The Bad Popes: How Can I Be Catholic When Some Popes Were So Terrible?

I love the Catholic Church. I believe she is the Church founded by Jesus Christ. I believe in the Eucharist, the sacraments, apostolic succession, the communion of saints, Sacred Scripture, Sacred Tradition, and the authority Christ gave to Peter and the apostles.

But I will be honest: the history of the “bad popes” bothers me.

It should bother us.

There have been popes who were saints, martyrs, reformers, theologians, missionaries, defenders of the poor, and courageous shepherds of souls. But there have also been popes who were worldly, corrupt, politically ruthless, immoral, negligent, or simply unworthy of the office they held. Some were not just “imperfect.” Some were scandalous.

As a Catholic, I do not think we help the Church by pretending otherwise.

The question is not, “Were there bad popes?” Yes, there were. The real question is: does the sinfulness of some popes disprove Catholicism?

I do not believe it does.

But I also do not believe Catholics should respond with denial, defensiveness, or blind loyalty to men who disgraced the office of Peter. The Catholic answer is not that every pope was holy. The Catholic answer is that Christ is holy, even when His ministers are not.

The Catholic Faith Is Not Built on the Personal Holiness of Every Pope

One of the biggest misunderstandings about Catholicism is the idea that Catholics believe the pope is perfect. We do not.

Catholics do not believe the pope is sinless. We do not believe every pope is automatically a saint. We do not believe every papal decision is wise. We do not believe every political opinion, administrative choice, appointment, personal action, or offhand comment of a pope is protected by the Holy Spirit.

Papal infallibility is much narrower than many critics realize. Vatican I taught that the pope is protected from error when, as supreme pastor and teacher of all Christians, he definitively defines a doctrine of faith or morals to be held by the whole Church. Vatican I also made clear that the Holy Spirit was not promised to Peter’s successors so they could invent new doctrine, but so they could guard and faithfully explain the apostolic deposit of faith.

That is very different from saying a pope cannot be corrupt, cowardly, foolish, immoral, political, vain, or personally sinful.

The Catechism says the visible bonds of unity in the Church include one faith received from the apostles, common worship and sacraments, and apostolic succession through Holy Orders. It also teaches that the Church of Christ “subsists in the Catholic Church,” governed by the successor of Peter and the bishops in communion with him, while also acknowledging that many elements of sanctification and truth exist outside her visible confines.

That means a Catholic does not have to defend evil. We defend the faith. We defend the sacraments. We defend the apostolic office. We defend Christ’s promise to His Church.

But we do not have to defend corruption.

The First “Bad Pope” Problem Was Peter Himself

This may sound shocking, but the problem of sinful Church leadership begins in the New Testament.

St. Peter was chosen by Christ. Jesus said to him, “You are Peter,” and gave him the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven. Catholics see this as foundational for the office of Peter and the papacy.

But Peter was not personally flawless.

Peter confessed Jesus as the Christ, but he also misunderstood Christ’s mission. He denied Jesus three times. He needed mercy. He needed restoration. In John 21, Christ did not restore Peter by pretending Peter had never fallen. He restored him by commanding him to feed His sheep.

Even after Pentecost, Peter could still be wrong in conduct. St. Paul says he opposed Cephas, meaning Peter, “to his face” because Peter’s behavior toward Gentile Christians was wrong. That passage matters because it shows that recognizing Peter’s authority does not mean pretending Peter can never be criticized.

So from the very beginning, Catholicism has never depended on the idea that Church leaders are personally sinless. The office is real. The grace is real. The authority is real.

But the man can still be weak.

The Church Is a Visible Kingdom, Not an Invisible Idea

This is also why I cannot accept the idea that Jesus came merely to reform first-century Judaism, or to start some vague, invisible, spiritual association of individual believers with no visible authority, no visible structure, and no visible family.

I believe Jesus came as the Messiah of Israel. He came not to abolish God’s promises, but to fulfill them. He came to restore, fulfill, and universalize the Kingdom of David — not as a temporary political kingdom limited to one nation, but as the Kingdom of God, open to all nations, with Christ Himself as King.

The angel Gabriel says this plainly at the Annunciation. Jesus would receive “the throne of David his father,” reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of His Kingdom there would be no end. That is royal, Davidic, kingdom language. It is not merely private spirituality. It is not merely an invisible religious feeling. It is a Kingdom.

This is one reason Catholics see such importance in Matthew 16. Jesus gives Peter “the keys to the Kingdom of heaven.” In Isaiah 22, the key of the House of David is associated with authority in the royal household. Catholics therefore see a typological connection: Peter is not a replacement for Christ, but the visible steward of Christ the King’s household. The Pope is not the true King. Christ is. But the Pope serves as the visible steward, servant, and vicar of the King.

This also helps explain Catholic devotion to Mary. If Jesus is the Davidic King, then Mary is not just another believer. She is the Mother of the King. In the Davidic kingdom, the queen mother held a special place. Catholic belief that Mary is Queen does not take glory away from Christ; it flows from who Christ is. The Catechism teaches that Mary was exalted by the Lord as “Queen over all things,” and Revelation 12 presents the image of a crowned woman associated with the birth of the Messiah.

The bishops, too, are not merely religious managers or motivational speakers. They are successors of the apostles. The Catechism teaches that Christ governs His Church through Peter and the other apostles, who are present in their successors: the Pope and the college of bishops.

I know some Christians disagree with this Catholic reading. I want to be fair about that. Many Protestants sincerely believe the Church is fundamentally the invisible fellowship of all true believers. Catholics also believe that God knows His own and that grace can work beyond visible Catholic boundaries. But Catholicism insists that the Church is not invisible only. She is visible, sacramental, historical, institutional, familial, and apostolic.

Vatican II teaches that the Church is “constituted and organized in the world as a society,” and that this visible social structure serves the Spirit of Christ in building up the Body of Christ. It also teaches that the Roman Pontiff is the “perpetual and visible principle and foundation of unity” of both bishops and faithful, while each bishop is a visible principle of unity in his own particular church.

And this is where the scandal of bad popes becomes painful, but understandable.

If the Church is a visible Kingdom, a visible family, a visible Body, and a visible household, then she will have visible leaders. And because those leaders are men, they will sometimes be sinful men. Some will be weak. Some will be foolish. Some will be worldly. Some, tragically, will be corrupt.

A visible Church will have visible wounds.

But that does not disprove the Church. In a strange way, it proves exactly what Catholicism teaches about the Church on earth: she is holy because Christ is holy, but she is also made up of sinners who constantly need purification, repentance, and reform.

This is why anti-Catholic arguments often miss the point. They act as if Catholics believe our hope is in the Pope, or in bishops, or in priests, or in any man. We do not. We respect the offices Christ established. We believe authority matters. We believe apostolic succession matters. We believe the Pope and bishops have real responsibilities in the household of God.

But our hope is not in them.

Our hope is in Jesus Christ.

