Bobby Henderson did not set out to found a religion, and his own later writing treats the movement's growth with a degree of surprise. Rather than abandon the joke once it went viral in 2005, he kept writing inside it: The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, published in 2006, expanded the Big Boil creation account and the Eight "I'd Really Rather You Didn'ts" into a book-length parody scripture, and The Loose Canon, in 2010, collected material submitted by the growing community of self-described Pastafarians rather than writing further material himself, an editorial choice that let the movement begin authoring its own doctrine independent of its founder.
Henderson has functioned since as the closest thing the movement has to a head, corresponding through the church's website and occasionally commenting publicly when a legal case draws attention, including celebrating New Zealand's 2015 marriage-celebrant recognition on his own blog as vindication of the movement's seriousness about performing real ceremonies, even while the movement's doctrine keeps insisting, in the same breath, that none of it need be taken seriously at all.
His legacy is genuinely double. To supporters he is the person who turned a narrow, one-time protest against a single school board's decision into a durable test case for how legal systems define religion, run in dozens of countries over two decades. To the courts that have ruled against the movement, principally Poland's and the Netherlands' highest administrative tribunals, his own admitted satirical intent in writing the original letter is the very reason his creation cannot qualify as a religion under their laws, a use of his own words against the movement he built from them that Henderson has never publicly disputed.