Sorrow in the Church and in the Family

There is a deep, poignant sadness in our Church and our family in the wake of this past election. This sorrow is not about the outcome, which is part of the ebb and flow of American politics and was expected given the stressed economy, unpopular President and war, and the talented, steady, even charismatic young candidate who contrasted so with his older, impulsive and erratic opponent. Rather, the grief is that over half (54%: more than the general electorate) of Catholics voted for legalized abortion. Raymond Arroyo of EWTN counted over one hundred Catholic bishops who had spoken out clearly on the primacy of the right to life over all other rights and issues; these exhortations were ignored by a majority.

For a Catholic, this election was not just about opinion, political direction, or partisan allegiance. It was about our core belief; it was about what defines us; it was about protection of the very least among us. This sorrow is not political, but familial: filial, fraternal and sororal, paternal and maternal. This sorrow dwells in the most intimate and personal bonds that unite us with each other. The pro-choice vote authorizes the handing over of “the very least” to destruction, with our tax money. It is as if one’s own sister or brother, daughter or son, willingly handed our infant child over to Herod’s or Pharaoh’s soldiers, who then butcher him in our presence. This vote is a most personal betrayal.

For a Catholic, this vote is a scandal given to the young. Our youth are caught up in enthusiasm about Obama with little manifest reaction against his policy of choice. Intelligent, devout, informed, older Catholics are confirming them in this indifference. This is unspeakably sad.

This sorrow has nothing to do with condemnatory judgment or personal resentment. Democrat intentions are largely praiseworthy: peace, distributive justice, medical coverage, and the recovery of the economy. Likewise, there is no question of personal hatred for pro-Obama friends and family. Christian love and good manners will prevail. Bonds of respect, concern and affection remain…and even intensify: “distance makes the heart grow fonder.” Here the distance is spiritual, moral and interior; and it is great.

Spiritual communion has been broken. A divorce has occurred. There is now a huge gulf between us. The Catholic Church and the Catholic family will never be the same in the USA. Certain dates stand our as significant markers for us: Columbus in 1498, the Declaration of Independence in 1776, Civil War of 1860, the end of WWII in 1945, our Catholic president in 1960. Now the tragic Catholic Apostasy of 2008 may prove to be as significant for American Catholics as Henry VIII’s declaration of sovereignty was for English Catholics or Luther’s posting for German Catholics. We now have, in substance, two different religions in the same Church and within the same family.

The root of our word religion is religio which means bonds. A bond within our family and Church is our shared love for the very little ones. On November 4, 2008 fifty-four percent of us ruptured that bond. The directive from Cardinal Ratzinger that politicians who persist in advocacy for legalized abortion be refused communion is merely a candid explication of the spiritual divorce or self-excommunication that has already occurred.

Our word diabolic is rooted in words that mean "to tear apart." The vote to governmentally support the literal tearing apart of the unborn has now torn apart our families, our Church, and our society...at the deepest level. That vote by 54% of us was truly diabolic.

For the loyal Catholic, legalized abortion is an essential evil, an abomination, as much as legalized genocide, child sex abuse, polygamy, or honor killings. The friend or family member who votes for legalized abortion takes on the same moral status as one who actively supports legalized genocide, child sex abuse, polygamy, or honor killings. It is just that serious, that clear, that simple!

This election has rightly been recognized as the definitive end of our Civil War over slavery. Within society, but especially in the Church, it is also the explosion of a new Civil War: a quiet and (sometimes overly) civil one; the violence hidden, technologized, and sanitized; a cool culture war, camouflaged by courtesy; intensified by mutual affection and respect.

At this point in time, thirty-five years after Roe, there is no argument or exhortation that will convince those we love who have fallen into this error. There is very little we can do. We acknowledge that we are powerless. Prayer is essential: a deepening of our own personal and liturgical prayer. In this context, we reaffirm our love for those who voted for the new regime, even as we sadly acknowledge an unavoidable spiritual distance that has opened between us.

This unavoidable sorrow of separation is somehow part of Divine Providence, a purgative moment on our pilgrim journey to heaven. Bringing it to prayer, we are encouraged by yesterday’s mediation from Saint Faustina: “I will glorify Jesus in abandonment and darkness, in agony and fear, in pain and bitterness, in anguish of spirit and grief of heart.” (Diary, 1662.)