The Pope is not the head of the Church in the ultimate sense. Christ is. The bishops are not the source of grace. Christ is. Priests do not save us by their own power. Christ saves. The Church’s leaders matter because Christ chose to work through visible instruments, but those instruments remain human, fragile, and accountable to God.

So when I see bad popes in history, I do not have to pretend they were good. I can say they were bad. I can say they sinned. I can say they wounded the Church. But I do not have to conclude that Christ abandoned His Church.

A bad steward does not mean there is no King.

A corrupt servant does not mean there is no Master.

A sinful pope does not mean there is no Christ.

It means the Church, like Israel before her, is a divine mystery carried in human hands. And sometimes those hands are dirty.

So How Bad Were the Bad Popes?

Some were very bad.

Pope Stephen VI is remembered for one of the strangest and most disturbing episodes in Church history: the Cadaver Synod. In 897, the corpse of Pope Formosus was exhumed, placed on trial, stripped of papal vestments, mutilated, and thrown into the Tiber River. Later, the Church reversed the actions against Formosus and recognized the validity of his ordinations.

Pope John XII, who reigned in the tenth century, is often listed among the most immoral popes. The Catholic Encyclopedia describes him as a “coarse, immoral man” and says the Lateran was spoken of as a brothel under him. That is not an anti-Catholic source saying this. That is a Catholic source acknowledging a shameful reality.

Pope Benedict IX was another disgraceful figure. The Catholic Encyclopedia bluntly calls him “a disgrace to the Chair of Peter.” He came from a powerful Roman family, treated the papacy almost like a family possession, and was involved in one of the most chaotic periods in papal history.

Pope Alexander VI, Rodrigo Borgia, is perhaps the most infamous Renaissance pope. His name became associated with nepotism, political intrigue, and sexual immorality. Catholic sources acknowledge the scandals surrounding his children and his family favoritism, while historians also recognize that some stories about the Borgias were exaggerated by enemies and later legend.

Pope Leo X was not necessarily “evil” in the same dramatic way as some others, but his worldliness and financial mismanagement helped set the stage for the Protestant Reformation. The Catholic Encyclopedia says jubilees and indulgences were degraded almost entirely into financial transactions during his pontificate, and that Leo left the papacy deeply in debt.

Catholics can and should defend the doctrine of indulgences properly understood, but we should be honest that abuses surrounding indulgences caused real scandal. The Church herself later acted against financial abuses connected to indulgences; New Advent notes that St. Pius V canceled grants of indulgences involving fees or other financial transactions.

These stories are ugly. They should make Catholics uncomfortable. They make me uncomfortable.

But discomfort is not the same as disbelief.

The Catholic Defense Is Not to Defend the Indefensible

A Catholic should never say, “Those popes did nothing wrong.”

That is not apologetics. That is propaganda.

The better Catholic response is this: the sins of bad popes prove the reality of sin, not the falsehood of the Catholic faith.

Bad popes show us what happens when sacred office is treated as power instead of service. They show us what happens when politics, money, family ambition, lust, pride, and corruption enter the sanctuary. They show us why reform is necessary. They show us why the Church must always return to repentance.

The Catholic Church does not ask me to call evil good. In fact, Catholic morality requires the opposite. Sin is sin, even when committed by clergy. Scandal is scandal, even when caused by a pope.

I can defend the papacy without defending every pope.

I can defend apostolic succession without defending nepotism.

I can defend the Eucharist without defending corruption.

I can defend the Catholic faith without pretending every Catholic leader lived it well.

That distinction is everything.

Did Bad Popes Disprove Papal Infallibility?

No, because papal infallibility does not mean papal impeccability.

“Infallibility” means protection from error under specific conditions when the pope definitively teaches the universal Church on faith and morals. “Impeccability” would mean the inability to sin. Catholics do not believe popes are impeccable.

A pope can sin personally. A pope can govern badly. A pope can be a poor administrator. A pope can be politically reckless. A pope can appoint the wrong people. A pope can fail to discipline corruption. A pope can be arrogant, weak, worldly, or immoral.

None of that is the same thing as the Church solemnly binding all Catholics to heresy as part of the deposit of faith.

That is why the bad popes are a scandal, but not a disproof of Catholicism.

In some strange way, they may even point to something deeper. If the Church were merely a human institution, some of these men should have destroyed her. Yet the Mass survived. The sacraments survived. Scripture survived. The creeds survived. Apostolic succession survived. The saints kept coming. Reform kept happening. The Church was wounded, sometimes terribly, but not destroyed.

To me, that does not excuse the scandals. But it does suggest that the Church is held together by something greater than the personal virtue of her worst leaders.

Why Would God Allow Such Men to Become Pope?

This is the hardest question.

I do not know the full answer. No Catholic does.

But Scripture shows us again and again that God works through flawed people. David was chosen by God and still committed grave sins. Peter denied Christ. Judas was one of the Twelve. The apostles argued about greatness. Early Christian communities were filled with conflicts, scandals, and divisions.

God’s people have always needed purification.

That does not mean God approves of evil. It means God can remain faithful even when His people are not.

The bad popes are not proof that sin does not matter. They are proof that sin matters very much. Their sins wounded souls. Their scandals damaged the credibility of the Church. They gave ammunition to enemies of Catholicism and caused confusion among the faithful.

But the sins of men do not erase the promises of Christ.

Jesus did not promise that every shepherd would be holy. He promised that the gates of hell would not prevail against His Church.

A Catholic Can Be Loyal Without Being Blind

This is where I think Catholics need balance.

Some Catholics are so embarrassed by Church history that they begin to doubt everything. Others are so defensive that they refuse to admit anything bad happened. I do not think either approach is right.

A mature Catholic should be able to say:

Yes, there were bad popes.

Yes, some of them were very bad.

Yes, their sins caused scandal.

Yes, Catholics should be honest about that.

No, their sins do not disprove the Eucharist.

No, their sins do not erase apostolic succession.

No, their sins do not invalidate the sacraments.

No, their sins do not make Jesus Christ untrue.

No, I do not have to leave the Church because some men were unworthy of leading her.

That is not blind loyalty. That is faith with open eyes.

How Can I Be Catholic If So Many Popes Were Horrible?

I can be Catholic because my faith is not in the personal holiness of every pope.

My faith is in Jesus Christ.

I am Catholic because of the Eucharist. I am Catholic because of the sacraments. I am Catholic because of the apostolic faith handed down through the centuries. I am Catholic because I believe Christ gave real authority to His Church. I am Catholic because the Church, despite the sins of her members, still gives us Christ.

I remain Catholic not because every pope was worthy of the office, but because I believe Christ established a visible Church, a visible household, and a visible Kingdom — and because Christ, not the Pope, is the true King and final Head of that Church.

The bad popes humble me. They remind me not to idolize Church leaders. They remind me that Catholics must never confuse the Kingdom of God with clerical politics. They remind me that the Church must always be purified, always repentant, always returning to Christ.

They also remind me that I am a sinner too.

It is easy to look at the bad popes and feel disgust. Sometimes we should feel disgust. But I also have to ask myself: have I always lived the Gospel perfectly? Have I never been selfish, proud, lustful, cowardly, angry, dishonest, or worldly? The difference is that my sins are not recorded in history books. Their sins were.

