Letter 1400bis published 3 août 2026
QUO VADIS, DOMINE?
WHERE ARE YOU GOING, LORD?
A COLUMN BY CÔME DE PRÉVIGNY
PUBLISHED IN THE JOURNAL
OF CATHOLIC RENAISSANCE
On June 16, Pope Leo XIV spoke outside his residence in Castel Gandolfo regarding the Priestly Fraternity of St. Pius X (FSSPX). The Society was then preparing to consecrate four bishops without a papal mandate, and the pope stated that this decision troubled him, while concluding that he wished to move forward. “If they make this choice,” he said, “it saddens me, but we must move forward.”
Where should we go?
Immediately, a question arises: What direction do the Roman authorities wish to set for Catholics as they move forward in this way? Toward what destiny should the Church advance, if not toward Heaven? Toward what goals should men of the Church strive, if not the sanctification of the faithful? Is the SSPX not seeking the same goals?
It is often helpful to ask one’s interlocutors about their visions for the future in order to understand their perspectives, their true hopes, and their more or less hidden desires. We ask a child what he wants to be when he grows up; we ask a job candidate where he envisions himself working in ten years; we ask a potential president how he envisions his country at the end of his term. This approach helps us understand the true motivations that drive our contemporaries.
In the crisis that is shaking the Church—and which has seen the superiors of the SSPX oppose the highest authorities of the Church—one is tempted to resort to this mechanism to try to resolve the conflict, dispel misunderstandings, and clear the air of ill will. To all those who are connected in any way to Archbishop Lefebvre’s struggle and the defense of Catholic tradition, to all those who, with their hand on their heart, proclaim their deference to the Roman Pontiff and their love for the Holy Church and its shepherds, one might ask how they envision relations between the Holy See and the SSPX in fifty years, or even in a hundred years. Undoubtedly, many would reply that they hope the tensions will finally be resolved through Rome’s establishment of a structure that truly protects traditional works. They would dream of a sufficiently protected canonical structure, allowing the traditional world as a whole to observe the liturgy and the catechism as it has always done, without enduring the harassment to which the “ex-Ecclesia Dei” world has been subjected for forty years, and without having to suffer these about-faces that conceal a genuine desire to see them disappear. This idea echoes the ideal championed by Archbishop Lefebvre, who wanted to live out the Tradition, but with the assurance that he would not be deceived. Despite the vicissitudes of the times, this attitude neither underestimates the risks of isolation nor seeks to voluntarily break away from the entire structure of the institutional Church through which the channels of grace continue to flow ordinarily.
In asking this question, one would likely realize that very few are willing to imagine the SSPX as a resolutely autonomous structure in the long term, awaiting either the Second Coming or the Church’s full adherence to all the principles and practices observed by the Society down to the smallest detail, in order to idealize a situation that has never existed.
Some Very Curious Hopes
At the same time, when one considers the hopes that certain cardinals and bishops harbor today regarding faith and morals, one is left pensive. How can their proposals be reconciled with two thousand years of tradition, given how categorically opposed they are to it? One cannot help but wonder what the Roman authorities truly think on these various points, and why they do not solemnly reaffirm the truth to put an end to the errors that are proliferating.
Three years ago, as the German synodal process was drawing to a close, the entire Catholic world groaned in astonishment at waking up to a situation of heterodoxy and discovering what the bishops had been able to vote on independently. The bishops had approved the creation of a permanent synodal council, the opening of preaching to the laity, the ordination of women to the sacred ministries, religious marriage for same-sex couples, and so on. The Holy See, which is called to strengthen its brothers in the faith, then reacted. It is difficult to say that it did so firmly. Cardinal Parolin, Secretary of State, then stated to *Civiltà Cattolica* on March 13, 2023: “The synodal process is making decisions that do not correspond exactly to the current doctrine of the Church.” Is this phrasing merely a diplomatic turn of phrase? Why not say that these decisions do not correspond at all to Church doctrine? What, then, is the purpose of the adverb “exactly”? Is it an act of charity to allow Christians to cling to false hopes, only to eventually dash them with a definitive statement of rejection? Or is it intentional to let them entertain the idea that things might nevertheless change one day? For what is the adverb “currently” doing in the cardinal’s statement? Are we to think that, in the more or less near future, the Church’s doctrine might be different?
Two years later, Pope Leo XIV, newly elected, addressed the issue of changing Church doctrine while speaking specifically about “the LGBTQ+ issue,” to use his own term. On July 30, 2025, the pope told journalist Elise Allen: “People want Church doctrine to change; they want attitudes to change. I think we need to change mindsets before we even consider changing the Church’s position on a given issue. It seems very unlikely to me—especially in the near future—that Church doctrine will change regarding its teaching on sexuality and marriage.”
Here too, the phrasing—diplomatic, some might say—is enough to give one pause. Why say that change in this area is “unlikely” when past popes would have asserted that it is impossible? For what uncharitable reason are some allowed to delude themselves into thinking that there might be a slim possibility that things could change after all, at least in the more distant future? And what, then, is the meaning of this call to change mindsets, which might eventually allow for a change in doctrine over time?
All these questions explain the state of confusion in which many Catholics find themselves, even though, for centuries, the popes have reminded them that, on fundamental issues of faith and morals, doctrine cannot vary.
Should we offer any hope to all those who oppose the doctrine taught by the Church for two thousand years, leading them to believe that their repeated attacks will ultimately prevail through sheer persistence?
Asking the Right Questions
So, naturally, to avoid being overcome by terrible doubts, we would like to ask questions of the highest authorities in the Church and inquire of them, quite humbly: Do you think that in fifty or a hundred years, women will be able to become priests? Must we indeed conclude that John Paul II was mistaken when he solemnly affirmed in the apostolic letter *Ordinatio sacerdotalis* “that the Church has no authority whatsoever to confer priestly ordination on women and that this position must be definitively held by all the faithful of the Church”?
Similarly, do you think that, a century from now, it might be possible for priests of the Catholic Church to administer the sacrament of marriage without necessarily requiring the consent of a man and a woman?
These questions will no doubt be deemed reckless by those whom they might make uncomfortable. Those who believe that expressing such doubt is inappropriate will ultimately be content with this doctrinal stagnation. The answers, however, would help us understand the direction in which the Church must truly move forward. They would have the merit of distinguishing a diplomatic formula from an ambiguous statement, thereby freeing the authorities from obligations that may well not be their own. Beyond the issue of the FSSPX alone, this would help resolve the misunderstandings of many perplexed Catholics around the world who listen with concern to the statements of Church leaders and often lift their eyes to Heaven, asking, always humbly: Quo vadis, Domine? Where are you going, Lord?
Côme de Prévigny



