"In the process of salvation by co-operating with grace through faith in Jesus Christ, as sustained

"In the process of salvation by co-operating with grace through faith in Jesus Christ, as sustained by the sacraments and by works of love, because faith without works is dead."

Tuesday, February 17, 2026

Why I Can Be Catholic—and Still Support ICE

 


Why I Can Be Catholic—and Still Support Mass Deportations

By Chris M. Forte

I’m a Catholic. Not “Catholic-ish.” Not Catholic as a vague cultural identity. I mean Catholic in the full sense: I believe Jesus Christ founded one Church, entrusted authority to the Apostles, and that this Church continues through apostolic succession under the bishops in communion with the successor of St. Peter. I believe in the sacraments. I believe in the Real Presence. I believe the Church is the Bride of Christ.

And I also believe something else—something that has become controversial in American Catholic circles:

I support strict border enforcement.
I support ICE.
And yes, I support mass deportations of illegal immigrants, including those who have been here for decades and built lives here.

That statement alone is enough to get you labeled “anti-Catholic,” “un-Christian,” or “rejecting the Pope.” But I reject that accusation completely. Because the truth is: I can be fully Catholic while disagreeing with bishops and even popes on immigration policy—because immigration policy is not a dogma of the Faith. It is a prudential political issue.

And Catholic theology has always made room for that distinction.

Doctrine vs. Prudence: The Key Distinction

One of the biggest confusions among modern Catholics is the idea that every statement made by a bishop or pope is binding in the same way as doctrine.

It’s not.

The Church has definitive teachings on faith and morals—things like the Trinity, the divinity of Christ, the sanctity of human life, the nature of marriage, the sinfulness of racism, and the obligation to treat all human beings with dignity.

But immigration enforcement is not a revealed doctrine. It is an application of moral principles to complex real-world circumstances.

That means bishops can offer guidance. Popes can exhort. The Church can remind nations of their moral responsibilities.

But none of that automatically means I must adopt a specific immigration policy platform as if it were part of the Nicene Creed.

What the Catechism Actually Says About Immigration

Many Catholics assume the Church teaches “open borders.” It does not.

The Catechism is very clear that wealthy nations have a duty of charity toward foreigners but also that nations have the right to regulate immigration for the common good.

In fact, it explicitly states:

Political authorities may make the exercise of the right to immigrate subject to various juridical conditions.

That is Catholic teaching.

So when someone says “supporting deportations is un-Catholic,” they are simply wrong. Deportation may be harsh. It may be abused. It may be unjust in specific cases. But it is not intrinsically immoral in principle.

A nation has a right to enforce its borders.

And if a nation has laws, it must have consequences for violating them—or else the law becomes meaningless.

My Position: Mass Deportations Are Necessary

I’m not saying this lightly, and I’m not saying it with hatred. I’m saying it because I believe in justice.

If our laws and sovereignty aren’t respected, we have to make them respected—through consequences, through accountability, through enforcement.

Because if we don’t, we set a terrible precedent: that entering illegally is eventually rewarded, and that the system can be ignored with no consequences.

We already saw this with Reagan’s amnesty. It didn’t solve the problem. It encouraged more illegal immigration by proving that if you stay long enough, the political class will eventually cave.

That is not compassion. That is national self-destruction disguised as mercy.

And it is profoundly unfair to legal immigrants—people who waited, paid, followed the rules, passed background checks, did paperwork, and respected the law.

If we let illegal immigration slide because someone “built a life here,” we are essentially punishing those who did it the right way.

That isn’t justice. That’s moral favoritism.

“But They’ve Been Here 20 Years…”

Yes. And that’s exactly why enforcement must be real.

Because the longer we tolerate lawbreaking, the more the law becomes meaningless.

If someone breaks into your house and lives in your spare bedroom for 20 years, it doesn’t become their house. Time does not magically turn illegal acts into moral rights.

I’m not denying that many illegal immigrants are hardworking, family-oriented, and decent people. Some are. Many are.

But being a decent person does not erase the fact that a law was violated and a nation’s sovereignty was disregarded.

