Yep, I'm Becoming Catholic. It's Political.

This week, the Vatican elected a new pope.

And I braced for impact.

I thought we were about to get some ultra-traditionalist hardliner in red Prada slippers, tweeting Latin prayers at Ben Shapiro and trying to cancel the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.

But nope. They didn’t go backward. They didn’t throw a bone to the fascists frothing at the altar rail. They doubled down on the gospel and I was, like, holy shit. Well done, yous guys.

Love the poor. Welcome the stranger. Flip the damn tables.

Enter Pope Leo XIV: An American, the first North American Pope ever. A low-profile Chicagoan of the Augustine order who spent decades serving the poor in Peru, he chose Leo to honor Pope Leo XIII’s commitment to workers’ rights, immigrants, and the poor.

You know, everything the demons of MAGA hate.

The new Pope is a man whose greatest sin, according to the far right, is being compassionate in public.

Laura Loomer called him a “woke Marxist pope.” And I swear to God, that was the first time I felt the Holy Spirit in my lower spine.

So yes. I’m becoming Catholic. In a San Antonio church. With Spanish mass. And it’s not just because the new Pope looked like Penn Badgley when he was younger.

It’s because anything Laura Loomer hates deserves our support.

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I was not raised religious. I was raised anti-religious.

My dad was a Marxist atheist. Not the sexy, “let’s read Zizek and vibe” kind—more the “everything is false consciousness and no you can’t go to the school dance” kind. He didn’t believe in sin, but he absolutely believed in shame. He saw churches as temples of delusion and opiates of the masses, and he treated people of faith the way vegans treat bacon: with visible disgust and a pamphlet.

My mother, a former hippie, came back to the Catholicism of her Irish mother after her bout with cancer. I didn’t get it. How could someone so brilliant return to an institution that wouldn’t even ordain her as a priest, and spent decades relocating pedophiles like they were on a whistle-stop tour?

And yet—here I am.

Because in the middle of this batshit, Bible-wrapped authoritarian moment in American history, the global Catholic Church just did something most American institutions won’t: it took a stand against fascism, loud and clear.

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They didn’t pick a “moderate.” They didn’t cower or placate or pivot. They picked a man who openly condemns Trumpism, nationalism, greed, and cruelty. A man who literally shade-tweeted J.D. Vance for misrepresenting Jesus.

This new pope, like the late great Pope Francis, understands something most “Christian” politicians do not: That Jesus was not a white “I wear the pants” guy with a gun and a stock portfolio. He was a brown-skinned celibate refugee in a dress, who fed people for free and pissed off law enforcement.

And if that version of Jesus makes you uncomfortable, you should know: he makes fascists furious. Also, the Catholic Church has made room for many goddesses over the centuries, including two of my favorites: Brigid and Tonantzin, who morph into St. Brigid and La Virgen de Guadalupe.

All of that’s why I’m becoming Catholic now. Not in spite of my politics.

Because of them.

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Do I still have bones to pick with the Church? Yes. Entire graveyards of bones.

The patriarchy? Exhausting. The sexual abuse coverups? Unforgivable. The obsession with what everyone’s doing in bed? Tiresome.

But you know what? So is America. So is my family. My cousin stole our grandma’s Social Security checks and grandma still invited her to Easter.

Also, ever since my near-death experience, I’ve been less attached to things being “true” in fact. There are other kinds of truth. Read my NDE Substack to learn more about that, and how I can be a Buddhist and Catholic and Pagan all at the same time, and am.

The Church is a mess. But this week, it chose the right kind of mess.
The humble kind. The justice kind. The Gospel-of-Luke-on-a-leather-jacket kind.

And that’s a mess I want to be part of.

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If you read this and thought, “Damn, same”—subscribe.

I write about how not to burn out in a dying empire. About twice a week unless I’m at confession or my internet goes out. Or, like this past week, I’m moving into a new house after 2+ months of living in short-term rentals in Texas as I decided between Austin and San Antonio. (I picked SA)

Paid subscriptions fund the revolution (and my habit of lighting seven candles per essay). Also, I’m Catholic now. Guilt is baked in.

🙏🏽 Alisa out.