The Church is Leaving Souls to the Wolves

A Catholic mother’s plea to the shepherds who have forgotten the war for souls.

To His Holiness Pope Leo XIV, and to the Cardinals, Bishops, and Priests entrusted with the souls of the faithful:

I write not out of rebellion, but out of anguish—anguish for the countless faithful left defenseless while their shepherds debate metaphors. You have been given authority to heal, to cast out, to drive back the enemy—and yet you’ve buried that authority under bureaucracy, academic language, and modern doubt.

Christ did not speak in riddles when He confronted evil. He didn’t “reinterpret” the devil. He rebuked him. He looked into the eyes of those tormented and commanded the unclean spirits to leave. He gave that same power to His apostles and, through ordination, to every priest. Yet so many of you have forgotten—or refused—to believe that this power is real.

You’ve turned the devil into an idea, a poetic device for sin, as if Jesus Himself were acting out parables instead of performing miracles. You have whittled Satan down to a symbol, and in doing so, you have quite literally betrayed Jesus. Every soul you leave in torment, every plea you dismiss, every person you refer away instead of confronting the darkness head-on—it is as if you have handed Christ Himself back to the enemy.

For He said, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25:40)

Each afflicted soul is part of the Body of Christ. When you ignore them, you ignore Him. When you abandon them to the enemy, you abandon Him.

Imagine walking into a hospital, bleeding out, only to be told that doctors no longer believe in blood loss. That is what the afflicted find when they come to you for help. You send them to psychiatrists—good men and women, perhaps—but incapable of driving out a fallen spirit. You shuffle them from chancery to chancery, diocese to diocese, while despair quietly takes hold. If this were medicine, it would be malpractice. In the Church, it is spiritual neglect of the gravest kind.

Monsignor Stephen Rossetti has said that one in four Americans suffer some form of demonic oppression. Even if that estimate is high, the number of souls suffering unseen is staggering. How many are lost while you hide behind procedure?

Every ordained priest stands in persona Christi. The authority to cast out demons is not optional, not decorative—it’s essential to your priesthood. You don’t need a special certificate to obey Christ’s command. Fr. Gabriel Amorth—Rome’s chief exorcist—taught that exorcism is not only for liberation but also for diagnosis: to discern whether liberation is needed. Instead of discerning, you delay. Instead of confronting, you deflect. The faithful suffer while you “wait for more evidence.”

But the devil hides while you hesitate. He rarely shows himself in theatrical ways. He doesn’t need to. He hides in despair, addiction, rage, and self-hatred. He thrives in your disbelief. As long as you tell yourselves he’s not there, he wins. Every moment of silence from you strengthens his grip.

And make no mistake—you will answer to Christ for this silence. For every soul turned away. For every desperate cry that met your polite indifference. For every person told their suffering was “all in their head” while their spirit was under siege. One day, you will stand before Jesus and He will ask, “What did you do for that one?”

Will you say, “I was afraid of scandal”?

Will you say, “I didn’t believe”?

Or will you be able to say, “I used the authority You gave me and fought for the soul You placed before me”?

The shepherd who abandons the sheep to the wolves is not neutral—he is complicit.

It is not too late for repentance, but it must begin now. Re-form your seminaries. Train priests to discern spiritual warfare with the same rigor used to discern vocations. Equip your dioceses with priests ready to respond—not only the few who “believe in that sort of thing.” Restore the rite of exorcism to its rightful place as a weapon of mercy, not a relic of superstition.

And above all, believe again. Evil isn’t ideology. It’s a fallen being, a fallen angel—a willful enemy of God and of the souls made in His image. Stop acting as though the battle ended with Calvary. Christ conquered death, yes—but until He returns, the enemy still prowls, seeking the ruin of souls.

I have watched people I love suffer—physically, mentally, and spiritually. I have witnessed devout, prayerful Catholics endure affliction that cannot be explained away by medicine or therapy. These are faithful men and women, loyal to the Church, yet left without help because the Church no longer believes their suffering is real. I have seen hope dim in their eyes while priests dismiss their pain. I have heard desperation in voices that just wanted one shepherd to take them seriously.

And even worse than the dismissive ones are the shepherds who do believe—but are too cowardly to act. Some are afraid of the demonic itself. Others are even more afraid of the bureaucracy, the red tape, the potential scandal, or of being labeled by their peers and superiors. So they choose safety over service, image over truth, fear over faith. They know the battle is real—and still they retreat. That, too, is betrayal.

Their faces haunt me. And I cannot stay silent.

This is not rebellion. It is a plea from a daughter of the Church who still believes She can rise again—if only her shepherds will remember who they are.

Christ gave you the power to cast out demons, to heal the sick, to defend the weak, to set the captives free. You will answer to Him for how you used—or buried—that power. When you face the Just Judge, will you be able to say you fought for His sheep? Or will you hang your head while He shows you the faces of those you left to the wolves?

The time for pretending the devil is a metaphor is over. Souls are dying. Evil is real. The authority to fight it is yours—if only you will use it.

Wake up, shepherds. Pick up your weapons. Your flock is waiting.

With sorrow, conviction, and hope for the renewal of Christ’s Church,

Laura Rosenberg