Living "the Politics of Disharmony"

When Harvard's Samuel Huntington authored American Politics: The Politics of Disharmony in 1981, the Soviet Union still stood (seemingly) strong, and American politics still predictably performed more or less according to Americans' Cold War era norms and expectations. As I acknowledged in my belated review of Huntington's book on this site (December 20, 2024), in 1981 I was at the end of my political science career and so managed to miss reading the book - until the transformed political world of 2024 finally inspired me to read it and apply its analysis to today. It is, as I wrote in 2024, "An Old Book for a New Day." 

Huntington highlighted the traditionally "creedal" character of American identity. He highlighted the high degree of consensus among Americans about the "American Creed," especially among those more active in the system and who benefit the most from it." On the other hand, those "who have less income and less education and who do not occupy leadership roles are more likely to be hypocritical or moralistic and lower status people cynical or complacent."

Huntington's emphasis was mainly on the periodic eras of moralistic reforms, what he called "creedal passion periods," which occur periodically through American history, approximately every 60 years. He identified four such periods in particular: the American Revolution, the Jacksonian era, the Progressive era, and the 1960s-1970s. The general direction of these efforts was "to make political institutions more responsive, more liberal, more democratic." Reforms have not, however, been unambiguously successful. "The reforms of one generation often produce the vested interests of the next."

By Huntington's calculation, "a major sustained creedal passion period will occur in the second and third decades of the twenty-first century" - i.e., right about now. There can be little doubt that the decade of Donald Trump has already initiated precisely such a crisis, in which not only elements of the "American Creed" but its very viability as the primary vehicle for the expression of American identity has come into question.  Unlike earlier periods, when the conflict was not so much between rival ideas as between the ruling ideas and the facts found in existing American institutions, a conflict has evidently emerged between conflicting ideas themselves, as the very character of American identity as "creedal" has come. under sustained intellectual and political attack.

Huntington already in 1981 recognized the possibility that in the future (which is now the present) other forces could "change, dilute, or eliminate the central ideals of the American Creed."

Bringing his analysis forward, Huntington foresaw several possibilities. First, the core creedal values, which derive from the 17th and 18th centuries, could "come to be seen as increasingly irrelevant in a complex modern economy and a threatening international environment," an irrelevance potentially exacerbated by rising secularism. "As religious passion weakens, how likely is the United States to sustain a firm commitment to its traditional values? Would an America without its Protestant core still be America?" 

Second, the transition to post-industrial society could be accompanied by an increasingly "communitarian" ideology, in place of Lockean individualism. Third, the increasing influence of recent immigrants could similarly also dilute that Lockean tradition. Early 20th-century immigrants "introduced a different 'ethic' into American cities." Likewise, "the more recent immigrants could well introduce into American society values markedly in contrast with Lockean liberalism." Obviously, immigration is a contentious issue at present. Even when occasionally masked as a concern about the introduction of alternative ideas which might or might not be compatible with the traditional "American Creed" (as was the case with the 19th-century "Know-Nothing" opposition to Catholic immigrants), the intense animus against immigrants currently dominant in our politics is obviously racially structured. That said, it it obviously also true that, like the earlier Catholic and Jewish immigrants, more recent immigrants may also bring with them ideas and values that may challenge (as well as in many case affirm) elements of the traditional "American Creed."

Finally, having been in existence as a nation for over 200 years (now almost 250), Huntington suggested that the U.S. may experience less need fo its founding ideals as a primary definition of its national identity. "History, tradition, custom culture and a sense of shared experience such as other major nations have developed over the centuries could also come to define American identity, and the role of abstract ideals and values might be reduced." (This is roughly the position JD Vance famously articulated in his 2024 Convention acceptance speech.) What Huntington calls "the ideational basis of national identity" might "be replaced by an organic one, and 'American exceptionalism' would wither." Instead of "a nation with the soul of a church," the U.S. could "become a nation with the soul of a nation." In other words, we may be becoming "like all other nations" (cf. 1 Samuel 8:5).

