Pope Francis has consistently condemned the corrosive power of gossip and idle chatter within the Church, especially among the clergy. “Gossip is the opposite of the Gospel because it always condemns others,” he warned in December last year. For the pontiff, this habit isn’t a minor flaw—it’s a poison. It fractures unity, shatters reputations, and undermines the very heart of the priestly mission. His relentless denunciations of this practice have, in many ways, formed an unspoken magisterium on the matter.
It’s clear that the pope’s unwavering focus on this issue is rooted in personal experience. Jorge Mario Bergoglio has witnessed the devastating impact of gossip firsthand—first among his fellow Jesuits and later within the episcopate. But his experiences push us toward a deeper, more unsettling reflection: if Pope Francis has been the most outspoken of recent pontiffs in calling gossip a “cancer in the Church,” there’s a painful irony in the fact that even those who have suffered from it can, knowingly or not, become entangled in the very same cycle of whispers and rumors. Consider how often the Pope’s decisions may have been shaped by those with free access to Casa Santa Marta—individuals who, rather than speaking truthfully, peddle gossip to push their own agendas.
This leads to a sobering question: why do those who have been wounded by gossip so often end up, even unintentionally, perpetuating it themselves?
In my own experience, I’ve learned that the only way to extinguish the fire of backbiting is to starve it of fuel. Being the target of gossip is profoundly painful, but—as the Gospel teaches—the response must never be retaliation through insinuation or slander. More often than not, those who spread lies are concealing shadows far darker than anything they accuse others of. This isn’t mere symbolism—it’s a brutal reality.
Within the presbytery, an even more insidious dynamic can take root—one that has, regrettably, spread to the laity: sowing division, spreading falsehoods, and weaponizing rumors to fracture brotherhood. At times, those with secrets to protect launch preemptive strikes against those they fear might expose them. It’s no wonder that when we hear words laced with bitterness and venom, we instinctively ask ourselves: What truth is that person trying to bury?
This vicious cycle of suspicion and gossip doesn’t just unravel the bonds of fraternity we are called to protect—it dims the Gospel witness we are meant to embody. Long before it stains the public image of the ministerial priesthood, it corrodes something even deeper: our very humanity. I’d like to offer some reflections on a theme particularly fitting for this Lenten season. We often encounter people eager to give others lessons in faith, but who, in doing so, risk resembling the Pharisees. Consider, for example, certain priests — traditionalists, or so they appear — who rigidly emphasize the importance of fasting on Fridays, yet spend their time speaking ill of others, exchanging gossip with laypeople and fellow clergy, and even spreading outright slander.
The great saints remind us that fasting from food is not an end in itself but a means to discipline the soul. And to truly master the soul, we must also embrace other forms of self-restraint — including control over our speech. Blessed Joseph Alemanno, an Italian priest, once wrote: "Our tongue has two functions: that of taste and that of speech — the latter being nobler, for it is not shared with animals." St. James also warns us: "The tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things" (modicum membrum, sed magna exaltat). With it, we have the power to do great good — speaking words that inspire, praying aloud to God, and singing His praises. Yet, we can just as easily use it for harm — through idle talk, outbursts of anger, prideful remarks, murmuring, and even slander. Blessed Alemanno stressed how effortlessly we can sin with our tongues and how essential it is — especially during Lent — to practice not only fasting from food but also fasting from words.
Fr. James P.
Silere non possum