When we, as Americans, call ourselves “Catholic,” we are saying something bold. We are proclaiming that we belong to a Church of universal faith, the very definition of the word “catholic.” Coming from the Latin word “catholicus,” which originated from the original Greek “katholikos,” the original term referred to the concept of being “whole,” “in general” – in other words, truly “universal” in the way we associate with each other. Our faith, and the way we identify, stretches beyond borders, cultures, and beyond any single way of life.

And yet here in the United States, through decades of marginalization, politics, culture wars, and old habits of thinking….many of us quietly put our faith into smaller boxes. For many, being Catholic in America has become a way to associate with one particular, self-selected group rather than being a part of the larger, universal community (regardless of nation, government, or political identity).

Even though it goes without saying, I must state that the thoughts below are not meant to scold. Instead, I hope to reassure and remind ourselves of who we are, who we were meant to be, and – in the bigger picture – why that understanding matters for how we live, speak, and love others.

1. Catholic Means Universal — Not American

The Catholic Church is not an “American Church” with overseas branches. Nor is it a religious delegation sent to represent certain political interests. The words American and Church were never meant to be fused together as though they describe the same identity.

To be Catholic in America is simply a matter of where we happen to live, not a defining feature of our faith. Our roots run far deeper — they are planted in the Gospel, nourished by the Body and Blood of Christ, and shared with brothers and sisters in every land. National identity may shape our customs, our music, or our feast day celebrations, but it is not the source of who we are as Catholics.

The Catechism puts it beautifully:

“The Church is Catholic because she is universal, because she proclaims the totality of the faith; she bears and administers the fullness of the means of salvation” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 830).

When we wrap our faith too tightly in the flag, we risk mistaking patriotism for discipleship. Nationalism is subtle, and it can quietly grow into the belief that one’s own nation, culture, or race is superior to others. But such a mindset cannot sit alongside the Gospel’s call to humility, unity, and love for all (Philippians 3:20).

The danger is not just in what nationalism says, but in what it leaves out: the unshakable truth that the Catholic mission is to love and respect every person, to defend human dignity wherever it is threatened, and to live out the simplest command of Christ — “Do to others as you would have them do to you” (Luke 6:31).

2. An American Pope that Transcends Borders

When Chicago-born Robert Prevost was elected Pope Leo XIII, I felt an unexpected rush of excitement (and not for the reasons people might think!) It wasn’t simply pride that “one of ours” had risen to the papacy. My joy came from something deeper: the hope that this moment could inspire Catholics in America to reimagine what it truly means to belong to a universal Church.

An Italian newspaper captured it with a wry but affectionate remark, calling Pope Leo XIII “the least American of the Americans.” I smile every time I think of it, because while it may have been meant as a playful jab, it’s actually the highest of compliments. His heart, vision, and mission were never hemmed in by national borders.

This was a man who traded his Chicago roots for a life of service in Peru, walking alongside the people there and listening deeply to their needs. Over time, he became a shepherd not just for one diocese or one country, but for the global Church as he guided bishops across continents and cultures.

His life offers us a vivid reminder of what Catholic leadership — and Catholic identity — is meant to be: rooted in Christ above all, attentive to the needs of the whole world, and free from the need to “represent” one nation’s brand or agenda. His witness tells us that our faith is not diminished when we loosen our grip on national pride. It is enriched, expanded, and made more like the heart of Christ, who belongs to no single people, yet claims all as His own.

3. Politics Shouldn’t Be the Frame for Our Faith

When political alignment becomes the primary lens through which we see our faith, the heart of the Gospel can quietly slip into the backseat. Instead of letting the Good News shape our worldview, we begin to filter it through the priorities, talking points, and battles of a party platform.

The U.S. bishops say it with welcome clarity in Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship:

“As citizens, we should be guided more by our moral convictions than by our attachment to a political party or interest group” (USCCB, 2020).