Obviously other nations are not bad, and being more like them is not necessarily all that bad either. What is (at least possibly) problematic is the loss of the previously unifying character of the "American Creed," which (among other things) made immigration work so successfully for the U.S. in ways it may not work for other more organic countries.

Given the dramatic and unprecedented political and cultural changes that have characterized the Trump decade, the possibilities Huntington foresaw appear somewhat prophetic.

Huntington nonetheless recognized the "tremendous persistence and resiliency" of classical American values and ideals. Likewise, increasingly cultural pluralism could also play a supportive role in sustaining those values and ideals. The more pluralistic the nation, "the more essential the values of the Creed become in defining what it is that Americans have in common." That is, of course largely what happened after the previous periods of mass immigration. It is probably one of the processes at work among immigrant communities even now and would likely be the predominant process, were it not for the forceful opposition of the current racialized, radical anti-immigrant alternative constituency.

Given these diverse possibilities, Huntington envisioned different possible futures. The one he considered most dangerous, however, may perhaps prove to be the one most relevant for our present predicament. Huntington notes "the continued presence of deeply felt moralistic sentiments among major groups in American society could continue to ensure weak and divided government, devoid of authority and unable to deal satisfactorily with the economic, social, and foreign challenges confronting the nation. Intensification of this conflict between history and progress could give rise to increasing frustration and increasingly violent oscillations between moralism and cynicism. ... The weakening of government in an effort to reform it could lead eventually to strong demands for the replacement of the weakened and ineffective institutions by more authoritarian structures more effectively designed to meet historical needs."

Is this the direction in which we are going? It does seem to be the direction in which we have been going and from which we find it harder and harder to extricate ourselves. American history (and the wider history of the Western world) offer multiple resources for us to draw upon - as well as abundant examples of opportunities missed roads that failed to be taken when the possibility was sitll open. Meanwhile the scenario Huntington feared most - an increasing embrace of anti-creedal authoritarian structures - seems increasingly realistic. As i wrote in 2024, Huntington may have predicted better than he knew.

"With One Accord"

 

Some of us here may be old enough (obviously, I am) to remember when the Easter Candle was ritually extinguished after the reading of the Gospel on Ascension Day. Even more dramatically, in certain places in earlier centuries, either the candle itself or a statue of the Risen Christ would be hoisted up to the church’s ceiling until it disappeared though an opening of the roof, often to be replaced by a shower of roses as a sign of Christ’s parting promise to give the Holy Spirit to the Church. Yet, the point of such rituals was less about Christ’s departure, as if he were now permanently absent, than about his new mode of presence in our life together as his Church. As the Church prays in the Preface of today’s Mass: he ascended, not to distance himself from our lowly state but that we, his members might be confident of following where he, our Head and Founder, has gone before.

Some 20 or so years ago, the famous British biblical scholar and retired Church of England Bishop N.T. Wright, authored a book, The Last Word, in which he suggested we think of history as a play in five acts. The first act is creation; the second the fall and sin’s consequences for the human family; the third the story of God’s Chosen People from Abraham to Jesus; the fourth the fulfillment of God’s revelation to Israel in the story of Jesus (after whom, as Vatican II reminded us, we neither need, nor expect any further revelation). The final fifth act, the present, is the time of the Church. It presupposes all that preceded it, as we tell and retell the world the story of creation, sin, and salvation in Christ, while moving forward toward our final destiny.

Historically speaking, this fifth act – the time of the Church, our time – began when the disciples were all filled with the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Before his ascension, the Risen Lord had told them to remain in Jerusalem to await the promised gift of the Holy Spirit. The Acts of the Apostles tells us that they devoted themselves with one accord to prayer, assembled in Jerusalem, under the leadership of the apostles, praying together with Mary, the Mother of Jesus and Mother of the Church, during that interval, that in-between transitional time, which the Church’s calendar recalls during this novena of nine days between Ascension Thursday and Pentecost Sunday.

Thus, Easter, Ascension, and Pentecost all go together. The first highlights Christ's actual resurrection; the second his glorification at the Father's right hand; the third his continued presence in his Church through the gift of the Holy Spirit. When "we clearly see and understand the divine action of the Holy Spirit in the successive steps of the history of the Church," wrote this first pastor of this parish, Isaac Hecker, in his great book The Church and the Age, "we should fully comprehend the law of all true progress."