That does not excuse them. It only reminds me why every Catholic, from the pope to the newest convert, needs mercy.

The Church Is Holy Because Christ Is Holy

The Catholic Church is not holy because every Catholic is holy.

The Church is holy because Christ is holy.

The Church is holy because her soul is the Holy Spirit. She is holy because her sacraments give grace. She is holy because her doctrine comes from Christ and the apostles. She is holy because saints continue to rise from her even in dark times.

But her members are sinners. Her clergy are sinners. Her bishops are sinners. Her popes are sinners.

Some popes became saints.

Some became scandals.

Christ remains Christ.

That is why I can stay Catholic. Not because every pope was good, but because Jesus is good. Not because every shepherd was faithful, but because the Good Shepherd is faithful. Not because the Church’s human history is spotless, but because grace is stronger than sin.

A bad pope can disgrace the Chair of Peter.

He cannot erase the promise of Christ.

A corrupt pope can wound the Church.

He cannot make the Eucharist cease to be Christ.

A sinful pope can cause scandal.

He cannot destroy the Gospel.

So yes, the bad popes were real. Some were horrible. Catholics should admit that honestly.

But I am still Catholic because my faith is not built on the perfection of men.

It is built on Jesus Christ, who chose Peter knowing Peter would fall, restored him after his denial, and still told him:

Feed my sheep.

A Short Catechism-Style Answer

Q: How can you be Catholic knowing some popes were so bad?

A: I am not Catholic because every pope was holy. I am Catholic because Christ is holy, and because I believe He founded a visible Church with real authority, real sacraments, and real apostolic succession.

Bad popes can disgrace the office of Peter, but they cannot destroy the promise of Christ.

A Catholic Reflection on American Independence Day and America’s 250th Birthday Why Catholics Should Reflect on the Fourth of July

 

Faith and Freedom

A Catholic Reflection on American Independence Day and America’s 250th Birthday

Why Catholics Should Reflect on the Fourth of July

This year, July 4th carries special meaning. In 2026, the United States marks its 250th birthday—the Semiquincentennial of American independence. Two and a half centuries have passed since the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and this milestone invites us not only to celebrate with fireworks, flags, parades, and family gatherings, but also to reflect more deeply on the meaning of freedom itself.

For Catholics, Independence Day is not merely a civic holiday. It is an opportunity to thank God for the blessings of liberty, to pray for our country, and to examine whether we are using our freedom well. Many Catholic churches across the country will mark this historic anniversary with special Masses, prayers, adoration, and patriotic observances. Here in San Diego’s Little Italy, Our Lady of the Rosary Catholic Church—an Italian National Parish and a beloved spiritual home for generations of Catholics—will also be among the churches honoring this moment with a special Mass.

That is fitting. The Mass is the highest prayer of the Church. Before we debate politics, celebrate national pride, or worry about the future, we first turn to God. We bring our nation, our leaders, our families, our soldiers, our communities, and our divisions before the altar of Christ.

In today’s digital age—flooded with opinions, arguments, headlines, and endless commentary—Catholics are constantly exposed to competing visions of politics, culture, and freedom. For me personally, this climate has led to deeper reflection: What does it really mean to be free? How do I, as a Catholic, live out patriotism in a way that is faithful, humble, and grounded in truth?

July 4th offers not only a chance to celebrate America, but also a sacred opportunity to reexamine the Catholic vision of freedom and how we can serve our nation by first serving God.

The Catholic Foundations of American Liberty

Catholics were once a small and often mistrusted minority in the early days of the American Republic. Yet many of the ideals expressed at the Founding—human dignity, natural law, religious liberty, and inalienable rights—echo truths long taught by the Catholic Church.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal,
that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights…”
—Declaration of Independence, 1776

This language aligns closely with the Catholic belief that every human person possesses inherent dignity because every person is created in the image and likeness of God.

Genesis tells us:

“God created mankind in his image;
in the image of God he created them.”
—Genesis 1:27

The rights of the human person do not come from the State. They do not come from political parties, courts, kings, presidents, or popular opinion. They come from God. Government exists to recognize and protect those rights, not to invent or abolish them.

Early American Catholics understood this well. Charles Carroll of Carrollton, the only Catholic signer of the Declaration of Independence, placed his name on the founding document of a new nation. His cousin, Father John Carroll, later became the first bishop in the United States and helped guide the young American Catholic Church through a new era of religious liberty.

Bishop Carroll once wrote:

“The Constitution is wisely framed to secure, without any danger to liberty or conscience, the rights of every religious denomination.”

For Catholics, this is one of the great blessings of the American experiment: the freedom to worship God, to build churches, to educate our children, to serve the poor, to speak the truth, and to live our faith openly.

America at 250: Gratitude, Memory, and Responsibility

A 250th birthday is not only a celebration. It is a moment of examination.

America has given many blessings to the world: constitutional government, religious freedom, representative democracy, opportunities for immigrants, and a civic ideal that insists human beings are not subjects of a ruler but citizens with dignity. For generations, Catholics—Irish, Italian, Polish, German, Mexican, Filipino, Vietnamese, African, Native, and many others—have helped build this nation through labor, sacrifice, military service, parish life, education, public service, and family.

Italian Americans especially know what it means to love both faith and country. Our ancestors came to America seeking work, dignity, safety, opportunity, and a future for their children. Many were poor. Many were looked down upon. Many faced prejudice. Yet they built churches, opened businesses, worked dangerous jobs, served in the armed forces, and passed on both Catholic faith and love of country.

That is why a special Mass for America’s 250th anniversary means so much. It reminds us that our patriotism is not merely sentimental. It is prayerful. We do not worship the nation, but we do thank God for the good we have received through it. We also ask God to purify, guide, and strengthen our country so that America may live up to its highest ideals.

What the Church Teaches About True Freedom

The Catholic understanding of freedom goes far beyond individual autonomy. Freedom is not simply doing whatever we want. True freedom is the ability to choose the good, to live in truth, and to become the people God created us to be.

St. John Paul II famously said:

“Freedom consists not in doing what we like, but in having the right to do what we ought.”

Pope Benedict XVI warned that freedom detached from truth can become destructive:

“When freedom does not have a purpose, when it does not wish to know anything about the rule of law engraved in the hearts of men and women… it ends up being self-destruction.”
—Pope Benedict XVI, Address at the White House, 2008

The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches:

“Freedom is the power, rooted in reason and will, to act or not to act… to perform deliberate actions on one’s own responsibility.”
—CCC 1731

And again:

“The more one does what is good, the freer one becomes.”
—CCC 1733

This is a powerful reminder for Americans. We live in a country that prizes liberty, but liberty without virtue becomes license. Freedom without truth becomes confusion. Rights without responsibility become selfishness. A society that forgets God may still use the language of freedom, but it risks losing the moral foundation that makes freedom meaningful.

In short, freedom is for love, for truth, for goodness, and ultimately for God.

