by: Vicki Yamasaki, founder and chair, Corpus Christi for Unity and Peace Contact: CUP@corpuschristiforunityandpeace.org
Dear Protectors of the Deposit of the Faith,
Let’s lift a glass and toast the late Pope Francis, who, over his twelve-year papacy, pulled off a miracle of sorts: he made me a better Catholic. While I acknowledge his beautiful focus on mercy, it was not through his eco-encyclicals that could double as UN manifestos, but through the relentless trial of his reign. As *UnHerd* so aptly put it, “Jorge Mario Bergoglio was unique in his extraordinary skill at destruction, sometimes creative, often not.” That destruction shook us to our core, yet through God’s grace and the grit of tradition, it forged in me—and likely in you—a fiercer faith, a holier resolve, and an ardent zeal for defending the Church through Corpus Christi for Unity and Peace.
Let’s not mince words: Francis’s papacy was a wild ride, and not the joyful kind at a parish festival. From his “who am I to judge?” soundbites to the theological landmines buried in Amoris Laetitia’s footnotes, we were gripping our rosaries like lifelines. Synods on “synodality”? Curbs on the Latin Mass? The Fiducia Supplicans bombshell that stunned continents by greenlighting same-sex blessings, defying biblical clarity on marriage? It was enough to make a saint weep. Add to that the shielding of figures like Zanchetta and Rupnik while sidelining stalwarts like Cardinal Burke, and you’ve got a recipe for traditionalist heartburn.
But here’s the twist: every Francis-induced headache drove me deeper into the Church’s timeless treasures. His heterodoxy—whether muddying communion for the divorced, winking at same-sex unions, or silencing protectors of the faith—forced me to crack open beloved teachings of early Church fathers and magnificent popes, memorize the Dubia like a war anthem, and pray the Veni Creator Spiritus with newfound fire. His “creative destruction,” as *UnHerd* dubbed it, obliterated my lukewarmness. It showed me the faith isn’t a comfy heirloom; it’s a citadel we must guard, dogma by dogma.
Cue Corpus Christi for Unity and Peace, our defiant procession where we courageous Catholics march, proclaiming the Truth to a world that’s lost its direction. Francis’s stumbles, like honoring Pachamama, or Fiducia Supplicans’s affront to Scripture, supercharged this mission. Every time he blurred the Church’s moral lines or restricted the Tridentine Rite, I doubled down on proclaiming the Truth – the Deposit of the Faith, witnessing to the unchanging truth: Christ is here, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. Corpus Christi became my banner, my way of shouting, “You can rewrite blessings, Holy Father, but you can’t rewrite the Word of God.”
And now, the snark softens to truth: Francis’s missteps made me holier. His papacy was a forge, teaching me to obey when I wanted to revolt, to pray for a pope daily I questioned, and to love the Church because the Church is not a frail man. It showed me unity doesn’t mean compromising truth, and peace doesn’t mean yielding to error. Through Corpus Christi, I turned tension into testimony—adoring the Eucharist, processing boldly with prayer rallies and education, and inviting others to meet the One who outshines every scandal, even a papal one.
So, thank you, Pope Francis, for unwittingly sparking my spiritual growth. Your “extraordinary skill at destruction” razed my complacency and built my resolve. As we continually pray for your soul, I’m grateful for the irony: your heterodoxy, from same-sex blessings to constant ambiguities, made me a stauncher defender of the faith, a prouder Corpus Christi marcher, and, yes, a holier Catholic.
Back to our beads, back to educating others on the Truth of the faith, friends. The conclave looms, and we’ve got a Church to defend.
In Christ and Through Our Lady,
Vicki Yamasaki, your Sister in Christ
P.S. Not marching with Corpus Christi for Unity and Peace yet? Grab a Rosary and join us. The Eucharist demands it, and Francis’s legacy requires it.