Homily for the Seventh Sunday of Easter, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, NY, May 17, 2026.

Ascension Thursday

Today is Ascension Thursday, the 40th day of Easter. In some European countries, today is celebrated as a public civic holiday, as well as a holy day. In the U.S., sadly, today is for most Catholics a workday like any other. Still, Ascension remains one of the five greatest festivals of the Christian calendar (along with Christmas, Epiphany, Easter, and Pentecost). Prior to the occupation of Rome by the Kingdom of Italy in 1870, the papal blessing urbi et orbi was sometimes given on this day at the Lateran Basilica. In some places, either the Easter Candle or a statue of the Risen Christ would be hoisted up to the church’s ceiling until it disappeared though an opening of the roof, often to be replaced by a shower of roses as a sign of Christ’s parting promise to give the Holy Spirit to the Church. A variant of that tradition still continues at the Pantheon in Rome (the Basilica of Santa Maria ad Martyres) on Pentecost Sunday, when thousands of red rose petals are dropped from a height of 140 feet through the Pantheon's oculus to symbolize the descent of the Holy Spirit on the Apostles, the Risen and Ascended Christ's parting gift to his Church.

In his Sermon 1 on the Ascension, Pope Saint Leo the Great said "it was a great and unspeakable cause for rejoicing, when in the sight of a holy multitude, human nature ascended above the dignity of all celestial creatures, to pass above the ranks of the angels, to be raised above the heights of the archangels, and not to have any degree of loftiness set as a limit to its advancement, short of the right hand of the eternal Father, where it would be associated with his royal glory, to whose nature it was united in God."

Easter, Ascension, and Pentecost all go together. The first highlights Christ's actual resurrection; the second his glorification at the Father's right hand; the third his continued presence in his Church through the gift of the Hoy Spirit. That interconnection is expressed in the concluding words of today's gospel: behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age (Matthew 28:20).

Photo: Watercolor Ceiling Painting of the Ascension, c. 1913, Immaculate Conception Church, Knoxville, TN.

Mothers Day

 

Today is Mothers Day. I will dutifully remember my mother (and my grandmother) at the commemoration of the dead at Mass this morning. That, however, will likely be the extent of my observance of Mothers Day. 

When I was a pastor, I made a point of having our parish May Crowning on the first Sunday of May - to avoid confusing it with the very commercialized, secular celebration that is the American Mothers Day holiday. It is one of those historical coincidences that this very secular American holiday occurs in the month Catholic tradition dedicates in a special way to Mary, the Mother of God and Mother of the Church.

One of the rare occasions when the 1969 post-conciliar calendar improved upon its predecessor has been the relocation of the feast of the Visitation to May 31. Unfortunately, because it occurs on Trinity Sunday, the Visitation will be omitted this year, which is a good excuse to "christianize" Mothers Day by reflecting on the Visitation. (On the "plus" side, since Pentecost occurs in May this year, so will the feast of Mary, Mother of the Church, celebrated on the following day.)

The second Joyful Mystery, the Visitation is recounted in Luke 1:39-56. That gospel was traditionally read on the Ember Friday of Advent as part of the Church's proximate preparation for Christmas. As a full-fledged liturgical feast, however, it is a relative latecomer, inserted into the Roman Calendar by Pope Urban VI in 1389. It was originally assigned to July 2, the day after the octave of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist, who "leapt" in his mother Elizabeth's womb on the occasion of Mary's Visitation. The feast was retained in both the Anglican and Lutheran calendars, and is still observed in Germany both by Catholics and by Lutherans on July 2.

The image of the meeting of the two pregnant mothers, Mary and Elizabeth, has been much meditated upon throughout the centuries, as well as being a frequent subject of works of art. One beautiful 14th-century gilt wooden image (photo) includes crystal cabochons, suggesting the presence of the babies in their mothers' wombs (and it is thought may once have highlighted images of the holy infants).

