Biden caught in politics of the Catholic Church
U.S. president is in the middle of a battle between traditionalists and reformers
There was a time when President Joe Biden could have been Father Joe.
For long stretches of his childhood, as he was educated by nuns in Catholic schools, Biden considered entering the priesthood, eventually convinced by his mother to try college first. After his wife and daughter were killed in a car accident in 1972, he later recounted, the newly elected senator met with a local bishop to discuss a dispensation that would have allowed him to become a priest.
Biden is arguably the most observant president in decades, and his faith is a core part of his identity. He rarely misses mass. He crosses himself in public. He quotes scripture, he cites hymns, and he clutches rosary beads ahead of key decisions.
But now, the nation's most prominent Catholic is at odds with many of the American bishops of his church. He has been the catalyst for an explosive disagreement that had been playing out for years, over whether Communion should be granted to politicians whose public stances go against church doctrine, and recently they took a step toward barring Biden and others from the Eucharist.
The move puts Biden, who rarely discusses his Catholicism, at the centre not only of a political fight between conservatives and liberals, but also a church battle between traditionalists and reformers. In that sense he is aligned with Pope Francis as world-renowned liberal Catholics, a phenomenon that presents a challenge to traditionalists.
“If there are Catholic icons in this world and this country, they are Pope Francis and Joe Biden,” said Massimo Faggioli, a Villanova University theology professor and author of Joe Biden and Catholicism in the United States. “That is seen by some bishops as a threat, because their position is much more marginal now.”
Biden has long looked up to Francis, whom traditional Catholic priests consider too liberal and who discouraged the bishops from moving forward on restricting Communion. The two men — an Argentine Jesuit and a Scranton-born pol — in some ways share similar philosophies, aligned on climate change, social change and economic disparities. Each is attempting to break with a more rigid predecessor in ways they believe are more inclusive, but which anger those who view the changes as too permissive.
“The convergence of a relatively progressive pope and a moderately progressive United States president causes some alarms for some of the so-called traditional or conservative Catholics, who feel their positioning in the faith community is under some threat,” said Mark Rozell, who co-edited the book Catholics and U.S. Politics After the 2016 Elections: Understanding the `Swing Vote.'
“How does Biden respond to it?” added Rozell, dean of the Schar School of Policy and Government at George Mason University. “I have no idea. It puts the president in a very difficult spot.”
For now he's responding by not saying much about it. Asked this month about the possibility he could be denied Communion, Biden paused. “That's a private matter,” he said. “And I don't think that's going to happen.”
Biden spent his early childhood in Scranton, Pa., where it was not unusual to see crucifixes in stores, nuns on the street and priests in the neighbourhood. Sundays always started with the entire family trooping to St. Paul's for mass.
“My religion is just an enormous sense of solace,” Biden told Stephen Colbert during a 2015 interview.
“What my faith has done is it sort of takes everything about my life — with my parents and my siblings and all the comforting things .... All the good things that have happened, have happened around the culture of my religion and the theology of my religion. And I don't know how to explain it more than that.”