Fake Pope Quote Posts

One of the more bizarre developments in social media has been the rise in fake quotes from popes appearing online.

One might think that Roman Catholics would be particularly at the forefront of this kind of activity, but that’s not necessarily the case. Anglicans seem to love a good fake pope quote. I’ve seen them posted by an incredible number of people including several senior clerics.

I am bewildered as to why people post things and in doing so say something like “Isn’t it amazing that we’ve got a pope who said…?” and don’t pause for a moment to ask whether it might be the case that someone has just made it up. Incredulity might well be a pathway to common sense.

The sad thing is that there’s plenty of profound things that popes do say that are worth repeating. It seems a terrible shame that Pope Francis might be remembered not for his genius in addressing the Climate Crisis in Laudato Si’ but for a series of invented platitudes about hospital walls.

Particularly puzzling are those, and again, I have senior clerics in my mind, who post these things and then when told that they are not by the pope in question respond by saying that they are going to leave the post up on social media because it sounds like something the pope might have said or that they agree with the sentiments anyway.

I can’t think of a clearer example of bearing false witness than leaving something published that you have claimed to be written by someone when you know that in fact it was not.

But anyway, I have a more entertaining response to this from today than just outraged spluttering on other people’s facebook posts, which is to suggest to anyone desperate for a fake pope quote to post online that they ask ChatGPT to come up with a new one rather than recycling someone else’s.

Here’s how it goes. You open up ChatGPT and you give it this kind of prompt:

write a fake quote from Pope Leo XIV that is about 450 words long. Make it sound vaguely plausible but the message is the everyone is welcome in the church, even those who think they are not. Use the kind of language of the self-help and empowerment movement to suggest that the pope wants to change the church and that he alone has a vision to do this.

And bless it, ChatGPT churns it out beautifully.

There are many who believe the Church is not for them. They whisper to themselves, ‘Surely not me—not with my past, not with my doubts, not with my wounds.’ But I say to you today: the doors of the Church are not narrow—they are wide. They are not guarded by perfection—they are held open by grace.
We must move beyond the old habit of exclusion cloaked in the language of tradition. We must stop drawing lines where Christ drew none. The Church is not a sanctuary for the flawless; it is a refuge for the broken, the confused, the seekers, the scarred. If you feel lost, unsure, uncertain of your worth—you are precisely who Christ called. You belong here.
This is not a time for silence or shadows. It is a time for awakening. Too long have we accepted a Church that feels distant, judgmental, fearful of difference. But the Gospel was never about fear. It was always about radical welcome. About the love that does not check credentials at the door.
I envision a Church reborn—not in doctrine, but in posture. A Church that speaks less about rules and more about renewal. A Church where questions are not threats but invitations. A Church where you do not have to hide who you are to be loved as you are.
This vision is not shared by all. Some will say it is too soft, too open, too modern. But I say it is simply faithful—to the Jesus who touched the unclean, who ate with sinners, who forgave before they asked, and who never once said, ‘Come to me, but only if you’ve already cleaned yourself up.’
I do not seek to dismantle the Church—I seek to return it to its heart. That heart is mercy. That heart is hospitality. That heart is Christ.
If you are gay, divorced, disillusioned, poor, angry, unsure if you even believe anymore—come. If you have been hurt by the Church, forgotten by the Church, judged by the Church—come. If you are full of joy or full of rage—come.
You will not find a perfect community. But you will find a people trying—trying to be more like Christ, one small, stumbling step at a time. That is all any of us can do.
The future of the Church is not behind us in stone and ritual. It is ahead of us—in compassion, in courage, and in the willingness to welcome those who thought there was no place left for them. I have seen this future. And I believe it begins now.”
 
Isn’t that genius? “Not a time for silence or shadows” – completely meaningless and yet exactly the kind of thing that people love posting. I just love “The future of the Church is not behind us in stone and ritual…”. No pope would ever say that. Priests do tend to like a bit of ritual after all and if any pope got near saying that then I’m sure that they could count on those that surround them to prevent them making a fool of themselves and alienating all their clergy.
 