The Golden Legend (c. 1260) by the Dominican Friar Blessed Jacopo de Voragine (c.1230-1298) was written before the introduction of the feast. It does, however, describe the Visitation in its entry for the Birth of Saint John the Baptist: "In Elizabeth's sixth month Mary, who had already conceived, came to her, the fruitful virgin to the woman relieved of sterility, feeling sympathy for her in her old age. When she greeted her cousin, blessed John, already filled with the Holy Spirit, sensed the Son of God coming to him and leapt for joy in his mother's womb, and danced, saluting by his movements the one he could not greet with his voice. He leapt as one wishing to greet his Lord and to stand up in his presence." (The Golden Legend: Reading on the Saints, tr. William Granger Ryan, Princeton University Press, 1993, p. 330.)

Referring to this unique encounter of the two infants in their mothers' wombs, the Catechism calls the Visitation "a visit from God to his people" (CCC 717). It is, what the U.S. Bishops have called "a cherished American Catholic custom" to refer to Mary as "our Blessed Mother" (Behold Your Mother: A Pastoral Letter on the Blessed Virgin Mary [1973], 70). Mary's motherhood remains especially timely today when religion is so easily manipulated. When that happens, one response is to abstract from actual Christian faith in some sort of de-natured, non-religious "spirituality." Abstractions, Karl Rahner famously warned, have no need for mothers (cf. Leon Cardinal Suenens, "Mary and the World of Today," L'Osservatore Romano [English Ediiton] June 15, 1972).

Photo: The Visitation (c. 1310-1320), attributed to Master Heinrich of Constance, Metropolitan Museum of Art, gift of J. Pierpont Morgan, 1917.

Pope Leo's First Year

One year ago today, that traditional announcement of ecclesiastical good news, Habemus Papam ("We have a Pope"), resounded in Saint Peter's square, followed immediately by the surprising - shocking even - announcement of the election of the first American-born pope. While Robert Cardinal Prevost was certainly a plausible papabile, I think most run-of-the mill observers (myself included) adhered to the conventional wisdom that no American would be elected - until, of course, one was!

Suffice it to say that Cardinal Prevost was - as was commonly observed - "the least American" of the American cardinals. Indeed, had he just been a typical American cardinal, he would almost certainly not have been elected. Unlike a typical American cardinal, however, for much of his priesthood Prevost had been a missionary priest and later a diocesan bishop in Peru. He is thus legitimately seen as "the second Latin American pope." He is also a Religious, a former Prior General of the Augustinians, with world-wide pastoral experience, as well as being, at the time of his election, the head of the very important Dicastery for Bishops. So the election of the first American pope must certainly be interpreted more broadly, more universally, than through any primary preoccupation with particularly American issues (either American intra-Church issues or American political issues). Personally, I think it unlikely that he was elected primarily to be a counterweight to President Trump. That said, it is significant that the two most prominent Americans on the world stage now are Trump and Leo, and that Leo inevitably projects an alternative image of America, very different from that projected by its President.

The early impressions of Pope Leo - from the very first impressions when he appeared on the loggia dressed traditionally as a pope - have been of a return to normalcy. He seemed to be fulfilling a widespread desire for some continuity with his predecessor's more popular initiatives, but without his predecessor's polarizing and divisive personal style. He has celebrated public Masses frequently, returned to the traditional papal residence and to Castel Gandolfo, brought the cardinals together for consultation in consistory, and highlighted the unifying functions of the papacy, emphasizing the office over the office-holder's personality. He seems to appreciate the requirements of the role and the constraints it imposes on the holder of the office. His Augustinian spirituality of service in unity and community has been constantly evident in illuminating his fundamental spiritual orientation. Obviously the unity of the Church - something we cannot take for granted these days - is his high priority.

In his first address from the loggia, Pope Leo recalled that May 8 is the commemoration of Our Lady of Pompeii. Today, one year later, he is at the shrine of Our Lady of Pompeii, 155 miles southeast of Rome, whose founder, Saint Bartolo Longo (1841-1926), Pope Leo canonized last October.

