Biden: A Good Works Catholic

Here’s a theory on why the boss has been silent.

The elemental construct of a post-Trumpian world is upon us, and is very simple: Democrats wish to govern, and make life better for the vast majority of our people, so as to justify the continuation of our reign. Republicans, on the other hand, hope to stoke a culture war of sufficient volatility, so that — once their dark messiah returns from the fetid swamplands — he can reap the political winds and return them to positions of authority. Only time will tell which strategy will find purchase with the electorate.

There is another front to this war, too. To wit: Who will be allowed to participate in the political process. Republicans wish to limit the franchise, to maximize their chances of success. Democrats wish to ease restrictions on voting, so as to maximize theirs.

But beneath these grand battles, there is a lot of noise, and lately a skirmish has developed over “The Silence of Joe Biden.”

- Biden hasn’t given a press conference.

- Biden hasn’t addressed Congress.

- Biden hasn’t commented directly on the surging number of migrants at the border.

- At Axios today, even Jonathan Swan — a serious and thoughtful journalist — claims that Biden has been “conspicuously silent” on the growing Andrew Cuomo scandal in New York.

Part of this, obviously, is that reporters need access to policy makers, and when they don’t get it, they fret. In time, that fretting becomes a story in and of itself. Soon, there’s a buzz. A question. A scandal of its own!

But I’ve got another theory on Joe’s reticence to hog the limelight, and it’s really simple: Biden is, honest to God, a real Catholic.

As a society, we have become so inured to performative, insincere religiosity from our leaders, that it’s hard to even recognize what a humble, faithful person looks like — or acts like. Donald Trump with his upside-down bible was a crass example, but he’s not the only one. I don’t doubt that Barack Obama enjoyed the communality and spirit of Reverend Wright’s United Church of Christ in Chicago, but I am 100% sure that if you drilled down on his faith in scripture, and fear of everlasting damnation in the fiery pits of hell, you’d find more doubt than conviction.

Maybe George Bush and his crew really were Born Again, but you’d be hard pressed to find the Blood of the Lamb anywhere in his response to Hurricane Katrina or the Neoconservative horror-show of his foreign policy. And Bill Clinton? Ha. Let’s get real.

But Joe Biden might be that most elusive of political leaders — a real and true man of faith. It’s hard to fathom, as we’ve not had one in office since Jimmy Carter, and he got turfed out of office after one term in favor of a guy who consulted astrologers, and only knew the Bible as so many lines he had to rehearse before donning the role of Gentle, but Firm Father.

Even more than just being a man of faith, Biden is Scranton, Pennsylvania, Irish-Catholic. I know the type, as I grew up 60 miles north in a similar milieu. He’s older than me, but that just means that Biden is of the generation that would have been giving my instruction while I was training to be an altar boy.

The “elders” in my church, though we didn’t call them that, tended to break into two camps. There were the pre-Vatican II traditionalists who reluctantly embraced the modernization of the faith, and there were those who drifted a whole lot closer to the Liberation Theology of Bishop Romero, and — ultimately — Pope Francis. Oh, and most of the Irish one’s had a healthy dose of Bobby Sands revolutionary in their hearts, too. I’m convinced that Biden was in that second group, and so also took deeply to heart the Catholic teaching of Good Works.

There’s a bit of a theological morass we could drop into here, but we’ll avoid that with the simple observation that one of the key difference between Catholicism and the Protestant Sects, is that Catholics do not believe that a soul can be saved by faith alone. Yes, they adhere to the belief that Christ, freely accepted as the Savior, is a requirement of admittance to Heaven — but that’s not enough. Catholics must also do Good Works.

When I was regularly attending St. Thomas Aquinas church on Binghamton’s West Side, my favorite priest, Father Mike Bassano — who, himself, later became a Liberation Theologian working in Central America, Southeast Asia, and Africa — would often come back to Matthew 6:5, as teaching tool:

“When you pray, you shall not be as the hypocrites, for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on the corners of the streets, that they may be seen by men.”

That sort of stuff, to Father Mike, must be avoided at all costs. Prayer to people like him — to Catholics like him — is a private thing. To be boastful of your faith was a sin. To do so, was, as Ecclesiastes said, just vanity. Rather, the public face of your Christianity — of your Catholicism — is exclusively your Good Works. You do not make a habit of blowing your own horn, or celebrating the defeat of your adversaries. You do Good Works, and then you do more Good Works. You do this because your soul commands you to do so. You do so, because it is fundamental to your faith, and for a Scranton, Pennsylvania, Irish-Catholic, that faith is as crucial a linchpin to one’s identity, as is knowing all the words to The Irish Rover at the bar on Friday night.

Joe Biden will, certainly, make a speech to Congress soon. He’ll do a press conference, and he will likely even give Jonathan Swan an interview — but his relative silence now has, in my opinion, a deeper reason behind it. He has just stepped onto center stage. He has placed upon his shoulders the duties of a Good Works Catholic, and carried them into the Oval Office. This is the position he has sought for a lifetime, and now it is here.

That his inclination is to do the work of helping others, rather than charging into the glare of the television lights, should be celebrated. I get that the GOP has to whine about something, and the press needs to howl about access — but a relatively silent and humble leader isn’t a bad thing. At least not according to the Catholic Faith.

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Those of you who read this posts regularly, know that I’m — at best — a “collapsed Catholic” to employ Malachy McCourt’s brilliant phrase. Still, the core of my moral philosophy was learned from Good Works Catholics, both underneath the great Crucifix of St. Thomas Aquinas Church, and in front of the taps at Mad Murphy’s Pub — both strong redoubts of faith in practice.

Amen.