Pope Francis’s health has improved—he was hospitalized two weeks or so ago with bronchitis that progressed to double pneumonia and kidney failure—, yet at 88, his fragile condition suggests time may be nearing its end. This juncture invites reflection on his legacy and a thoughtful consideration of his successor—a decision bearing deep consequence, given the Catholic Church’s world-wide influence and the substantial issues at stake. Having been shaped as a new Catholic by three years in a Budapest parish, I propose an immensely qualified candidate for the role, Cardinal Péter Erdő of Hungary.
For two millennia, the Church—home to 1.4 billion, a fifth of humanity—has stood as a moral and spiritual guide, its voice reaching beyond Vatican walls to every corner. Through letters, books, homilies, encyclicals, and now X posts and TikTok debuts, popes have shaped history with their words. John Paul II’s Veritatis Splendor (1993) defended human dignity and sexual ethics, contributed to the Soviet bloc’s collapse, and offered clarity and strength that continue to inspire. Benedict XVI built upon this with Spe Salvi (2007), intertwining faith, hope, and love with thinkers like Kant and Hegel—a blend of intellect and care that remains a steady light.
The beginning of Francis’s pontificate, following Benedict XVI’s tenure, remains vivid in my memory. Though not yet Catholic—raised Evangelical, with an early career devoted to ministry among students of all ages—, I had sought a deeper theological foundation a decade earlier at a Reformed Protestant seminary, aiming to strengthen my connection to Christ and His Church. There, learning to love high-church liturgy, I joined one of several emerging ‘conservative’ Anglican churches of that time, drawn to its reverence. Alongside this, I grew attuned to the profound spiritual and social influence the leader of the Catholic Church wields across the West, beyond her own faithful. Like many colleagues, I began pondering key doctrines distinguishing Christian traditions—the Eucharist, apostolic succession, and the Magisterium—which stirred questions about the depth of non-Catholic offerings. This awareness, joined with the vast platform Catholic popes command, kindled a keen interest in following Francis’s tenure.
‘My early hopes rested on Francis as a guide into the rich tradition of Catholic social thought, yet his approach—progressive and politicized—quickly unsettled me’
In fact, my early hopes rested on Francis as a guide into the rich tradition of Catholic social thought, yet his approach—progressive and politicized—quickly unsettled me. Over his eleven-year pontificate, this Jesuit from Argentina’s barrios chose a distinct path, grounding his work in ‘lived experience’, as captured in Evangelii Gaudium (2013): ‘I prefer a Church which is bruised, hurting, and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a Church which is unhealthy from being confined and clinging to its own security.’ His devotion to the poor and connection to Jesus shine through—qualities deserving honor—, yet this vision suggests a contrast: a Church engaged with the world or one bound by its walls, as if structure might neglect human need, prompting reflection. His teachings often seem to emphasize grace over truth rather than uniting them, evident in his 2013 question: ‘Who am I to judge?’ regarding gay priests seeking God—leaving marriage doctrine intact, yet offering a gentle, liberal Protestant-like tone notable for its openness and warmth. Evangelii Gaudium decried an ‘economy of exclusion’ that ‘kills’—a compelling critique, perhaps, but one that veers into socialism—while Amoris Laetitia (2016) permitted Communion for select remarried individuals, a subtle shift away from staid doctrine, inviting questions among the faithful. His occupancy of Peter’s seat stands beyond dispute, yet for those like me, seeking timeless truth and Christ’s full gifts in the Church, that legitimacy offered cold comfort.
In late 2021 I arrived in Budapest for a 10-month fellowship that extended to nearly three years. A conservative Anglican by then for almost 20 years, I arrived uncertain about where I would attend church. The lone Anglican church in the city–a congregation overseen by the all-in woke Church of England—wasn’t an option. One Sunday, I ventured into Budapest’s sole Tridentine Mass—at the late-Baroque Inner City Parish Church, steps from my apartment—where I was met with truth, goodness and beauty all wrapped into one; the timeless cadence of Latin chant, the waft of incense, and a profound reverence greeted me, revealing Christ’s presence in the Eucharist with striking clarity. Later, I learned that Francis’s Traditionis Custodes (2021) had restricted this liturgy—its form codified over 450 years ago in 1570 yet drawing on over 1,500 years of tradition—in the name of fostering Church ‘unity’ over ecclesial ‘rigidity’.