Faith should inform politics, never the other way around. When faith comes first, it guides how we vote, advocate, and speak, even when that guidance challenges “our side” or makes us uncomfortable.

Faith-led engagement asks different questions than political loyalty does: Does this position honor the dignity of every person? Does it work for the common good? Does it reflect the mercy and justice of Christ? These are the questions that stretch us beyond our comfort zones and invite us into the fuller work of discipleship.

To live as truly Catholic citizens means holding politics lightly and faith firmly. It means remembering that our first allegiance is to the Lord, and our deepest commitment is to the people around us — especially the most vulnerable — not to a party or a platform. When we live this way, our public witness becomes something politics alone can’t produce: a vision of society grounded in human dignity, compassion, and truth.

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4. One Group’s Interpretation Shouldn’t Rule the Nation

In a country as diverse as the United States, no single group holds (or should hold) the final word on public life. This includes Catholics. One Catholic group’s particular interpretation of Church teaching should never be the only voice shaping law for everyone. Our role is not to dominate the conversation, but to enrich it. To propose, not impose.

The Gospel calls us to witness to truth in a way that draws people in through understanding rather than pushing them away through coercion. Conversion of heart doesn’t happen because someone is cornered into agreement. It happens when they encounter beauty, reason, and love woven together in a way that awakens their conscience.

That’s why our posture must shift from denunciation and marginalization to education and dialogue. If our hope is to build peaceful communities rooted in Catholic values, we must first be willing to show why those values are worth living. This means explaining the why behind Church teaching in language that connects with real human hopes and struggles, not just quoting doctrine at a distance.

It also means cultivating the habits that make our witness credible: conversation instead of combativeness, compassion instead of suspicion, and consistency instead of convenience. When we live the faith with humility and hospitality, people are far more likely to lean in and listen, not because we shouted the loudest, but because our lives gave them a reason to trust the truth we carry.

5. White American Catholics Are Not the Global Majority

Being born and raised in New York, I know that any conversation about American culture ultimately leads to a conversation about race. Whether we intend it or not, our history and our present reality are shaped by racial dynamics: who has held power, who has been excluded, and how those patterns have seeped into our institutions and neighborhoods (even our churches). We can’t speak honestly about “American values” without also acknowledging the ways privilege and inequality have been built into the story.

It is worth nothing, then, that the global Catholic Church tells a different story than many might imagine. The Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate (CARA) notes that Latin America and the Caribbean hold about 41% of the world’s Catholics, with Africa hovering around 18% and growing fast.

In the United States, Pew Research shows that Hispanic Catholics are a steadily increasing share of the Church, while the number of white Catholics is in decline. This isn’t a distant possibility. It is a current reality, and it’s already visible in our parishes, schools, and diocesan leadership.

One or two generations from now, the “typical” Catholic worldwide will likely be a young woman of color living in Africa or Latin America — not someone sitting in a suburban American parish. She will speak a different language, face different daily challenges, and live in a society shaped by different political and social realities.

When we truly take this in, it becomes harder to cling to the idea that “our” American culture is the default for Catholic life. Instead, we begin to see Catholicism for what it has always been: a faith that flourishes in every time, place, and culture. This mindset shift wouldn’t be about losing our traditions or culture, but about opening our eyes to the beauty of the Body of Christ in all its diversity as it was truly meant to be. When we realize this, our own faith deepens, because we’re no longer trying to make the Church fit into our image — we’re allowing ourselves to be formed by the fullness of Christ.

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6. Catholicism Is Not Groupthink

Being Catholic is not about pledging allegiance to a political tribe or mastering a set of talking points so we can nod in agreement with “our” side. Instead, being Catholic is a way of life rooted in Christ, where our unity flows from the Eucharist and the Gospel, not from a party platform or cultural identity.

When our first loyalty is to a political bloc, it becomes too easy to look at fellow Catholics through the lens of “us” and “them” rather than “brother” and “sister.” Once we start seeing each other this way, self-righteous judgment slips in, criticism hardens our hearts, and the Body of Christ begins to fracture.

