Go Ahead: Love Someone Whose Politics You Hate

‘L ove is superabundance.”

It can be a miserable time, every four years, when we are due for a presidential election. The events of the next weeks might feel testing like never before. But we have had a Civil War — and despite offhand comments, let’s pray and work that nothing like that ever again comes to pass.

I have a few consolations when politics is driving me crazier than usual. One is the Al Smith Dinner, which raises money for Catholic charities in New York and is an American political staple — both major U.S. candidates running for president typically appear and roast one another. In my youth, I was outraged that my church, which sponsors it, gives pro-abortion politicians a forum at the dinner. But, in 2012, when I interviewed Cardinal Timothy Dolan in the wee hours after he had given the closing prayer at the Republican convention (Democrats were a little shamed into following suit and extending him the same invitation), I asked him about the controversy around the dinner. He was concerned that if we couldn’t even break bread together, then we’d be in the direst straits.

Democratic candidate Walter Mondale skipped the Al Smith dinner when he was running for president, in 1984. Just saying. This year, Kamala Harris also opted to not be there. She sent an odd video making use of an old Saturday Night Live character to kind of make fun of Catholics instead of Donald Trump. It only served to remind a few of us of the time, in 2019, when she harassed a judicial candidate for being a member of the fraternal charitable organization the Knight of Columbus — an individual who, among other things, was fighting against an ISIS-perpetrated genocide in Iraq. Persecuted Christians around the world, meanwhile, would be right to ask the Biden-Harris administration: What have you done for us lately? The State Department has brushed off, for example, the plight of Christians in recent years who are being slaughtered in Nigeria simply for their commitment to Christ, for going to Mass on Sundays, or for being priests or seminarians.

Now, this isn’t an endorsement, but Donald Trump played well with others at the Al Smith Dinner, and he even surprised me a bit by mentioning Divine Mercy. Besides and aside from politics, it’s a beautiful reminder. There may be nothing better than forgiveness. Father Roger Landry, who spent some of the spring and summer walking around the nation bringing Jesus to people, once wrote about how he at first didn’t get the devotion that Pope John Paul II popularized. (Father Landry is also the author of that aforementioned message about superabundance.)

In 2009, he wrote:

For . . . two hours and 45 minutes, until literally the opening antiphon of the Mass, I heard confessions non-stop in the back-left corner of the front-right section. Italians, Spaniards, Brazilians, French- or English-speaking Poles and Germans, as well as a few from Britain and the United States, all humbly knelt down and poured themselves out. I was blown away by the depth and tearful beauty of the penitents’ contrition and appreciation for the gift of God’s mercy. As only a priest could see from the “inside” of people’s souls, I witnessed the profound fruits that the devotion to Divine Mercy had produced in Catholics from various countries, cultures and languages. As Mass began, I thanked the Lord for having moved me to go out to the square that morning and for having used me as his instrument to share his Divine Mercy with so many.

It may be a hopeless cause, but could we be merciful to one another, especially as the election nears and ends? (Consider, for example, Jeanne Safer’s book — I Love You, But I Hate Your Politics — which isn’t political or pious, but is, in a way, about Divine Mercy. Love abundantly.)

My second consolation is found at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York, where local saints in high relief adorn the bronze doors. Mother Cabrini and Elizabeth Ann Seton are depicted. Also Kateri Tekakwitha and Father Isaac Jogues. Kateri, in what is now upstate New York, risked her life to be baptized. Jogues was tortured trying to evangelize, and he persevered with love only to meet a death by tomahawk. The National Shrine of the North American Martyrs is few hours outside Manhattan. And the feast day of the martyrs is always around this time, close to Election Day. It’s a reminder that people in this part of the world have been heroic in their faith and in their love for their fellow man. It gives me hope.

The third consolation I turn to this time of year is a celebration of the life of Saint Ignatius of Antioch. In one of his letters to Christian communities, he wrote: “I am writing to all the churches to let it be known that I will gladly die for God if only you do not stand in my way. I plead with you: show me no untimely kindness. Let me be food for the wild beasts, for they are my way to God.” He goes on: “No earthly pleasures, no kingdoms of this world can benefit me in any way. I prefer death in Christ Jesus to power over the farthest limits of the earth. He who died in place of us is the one object of my quest. He who rose for our sakes is my one desire.”

And it gets better:

The time for my birth is close at hand. Forgive me, my brothers. Do not stand in the way of my birth to real life; do not wish me stillborn. My desire is to belong to God. Do not, then, hand me back to the world. Do not try to tempt me with material things. Let me attain pure light. Only on my arrival there can I be fully a human being. Give me the privilege of imitating the passion of my God. If you have him in your heart, you will understand what I wish. You will sympathize with me because you will know what urges me on.

This is abundant love. And whatever is happening politics, it could make all the difference.

This column is based on one available through Andrews McMeel Universal’s Newspaper Enterprise Association.