How to vote like a Catholic

It’s almost time to vote! And it’s no fun at all! Political discourse has become so profoundly degraded and debased, there’s truly nothing left to enjoy, other than the occasional Twitter joke. Election season used to feel like a party; now it feels like going to the morgue to see if you recognize anyone.

That’s actually a good thing.

When I was growing up in the 70’s and 80’s, we treated politics like a game. The sport of political engagement was a good way to get young people like me and my siblings involved; but it also gave us the impression that political parties were like teams, and that it was normal and healthy to ally yourself completely with one side or the other, and to root wholeheartedly for that one side, and to wholeheartedly reject and despise the other. It was very much like Red Sox vs. Yankees: A clear-cut case of good vs. evil. 

Now politics has become dysfunctional to a degree I never could have thought possible in this country. Rather than pushing my kids to get involved in politics like I did when I was young, I’m teaching them, until they’re tired of hearing it, that neither political party is my side. They’re not with me, and I’m not with them. Can’t be. 

I am a Catholic, and neither major party represents the things I know matter most. Both parties get some things right, but both have profound flaws which make them unsuitable for my full allegiance. Because I am Catholic, I am obligated to keep my eyes open to these flaws, and not to get in the habit of talking myself out of taking them seriously because they’re not as bad as the other side. I have an obligation to remain Catholic first, and a political ally second or third or maybe not at all.

The Church and its teaching are strong and reliable when and because they remain independent from politics; and when Catholics blur the lines between faith and politics, their faith always gets shoved down out of the top spot. This is what politics does: It degrades and eventually subsumes other things. This is what it always does. 

This is not a new state of affairs; it’s just more obvious now. Pope Benedict XVI said in 2007, in a speech to the bishops of Latin America and the Caribbean:

“Respect for a healthy secularity—including the pluralism of political opinions—is essential in the Christian tradition. If the Church were to start transforming herself into a directly political subject, she would do less, not more, for the poor and for justice, because she would lose her independence and her moral authority, identifying herself with a single political path and with debatable partisan positions. The Church is the advocate of justice and of the poor, precisely because she does not identify with politicians nor with partisan interests. Only by remaining independent can she teach the great criteria and inalienable values, guide consciences and offer a life choice that goes beyond the political sphere. To form consciences, to be the advocate of justice and truth, to educate in individual and political virtues: that is the fundamental vocation of the Church in this area. And lay Catholics must be aware of their responsibilities in public life; they must be present in the formation of the necessary consensus and in opposition to injustice.”

So, no, you won’t win my Catholic vote by telling me which pocket to tuck my conscience into while I protect “reproductive rights,” and you won’t win my Catholic vote by shouting “Jesus is King!” through a MAGA megophone, either. You will clarify for me who you really rules you, though. 

But let’s be practical. What do Benedict’s words mean, in actionable terms? Do they mean that we, as Catholics, cannot register as Democrat or Republican, or that we can’t in good conscience vote for candidates of either party, because they don’t perfectly align with Catholic values?

They do not. The Church recognizes that the question of how to vote is thorny, complex, and sometimes downright revolting, and that people of good conscience may come to different conclusions. 

This year we just don’t have any good choices, and we either have to make do with what we think is the least bad; or we may discern, for various reasons, that our consciences tell us to vote for a candidate who cannot win. These are both legitimate courses to take, and any Catholic who tells you that it’s clearly a sin to vote one way or the other for any reason is just making stuff up. Catholics sometimes try to flog each other into voting Republican, claiming that Benedict XVI said it was a mortal sin to vote for a pro-abortion or pro-euthanasia candidate, even if you’re doing so for other reasons. Actually, he said the opposite (emphasis mine):

“A Catholic would be guilty of formal cooperation in evil, and so unworthy to present himself for Holy Communion, if he were to deliberately vote for a candidate precisely because of the candidate’s permissive stand on abortion and/or euthanasia. When a Catholic does not share a candidate’s stand in favor of abortion and/or euthanasia, but votes for that candidate for other reasons, it is considered remote material cooperation, which can be permitted in the presence of proportionate reasons.”

So there you are. The church is not going to tell you how to vote, but it is going to tell you that you can’t stuff your Catholic ethics in the trunk of the car and let your political desires take the wheel. Yes, we still have to figure out whether proportionate reasons exist, but if that were obvious, he would have said so. 

What we should do, as Catholics, — and make sure our kids see us doing — is to ruthlessly reassess our political values frequently. Do a little examination of conscience and compare the things that motivate us as voters, and the things we are supposed to value as Catholics. Which things make us angry?   Which things do we make excuses for, that we used to find indefensible? What do we spend our time getting worked up about? If that’s changed, why has it changed? It’s not a matter of whether there will be discrepancies between our faith and our political situation, but of how many, and how grave. How defensible are our primary political talking points? What’s really driving our political desires? Could we defend those talking points if everyone else on the face of the earth went silent, and we were alone before God? 

Answering these questions may not change the way we actually vote, but it will probably alter the way you speak to and about other people, and the way you treat other people, especially people who are voting differently from you.

It’s not easy! But this is where our lives are actually lived: Not in the voting booth, but literally everywhere else.

This is what we will bring with us on judgment day: Not our ballots, but our words and deeds. Imagine how insane it would be to stand before God and argue that, sure, Lord, I treated other people like garbage idiots, but look at my voting record.

Yes, how we vote affects people’s lives, indirectly. But for every one vote we cast, we will have countless millions of chances to do good very directly. So that’s where our energy should go. Once every four years, we have the chance to be the best Americans we can be, but every single day, we’re supposed to be like Jesus. 

How? One way is by acts of charity. And another is by accepting how homeless you will feel. 

Recall that after a full day of healing people — a leper, the Centurion’s servant, Peter’s mother-in-law, and many who were possessed — Jesus, in Matthew 8, hears Peter say that he will follow him. Peter and the others have seen Jesus care for everyone who comes to him for help. He understands what they need, and when they come to him with faith, he heals them, because he is God, and he can do this. He is also preparing to give this power to his disciples: To pass along, through the Church he founds, the power to save souls. To be the one hope for humanity.

But what is the cost?

Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”

This is what it means to follow Jesus, and this is what it means to be Catholic: It means you will be homeless. You will never be comfortable. You will never feel right and you will never fit in, and if you do fit in, that should worry you. It means that politics is wearing down the hard edges of your conscience, and down the hole you will slide, and right at the bottom is the worm that dieth not.

So, don’t do that. Instead, be Catholic. 

It’s not as much fun as joining a party! When you become a follower of Christ, no one is going to pull a string and release a shower of balloons on your head. But you can hope for eternal life. Overall, I think we’re coming out ahead.

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Image by Lorie Shaull from St Paul, United States, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

(A version of this essay first appeared in Parable Magazine in 2023.) 

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