In November 2025, Pope Leo I 14th ignited a firestorm across the Catholic community and beyond by reciting the Nicene Creed without the phrase “Filioque”—the three Latin words meaning “and the Son.” To many, this was nothing short of heresy, a betrayal of centuries of Catholic doctrine. Videos of the event went viral, comment sections exploded with accusations, and prophecy watchers declared it the fulfillment of dire warnings. Traditionalists felt abandoned; the internet became a battleground of fear and confusion.

But the story behind this moment is far more complex—and far more hopeful—than the headlines suggested.

To understand the uproar, we must travel back 1,700 years to 325 AD, when the Council of Nicaea convened to unify Christian belief amid theological chaos. The bishops affirmed that Jesus Christ is “consubstantial” with the Father—fully divine and fully human. This creed became the bedrock of Christian faith, recited by Catholics, Orthodox, and Protestants alike for centuries.

However, between the 6th and 9th centuries, Western churches added the “Filioque” clause, stating that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son. This addition was never approved by an ecumenical council and was fiercely rejected by Eastern Orthodox Christians, who saw it as an unauthorized change that fractured the Church. The dispute culminated in the Great Schism of 1054, splitting Christianity into Western Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy—a division that has lasted nearly a millennium.

Fast forward to Pope Leo’s pilgrimage to Nicaea, where he stood alongside leaders from Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, Protestant, and Anglican traditions. Together, they recited the original Nicene Creed—without the Filioque. For some, this was a powerful symbol of unity, a reminder of shared faith beyond centuries of division. For others, it was a shocking abandonment of Catholic doctrine.

What many missed amid the outrage was that Pope Leo’s action was not a doctrinal change. He did not alter the Catechism or convene a council to redefine Church teaching. Instead, he honored the original creed as a gesture of ecumenical respect and historical truth.

This practice has precedent. Pope Benedict XVI recited the original creed without the Filioque at an ecumenical gathering years earlier, and the Church has long recognized Eastern Catholic Churches that maintain the original creed while remaining in full communion with Rome.

Pope Leo’s apostolic letter In Unitate Fidei (“In the Unity of Faith”) clarified his intent: to call Christians to move beyond divisive theological disputes and focus on the shared confession of faith in Christ. He urged believers to prioritize unity over doctrinal quibbles, to remember what unites rather than what separates.

The lessons from this episode are profound. True unity requires humility—sometimes laying aside pride to embrace common ground. Symbols, while powerful, must be understood in context. Fear often spreads faster than truth, clouding judgment and fueling division. And sometimes, healing begins by returning to the roots—the original faith that first brought believers together.

Pope Leo’s gesture at Nicaea was not a betrayal but a courageous call to reconciliation, inviting Christians to embody the perfect unity of the Trinity—not just in words, but in love and action.

The real crisis is not what words we recite, but whether we live the love those words proclaim. The Trinity is not a puzzle to solve but a relationship to enter—a call to live in unity, compassion, and grace.

As Pope Leo showed, leadership sometimes means choosing bridge-building over battle lines, seeking healing over division, and remembering that the creed is not an endpoint but a map guiding us toward the ultimate destination: love.