“I envision a Church reborn—not in doctrine, but in posture.” Can you imagine anyone other than perhaps a C of E bishop commenting on the latest draft of Prayers of Love and Faith ever saying anything so absurd? Yet I’ve seen plenty of even sillier fake pope quotes purporting to be the real deal.
 
People do love this kind of thing. And that’s exactly the kind of post that I’ve seen posted and liked and reposted dozens of times in the last few weeks.
 
Might I suggest that we put a stop to it? For as the medieval pope Kelvinius the First said in 1524…
 
Let not thine idle hands inscribe falsehoods in the name of the Holy See, for to speak a lie in the voice of Peter is to forge chains for thine own soul. Be on guard for the truth. For the truth shall set you ChatGPTFree.
 
 
Picture of a Swiss Guard on guard.

The Friends of St Eucalyptus

Some years ago now, I introduced readers of this blog to the twin churches of St Eucalyptus on the Rocks and St Anaglypta by the Skerry. They were dreamt up by me in order to illustrate a point. I was trying to get people to think about whether bread and wine could be consecrated by a priest who couldn’t be in two places at once but who could connect them virtually in some way. This was a long time before the pandemic made those questions pertinent to far more people than had bothered to think about them previously.

From time to time I’ve revisited these two churches to turn over ideas relating to the ways in which doing things digitally can disrupt (or enhance, depending our perspective) the things that Christians do.

So, it was natural that when I was testing out an AI image generator recently I decided to give it the task of showing me what St Eucalyptus by the Rocks actually looks like. I gave it a very simple instruction and it came up with quite an impressive image.

I published this image on Facebook along with a comment suggesting that this is one of my favourite Scottish Episcopal Churches.

The reaction was swift and interesting. Some people immediately knew that this was an artificially generated image and made comments which suggested that they knew what was going on. Others didn’t recognise it as being artificial though and I was quickly inundated with people asking me where the church is in order that they could visit it.

I told people that the church was close to St Angalypta’s, which you can just see in the distance in the picture and that one of them lay in the Diocese of Argyll and The Isles and the other lay in the Diocese of Moray, Ross and Caithness but that the dioceses could not agree on which was in which. This piece of nonsense might have given the game away to some people but others received this as being typical of the way that the church functions. A little detail seemed to confirm the reality of the picture that they saw before their eyes.

The picture contains a very odd looking window that is set into the rocks almost at sea level and so I gave an explanation for this too, saying that it was there to give light into the cave where St Eúchlyphátius herself used to pray the Celtic rosary every day.

Now, there is no such thing as the Celtic rosary. Nor is there any such saint as St Eúchlyphátius but somehow the faux Gaelic accents on her name made her seem to some to be even more the genuine article.

Again I got responses from people – some in public online, some in private online and some offline. And it remained the case that some people saw this for what it was immediately and others wanted to head off north and west and find the exact spot from which the “photograph” had been taken. It would look great on Instagram after all. At least one American friend with an interest in all things Celtic wanted full details so they could visit on their next trip across the pond.

On something of a roll, I decided to let ChatGPT write a history of the church and it responded with some glorious prose that could well have come out of a local history of a country church.