The Church at Prayer for the Nation

As Catholics gather this year for special Masses marking America’s 250th birthday, we should remember what we are doing. We are not turning the altar into a political platform. We are not confusing the Kingdom of God with any earthly nation. We are doing something deeper and more Catholic: we are praying for the country in which God has placed us.

At Mass, we ask God to bless America—not because America is perfect, but because America needs grace. We pray for our leaders—not because we agree with every leader, but because Scripture commands us to pray for those in authority. We pray for peace, justice, religious liberty, the protection of life, care for the poor, healing among divided communities, and a renewed respect for truth.

A special Mass at Our Lady of the Rosary in San Diego’s Little Italy is especially meaningful because that parish stands at the crossroads of faith, heritage, immigration, and American life. It represents generations of Catholics who brought their traditions to this country, loved their ancestral homelands, and also became part of the American story.

That is Catholic patriotism at its best: grateful, prayerful, humble, and rooted in God.

Faithful Citizenship and the Christian Duty to Society

The Catholic Church does not teach withdrawal from society. Catholics are called to participate faithfully in public life. This includes voting, public service, charity, community leadership, peaceful advocacy, and moral witness.

Democracy, the Church teaches, can be a just system when it is rooted in truth, human dignity, and moral order.

Pope St. John Paul II wrote:

“An authentic democracy is not merely the result of a formal observation of rules, but is the fruit of a convinced acceptance of the values that inspire democratic procedures.”
—Centesimus Annus, 46

He also warned:

“Democracy without values easily turns into open or thinly disguised totalitarianism.”
—Centesimus Annus, 46

The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church teaches:

“The Church… esteems the democratic system inasmuch as it ensures the participation of citizens in making political choices, guarantees to the governed the possibility both of electing and holding accountable those who govern them.”
—Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church, §406

This means Catholics should care about the moral health of the nation. We should care about the unborn, the poor, the elderly, the immigrant, the worker, the family, religious liberty, human dignity, public safety, peace, and the common good.

We will not always agree with one another politically. Catholics can and do disagree about policies, candidates, parties, and practical solutions. But we must never allow political identity to become more important than our identity in Christ.

St. Augustine, writing in The City of God, reflected on what binds a people together:

“A people is an assemblage of rational beings bound together by a common agreement as to the objects of their love.”
—St. Augustine, City of God, Book XIX

That question remains urgent for America at 250: What do we love? Do we love truth? Do we love life? Do we love justice? Do we love God? Or have we become united only by anger, entertainment, comfort, and division?

A nation’s future depends not only on its laws, but on the loves of its people.

Gratitude and Vigilance: Catholic Patriotism

We thank God for our freedoms in America. But we also acknowledge that freedom is fragile. It must be guarded, renewed, and handed on.

True patriotism does not mean pretending that one’s country has no faults. Nor does it mean despising one’s country because it has failed at times. Catholic patriotism means loving one’s country enough to pray for it, serve it, correct it when necessary, and call it toward virtue.

As the Second Vatican Council taught:

“Citizens should cultivate a generous and loyal spirit of patriotism, though without narrow-mindedness.”
—Gaudium et Spes, 75

That phrase is important: patriotism, but not narrow-mindedness. We can love America without idolizing it. We can honor the flag without forgetting the Cross. We can celebrate freedom while remembering that the highest freedom is not political, but spiritual.

Our love of country must be shaped by our love of God. Our politics must be purified by our faith. Our civic life must be guided by conscience. Our freedoms must be ordered toward truth, goodness, and charity.

A Prayer for America at 250

God of our fathers,
You guided generations before us through trial, sacrifice, hope, and renewal.
As our nation marks 250 years of independence,
we thank You for the gift of freedom
and for all who have labored, prayed, served, and sacrificed for this country.

Bless the United States of America.
Protect our religious liberty.
Strengthen our families.
Guide our leaders with wisdom and humility.
Heal our divisions.
Defend the vulnerable.
Convert our hearts.
Help us to use freedom not for selfishness, but for truth, love, and service.

May we, as Catholics, be salt and light in our communities.
May we defend life, uphold human dignity, seek justice, and serve the common good.
And may our nation never forget that true liberty finds its highest purpose in You.

Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.

Final Thought

As a Catholic American, I celebrate Independence Day not only as a historical anniversary, but as a spiritual reminder. Freedom is a gift, but it is also a task. We are called to defend it, use it well, and order it toward the highest good: God Himself.

This year, as America celebrates its 250th birthday, may we do more than wave flags and watch fireworks. May we go to Mass. May we pray for our country. May we thank God for our blessings. May we ask forgiveness for our failures. May we recommit ourselves to faith, family, virtue, and service.

May we never take liberty for granted.
May we never forget that rights come from God.
And may we always remember that the greatest freedom is the freedom to love and serve Christ.

For factual grounding: America250 describes July 4, 2026, as the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and the USCCB has also encouraged Catholic participation through “250 Hours of Adoration” leading up to the anniversary. Our Lady of the Rosary’s parish site confirms its regular Mass life in San Diego’s Little Italy.

 

Did Catholic Christianity Copy Mithraism? A Fair Catholic Response to the Jesus-Mithras Conspiracy Theory

One of the more common claims made against Christianity online is that Catholic Christianity is not really the worship of Jesus Christ at all, but simply Mithraism repackaged under a new name. According to this theory, Jesus is just Mithras renamed, the Eucharist is just a Mithraic meal, Christmas is just the birthday of Mithras, Sunday worship is just sun worship, and the Catholic Church supposedly covered it all up.

As a Catholic, I obviously do not believe that. But I also do not want to answer a historical claim with fear, defensiveness, or slogans. Catholicism has nothing to lose from honest historical study. Pope St. John Paul II famously wrote in Fides et Ratio, “Faith and reason are like two wings.” That is the spirit in which I want to approach this question: faithfully, but also fairly.

So, did Christianity copy Mithraism? Were Catholics really worshipping Mithras under the name of Jesus?

The short answer is no. There were some real surface similarities between early Christianity and the Roman cult of Mithras, especially because both existed in the same Greco-Roman world. But the popular conspiracy theory goes far beyond the evidence. It turns partial parallels, later speculation, and internet mythology into a sweeping claim that serious historians do not generally support.

What Was Mithraism?

Mithras was connected to the older Iranian deity Mithra, associated with light, covenant, oath, justice, and the sun. But scholars distinguish between ancient Iranian Mithra worship and the Roman mystery cult of Mithras that flourished in the Roman Empire, especially among soldiers, officials, freedmen, and imperial servants.

The Encyclopaedia Britannica describes Roman Mithraism as prominent in the second and third centuries A.D., with underground sanctuaries, male initiates, ritual meals, initiation grades, and the famous image of Mithras slaying a bull. The Encyclopaedia Iranica article by Mithraic scholar Roger Beck is especially important because it notes that reconstruction is difficult: no full Mithraic sacred book or theology has survived. Much of what we know comes from inscriptions, archaeology, and symbolic art.