St. Paul’s challenge in Romans 12:2 still speaks with startling clarity: “Do not conform yourselves to this age, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.” That renewal requires courage. It means letting the Holy Spirit reorient the way we think, which often involves unlearning the habits, biases, and assumptions we’ve carried for years, even ones we’ve come to see as part of our identity.

The Church teaches that every person must follow a well-formed conscience (Gaudium et Spes, 16). We must not hold an opinion that just to happens to feel right in the moment, but develop a conscience shaped through prayer, Scripture, tradition, and an openness to truth. That formation doesn’t happen overnight. It grows slowly, as we listen to people with different experiences, wrestle with teachings that stretch us, and humbly admit, “Maybe my side doesn’t have the full picture.”

When we live this way, our choices begin to spring from mercy rather than outrage, from justice rather than tribal loyalty, from the unwavering respect for human dignity rather than the need to defend “our” team. And in that shift, we find the freedom to love without conditions, which is the very freedom Christ came to give us.

7. Human Dignity Is the Core of Our Identity

Every Catholic teaching on social issues flows from this unshakable truth: each person is made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). This is not a poetic metaphor — it’s the lens through which we are called to see the world. Every face we encounter bears the mark of the Jesus, whether that person is a stranger on the subway, a refugee crossing a border, or a neighbor whose politics we can’t understand.

The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church puts it in plain terms:

“The first principle and foundation of the Church’s social doctrine is the dignity of the human person” (CSDC, 107).

In other words, dignity is not earned. It is not given by governments, revoked by mistakes, or dependent on whether we agree with someone’s choices. It is intrinsic and inherent — placed there by God Himself.

Human dignity doesn’t depend on nationality, race, wealth, immigration status, political party, or whether someone agrees with us. When we let loyalty to a political cause, ideology, or group identity lead us to mock, ignore, or dehumanize others, we are no longer standing on Gospel ground. We’re standing in the territory of pride and division — a place Jesus never calls us to stay.

This teaching is both freeing and demanding. It frees us from the exhausting work of deciding who “deserves” our compassion, because in God’s eyes, everyone does. And it demands that we stretch our hearts wider than our comfort zones, loving even those we’d rather avoid.

Living this way doesn’t mean we stop speaking truth or holding convictions. It means that every conviction is expressed in a way that safeguards the person’s dignity — especially when we disagree. Because if our words or actions strip away someone’s humanity in the name of defending the faith, we’ve missed the heart of the faith entirely.

A Word of Encouragement for American Catholics

The Church shines her brightest when she lives up to her name — Catholic — a faith that is bigger than any border, freer than any ideology, and wholly anchored in Christ’s love for every person. This is when the Gospel comes alive: in a Church that refuses to be reduced to a single culture or political flavor, and instead stretches its arms wide enough to embrace the whole world.

Loving our country and loving the universal Church are not opposites. In fact, the more deeply we love the Church in her fullness, the better we can serve our country — because we will be loving it through the lens of Christ’s truth and mercy. But we must be on guard. It is all too easy for faith to be overshadowed, even unintentionally, by partisan loyalty or cultural pride. The order matters: our faith must shape our politics, never be swallowed by them.

If we can live that truth — gently, consistently, and without fear — we will not only reclaim the meaning of “Catholic,” but we will become a sign of hope in a fractured world. We will offer something politics can never give and culture can never fully hold: a way of life where every person’s dignity is honored, where love is not limited to our group, and where our identity rests secure in God alone.

In faith and friendship,

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Sources:

• Catechism of the Catholic Church, 830.
• United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship (2020).
• Pew Research Center. “The Shifting Religious Identity of Latinos in the United States” (2023).
• Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate (CARA), “Global Catholicism” statistics.
• Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church, 107.
• Gaudium et Spes, Second Vatican Council, 16.