’Tis the season for apocalypse! Another church year ends this month with the Solemnity of Christ the King. Our final scripture readings will brim with end-time rhetoric, too. And of course, this year being an election year, so will our media outlets—as they have all year, to be honest.
It’s a sure thing that this month half of the country will be relieved and half in distress after Election Day. In a system dominated by two parties, relatively few will wake up the day after an election and enjoy their breakfast with calm indifference. While some may choose to sit on their hands that fateful Tuesday, winners and losers will emerge, and the outcome will matter to the nation and to the world.
The year before each new presidential election cycle, the U.S. bishops publish an updated version of a document titled “Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship.” In an ideal world, this document would be in the hands of every Catholic, studied in parish groups, preached about thoughtfully in the assembly, and considered seriously by every voter well in advance of November.
We don’t live in that kind of world. Instead, my brother reports that his pastor delivers shocking, searing, and unsolicited ultimatums about precisely who real Catholics should vote for from the ambo. That’s not the purpose of “Faithful Citizenship,” nor is it a legitimate use of the homily time.
The present version of “Faithful Citizenship,” issued in 2023, begins with a quote from Pope Francis from Fratelli Tutti (On Fraternity and Social Friendship):
Jesus’ parable [of the Good Samaritan] summons us to rediscover our vocation as citizens of our respective nations and of the entire world, builders of a new social bond. . . . It is grounded in a fundamental law of our being: we are called to direct society to the pursuit of the common good and, with this purpose in mind, to persevere in consolidating its political and social order, its fabric of relations, its human goals.
This well-chosen quote contains key elements for our meditation: vocation, social bond, common good, and the fabric of relations. Part of our vocation as citizens of the earthly community is to participate in our precious democracy.
Withholding your vote is one way to protest what may seem mutually undesirable options to some. But doing so doesn’t absolve us of the outcomes of that choice. A better way to exercise your citizenship vocation may be to get more involved in local politics and to encourage better candidates for public office from your community. (Maybe even you!)
The concept of being “builders of a new social bond” is compelling. Our social bond has frayed over these past years. When I moved to a new address four years ago, I contemplated how isolated I’ve felt in the last three cities I lived in. I resolved this time not to wait for community to find me but to initiate its formation. I also determined that I didn’t want that community to be a clone of myself: white, Catholic, educated, and retired.
So I got out of my bubble, started meeting people in different contexts, and invited them to my home for dinner parties. It felt a little like the parable of the wedding feast: traveling the highways and byways for a less homogenous community. Four years later, I feel more connected than I have at addresses where I’ve lived twice as long. And I’m hearing stories I haven’t heard before, gaining perspectives that were never expressed in my old bubble.
The common good is a significant term. This is a primary Catholic value. We’re not in this world to get what we can and to privately enjoy it. Amassing our pile is not the purpose of a faith-filled life. God created a world, called it good, and intended that good for all to enjoy. That means the natural order too—birds and bees, fish and mammals, and crawling things. It also most certainly means people outside our circles and demographics, as well as across our borders. As long as there are people who don’t have homes, food, jobs, personal security, or access to education, health care, and the same justice others enjoy, the common good is not yet satisfied and we have work to do.
Finally, let’s consider the “fabric of relations.” The word fabric is intriguing. Fabric is woven of single threads to create a useful whole. It can contain many colors, even distinct fibers. The rich textures and patterns that emerge from a woven fabric are so much more than what the isolated threads could possibly be. Though composed of many parts, the final fabric is a united product. That is what our society, indeed all of humanity and all of creation, is intended to be.
How do we approach election season every four years with these key elements in mind? As our bishops note in the current version of “Faithful Citizenship,” election years in this blessed land of ours should brim not with apocalyptic foreboding and anxiety but with gratitude and hope. We should cast our votes and go to our beds that night in peace.
Powerful forces benefit by stirring up our worst fears and deep outrage. They want us to purchase their narratives, pledge our allegiance to personalities, and ignore policies that have real effects on real segments of our community and our world.
This season, our bishops urge us to turn off social media, television, and podcasts. Turn instead to scripture, prayer, and silent adoration before the blessed sacrament. Spend time with people who are poor and learn about their suffering. The bishops invite us not simply to vote according to our personal allegiances but to enter into spiritual discernment about what kind of leadership the world needs and which kind aligns with the values of Jesus.
Above all, determine right now to refuse the siren summons to catastrophize. Cast your vote in peace and wake up the next day resolved to continue to work for the best possible system in the future. Some of us may feel like winners and others like losers. But we only really lose if we allow politics to divide or even destroy what makes this nation the beautiful land of liberty and unity it is. We lose if we surrender to the media rhetoric that causes factions in our families and empty seats at the Thanksgiving table. Let’s resolve right now that there are things we value more than being right or having our way.
A church year is ending. We’ll be hearing a lot about apocalypse in the pews for the next few weeks. It may sound like the end of the world, but it is not. The sun will seem to darken and the stars to fall for some of us. But the only apocalypse we need to fear is that deadly spirit that whispers to us that the common good and the fabric of relations is a myth.
The sky darkens if we accept that some of us don’t belong and don’t qualify for the same dignity and justice. Stars fall if we pass up our vocation as builders of a new social bond crisscrossing all borders and boundaries. Let’s vote—and then get back to work.
This article also appears in the November 2024 issue of U.S. Catholic (Vol. 89, No. 11, pages 47-49). Click here to subscribe to the magazine.
Image: Pexels/David Henry
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