The trouble with Australian politics is that it’s hard to care when I already tend to give too much of my attention to US politics, where on the one side we have a resilient candidate who has defied the odds and is still running despite the malicious attempts made on him, while on the other side we saw a last-minute change of candidate. What could be fuller of unpredictable drama and intrigue than the US election in November 2024?
My interest in US politics peaked during the notorious year of 2020 which started with our bushfires and fiercely made global headlines. The flames were followed by COVID-19 and unprecedented responses from global leaders, followed by BLM protests and riots, culminating, of course, with the US election in November 2020, all of which I could not help but feel were related, at least partially somehow.
I must confess that during those days, I started to think that church affairs were inane and inconsequential by comparison to what was happening in the political sphere. If I had been given the chance, I might even have encouraged gifted Catholics to join political movements rather than ecclesial ones. Politics seemed like the place to be, not the church.
I have since repented and continue to do so. Christian hope must not be confused with optimism about a political candidate or movement, no matter how consequential or historic. To do so would be to repeat the classic mistake of confusing the kingdom of God with an earthly kingdom. Furthermore, another fatal mistake risks being made, namely, to forget the real enemy.
How does a political party which used to stand for free speech, peace and the poor and marginalised devolve into one which now does the opposite? The “ideal party” does not exist because a party is only as good as its members, all of whom are undoubtedly susceptible to being corrupted by the prince of this world who can craftily turn the goodies of today into the baddies of tomorrow.
The ideological framework for seeing the world as a battleground between, for example, conservatives and progressives is highly inadequate, not least because it overlooks the fact that the evil one does not care which side prevails as long as there is growing division and polarisation in our world—especially in the church—at which point we will all have suffered a debilitating dose of defeat.
I went through possibly the lowest points in my priesthood after having committed the sin of conceptually (and even practically) prioritising the political over the spiritual, which turned out to be a recipe for mental fatigue and hopelessness. Now, I believe more firmly than ever that the spiritual is the absolute bedrock which ensures true progress and renewal.
In 2015 Pope Francis made an apostolic visit to the US. To the bishops there he said, “Our greatest joy is to be shepherds, and only shepherds, pastors with undivided hearts and selfless devotion…Be vigilant that the flock may always encounter in the heart of their pastor that taste of eternity which they seek in vain in the things of this world.”
He also spoke of the importance of authentic and fearless dialogue, without which we fail to see that people are much more than their positions and views. He said, “Harsh and divisive language does not befit the tongue of a pastor, it has no place in his heart; although it may momentarily seem to win the day, only the enduring allure of goodness and love remains truly convincing.”
It seems increasingly clear to me that the key to understanding Pope Francis is the spiritual —or the heart—and not the ideological, for which reason it might be invaluable to listen anew to all his major teachings, including about synodality. After all, what is synodality about if not about “church politics” (or ecclesial governance) in which the spiritual informs the political and not the other way round?
