The Conclave...

The white smoke has not yet risen. The Sistine Chapel remains closed to the world, as cardinals from across the globe gather under the frescoed eyes of Christ and the saints. It is a sacred pause in the life of the Roman Catholic Church, a moment set aside for prayerful discernment, ancient ritual, and, hopefully, holy listening.

And yet, outside those sealed doors, the world clamors. Political figures, media personalities, and power brokers, many of whom show little interest in the church except when it serves their ideology, are already attempting to shape the outcome.

As a Reformed Christian watching this unfold from outside the Catholic tradition, I do so with both deep respect and honest concern. The election of a pope is not just a moment of internal church governance. It sends ripples across global Christianity, international diplomacy, and the moral witness of the faith itself.

But what should be a moment of spiritual gravity is now being treated, in some corners, like a campaign, complete with endorsements, strategies, and subtle (and not-so-subtle) threats.

Let me be clear: the problem is not with faithful Catholics engaging in hope and reflection about the future of their church. That is their right, even their responsibility. The problem lies in outside political personalities, secular, nationalist, and often hostile to the core teachings of Christ, attempting to manipulate the process.

They are not seeking a pope who serves the Gospel. They want a pope who will serve them.

This is not new. Empire has always had an interest in shaping the church. From Constantine to colonial powers, the seduction of ecclesial influence has always drawn kings and politicians to meddle in matters that are not theirs. But that doesn't make it right. It makes it more urgent to name.

The church, whether Catholic, Orthodox, or Protestant, does not exist to secure the ambitions of any political regime. It does not bow to national identity, capitalist ideology, or conservative or progressive partisanship. The church bows to Christ.

And if we forget that, if we allow the pulpit to become an extension of the podium or the throne, we lose not only our integrity, we lose our soul.

From a Reformed perspective, the temptation to mix faith and politics for worldly gain is exactly what the reformers warned against. Calvin’s Geneva and Luther’s Wittenberg were not free from power struggles, but at their best, they pointed us toward a church that could stand apart from coercion. A church that could say no to emperors when it needed to.

And now, in 2025, we must say no again.

No to those who wish to hijack the conclave for ideological warfare.

No to those who reduce the Body of Christ to a voting bloc.

No to those who use faith as a sword but never as a balm.

Let the cardinals pray. Let them listen. Let them discern not who will preserve their power, but who will carry the cross.

As Protestants, we are not watching from a place of superiority. We are watching from a place of kinship and vigilance. For what happens in Rome echoes beyond its walls. And what is at stake is not just who wears the white cassock, it is whether the church, in any form, can still be trusted to tell the truth in a world drowning in spin.

So let us pray with our Catholic siblings. Not that they choose our pope, but that they choose Christ’s.

And let us remember, in our own churches and traditions:

The Gospel is not a tool of empire. It is a call to courage.

And sometimes, the most courageous thing the church can do… is sim

ply to resist being used.

Amen.