There are moments in history when the unrest we see in the world is not the deepest problem. Wars, political upheaval, division among nations – these things trouble us, and rightly so. But there are deeper moments still, when the confusion reaches into the very understanding of truth itself. And it is in those moments that the faithful begin to sense something more unsettling – that even within the life of the Church, clarity seems to dim, and what once appeared firm begins to feel uncertain. 

We are living in such a time. 

Many of the faithful have expressed a growing unease. They hear words that seem to shift meaning. They see sacred realities spoken of in ways that feel unfamiliar. And they begin to ask, quietly at first, but then with greater urgency: What is happening? Has the faith changed? Or are we losing our grasp of it? 

My brothers and sisters, the faith has not changed. It cannot change. “Jesus Christ, yesterday, and today, and the same forever” (Hebrews 13:8). What has changed is the clarity with which that truth is sometimes expressed. 

And clarity matters. 

Recently, the Holy Father, Pope Leo XIV, in speaking about the multiplication of the loaves and the fishes, said that “the multiplication of the loaves and the fish happened while sharing – that is the miracle.” Those words, taken plainly, require careful reflection. Because the question before us is not whether sharing is good. Of course it is. Charity is at the heart of the Gospel. But the question is deeper: Where is the miracle? 

Sacred Scripture presents this event not as a lesson in human generosity, but as a revelation of divine power. In the Gospel according to St. John, we are told that after the people had eaten, “they were filled,” and that twelve baskets of fragments remained (John 6:13). The abundance does not come from the crowd. It comes from Christ. 

He takes what is insufficient, blesses it, and multiplies it beyond human capacity. This is not merely a moral example. It is a sign. A sign pointing to who He is.  

If the miracle is understood primarily as the sharing of the crowd, then the focus shifts away from Christ’s divine action. And that shift matters. Because if Christ is not clearly revealed as Lord over creation, then He is reduced – subtly, perhaps, but truly – to a teacher of ethics rather than the Son of God. 

And this is not a small matter. 

The multiplication of the loaves is intimately connected to the mystery of the Eucharist. It prepares the way for that profound declaration: “I am the living bread which came down from heaven” (John 6:51). If the miracle is softened, then the path to the Eucharist is weakened. If the sign is diminished, then the reality it points to becomes harder to grasp. 

My brothers and sisters, Christ is not merely teaching us to share. He is revealing His divinity. He is showing us that He alone can provide what the world cannot give. 

And this brings us to another troubling pattern we have seen in recent years – the reinterpreting of sin itself. 

We have heard it said, at times, that the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah was merely a failure of hospitality. But Sacred Scripture speaks with greater depth and seriousness. 

In the Book of Genesis, we see grave disorder, violence, and sin crying out to heaven (Genesis 19). And in the Book of Ezekiel, we read: “Behold this was the iniquity of Sodom thy sister, pride, fulness of bread, and abundance, and the idleness of her, … “ (Ezekiel 16:49).  

And the testimony of Scripture does not end there. The New Testament speaks with equal clarity. 

In the Epistle of Jude, we read: “As Sodom and Gomorrha, and the neighboring cities, in like manner, having given themselves to fornication, and going after other flesh, were made an example, suffering the punishment of eternal fire” (Jude 1:7). 

And in the Second Epistle of Peter, it says: 

“And reducing the cities of the Sodomites, and of the Gomorrhites, into ashes, condemned them to be overthrown, making them an example to those that should after act wickedly” (2 Peter 2:6). 

These are not descriptions of a minor social failing. 

They are descriptions of grave sin – sin that cries out to heaven, sin that brings judgment, sin that stands as a warning to every generation. So when we hear it suggested that the sin of Sodom was merely a failure of hospitality, we must say, with clarity and with charity: that is not the full witness of Scripture. 

And when the fullness of sin is not acknowledged, the necessity of repentance is weakened. If Sodom fell only for poor hospitality, why did it burn? This is not a rhetorical question meant to provoke anger. It is meant to awaken clarity. Because when sin is softened, souls are endangered. 

And so we find ourselves in a time when both miracle and sin are being, at times, spoken of in ways that risk obscuring their true meaning. The supernatural is explained in natural terms. The moral is reduced to the social. And what remains is something that feels easier – but is ultimately incapable of saving us.  

This is why we are calling for the Nineveh Fast. When the prophet Jonah went to Nineveh, he did not reinterpret sin. He proclaimed it. He warned of judgment. And the people responded – not with argument, not with reinterpretation – but with repentance. “And the men of Nineveh believed in God: and they proclaimed a fast, and put on sackcloth from the greatest to the least” (Jonah 3:5). 

They did not say, “This is not so serious.” They did not say, “Let us redefine the problem.” They humbled themselves before God. And God showed mercy. 

My brothers and sisters, that is the path before us. Not confusion. Not reinterpretation. But repentance.  

Now, some may ask: Is it the role of a bishop to speak in this way? Should not a bishop remain silent when such questions arise, especially when they touch upon words spoken in high places? The answer is found in the very nature of the episcopal office. 

A bishop is a successor of the Apostles. And the Apostles were not silent when the truth of Christ was obscured. St. Paul tells us that he “withstood” Peter to his face, because what was at stake was the clarity of the Gospel (Galatians 2:11). This was not rebellion. It was fidelity. 

To speak clearly in defense of the faith is not to oppose the Church. It is to serve her. 

And so I say this not in a spirit of anger or division, but in a spirit of responsibility: when statements arise that seem to shift the understanding of miracles or the seriousness of sin, they must be clarified in light of what the Church has always taught. Because the faithful have a right to the truth. 

We are not free to reinvent the Gospel. We are not free to reshape it according to the spirit of the age. We are stewards, not authors. We are guardians, not innovators. And the truth entrusted to us is not complicated in its essence.  

Christ is Lord. His miracles are real.  

Sin is real. Repentance is necessary.  

Grace is abundant. Salvation is found in Him alone. 

When these truths are spoken clearly, even a troubled world can find its way. But when they are blurred, confusion spreads – not only within the Church, but throughout society. 

We see that confusion in many places today. We see it in the inability to speak plainly about good and evil. We see it in the distortion of justice. We see it in the unrest among nations and the instability of leadership. These are not isolated problems. They are the fruits of a deeper loss – the loss of confidence in truth itself. 

And yet, even now, there is hope. Because Christ has not changed. The truth has not changed. The Gospel has not changed. 

The storm may rage, but the Rock remains.  

And so I invite you, in these days, not to despair – but to return. Return to prayer. Return to the Scriptures. Return to the sacraments. And above all, return to clarity.  

Let us not accept a softened faith when Christ has given us the fullness of truth. Let us not accept a diminished Gospel when Christ has given us the power of salvation. And let us not remain silent when confusion threatens the souls entrusted to our care.  

Nineveh was spared because it repented. May we have the humility to do the same. 

May Almighty God bless you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. 

Bishop Joseph E. Strickland 

Bishop Emeritus