AI Papacy & the Catechism of Optics
This past Friday, just days before the real-life conclave to elect Pope Francis’s successor begins in Rome, two headlines dominated Catholic media: Bishop Robert Barron joined Trump’s Religious Liberty Commission, and Trump himself posted an AI image of himself as Pope to the official White House page.
It was a surreal pairing—one of the most well-known U.S. bishops aligning himself more closely with an administration actively hostile to the Church’s own social ministries, and that same administration using AI-generated papal imagery to stage a kind of “digital coup” over Catholic symbolism. While Rome prepares to elect a new spiritual leader, America’s most powerful man is fantasizing about crowning himself.
As a transgender Catholic who grew up in conservative religious spaces and worked in conservative Catholic media, I recognize this move for what it is: not just a provocation, but a calculated piece of Christian nationalist fanfiction. It reduces the papacy—the office formerly held by Pope Francis, a man known for humility and compassion—into another golden idol in Trump’s collection of imagined dominions.
In No Country for Kings, the first installment of the Catholic masculinity series I co-wrote with Emma Cieslik, we explored how Catholic figures like Barron lean into aesthetics of hierarchy, strength, and performance. He referred to Trump’s State of the Union address as “liturgy.” He platformed bodybuilders, alt-right pundits, and men accused of abuse under the banner of “evangelization.” His interest isn’t living theology or authentic encounter—it’s optics. The crown, not the cross.
So it’s no surprise that Barron would join Trump’s religious commission, just as it’s no surprise that Trump would imagine himself as Pope. Trump craves power for its own sake, with no reverence for the institutions he mimics or respect for the people those roles are meant to serve. To him, there is no meaningful distinction between spiritual authority and political dominance—no boundary too sacred to cross. Of course he posted the image. Of course he believes every title—President, Priest, Pontiff—should belong to him.
But what is shocking is how few Catholic leaders have spoken out.
Here we are, days away from a conclave to choose Pope Francis’s successor—after over a decade in which Francis modeled a Church that washed feet, not flexed muscles—and we’re watching that legacy be mocked in real time. Trump’s image is not just offensive, it’s idolatrous. It’s a drag performance of spiritual power. And the silence from catholic clergy is deafening.
Even more outrageous is that while Bishop Barron joins a presidential commission, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops is suing the Trump administration for rescinding humanitarian aid. Apparently, the Religious Liberty Commission has room for someone willing to ignore that reality—so long as they look good in a cassock.
I say this not as someone standing outside the Church with a match, but as someone who stays because it’s my Church too. I stay because I refuse to let it be handed over to men who trade the Gospel for gold-plated thrones (or oval offices). My hope isn’t in the hierarchy—it’s in the stubborn, sacred presence of queer Catholics, lay theologians, grassroots organizers, and faithful misfits who refuse to bow to fascist aesthetics.
Trump’s fantasy of himself as Pope—and Barron’s willingness to crown him—reveals something deeply broken. But it also makes the stakes unmistakably clear: If the Church continues to value power over people, it risks becoming a hollow monument to empire rather than a living vessel of grace.
Now is the time for Catholic leaders to say, without hesitation or calculation: This is not who we are. Not just because Trump’s spectacle is absurd or offensive—but because silence in the face of this kind of idolatry is complicity.
And for the rest of us—the lay people, the theologians, the misfits and the faithful who refuse to give up—we keep going.
We gather, we organize, we tell the truth.
We build the Church we know is possible, even if we have to build it from scratch on the margins.
So well said, Max! Our Masculinity series resonates to this day--and more than anything, Trump's latest AI image of himself as pope is exactly what we discussed about aesthetics!