In the picturesque highlands of Scotland, nestled amidst rolling hills and serene landscapes, stands the enchanting Church of St. Eucalyptus of the Rocks. This small Scottish Episcopal church holds a captivating history, deeply rooted in the spiritual traditions of the region.
Legend has it that centuries ago, a hermit named St. Eucalyptus, a woman of great devotion and wisdom, sought solace and divine communion within the rugged beauty of the highland landscape. Drawn to the mystical energy emanating from a hidden cave, St. Eucalyptus made it her sacred sanctuary, devoting her life to prayer and contemplation.
It was within this cave that St. Eucalyptus began a daily ritual of reciting the Celtic Rosary—a unique form of prayer that combined ancient Celtic spirituality with Christian devotion. The rhythmic repetition of prayers, accompanied by the natural sounds of the surrounding wilderness, created a spiritual harmony that resonated deeply with the saint’s soul.
As word of St. Eucalyptus’ profound spirituality spread, pilgrims and seekers from far and wide journeyed to the highlands to witness the transformative power of her prayers. Inspired by her unwavering faith and the miracles attributed to her, a humble community of believers gradually formed around the cave.
Recognizing the need for a more permanent place of worship, the community embarked on an ambitious project to build a church in honour of their beloved saint. They chose a spot near the cave, where the ancient rocks seemed to embrace the faithful with a sense of awe and wonder.
Construction of the church commenced, using locally sourced stone and guided by the skilled hands of the villagers. With each stone meticulously laid, the church gradually took shape—a testament to the enduring faith and dedication of the community.
The Church of St. Eucalyptus of the Rocks, with its simple yet elegant architecture, stands as a tribute to the saint’s legacy and the spiritual traditions she inspired. The interior exudes a sense of tranquillity, adorned with Celtic symbols and artwork that pay homage to the rich heritage of the highlands.
Over the centuries, the church has become a spiritual haven for those seeking solace, guidance, and a connection to the divine. Pilgrims, locals, and visitors alike are drawn to the church’s serene ambiance and the spiritual presence that seems to linger in the air.
Today, the Church of St. Eucalyptus of the Rocks continues to thrive as a place of worship and spiritual refuge. The Celtic Rosary, once recited by the saint in her secluded cave, is now embraced by the congregation as a cherished tradition, passed down through generations.
The church’s small community holds dear the legacy of St. Eucalyptus and remains dedicated to preserving the traditions and spiritual practices that she embodied. The annual Feast of St. Eucalyptus is celebrated with great joy and reverence, drawing pilgrims from near and far to honour the saint and partake in the rich tapestry of highland spirituality.
As the sun sets over the highland landscape, casting a golden glow on the Church of St. Eucalyptus of the Rocks, the prayers of the faithful mingle with the whispers of the wind—a testament to the enduring power of faith and the timeless presence of St. Eucalyptus, forever entwined with the sacred beauty of the Scottish highlands.

Again, the more detailed fragments seemed to convince people all the more that they were looking at an actual church on the West coast of Scotland.

Again I was asked for the exact location. I was asked for more details about St Eucalyptus, I was asked whether this was the closest church to the sea in Scotland and I’m convinced that if I’d been selling St Eucalyptus Celtic Rosaries online I’d be a richer man now than I was then.

Now, all of this might make us think a bit. Is the Church of St Eucaluptus real or isn’t it? Since I conjured it up in my imagination over a decade ago, many have thought about its congregation. The details of the saint’s life are at least as much connected to reality as some of the stories about Scottish saints who actually are in the calendar of the church. Is the story of St Eucalyptus telling her beads and saying her prayers in the cave more or less true than the stories of St Gilbert of Caithness slaying a dragon or St Mungo raising a dead robin to life?

In a religion based on someone who claimed that he was the way the truth and the life, it is worth pausing from time to time and asking what we mean by truth. Is it simply the dull reality of that for which we have proof? Do angels still surround the blessèd. Do demons still stalk the unwary? Does the devil still goeth about prowling like a lion seeking whom he may devour?

Religion has an interesting relationship with the truth, at times insisting that it is the very arbiter of objective reality and at other times using reality not merely as a plaything but as a revealer of holy mysteries.

I’ve been to many communion services in which I have been present with the Lord and the flakey disciples in an upper room yet I’ve never myself set foot in Jerusalem.

The stories that religious people tell are all the more interesting because sometimes it is important to know whether they are stories that stand up as objective chronicles of events and because sometimes it isn’t important to know that for sure.

Dragons still need to be vanquished either way.

People still need to be healed.

The world is a better place when you know that angels dance and sing.

I suspect that this won’t be the last that we hear of St Eucalyptus on the Rocks. That little congregation clings onto the ebbing and flowing of truth in our minds just as it has clung onto the rocks by the shore for so many centuries.

And you gentle readers are all Friends of St Eucalyptus now.