The Church Is Political—Inside and Out

A reporter recently asked U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, a practicing Catholic, how he reconciled the teachings of the Catholic Church with the Trump administration’s aggressive stance against illegal and mass migration. Rubio gave an interesting answer about the nature of mass migration, but he also insisted that “the pope is not a political figure.” This is the kind of answer that Catholic politicians who take the Faith seriously are wont to make, and I understand why Rubio and other Catholics in the administration, such as J.D. Vance, use it from time to time. There is just one problem with it: it is not true.

Politics is intrinsically moral, so it will always have something to do with religion. This ought to be obvious; but for many, it escapes them routinely. This does not mean that faith can be reduced to power conflicts or that political loyalties are a replacement for theology. What it means is you cannot avoid taking stances at certain times and places that are going to benefit one side in a conflict over another. To think otherwise is naïve, for neither in Church nor in State can we ever truly dispense with questions of power.

Admitting this publicly is difficult for faithful Catholics because we live mostly in secular liberal democracies, one of whose main tenets is that religion and political power are and ought to be separate. Having been raised to believe this, people are apt to misunderstand exactly how the Church is “political.” The Church is political on some particular issues because they are directly connected to central doctrines of the Faith—the immorality of abortion and sex outside marriage are obvious doctrines in this regard. On others, she is not because they involve technical questions of how some sort of political (that is, moral) goal should be achieved. This means her “positions” on issues will appear differently in different historical eras, in different countries. 

In the era of robber barons, she appeared “liberal” because of her concern for the poor—and those who advocated such positions became known as “bleeding heart” liberals after the imagery of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Today, when society wishes for abortion to be widely available, she is “conservative” because no real Christian can countenance this. It is important to remember that political loyalties are, by definition, impermanent. 

It made sense for American Catholics to support the Democratic Party in times past—but not now, when they routinely espouse political positions completely opposed to Catholic belief more so than the Republican Party. (This does not mean the Republican Party is perfect or worthy of undying loyalty—it is not.) There may be times when total rejection is the best option, but one cannot stand idly by and let those opposed to the Church’s basic beliefs do as they please. Some political effort—by that I mean some form of power politics—is necessary to oppose them.

The Church often engages in controversial issues because they touch upon unchangeable doctrines, which some Catholics wish they would not. At other times, she will not invest much effort in controversial issues because they do not touch upon immutable doctrines, though some might want her to. To take one particularly neuralgic example, the proper alignment of Church-State relations is an ideal subject to historical circumstances. The Church’s position on this has changed over time since the conditions in which she has existed have changed much over time and from country to country. 

At this moment in history, American-style religious liberty may be fine for the Church—but not in other eras. (Whether American-style religious liberty is the ideal the Church should pursue at all times is another matter.) The Church’s position on adultery is not subject to historical circumstances. Having sex with someone who is not your spouse is always adultery, whatever the circumstances. These types of cases are what moral theologians call “exceptionless norms” that do not change with circumstances, though they can mitigate one’s culpability. 

Catholics who feel strongly about, say, immigration, may feel aggrieved because the Church puts more emphasis on issues like marriage. But this cannot be helped. Open borders may be an insane policy, but it is not heresy, whereas promoting “homosexual marriage” is. However, such “exceptionless norms” are relatively rare, and often her interventions are limited to the reiteration of general principles rather than particular solutions to particular problems. 

I recall reading somewhere that this was the case with papal encyclicals—that their purpose was mostly to reiterate general principles rather than solutions to particular issues, which are the province of politicians. Benedict XVI conducted himself thus when he was pope; obviously, Francis did not, which fostered the unfortunate impression that the popes are “political” in the sense they should seek to solve particular political problems, which they should not do since they possess little or no expertise for that purpose. As for Pope Leo XIV, time will tell.

Speaking of our new pontiff, what I have said applies to the internal workings of the Church as well the external. The Italian press reported seeing Cardinal Prevost outside of Cardinal Burke’s residence prior to the conclave, during the general congregations that preceded his election. Following his elevation as Leo XIV, several news outlets rushed to assure the public that the future pope was not at Cardinal Burke’s residence. Or if he was, he was certainly not there—heaven forbid!—to do anything so loathsome as ask for Burke’s support in the conclave (or vice versa). Perish the thought! 

This pearl clutching about normal pre-conclave maneuvers is the counterpart to complaints about the Church being “political” when it opposes abortion. If Catholics should have learned anything about the internal workings of the Church in the past twelve years, it is that power matters. And certain factions in the Church have power while others clearly do not, and they are not shy about using it. 

This is borne out by another story making the rounds in the press. If readers are not aware, Latin Mass Catholics in France hold a pilgrimage every year to the Cathedral of Chartres, ending with a Mass celebrated in that cathedral. According to reports, two French bishops, in consultation with the head of the Dicastery for Divine Worship, Cardinal Arthur Roche, have issued a set of restrictions for the celebration of the Latin Mass for the Chartres Pilgrimage or any other pilgrimage in France. They include, among other things, the stipulation that priests who celebrate the Latin Mass must seek permission to do so—every time they celebrate it—from the local bishop in whose diocese they are passing through while on pilgrimage.  According to reports, two French bishops, in consultation with the head of the Dicastery for Divine Worship, Cardinal Arthur Roche, have issued a set of restrictions for the celebration of the Latin Mass for the Chartres Pilgrimage.Tweet This

These restrictions, if applied to the letter, would make it almost impossible to celebrate the Latin Mass on such pilgrimages. Why issue such restrictions so early in the new pontificate? Wasn’t Pope Leo XIV elected to bring peace and harmony back to the Church? The reason for this must remain inexplicable if you sincerely believe the Church is somehow “not political” (i.e., has nothing to do with power). Once you are willing to concede that bishops can be “political,” the reason is plain. The French bishops, many of whom despise the Latin Mass, want to force the new pontiff to either support their restrictions on the old Mass or openly contradict his predecessor Pope Francis, with whom Pope Leo has claimed an affinity.

I suppose you could say I am exaggerating and that the French bishops are merely concerned with their right as bishops to moderate the liturgy. You could also believe protestations about the unity of the bishops—that they are all one big happy family and do not have serious conflicts. Or you could believe everything you have seen with your eyes for the past twelve years and recognize that there is a group of prelates in the Church who are very much “political” and who have been conducting a campaign against the Tradition of the Church for much longer than that. 

Pope Leo appears a tolerant man, and it would not take much to rebuke the French bishops without causing a stir. Moreover, being a canonist, he does possess relevant expertise to solve this particular problem. But he need not revoke Traditionis Custodes or even address it canonically. If he sent a letter to the French bishops reaffirming their right to moderate the liturgy, while sending greetings to the Chartres Pilgrimage, wishing them well and thanking them for their faithfulness to the Church’s heritage, that would pretty much resolve the matter. The French bishops would get the message. They understand politics very well if nothing else.

To return to my point de départ, the Church is political because sometimes you cannot but favor one side or another in a conflict. And you cannot escape such conflicts in this fallen world. It is true that there is far more to the Church than her “political” element. She is supernatural, and miracles—real ones—still happen within her bosom to this day. Saints and martyrs adorn her at this very hour. There is no need to linger on the more “political” aspects of her existence. There is also no reason to deny them. Sometimes, in all walks of life, you have to choose sides, no matter how unpleasant it may be. Even popes, at times, have to be “political,” even when they are aiming for peace and harmony.