The process of voting in a pope, also known as the papal conclave, is one of the most peculiar—and, frankly, ironic—rituals you’ll find in the modern world. The so-called “Holy Father,” the supposed earthly representative of God, is chosen by a roomful of cardinals, who are just men (and, might I add, sinners like the rest of us). It’s a bit like asking a group of imperfect chefs to vote on who gets to cook the perfect meal for the world. The result might taste fine to some, but is it really divine? Let’s break it down.
The cardinals, all of whom are part of the Catholic Church’s hierarchy, gather in the Sistine Chapel under lock and key—literally. No phones, no media, no contact with the outside world. They vote in secret, casting their ballots in a dramatic ceremony where smoke signals announce the results to the world. White smoke: Habemus Papam! Black smoke: Try again, fellas. Sounds like the setup for a reality TV show, doesn’t it? “Pope Idol: Vatican Edition.”
Here’s the kicker: this isn’t just a “one and done” vote. They go round after round, sometimes for days, until they reach a two-thirds majority. Now, if this process were truly guided by the Holy Spirit, you’d think they’d all get the memo on the first try, right? But no. They debate, they lobby, and they vote repeatedly, as if the Holy Spirit is just waiting for them to reach consensus like it’s a political committee meeting.
The Bible itself warns about the flaws of humanity: “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23). But these same sinners are picking the man we’re all supposed to call “Holy Father”? And about that title—Holy Father. Jesus Himself said, “Call no man your father upon the earth: for one is your Father, which is in heaven.”
(Matthew 23:9, KJV). So how do they justify this? A title Jesus explicitly discouraged being handed out like a fancy business card?
And here’s another thought: why don’t they always pick the same candidate in the first vote if this is all guided by divine inspiration? Do some cardinals need better Holy Spirit Wi-Fi? Or maybe there’s divine buffering during the conclave, and that’s why it takes so long. It’s almost funny if it weren’t so tragic. The world watches this elaborate process with reverence, while the truth is it’s just another political system dressed up in ceremonial robes. The cardinals have their own factions, preferences, and yes, even their own egos. Is this the divine order at work, or is it just another example of flawed humans trying to wield control under the guise of holiness?
And let’s not ignore the thinly veiled paganism dressed up as Christianity. Much of Catholic tradition borrows heavily from pre-Christian rituals, ceremonies, and symbols. The mixing of holy water, incense, and ornate vestments is eerily reminiscent of the ancient pagan practices that early Christians were meant to reject. How did this happen? Human votes decided to “Christianize” pagan traditions rather than leave them behind, creating a hybrid that continues to this day.
Worse still, consider how the Catholic Church has bent over backward in attempts to unite with Islam under the guise of interfaith dialogue. This includes public gestures of solidarity and mutual respect despite the fact that Islam fundamentally denies Jesus as the Son of God—a cornerstone of Christian faith. What unity can exist between two faiths with such diametrically opposed views of salvation? How can a church that claims to serve the risen Christ collaborate so closely with a religion that rejects His divinity? The hypocrisy is staggering.
All of this paints a troubling picture. The process isn’t divine; it’s human, political, and self-serving. Yet the Church, its cardinals, and its hierarchy claim this charade is inspired by the Holy Spirit. How many more lies must be told to keep this centralized power intact? If Catholics and the rest of the world can’t see what’s happening here, they’re blind. This isn’t about faith; it’s about consolidating control for a one-world system, a one world satanic religion under a one-world government—already prophesied in Revelation and other biblical texts.
"They sacrificed unto devils, not to God; to gods whom they knew not, to new gods that came newly up, whom your fathers feared not." Deuteronomy 32:17
Revelation 13:7-8
"And it was given unto him to make war with the saints, and to overcome them: and power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations. And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him, whose names are not written in the book of life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world."
It’s all a game, a façade of holiness cloaking a deeply flawed and worldly institution. When human politics, pagan syncretism, and interfaith compromise are disguised as divine inspiration, it’s clear: this is no house built on rock but one teetering on the shifting sands of deception. Who is truly being fooled here?
Let’s imagine, just for a moment, if the Apostles had been “sworn in” the same way popes are chosen today. Picture this: Peter, James, John, and the gang locked in the Upper Room, frantically scribbling down names on parchment and passing them to Matthew, who’s tallying votes like the ancient equivalent of an election commissioner. Every so often, someone yells, “Black smoke! Try again!” because apparently, even the Holy Spirit can’t settle on who should be the first “chief apostle.”
It gets even better when you consider that Jesus Himself called these guys. No debates, no campaigns, no backdoor lobbying. Just a simple, “Follow me,” and they dropped their nets and obeyed. Now compare that to the political theater of a modern papal conclave, where factions form, deals are whispered, and “divine inspiration” seems to arrive only after several rounds of voting—and likely some stern looks exchanged over fancy robes.
The absurdity of the whole apostolic succession claim becomes glaringly obvious when you realize the apostles weren’t elected, appointed by committee, or inaugurated with a golden staff and a designer ring. There was no apostolic induction ceremony with choreographed choirs and ceremonial smoke machines. In fact, the apostles didn’t even need a vote of confidence from their peers. Their authority came directly from Christ, not from a group of men trying to outdo each other in holiness.
If today’s process bore any resemblance to the New Testament model, there would be no pomp, no elaborate rituals, and definitely no title inflation.
And then there’s the glaring theological inconsistency: if apostolic succession is supposed to preserve the authority of the apostles, why does it look nothing like how they operated? The apostles didn’t lord their authority over others. Peter literally told fellow elders to be examples to the flock, not domineering rulers (1 Peter 5:3). Yet, here we are with an institution that looks less like humble service and more like a Renaissance court, complete with robes, thrones, and elaborate titles that would make a medieval king jealous.
True Christianity is built on simplicity, humility, and direct relationship with Christ. The apostles preached in homes, marketplaces, and synagogues—not marble cathedrals lined with gold. They carried no pomp, demanded no titles, and swore allegiance to no centralized hierarchy. Their “succession” was in the form of teaching others to follow Christ, not a bureaucracy designed to consolidate power in the hands of a few.
So let’s not kid ourselves. The idea that today’s rituals, hierarchies, and ceremonies are a continuation of apostolic practice is a farce. It bears no resemblance to the faith Jesus taught and the apostles lived. But then again, how could it? It’s not true Christianity—it’s an empire masquerading as a church. And if Peter or Paul walked into the Vatican today, they wouldn’t be asking where to vote—they’d probably be flipping tables.
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