That matters. When someone says, “Mithras was born of a virgin, had twelve disciples, died, rose again, and saved mankind through his blood,” we should ask: Where is the ancient source? In many cases, there is none.

The Fair Case: Why Some People See Parallels

To be fair, the comparison did not come out of nowhere.

Mithraism and Christianity overlapped in the Roman Empire. Both used initiation language. Both had communal meals. Both used images of light and salvation. Both appealed to people seeking meaning in a religiously diverse empire. Both developed in a world filled with mystery cults, imperial cults, Jewish communities, Greek philosophy, Roman religion, and popular devotion.

Even early Christians noticed some similarities. St. Justin Martyr, writing in the second century, described the Christian Eucharist and then said that similar ritual elements appeared in the “mysteries of Mithras.” You can read this in his First Apology, chapter 66. Tertullian also mentioned Mithraic rites in The Prescription Against Heretics, chapter 40, including a forehead marking and an offering of bread.

So the honest Catholic answer is not: “There were no similarities at all.” There were similarities. The honest answer is: similarities do not prove copying, and they certainly do not prove that Jesus is Mithras.

This is where a warning from biblical scholar Samuel Sandmel is useful. In his famous essay “Parallelomania”, he warned against overdoing similarities and then assuming direct dependence. In simple terms: just because two religions both have meals, washing, light imagery, or initiation does not mean one is secretly the other.

The Problem with the “Jesus Is Mithras” Claim

The conspiracy theory usually depends on a list of alleged parallels. Let us look at the major ones.

Claim 1: “Mithras Was Born of a Virgin Like Jesus”

This is one of the most repeated claims, but it is not supported by the evidence.

In Christian belief, Jesus is born of the Virgin Mary. This is not a minor decorative detail. It is part of the doctrine of the Incarnation: the eternal Son of God truly became man. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that Christ was “conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit” and born of the Virgin Mary.

Mithras, by contrast, is usually shown emerging from a rock. The common phrase is petra genetrix, the generative rock. The site Mithras and Jesus, which collects and discusses many primary and scholarly references, notes that no ancient source gives Mithras a virgin birth story like the Gospel accounts.

A birth from a rock is not the same thing as the Incarnation. It is not Mary. It is not Bethlehem. It is not “the Word became flesh,” as St. John writes in John 1. The similarity is not really a similarity once the details are examined.

Claim 2: “Mithras Had Twelve Disciples Like Jesus”

This is another popular claim, but it is highly misleading.

Jesus had twelve apostles because His mission was rooted in Israel. The twelve apostles correspond to the twelve tribes of Israel. Christianity begins in a Jewish context: Abraham, Moses, David, the prophets, the Temple, the Passover, the expectation of the Messiah, and the covenant promises of God.

Mithraic art sometimes includes zodiac imagery. That is not the same as twelve historical disciples following a teacher through Galilee and Judea. The alleged “twelve disciples of Mithras” are usually a modern interpretation of zodiac symbols, not an ancient list of Mithraic apostles.

This is one of the biggest weaknesses of the conspiracy theory. It removes Jesus from His Jewish world and forces Him into a Roman mystery-cult framework that does not fit the New Testament.

Claim 3: “Mithras Died and Rose Again Like Jesus”

This is perhaps the most important claim, because Christianity stands or falls on the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

St. Paul summarized the apostolic proclamation in 1 Corinthians 15: Christ died, was buried, was raised, and appeared to witnesses. The Catechism calls the Resurrection “a real event” with historically witnessed manifestations.

Mithras, however, is not known from ancient sources as a crucified and resurrected savior. His central mythic act is the slaying of the bull, the tauroctony. He kills the cosmic bull, often in the presence of symbolic animals and celestial imagery. Mithras also banquets with Sol, the Sun. But this is not the Gospel story.

The claim that Mithras died on a cross, was placed in a tomb, and rose on the third day is not based on solid ancient evidence. It is a modern myth about an ancient mystery cult.

Claim 4: “The Eucharist Was Copied from Mithraic Meals”

This claim deserves a more careful answer because there really were Mithraic ritual meals.

The Mithraic sanctuaries had benches for sacred meals. Images show Mithras and Sol sharing a banquet. Early Christian writers knew that Mithraic initiates used bread and a cup in ritual settings. Justin Martyr mentions this directly.

But again, similarity is not identity.

The Christian Eucharist comes from the Last Supper, the Passover context, the words of Jesus, and the apostolic tradition. Justin says Christians received the Eucharist from the apostles and the Gospels. In First Apology, chapter 66, he says Christians do not receive the Eucharist as “common bread and common drink.” That is deeply Catholic language, already in the second century.

The Eucharist is not a generic sacred snack. It is the sacramental participation in the Body and Blood of Christ, rooted in Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross. The Catholic Mass is tied to Calvary, the Resurrection, and the covenant promises of God.

Could both Christians and Mithraists have ritual meals because ritual meals were common in the ancient world? Of course. Jews had Passover. Greco-Roman associations had banquets. Families had memorial meals. Temples had sacrificial meals. A shared meal does not prove plagiarism.

Claim 5: “Christmas on December 25 Proves Christianity Copied Mithras”

This is one of the most common online arguments.

First, Catholics should be honest: the Bible does not give the date of Jesus’ birth. The celebration of Christmas on December 25 developed later. There are serious historical debates about how and why that date became dominant in the West.

Some scholars argue that December 25 was chosen in relation to Roman solar symbolism or the festival of Sol Invictus. Others argue that Christians arrived at December 25 through calculations related to the date of Christ’s conception and death. Andrew McGowan’s article “How December 25 Became Christmas” gives a helpful overview of this debate.

But even if Christians used December 25 partly to answer or replace pagan solar festivals, that still would not prove that Jesus is Mithras. It would only show that Christians preached Christ in a world already full of religious calendars and symbols.

There is also a difference between Sol Invictus and Mithras. They are related in the broad world of solar imagery, but they are not simply identical. The claim that Mithras specifically had an ancient, well-established birthday on December 25 is much weaker than internet memes suggest.

As Catholics, we can say this plainly: Christmas is not the doctrine that Jesus was born on a mathematically certain date. Christmas is the celebration that the Son of God truly entered human history.

Claim 6: “Sunday Worship Is Really Sun Worship”

Christians worship on Sunday because Jesus rose from the dead on the first day of the week. That is the reason given by early Christian sources.

The Didache, an early Christian text, speaks of Christians gathering on the Lord’s Day to break bread and give thanks. Justin Martyr also describes Christians gathering on Sunday in First Apology, chapter 67, explicitly connecting Sunday worship to creation and the Resurrection of Jesus.

Yes, Sunday was also “the day of the Sun” in Roman language. Christians knew that. But they reoriented the day around Christ, not Mithras. The early Christians were not worshipping the sun; they were worshipping the Son.

This distinction matters. Christianity often took words, symbols, and cultural settings and redirected them toward Christ. That is not the same as paganism wearing a Jesus mask.

Christianity’s Roots Are Jewish, Not Mithraic

The deepest problem with the Mithras conspiracy theory is that it ignores the Jewish foundation of Christianity.

