Today, we are proud to launch Let There Be Light—a global call to conscience, an urgent appeal to His Holiness Pope Leo XIV , and a campaign that seeks to restore moral clarity in an age darkened by radicalism and silence. For this campaign we are partnering with Stop The Hate Uk and The Shield of David. 

Let There Be Light is not merely a slogan. It is a demand for truth. A prayer for courage. And a rallying cry to awaken the spiritual and moral leadership of the world’s most powerful Christian voice.

On October 7, the world witnessed evil in its rawest form. Innocents were slaughtered, women defiled, children abducted—atrocities committed in the name of ideology, hatred, and terror. Yet far too many voices that claim to defend peace, dignity, and human life have fallen silent or equivocated in the face of such crimes.

Among those voices, tragically, is the one that shepherds over a billion Catholic souls.

We are calling on you—our supporters, our partners, our allies in faith and in principle—to join us in writing directly to the Vatican. Together, we must urge Pope Francis to:

• Stand up for Judeo-Christian traditions, which form the moral foundation of the free world.

• Speak for the innocent and the oppressed—Jewish, Christian, Muslim and beyond—who have suffered at the hands of Islamist radicalism.

• Condemn without ambiguity the perpetrators of terror and reject the dangerous moral equivalence that excuses barbarism under the guise of resistance.

We believe that silence in the face of evil is not neutrality—it is complicity. If the Church cannot speak now, when the blood of innocents cries out from the ground, then when will it?

Let there be light—in Rome, in Jerusalem, in every home and heart that believes faith must not be used as a shield for extremism, but as a sword of moral truth.

Together, let us hold accountable the man entrusted with the moral leadership of over a billion souls. Together, let us remind the Vatican that to protect the persecuted is not political—it is profoundly Christian.

Let there be light. And let it begin with us.

📝 Use our template letter to write directly to Pope Francis.
✉️ Tell him that the time has come to stand for the innocent, for the persecuted, and for truth.
🕯️ Remind him that silence is not compassion—it is surrender.

We’ve made it simple

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To His Holiness Pope Leo XIV
Apostolic Palace, Vatican City

Your Holiness,

Permit me, if I may, to address you not as a subject to his sovereign, nor as a petitioner to a throne, but as one human being to another—bound by the obligations of memory, conscience, and that vanishing but essential virtue: moral clarity.

There come moments in history when silence becomes a stain, and ambiguity—a kind of abdication. I write to you with all due reverence to suggest that we are living in such a moment now.

In the wake of October 7, the world bore witness to a horror that should have shattered all illusions of moral equivalence: civilians hunted in their homes, babies butchered, women defiled, the elderly dragged from their beds, children taken into bondage—all filmed, celebrated, and broadcast by their perpetrators. These were not acts of war. They were acts of hatred—ritualised, premeditated, and proud.

And yet, Your Holiness, with the world ablaze and civilisation again staring into the abyss of medieval savagery clad in ideological vestments, your voice—so capable of soaring eloquence—has too often chosen the path of tragic equivocation.

One might understand the call for peace. One might even tolerate the careful tone of diplomacy. But what defies understanding is the failure to draw the most basic moral distinction between those who build tunnels to drag innocents into darkness and those who build hospitals to restore them to life. Between those who sanctify death, and those—imperfect though they may be—who cling to life, to freedom, to beauty, to reason, and to law.

It is disquieting—deeply so—to hear the spiritual shepherd of over a billion Catholics refer to “both sides” when only one side committed pogroms, boasted of mass rape, and filmed their crimes as if they were triumphs. To mourn suffering while declining to name the source of that suffering is not neutrality. It is abdication through omission. It is compassion diluted into platitude.

I do not question your capacity for empathy, Holy Father. But I must ask, with a heart heavy and bewildered—what of Yaron Lischinsky? A Christian, a member of the King of Kings Messianic Congregation in Jerusalem, a man of faith who was brutally murdered by Hamas. Why was his death met with silence from the See of Rome?

Does it not matter that he was both Christian and Israeli? Is it not precisely such individuals—men and women of dual witness—who deserve the protection of your voice? Is it not your duty, indeed the Church’s calling, to stand with the innocent and the oppressed, and not to feed the flames of radicalism—the same radicalism that has burned churches, silenced prayer, driven Christians from Bethlehem, and cast shadows across once-holy lands?

Your Holiness, the ideological forces that animate Hamas are not merely anti-Zionist. They are anti-Christian, anti-democratic, anti-human. They reject not only the modern state of Israel, but the very Judeo-Christian moral frameworkupon which our civilisation has been built—a framework that gave the world Maimonides and Augustine, Mozart and Monteverdi, liberty and conscience.

To see that edifice now tremble beneath the weight of moral confusion and institutional fear is more than disheartening. It is a betrayal. And in this betrayal, every empty phrase about “root causes” and “cycles of violence” becomes a subtle capitulation—another stone laid upon the path of radical triumphalism.

And so I implore you: speak. Speak with the fire of Ezekiel and the clarity of Paul. Speak for the children who died in their beds and for those who still cry out in captivity. Speak for the women whose bodies have been broken, for the Christian communities erased from the Middle East, and for the Jewish families who once again are asked to live under siege—this time not only from rockets but from polite indifference.

But speak plainly. Not in euphemism. Not in moral symmetry. Not in phrases so emptied of force that even the guilty can hide behind them.

Speak because the Church was never meant to be a mirror of worldly fashion, but a lamp in the darkness.

Speak because if the Church cannot name evil when it stares us in the face—when it slaughters innocents and desecrates the holy—then what exactly is it for?

It may yet fall to the Judeo-Christian world to lead again, not in vengeance, but in faith, in light, in the unflinching defence of truth. I urge you, with respect unfeigned and urgency unhidden, to stand with us.

Sincerely,