“Jesus did not come to unite us at the expense of truth. He came to unite us in truth.”

That sentence captures the heart of a crisis many Catholics sense but struggle to name. It is not merely what Pope Leo has said that troubles the faithful; it is the silence that has followed. Silence from bishops, priests, and cardinals who know the faith, who have vowed to teach it, yet remain quiet as confusion spreads. That silence, more than any single statement, has become the scandal.

This concern stood at the center of a recent conversation between John Henry Westen and Mother Miriam of the Lamb of God, a woman whose life itself defies relativism. Born Jewish, later an evangelical Christian, and eventually received into the Catholic Church, she went on to found a religious community and now lives publicly as a Catholic nun, unapologetic in habit, speech, and witness. Her tone is gentle, but her words are not evasive.

Mother Miriam did not hesitate to identify what she sees as the deepest wound in the Church today. When good bishops, priests, and cardinals remain silent, she said, the damage is incalculable. Evil does not require enthusiastic cooperation; it flourishes when truth is withheld out of fear. She reminded listeners that priests do not lose their priesthood when they are sidelined, censured, or ignored. A man ordained is a priest forever, and if he is barred from pulpits, he can still preach in homes, in streets, and wherever souls are willing to listen. She recalled Pope Benedict XVI’s warning that the Church may one day be driven underground, not as a defeat, but as a purification.

The question of obedience inevitably arose. Mother Miriam was clear that obedience is holy, necessary, and foundational, but it is not absolute in the face of sin or doctrinal corruption. One cannot obey commands that contradict the faith itself. She compared obedience to that of a child toward parents: real, binding, and moral, but never extending to wrongdoing. Obedience, she said, must never be used as a weapon to dismantle the Church from within.

When asked about Pope Leo specifically, Mother Miriam admitted that his pontificate troubles her more deeply than that of his predecessor. The reason, she explained, is not volume or aggression, but accessibility. He speaks calmly, warmly, and often in English. His words sound reasonable. And that, she said, is precisely why they cut deeper. Hearing doctrinal ambiguity or contradiction in one’s own language disarms the faithful, especially those who do not know the Church’s teaching well. When a pope speaks against what the Church has always taught, many assume doctrine itself has changed.

Her concern is not theoretical. She pointed to confusion surrounding the death penalty, episcopal appointments sympathetic to LGBT ideology, and ongoing ambiguity around immutable teachings. Truth, she insisted, does not evolve into its opposite. Christ’s words are not raw material for reinterpretation until they become unrecognizable. Millions of Catholics lack catechesis, and when authority speaks unclearly, they accept error believing it to be obedience.

Perhaps her strongest warning concerned the modern fixation on unity. The word itself, she said, now frightens her. Christ prayed for unity, but always unity in truth. There is a unity that comes from God and a unity that comes from the devil, and the latter demands agreement without conviction, togetherness without belief. She expressed alarm at ecumenical gestures that blur doctrinal boundaries and suggest that all beliefs are interchangeable as long as harmony is preserved. Apart from truth, she said plainly, there can be no unity at all.

The conversation turned naturally to the Traditional Latin Mass, not as a matter of taste or nostalgia, but of theology. Mother Miriam described her first encounter with it, not in a cathedral but standing in a crowded kitchen. She did not understand the words, but she knew something holy was happening. She wept because she realized something had been lost. The power of the Latin Mass, she explained, is not comprehension but orientation. It is directed toward God, not the congregation. It does not require constant verbal participation, but reverent presence. It teaches who God is simply by how it is offered. Calvary did not have microphones, she said, yet salvation was accomplished. The Mass is not a communal gathering first; it is worship.

One of the most personal moments of the conversation came when Mother Miriam spoke of St. Francis de Sales becoming her spiritual director from heaven. After a simple prayer asking for guidance, a series of unmistakable confirmations followed, culminating in her receiving a book that had been Francis de Sales’ own spiritual companion. Through his intercession, her vocation clarified and matured. She also acknowledged the stabilizing influence of St. Benedict’s rule, admitting candidly that without structure she would have been lost.

When asked whether we are living in the end times, Mother Miriam answered soberly. The end times began at the Cross, she said. Whether we are near their culmination is known only to God. What is certain is that Scripture foretells apostasy, confusion, and wolves within the Church. None of this negates Christ’s promise. The gates of hell will attack, but they will not prevail.

She offered a final analogy from her youth as a bank teller. They were never trained by studying counterfeit money. Instead, they learned the real thing so well that anything false was immediately recognizable. Catholics, she urged, must do the same. Study Scripture. Read the Church’s encyclicals. Know the faith deeply, because no one will stand before God and excuse error by saying a bishop or pope told them otherwise.

Despite the gravity of her warnings, Mother Miriam ended not in despair but confidence. To possess the Catholic faith and the freedom to speak is a privilege. The Church may be shaken and wounded, but she belongs to Christ, and He is faithful.