Anti-Catholic hate by Protestants spiked; it must stop

Toledo Cathedral in Spain was once the seat of power for the Church throughout Latin America and the Philippines. It is where the saying “Holy Toledo” originates. Photo: Gerald Farinas.

With the world’s focus on the Church in Rome after the death of Francis and election of Leo XIV, I’ve read a huge amount of anti-Papist and anti-Catholic hate speech all over social media—from not only evangelical circles but also from mainline Protestantism of which I am a part.

It’s 2025.

It’s disgusting.

We like to think of ourselves as heirs of the Reformation—brave, clear-eyed descendants of Luther, Calvin, and Knox, standing up to corruption and authoritarianism.

But too many Protestants still cling to a hostility toward Roman Catholicism that sounds more like 19th-century nativism than 21st-century Christian maturity.

This isn’t theology—it’s prejudice dressed up in ecclesiology.

Let’s be honest: the old critiques—of Marian devotion, of the papacy, of sacramental theology—have often served as excuses for bigotry, particularly in the United States.

Anti-Catholicism helped fuel the fire of white Anglo-Saxon Protestant identity.

It justified anti-immigrant laws, voter suppression, and xenophobia.

And that same prejudice is alive today—weaponized against migrant communities, especially those from Latin America, who bring with them a deep, culturally rooted Catholic faith.

In many evangelical and mainline Protestant circles, there’s a quiet disdain—sometimes loud—for the expressions of Catholic faith that are cherished in Mexican, Central American, and Caribbean communities.

The veneration of Our Lady of Guadalupe is mocked.

The lighting of candles is dismissed as “superstition.”

Spanish-language Masses are looked down upon as less “biblically sound.”

In some churches, people whisper that Catholic migrants need to be “converted,” as if their faith in Christ were nullified by rosaries and reverence.

That’s not evangelism—it’s cultural arrogance.

And yet, we claim to be people of justice.

Look at what we share with Catholic sisters and brothers: a commitment to the poor and the marginalized. A theology rooted in liberation. A public witness in defense of prisoners, immigrants, and workers.

Around the globe, Catholic communities, like our own Presbyterian Church (USA), the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, and The Episcopal Church, have risked their safety to oppose dictatorships, defend refugees, and shelter the unhoused.

Catholic hospitals, schools, and charities are often the backbone of civil society in the very countries we treat with suspicion.

Yes, the Catholic Church has its struggles, especially regarding LGBTQ inclusion—but so do we.

And within Catholicism, the Spirit is moving: laypeople, theologians, and clergy are advocating for LGBTQ welcome, for gender equity, for honesty and reform.

This is not a church frozen in time; it is the Church in pilgrimage—the same One Faith in which we share.

The anti-Catholicism we see today is not just a leftover from a theological dispute—it is a tool of racism, nationalism, and anti-immigrant sentiment.

It tells brown-skinned Catholics from the Global South that their faith is not good enough, their culture is not civilized enough, their rituals not pure enough.

It sets white Protestantism as the standard and denigrates everything else.

We should be ashamed.

We who say every week that we believe in “one holy, catholic, and apostolic church” must live like we mean it.

The mystical body of Christ is bigger than any one denomination. God’s Spirit cannot be contained by denominational pride or ethnic prejudice.

So enough with the mockery of incense and icons.

Enough with the sneers at Spanish prayers and Marian processions.

Enough with the smug superiority that says “they” need to learn from “us.”

Maybe we need to learn from them.

The kingdom of God will not be built on mutual suspicion, but on mutual love and justice.

If we cannot recognize the Spirit at work in the hearts of Catholic migrants fleeing violence and seeking dignity, then we have failed the Gospel.

It’s time to stop mocking the Church of Rome and start walking with it—as partners, not rivals—in building the world God dreams for us all.