Jesus was Jewish. Mary was Jewish. Joseph was Jewish. The apostles were Jewish. The Mass is rooted in Passover, Temple sacrifice, synagogue readings, covenant theology, and the Last Supper. The titles “Messiah,” “Son of David,” “Lamb of God,” “Son of Man,” and “King of Israel” make sense first in a Jewish biblical world, not in a Mithraic cave.

The New Testament does not present Jesus as a sun-god who kills a bull. It presents Him as the fulfillment of Israel’s hope, the Word made flesh, the crucified and risen Lord.

St. Paul writes in Colossians 1 that all things were created through Christ and for Christ. That is not Mithraism. That is cosmic Christology rooted in Jewish monotheism and fulfilled in the doctrine of the Trinity.

The Second Vatican Council teaches in Dei Verbum that Jesus Christ is the Word made flesh and the fullness of revelation. The Church’s claim is not that Jesus is one more mystery god. The claim is that in Jesus, God has definitively revealed Himself.

What About Pagan Influence?

Here is where Catholics should be careful.

We do not need to claim that Christianity developed in a cultural vacuum. It did not. Christianity spread through the Roman Empire. Christians spoke Greek and Latin. They used existing artistic styles, philosophical vocabulary, calendars, buildings, legal categories, and cultural images. The Church Fathers sometimes used pagan philosophy to explain Christian truth. Christian artists sometimes adapted Roman visual language.

That does not make Christianity pagan. It means the Church evangelized real cultures.

The Catholic view has always been that truth can be found, at least partially, outside the visible boundaries of the Church. St. Justin Martyr spoke of the Logos, the Word, as the source of truth. Later Catholic theology would speak of “seeds of the Word” present among the nations. But those seeds are fulfilled in Christ; they do not replace Christ.

So, if someone says, “Christianity developed in a Greco-Roman world and sometimes used Greco-Roman language,” that is true.

If someone says, “Therefore Jesus is Mithras,” that is false.

What the Early Church Fathers Actually Show

Ironically, the early Christian references to Mithras do not prove that Christianity copied Mithraism. They prove that Christians were aware of pagan similarities and rejected pagan worship.

Justin Martyr and Tertullian believed the similarities were demonic imitations. A modern historian may not use that explanation, but the historical point still matters: Christians were not quietly admitting that Jesus was Mithras. They were insisting that Christian worship came from Christ and the apostles.

In fact, Justin’s description of the Eucharist is one of the great early witnesses to Catholic sacramental faith. He describes baptism, Sunday worship, Scripture readings, prayers, the Eucharist, deacons, charity for the poor, and the belief that the Eucharist is truly connected to the flesh and blood of Jesus Christ.

That looks much more like early Catholic Christianity than Mithraism.

Why the Conspiracy Theory Persists

The theory survives because it is simple, dramatic, and useful for anti-Christian polemics. It gives people an easy way to dismiss Christianity without seriously engaging Scripture, history, Catholic doctrine, or the early Church.

It also works because many people do not know much about Mithraism. Since the cult left behind mysterious images and few explanatory texts, it becomes easy for modern writers to project almost anything onto it.

But mystery is not evidence. Lack of evidence is not permission to invent details.

The historian’s job is not to ask, “Can I find something that sounds vaguely similar?” The historian’s job is to ask: What do the sources actually say? How early are they? Are the similarities specific or generic? Is there evidence of borrowing? Which direction would the borrowing go? Are we comparing real ancient beliefs or modern reconstructions?

When we ask those questions, the popular Jesus-Mithras theory largely falls apart.

A Catholic Conclusion

As a Catholic, I believe Jesus Christ is not Mithras, not a myth, not a recycled sun god, and not a pagan symbol renamed by the Church.

Jesus Christ is the eternal Son of God, born of the Virgin Mary, crucified under Pontius Pilate, risen from the dead, truly present in the Eucharist, and worshipped by the Church because He is Lord.

That is not blind faith against history. It is faith that can stand in the light of history.

Mithraism was a real and fascinating ancient religion. It deserves to be studied honestly. But honest study does not support the claim that Catholic Christianity is simply Mithraism in disguise.

There were surface similarities. There was a shared Roman world. There may have been cultural overlap in language, art, and symbolism. But the heart of Christianity—the Incarnation, the Cross, the Resurrection, the Trinity, the Eucharist, apostolic succession, and the fulfillment of Israel’s covenant—is not Mithraic.

The Catholic faith is not the worship of Mithras.

It is the worship of Jesus Christ, “true God from true God,” as the Nicene Creed declares, and as the Church continues to proclaim.

Suggested Sources and Further Reading

• Encyclopaedia Britannica: Mithraism

• Roger Beck, Encyclopaedia Iranica: Mithraism

• Mithras and Christianity

• Mithras and Jesus

• Samuel Sandmel, “Parallelomania”

• Jonathan Z. Smith, Drudgery Divine

• St. Justin Martyr, First Apology

• Tertullian, The Prescription Against Heretics

• The Didache

• Catechism of the Catholic Church: I Believe in Jesus Christ, the Only Son of God

• Catechism of the Catholic Church: The Resurrection

• USCCB Bible: John 1

• USCCB Bible: Colossians 1

• USCCB Bible: 1 Corinthians 15

• Vatican II, Dei Verbum

• Pope St. John Paul II, Fides et Ratio

• Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Dominus Iesus

• Andrew McGowan, “How December 25 Became Christmas”

 

President Trump, Pope Leo, and the Catholic Way to Disagree

Recent headlines have described a “feud” between President Donald Trump and Pope Leo XIV. As is often the case with politics, religion, and the media, the word “feud” may make the situation sound more dramatic than it needs to be. Still, there has clearly been public tension. Pope Leo has spoken strongly about war, peace, immigration, and human dignity, while President Trump has pushed back in his own direct style.

I write this as someone who leans Republican and conservative. I am a Trump supporter. At the same time, I do not always agree with President Trump, and I do not endorse everything he says or does. Sometimes I am even shocked or embarrassed by how he expresses himself. That does not mean I suddenly become less conservative, less Republican, or less grateful for policies I believe were good. It simply means that political support should never require blind agreement.

The same is true in our relationship with religious leaders. Catholics owe respect, reverence, and serious attention to the Holy Father and to the bishops. That does not mean every Catholic must agree with every prudential judgment, every political comment, or every policy application made by a pope, bishop, priest, or Catholic leader. Faithful Catholics can disagree. Politicians can disagree. Voters can disagree. Catholics in public life are not always going to see every issue in exactly the same way as the Pope or other Church leaders.

The question is not whether disagreement is allowed. The question is how we disagree.

In my opinion, President Trump had every right to disagree with Pope Leo. A president must make serious decisions about national security, foreign policy, immigration, law enforcement, and public order. The Pope, for his part, has a duty to preach the Gospel, defend human dignity, call for peace, and remind the world that power must be judged by moral truth. These two roles are different, and it should not surprise us when tension arises between them.