That encounter began my official trek into the Catholic Church. By November 2022, I embraced parish life—prayer, Mass, confession, community—and entered the Church fully, finding a calm that grounded me. Pastoral guidance to center on Christ and live within parish rhythms deepened my path.
Soon, non-Catholic friends, understandably curious, questioned my decision, often citing the ever-present, media-savvy ‘first TikTok Pope’ and his non-stop, controversial remarks—sometimes from interviews, often off-the-cuff or tossed out on papal flights: ‘Francis’s “rabbits” comment in 2015, or his ‘slap a woman’ quip from a 2022 plane chat?’ I usually responded with a shrug, choosing to focus on my new Catholic life. Time affirmed a truth, after all: God directs through each pope, as the Catechism attests, a conviction the Eucharist deepened, upheld by pontiffs across history—imperfect yet enduring.
In short order, however, more formal challenges emerged, less easily dismissed. Fiducia Supplicans (2023) authorized non-sacramental blessings for same-sex couples—a pastoral concession that, for many traditionalists like me, blurred the Church’s stance on marriage and sin, met with counsel to hold to the altar. The Synod on Synodality concluded in October 2024, its tentative nods to women and laity stirring unease among conservatives wary of diluting doctrine for inclusivity—progress or evasion, leaving clarity elusive. In world affairs, Francis’s progressive bent shone through: Gaza drew warranted daily outreach, with Israel facing a ‘genocide’ charge that alarmed many for its alignment with leftist rhetoric; yet his silence on Hong Kong under the China deal—a concessions-laden pact with a communist regime—lingered unaddressed, revealing a pontificate of compassion shadowed by contention, mercy extended amid strained coherence.
‘The Church and the world now face trials that demand a steady hand to guide this succession’s course’
That brings us to this present moment. As Francis’s tenure nears its close, we stand at a crossroads—what lies ahead? I pray for his renewed health, while recognizing the time has come—for Catholics, Christians of other traditions, non-believers, indeed all who cherish our shared Western civilization—to ponder and pray for the next pontiff. For the Church and the world now face trials that demand a steady hand to guide this succession’s course. We would do well, I believe, to consider Cardinal Péter Erdő—Archbishop of Esztergom–Budapest and Hungary’s primate, a steady presence in uncertain times. While other interesting candidates emerge—Cardinal Tagle, Cardinal Sarah, and Cardinal Zuppi,to name a few—Erdő stands apart through a blend of pastoral wisdom and doctrinal clarity. Consider his rich theological corpus: Guarding the Flame (2016) explores faith’s resilience, weaving grace and truth into a vision both pastorally rich and doctrinally strong; Theological and Canonical Reflections (2007) examines Church law’s development, arguing tradition adapts yet retains its core; and Canon Law and the Life of the Church (2010) aligns discipline with spirit, offering wisdom for a living faith—grace and truth as partners, not oppositional binaries. His decade leading the Council of European Bishops’ Conferences (CCEE) (2006–2016) guided Europe’s bishops through the perils of secularization and division, while I witnessed his quiet reverence at Budapest’s 2021 International Eucharistic Congress, bridging Eastern and Western traditions. As General Relator at the 2015 Synod on the Family, he upheld marriage’s integrity with compassion, and as my bishop, he preserved our Tridentine Mass post–Traditionis Custodes.
These qualities—and others—equip him to meet a confluence of pressing challenges now facing the Church and the world—trials that heighten this succession’s importance. An authoritarian drift toward globalism undermines sovereignty and human dignity, while ongoing conflicts—such as those in Ukraine and Gaza—disrupt peace. Questions of artificial intelligence’s ethical bounds test moral frontiers, and human rights wane under regimes stifling faith and freedom. Mass migration, notably illegal crossings, flows into Europe and North America, strains societies, often leaving the vulnerable to pay the price. Climate initiatives, pursued with ideological fervor, risk overshadowing every citizen’s welfare—especially the poor—while demographic decline in the West signals civilizational collapse. Within Christianity broadly, rising disaffiliation erodes communal ties, deepened by secular currents and internal rifts. For Catholics, the conservative-progressive rift widened by Francis poses unique and pressing questions. These trials, among many more, call for a leader who blends compassion with conviction—qualities Erdő’s life and work reflect. For me, shaped as a new Catholic in Budapest, Cardinal Péter Erdő rises—for the Catholic Church, for Hungary, and indeed, the whole world.
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