It’s probably fair to say that John Paul II began his papacy with an impression of American Catholicism not dissimilar from that of other European intellectuals: The U.S. Church had an enviable network of institutions — ranging from parishes to health care and social service facilities to schools, colleges, and universities — but the Church was more wealthy than cultured and lived too comfortably within the American status quo.
On June 11, during their spring meeting in Orlando, bishops of the United States gathered at the Basilica Shrine of Mary, Queen of the Universe, to consecrate the United States to the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. The consecration celebrates America’s semiquincentennial, that is, the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
Repetition, it’s said, can be the mother of learning. So, in light of recent Catholic debates about the pursuit of peace in the Middle East and elsewhere, permit me to reprise, with slight adjustments, parts of a column from 24 years ago.
Near the end of his new encyclical “Magnifica humanitas,” Pope Leo XIV senses that his reader may be feeling overwhelmed. “At this point,” the Holy Father writes, “a subtle temptation may emerge, namely the thought that the problems are too big and we are too small, and that our choices, therefore, cannot make a difference.”
Your voice is valuable, rooted in your inherent dignity, and it continues to matter regardless of changes in law or policy.
Legislative vigilance is essential. So is building the culture of life by expanding access to palliative end-of-life care.
“Centesimus annus” was a call to think about free politics and free economics as more than mechanisms. Democracy and the market, the Pope John Paul II insisted, are not machines that can run by themselves.
The Catholic history of the Mid-Atlantic offers a particularly revealing case. In New York, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey, Catholic life took shape unevenly, shaped as much by law and political culture as by migration and missionary effort.
The need to freshly understand the meaning of our humanity is as important — if not more important — than ever.
Over these 75 years, I have experienced the vocation of sanctity in so many ways, each of which has left its imprint on my soul and my spiritual life.
