There are many faithful priests. Many faithful bishops. Many families quietly holding on to the faith in their homes, their chapels, their schools. The Church is not dead. She is suffering – but suffering is not death.

Do not spend all your time reading scandal and sorrow. Read the Scriptures. Read the saints. Read the old popes. Fill your mind and soul with what is true, good, and beautiful. Do not live in a fog of discouragement. That’s what the enemy wants. You are sons and daughters of the King.

“For whatsoever is born of God, overcometh the world: and this is the victory which overcometh the world, our faith” (I John 5:4).

My message to you today is this: Do not abandon Peter’s boat – even when it seems to drift. Do not cast off the faith to which you were entrusted. Do not confuse the trials of the Church with her defeat.

From Leo XIII to Leo XIV. Remember, even if it is glory to trial, clarity to confusion, the papacy remains part of the divine plan – but it is not always a sign of approval. Sometimes it is a test. And sometimes, it is a crown of thorns.

Hold fast.

Hold fast to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. To the Immaculate Heart of Mary. To the truth handed down – not altered, not diluted – but burning with divine fire.

Let this moment purify your faith. Make it less about men and more about Christ. Let it drive you to your knees – not in despair, but in trust.

I do not know what the months ahead will bring. But I know this: Christ reigns. He reigns in His Passion. He reigns from the Cross. He reigns in you – if you remain faithful.

So go forward. Not with bitterness. Not with fear. But with the joy of the saints. The joy that suffers, yet sings.

May God bless you. May He strengthen you. May He preserve you in the one true faith.

“And the light shineth in darkness: and the darkness did not comprehend it” (John 1:5).

Let us walk as children of light.

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.