But I disagree with how President Trump expressed his disagreement. If I had been advising him, I would have said something much simpler: “I respectfully disagree with the Holy Father.” That would have been enough. No insults. No personal attacks. No need to make the disagreement uglier than it had to be. Sometimes saying less is not weakness. Sometimes saying less is wisdom.

Scripture gives us a better way. St. Paul tells us to “speak the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15). St. James tells us to be “quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19). St. Peter tells us to “honor everyone” (1 Peter 2:17). St. Paul also writes, “Let your speech always be gracious” (Colossians 4:6). These are not just nice religious sayings. They are instructions for Christian life, including political life.

The Catholic Church does not teach that disagreement is automatically sinful. In fact, the Code of Canon Law recognizes that the faithful may sometimes have the right and even the duty to make their concerns known to Church leaders. Canon 212 §3 says that Catholics, according to their knowledge and position, have the right and at times the duty to express their opinions on matters concerning the good of the Church. But the same canon adds important limits: this must be done while preserving faith and morals, showing reverence toward pastors, seeking the common good, and respecting the dignity of persons.

That is the Catholic balance. We are not called to be silent when conscience tells us something is wrong. We are also not free to be disrespectful, cruel, or reckless with our words.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church also helps us here. It teaches that conscience is sacred and that a person must not be forced to act against conscience, especially in religious matters (CCC 1782). But the Catechism also says conscience must be formed and enlightened (CCC 1783). We do not simply follow our first emotional reaction. We must pray, study, listen, reflect, and allow the teachings of Christ and His Church to shape our judgment.

That applies to all of us. It applies to popes, bishops, priests, presidents, voters, writers, and ordinary citizens. Before we post, speak, react, or attack, we should ask: Am I forming my conscience, or am I just defending my side? Am I seeking truth, or am I seeking victory? Am I speaking as a Christian, or only as a partisan?

The Catechism also teaches that citizens have the right, and sometimes the duty, to offer just criticism of public authorities when something seems harmful to human dignity or the common good (CCC 2238). That principle can apply in more than one direction. A pope may morally criticize political decisions. Citizens may criticize politicians. Politicians may disagree with religious leaders. But all of this should happen with truth, justice, charity, and respect.

This is especially important when the disagreement involves the Pope. Vatican II’s Lumen Gentium teaches that Catholics should show religious submission of mind and will to the authentic Magisterium of the Roman Pontiff, even when he is not speaking ex cathedra. That does not mean every papal comment on world affairs is an infallible dogma. It does mean Catholics should not dismiss the Pope casually, mock him, or treat him as just another political opponent.

At the same time, Catholic teaching recognizes prudence. Applying moral principles to specific policy questions can be difficult. The U.S. bishops have taught in Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship that prudential judgment is needed in areas such as armed conflict, housing, health care, immigration, and other public questions. This does not mean all choices are equally good, and it does not mean Church leaders should be ignored. It means Catholics must take Church teaching seriously while also making responsible judgments in concrete situations.

That is why this moment is useful for reflection. The issue is not simply Trump versus Pope Leo. The deeper issue is how Catholics should live when our political loyalties and religious responsibilities feel like they are pulling us in different directions.

For me, the answer is this: I can support President Trump politically without pretending he is always right. I can respect Pope Leo as the Holy Father without pretending I understand or agree with every prudential judgment he makes. I can remain conservative while still believing that political leaders should speak with dignity. I can remain Catholic while admitting that faithful Catholics sometimes wrestle with what Church leaders say about complex political issues.

But I cannot, as a Catholic, support contempt as a way of life.

The Catechism warns against rash judgment, detraction, and calumny. It says we should interpret our neighbor’s words and actions in a favorable way when possible (CCC 2478). That is not easy in today’s political climate. Social media rewards outrage. Cable news rewards conflict. Political tribes reward loyalty, even when loyalty means excusing words we would condemn if spoken by the other side.

Christ calls us higher.

Pope Benedict XVI wrote in Caritas in Veritate that charity and truth belong together. Love is not sentimental weakness, and truth is not a license to be harsh. Real charity seeks truth. Real truth must be spoken with charity. Pope Francis made a similar point in Fratelli Tutti, warning that public life collapses when truth is manipulated and human dignity is forgotten.

That is the standard Catholics should bring to political disagreement.

We can say, “I disagree with the Pope on this application.”
We can say, “I believe the president has a responsibility to protect the nation.”
We can say, “I think the Holy Father is right to remind us of peace, mercy, and human dignity.”
We can say, “This is a difficult issue, and Catholics of good will may struggle with it.”

But we should not reduce the Pope to a political enemy. We should not reduce the president to a caricature. We should not reduce each other to labels.

The Holy Father deserves respect. The President of the United States deserves respect. So do the people who agree with them, disagree with them, or feel torn between them. Respect does not mean silence. It does not mean weakness. It means recognizing that every human being is made in the image and likeness of God.

In the end, I wish President Trump had simply said: “I respectfully disagree with the Holy Father.” That would have been clear, strong, and dignified. It would have defended his position without tearing down the Pope. It would have shown that disagreement does not have to become disrespect.

That is a lesson all of us need, not only politicians.

In a divided age, Catholics should model a better way: truth without cruelty, conviction without contempt, patriotism without idolatry, and fidelity to the Church without turning every disagreement into a scandal.

We can disagree. But we must disagree as Christians.

 

Saint Anthony of Padua: A Feast of Faith, Bread, Lilies, and Italian Devotion in San Diego’s Little Italy

By Chris M. Forte

Every June, Catholics around the world celebrate one of the Church’s most beloved saints: Saint Anthony of Padua. His feast day falls on June 13, but in many parishes, especially Italian parishes and communities, the celebration is often moved to the nearest Sunday so more people can participate.

That was the case last Sunday at Our Lady of the Rosary Catholic Church in San Diego’s Little Italy, where the Feast of Saint Anthony was celebrated during the noon Mass. Since the noon Mass at Our Lady of the Rosary is the parish’s Italian Mass, the festa carried a special cultural and spiritual meaning. It was not only a Catholic devotion. It was also a living expression of Italian faith, memory, and community.

For a parish founded by and for Italian immigrants, the Feast of Saint Anthony is more than a date on the liturgical calendar. It is a reminder of how faith traveled with our ancestors across oceans, how saints became companions in hardship, and how Catholic traditions helped hold immigrant communities together in a new land.

Who Was Saint Anthony of Padua?

Saint Anthony of Padua was born in Lisbon, Portugal, in 1195. His baptismal name was Fernando Martins de Bulhões. Though he came from a noble family and received a strong education, he chose religious life at a young age. He first entered the Augustinian Canons, but after being inspired by the martyrdom of Franciscan missionaries, he joined the Order of Friars Minor, the community founded by Saint Francis of Assisi.

Taking the name Anthony, he became known as a brilliant preacher, teacher, theologian, and defender of the faith. He preached with clarity, courage, and deep love for the poor. His knowledge of Scripture was so profound that Pope Gregory IX reportedly called him a “living ark of the Testament,” a man whose mind and heart were filled with the Word of God.

