Nip it in the “Catholic but…”

Several months ago, I sat down with a Catholic high school principal to inquire about his reasoning for allowing a young man who chose to come to school dressed as a woman to remain on campus and in class.

Yes, you read that right.

Okay, I’ll explain.

This Catholic school—like most, I still believe—has a uniform policy. Traditional shirt/tie/pants for young men; polo shirt/sweater/skirt for young women. But, also like most Catholic schools, it has “dress-down” days on its school calendar. Typically, these days serve as a fundraising vehicle for various charities—in return for not having to wear the school uniform, bring in a few dollars and “dress down” to help a particular cause.

Back to the story: apparently, on a recent “dress down” day, a young man at this Catholic school decided he wanted to dress in a skirt and tights. Given I have a relationship with the school, I had a question or two. And, after berating me for having the gall to inquire whether this happened, the principal proceeded to harangue me about the tenets of our shared Catholic faith. It went something like this: we need to love; we need to accept; we need to affirm.

Given I have spent almost 25 years of my life on Catholic college campuses, I have considerable experience with such encounters. I’ve learned that in these situations, it is best to sit and remain quiet. Listen as very highly-educated people (quite often non-Catholics, but sometimes Catholics) explain to me the principles of a faith I’ve known since birth. So, I did that. And I waited. And when there was a break in the lecture and the principal paused to wipe his brow and take a sip of water, I took the opportunity to ask him a question. I was curious: what exactly did he mean by “love,” “accept” and “affirm”? I offered that, as a Catholic, I was not unfamiliar with those words. That I knew very well what they meant and wanted to know what he meant when he used them.

His response was telling. “Dr. Jelinek, we’re Catholic but…”

Ahhhh. Catholic, but.

Interesting.

This wasn’t the first time I had heard the phrase.

Of course, some Catholic pols provide the highest profile examples. Over the years, Nancy Pelosi has offered a treasure trove. Back in 2022, when she was anticipating the reversal of Roe vs. Wade, Pelosi emphatically proclaimed, “And I say this as a practicing, devout Catholic: five children in six years and one week. I don’t disrespect people’s views and how they want to live their lives. But…”

Sometime later, after Roe was overturned and Democrats in Congress were galvanizing support for the Orwellian-titled “Women’s Health Protection Act”—federal legislation which the US Conference of Catholic Bishops clarified would impose abortion on demand nationwide at any stage of pregnancy—Pelosi used the same ploy: “I come to this as a Catholic mother of five in six years and one week and with the joy that all that meant to us. But…”

And, of course, this wasn’t new for the former Speaker of the House. Several years earlier, while opposing a proposal to enact a 20-week abortion ban, Pelosi offered, “Let me say this; I’m a Catholic, a devout, practicing Catholic. I take great comfort in my faith, come from a very Catholic family, largely pro-life. I’ve had five children and the day my fifth child was born, my oldest turned 6, so I’m with the program in terms of the Catholic Church. However…”

“However”?

Isn’t that just a fancy “but”?

Whatever variation, “Catholic but” is the en vogue way to bolster one’s Catholic cachet while staking out a position outside of Church teaching.

I know what you’re thinking: cachet? Is there really any cachet when it comes to being Catholic these days?

There are also instances when the strategy is to appear to be an apostle while pushing apostasy.

A few years back, Oprah Winfrey’s “oprahdaily.com” published an article about Sunny Hostin, co-host of the in-some-circles-popular talk show, “The View”, entitled, “Why Sunny Hostin’s Criticism of the Catholic Church’s Anti-LGBTQ Stance is so Important.” The piece’s purpose was obvious: to establish Ms. Hostin’s Catholic bona fides to increase the perceived credibility of her criticism of Church teaching.

The article quotes Ms. Hostin: “This practicing Catholic will be supporting and attending LGBTQ Pride events. And so will my Catholic children.” To then-Providence Bishop Tobin, who had publicly advised Catholics that participating in Pride events was contrary to Catholic faith and morals, Hostin added, “You should be ashamed.” To which, Whoopi Goldberg—who isn’t a Catholic but played one in the movies—repeatedly clanged a bell to signal agreement with her co-host.

Hostin’s “Catholic but” was particularly impressive. In the confused company of her co-hosts and audience, she didn’t even need to use the “but.”

No matter how it’s executed, “Catholic but” is always what it is: a pivot away from truth. Sometimes it’s done by people like Ms. Hostin. Other times it’s done by folks like former Speaker Pelosi. And still other times it’s done by the Catholic school principal. Each scenario offers what is likely a range of intentions—some perhaps better than others—but the result is always the same. And the confusion in each case is similar. As people of faith, we will encounter all of them and when we do, it’s worth thinking about how to respond.

A while back, a great Catholic priest and very good friend of mine once offered: “We cannot love something we do not know.” Simple but profound; in context: we cannot love our faith without knowing it. Frequently, “Catholic but” is a consequence of a lazy faith. Our knowledge of our faith is left surface level, so our love for it will remain that way, too. To strive to live an authentically Catholic life means starting by investing in truly knowing our faith. This requires participating in the sacraments, reading Scripture, prayerful reflection and living in communion with the Church. This takes time and effort. But it bears fruit.

When we can trade the resentment, confusion and angst of the “Catholic but” for the confidence and the joy of the “Catholic and” we’re not just helping ourselves, we’re helping those around us understand truth. We can say, “We’re Catholic and we’re not confused about what love means.” We know love is to will the real good of the other. Jesus’s direction is clear: to love one another as He has loved us (Jn 13:34). The “as He loved us” part isn’t an afterthought—it’s the critical qualifier in a confused world — particularly for navigating our moments with the woman at the well.

We can also say, “We’re Catholic and we’re not confused about acceptance or affirmation.” We know that Jesus did not advise us to demand that the world accept us, but encouraged us to accept God. Nor did Jesus seek to be affirmed by a disordered world, but faced great suffering so that He could affirm God. We’re Catholic and we know that so much of the world’s confusion stems from a misplaced point of reference. The focal point of our lives is not us; it’s Him. We’re Catholic and we have discovered that it’s not about having pride in ourselves; it’s about having the humility to know the God who created us and created us for His purpose.