Leo inherited the 2025 Jubilee Year with its already elaborately planned programming. With the Jubilee finished and Francis' commitments (e.g., the trip to Turkey and Lebanon) fulfilled, Leo in 2026 has more and more pursued his own path. His 10-day trip to four countries in Africa, for example, has highlighted his longer term priorities moving forward. So will his first encyclical, expected later this month.

Inevitably, however, he cannot escape the expectations that arise from his U.S. origin. After all, he speaks English! He addresses Americans in our own language and sensibility, and cannot be easily dismissed as a foreigner who doesn't understand American religion or American politics. Even so, Pope Leo has been wisely reserved on some of the issues that have dominated too much of recent Catholic life, especially in the U.S. Thus, in a recent in-flight conversation with the press, he said, "First of all, I think it's very important that the unity or division of the church should not revolve around sexual matters. We tend to think that when the church is talking about morality that the only issue of morality is sexual. And in reality, I believe there are greater and more important issues such as justice, equality, freedom of men and women, freedom of religion that would all take priority before that particular issue." What long-term effects Leo's words will have on the priorities of the U.S. Bishops, of prominent lay Catholic converts (like Vice President JD Vance), and of the politically polarized U.S. Catholic community, all remain to be seen.

On a very practical level, one of the most important things that modern popes do is the appointment of bishops. In his first year, Pope Leo has appointed several American bishops - both ordinaries and auxiliaries - including, perhaps most prominently, fellow Chicagoan Ronald Hicks as the new Archbishop of New York. What stands out about some of his other appointments, however, is that they have been immigrants to the U.S.  - in other words, they are the sorts of people that the Trump Administration might prefer were not in the U.S. at all, let alone serving as prominent religious leaders in the nation's largest denomination. His very first episcopal appointment was San Diego's Bishop Michael Pham, who came to the U.S. as a young Vietnamese refugee. Later last year, he appointed Bishop Manuel de Jesús Rodríguez to the Diocese of Palm Beach, which includes Mar-a-Lago. Both bishops have been pro-immigrant advocates. Pham has accompanied immigrants to court hearings. Rodríguez has challenged Trump’s immigration policies and recently denounced the criticisms of the Pope as "disrespectful and violent." Then, a week ago, he appointed Washington Auxiliary Evelio Menjivar to be Bishop of Wheeling-Charleston. One of the reddest states now has as its Bishop someone who came to America as an undocumented immigrant teenager from El Salvador (supposedly smuggled into the United States in a car trunk).  Clearly, the Pope is letting the U.S. know where he stands on the issue of immigration, what may be the great moral crisis of this contentious period in American history. If any doubt remains on where the Pope positions himself on the immigration issue, that should certainly become clear on July 4, when he plans to spend the 250th anniversary of American independence on the Italian island of Lampedusa, the symbolic epicenter of the Mediterranean migrant crisis, an obvious and pointed statement.

Beyond any immediate relevance to present Administration policies, the relevant fact is, of course, that the Pope is inherently a global figure. He is the leader of a global institution, whose members are in spiritual communion with one another on every continent all over the world. This is in conspicuous contrast to the increasingly insular, anti-globalist orientation being emphasized at present in the United States, especially among those for whom President Trump is more like a spiritual leader than a mere politician.

My sense, however, is that even those who imagined Leo's papacy as primarily a counterweight to Trump probably did not anticipate the recent, very public attacks on him by the American President. Popes and Presidents frequently disagree, but usually politely and respectfully. Trump's criticism of the Pope has been unprecedented in his expression of personal animosity, including the absurd claim that Leo endorses Iran's acquiring nuclear weapons! Presumably, all this is yet another deplorable consequence of Trump's unfortunate - and, maybe more to the point, unpopular - Iranian war, which hardly anyone would have anticipated a year ago. Ordinarily, public papal interventions in international relations tend not to have a lot of direct effect. The practical effect we should be on the lookout for will be whatever impact the contretemps between President and Pope has on American Catholics. (No one should ever forget that 55% of American Catholic voters in 2024 voted for Trump, and 64% of white American Catholic voters did so.) 

That said, Pope Leo obviously takes to heart Saint Augustine's admonition in his Rule: you would be at fault if by your silence you allow your brothers to meet their downfall, when by speaking you could set them on the right path (4:8).