Saint Anthony died near Padua, Italy, on June 13, 1231, at only 35 or 36 years old. He was canonized less than a year later, one of the fastest canonizations in Church history. In 1946, Pope Pius XII declared him a Doctor of the Church, honoring him as one of the great teachers of Catholic doctrine.

Yet for ordinary Catholics, Saint Anthony is not remembered only as a scholar. He is remembered as a saint close to the people.

He is the saint we ask for help when something is lost. He is the saint whose image often shows him holding the Child Jesus, a lily, or a book. He is the saint many families turn to in moments of worry, need, gratitude, and hope.

The familiar prayer says it simply:

“Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony, please come around. Something is lost and must be found.”

That little rhyme may sound simple, but behind it is a serious Catholic instinct: the belief that the saints are alive in Christ, that they pray for us, and that God’s grace reaches into the ordinary details of human life.

The Customs of Saint Anthony’s Feast

The Feast of Saint Anthony has many customs, especially in Italian, Portuguese, Brazilian, and other Catholic cultures. These traditions vary by region, but several are especially common.

One of the best-known customs is Saint Anthony’s Bread. The tradition is connected to stories of miracles and charity, especially the idea of giving bread or alms to the poor in thanksgiving for favors received through Saint Anthony’s intercession. In many churches, loaves of bread are blessed and distributed on or near his feast day.

This custom reflects something central to Saint Anthony’s life. He was not only a preacher of beautiful sermons. He was a preacher of charity. His devotion was not separated from the poor, the hungry, the suffering, or those who had been forgotten.

Another custom is the blessing or use of lilies, a symbol often associated with Saint Anthony. The lily represents purity, holiness, and the beauty of a life given to God. Many statues and holy cards show Saint Anthony holding a lily along with the Child Jesus.

There are also novenas and special prayers to Saint Anthony. In some places, Catholics pray a thirteen-day devotion leading up to his feast, while others observe the “Thirteen Tuesdays” in his honor. Tuesday became associated with Saint Anthony because of early traditions surrounding miracles at his tomb.

In Italian communities, the feast often became a full festa: Mass, prayers, processions, music, food, family gatherings, and a public expression of faith. These celebrations were not merely ethnic festivals. They were acts of Catholic memory. They brought together the altar, the street, the family table, and the neighborhood.

That is why saints’ feasts mattered so much to Italian immigrants in America. They were a way of saying: We are in a new country, but we have not forgotten who we are. We have not forgotten our faith. We have not forgotten the saints who walked with our parents and grandparents.

Saint Anthony and Italian Catholic Identity

Although Saint Anthony was born in Portugal, he is deeply loved in Italy, especially because of his life, ministry, death, and burial in Padua. To many Italians and Italian Americans, he is simply “Sant’Antonio.”

For generations of Italian families, devotion to Saint Anthony was part of everyday Catholic life. His statue might be found in a parish church, on a family prayer table, or in a grandmother’s home. His name was invoked for lost keys, lost documents, lost opportunities, lost loved ones, and sometimes even lost faith.

This is one of the beautiful things about Catholicism. The Church is universal, but devotion is often local, personal, and familial. A saint born in Portugal becomes beloved in Italy. Italian immigrants bring that devotion to America. Their children and grandchildren continue it in places like New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and San Diego.

In that sense, Saint Anthony belongs to the whole Church, but he also belongs to the story of Italian America.

His feast reminds us that Italian Catholic identity was never only about food, language, music, or ancestry. Those things matter, but at the heart of the old Italian neighborhoods was the Church. The parish was where people were baptized, married, mourned, educated, organized, and remembered. The saints gave the calendar its rhythm. The festas gave the community its soul.

The Feast at Our Lady of the Rosary in San Diego

Our Lady of the Rosary Catholic Church has long been the spiritual heart of San Diego’s Little Italy. Founded to serve the Italian Catholic community, the parish remains one of the most visible signs of Italian faith in Southern California.

Last Sunday, the parish celebrated the Feast of Saint Anthony during the noon Italian Mass. That detail matters.

In many places, ethnic Catholic traditions have faded or become purely cultural. But at Our Lady of the Rosary, the Italian language still has a place in the life of the parish. The Mass itself becomes a bridge between generations: between the immigrants who built the parish, the children and grandchildren who inherited it, and the newer parishioners and visitors who come to experience its beauty.

To celebrate Saint Anthony at the Italian Mass is to remember that this devotion came to San Diego through real families, real immigrants, real fishermen, real workers, real mothers and fathers, and real Catholics who wanted a church where their language, culture, and faith could live together.

The festa during Mass also keeps the focus where it belongs: on God. Saint Anthony is honored not as an isolated figure, but as a witness to Christ. The Mass is the center. The Eucharist is the center. The saint points beyond himself to Jesus.

That is the Catholic meaning of a feast day. We honor the saint because the saint reveals what God’s grace can do in a human life.

A Tradition Celebrated Every Year

Every year, the Feast of Saint Anthony at Our Lady of the Rosary continues this old pattern of Catholic life. It brings together devotion and heritage, prayer and memory, the Italian language and the universal Church.

For San Diego’s Little Italy, this annual celebration is one of those traditions that quietly preserves the neighborhood’s deeper identity. Little Italy today is known for restaurants, piazzas, apartments, nightlife, tourists, and the famous neighborhood sign. All of that is part of the modern community. But beneath the visible neighborhood is a much older story.

Before Little Italy was a dining destination, it was a working immigrant neighborhood. Before it was a brand, it was a community. Before the patios, wine bars, and condo towers, there were families, fishing boats, processions, parish societies, novenas, baptisms, funerals, and Sunday Mass.

Our Lady of the Rosary keeps that memory alive.

The Feast of Saint Anthony is part of that living memory. It reminds us that Italian American culture is not only something we inherit through blood. It is something we practice. It is something we show up for. It is something we teach, pray, sing, cook, bless, and hand on.

Why Saint Anthony Still Matters

Saint Anthony remains popular because his intercession feels close to ordinary life. People lose things. People lose direction. People lose hope. People lose faith. People lose loved ones. People lose their sense of belonging.

Saint Anthony’s life answers those losses with the Gospel. He tells us that what is truly lost can be found in Christ. He reminds us that faith is not an abstract idea, but a lived relationship with God. He shows us that preaching, charity, humility, and devotion belong together.

For Italian Americans, especially Catholics, his feast is also a reminder that our heritage is not dead. It does not have to be reduced to nostalgia. It can still be lived in the present.

When the Feast of Saint Anthony is celebrated at Our Lady of the Rosary, in Italian, during Mass, in the heart of San Diego’s Little Italy, something beautiful happens. The past and present meet. The old immigrant parish speaks again. The saints are honored. The Eucharist is celebrated. The community remembers who it is.

And Saint Anthony, the humble friar of Padua, continues to do what he has done for centuries: point lost souls back to Christ.

Sant’Antonio di Padova, prega per noi.

Saint Anthony of Padua, pray for us.