If we teach the world that the United States does not enforce its borders, then we are inviting endless chaos—and eventually the collapse of social trust, wages, housing stability, and civic order.

A nation without borders is not a nation.

Supporting ICE Is Not “Anti-Christian”

ICE is treated like a demonic institution in modern political rhetoric. But what is ICE, in reality?

It is simply an enforcement agency tasked with upholding immigration law.

Catholic teaching does not require me to hate law enforcement. It does not require me to oppose deportation. It does not require me to treat every enforcement action as oppression.

The real moral issue is how enforcement is done.

If ICE acts unjustly, cruelly, or with racist contempt, that is sinful and must be condemned.

But the existence of enforcement is not immoral. It is necessary.

Even St. Thomas Aquinas understood that law is an “ordinance of reason for the common good.” A government that refuses to enforce its own laws is not compassionate—it is irresponsible.

Respecting the Bishops Doesn’t Mean Agreeing With Them

Here’s what I believe, plainly:

I respect the bishops.
I respect the Pope.
I listen to them.
I take their moral warnings seriously.
But I am not required to pretend they are political experts.

The Pope is not a border patrol strategist. Bishops are not economists, criminologists, or national security officials.

Their role is to teach moral principles—human dignity, the rejection of racism, the duty to avoid cruelty, the need for compassion.

And I accept those principles.

But the application of those principles—how many migrants, what laws, what enforcement, what deportation policy, what level of tolerance—is prudential judgment.

That means Catholics can disagree without committing heresy.

Disagreement is not rebellion when it is respectful, informed, and rooted in the moral tradition of the Church.

My Catholic Conscience Demands Justice Too

Some Catholics speak as if compassion means never saying “no.”

But Catholicism is not sentimentalism. Catholicism is not “be nice at all costs.”

Catholicism teaches justice.

Justice means rendering what is due—not only to migrants, but to citizens, to legal immigrants, and to the stability of society itself.

Migrants deserve humane treatment.

But Americans also deserve a functioning country.

And legal immigrants deserve fairness.

And future generations deserve a nation that still exists.

Pope Leo and the Bishops: What I Take Seriously

When Pope Leo warns against xenophobia, contempt, and indifference, I listen.

When bishops warn against cruelty or treating migrants as disposable, I agree.

A Catholic cannot support hatred. A Catholic cannot support racism. A Catholic cannot treat human beings as animals.

But I also refuse to accept the modern idea that “enforcing the border is immoral.”

That is not Catholic doctrine.

That is politics.

And I will not let political ideology replace the Faith.

Why I Support Trump’s Immigration Enforcement

I supported Trump’s immigration policies because I believe he was one of the only modern presidents willing to do what every nation must do: enforce the law.

A government that refuses to enforce borders is not “welcoming.” It is weak.

And weakness invites more disorder.

Mass deportations may sound harsh, but at this stage they are necessary because decades of refusal to enforce the law created a situation that cannot be solved by half-measures.

Mercy without justice is not mercy—it is chaos.

Final Thought: I’m Catholic, Not a Political Puppet

I refuse to treat Catholicism as a partisan religion.

I refuse to treat bishops as political rulers.

And I refuse to pretend that supporting border security makes me less Christian.

I can love my Faith, love the Church, respect the Pope, attend Mass, receive the Eucharist, pray the Rosary, honor the saints—and still believe that the United States must enforce its immigration laws through real consequences, including deportations.

Because if laws mean nothing, then justice means nothing.

And without justice, a society collapses.

That is not only unwise—it is uncharitable.

And I believe, with a clear Catholic conscience, that defending borders and defending law is not a betrayal of the Gospel.

It is part of defending the common good.

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Did Jesus Start a New Religion?

 


Did Jesus come to start a new religion? No! He came to establish His Kingdom, and that Kingdom is the Catholic Church. Let me explain:

Did Jesus Come to Start a New Religion?

Or to Establish a Kingdom?**
By Chris M. Forte

Abstract

Modern scholarship and popular discourse frequently claim that Jesus of Nazareth did not intend to found Christianity as a distinct religion but rather operated solely within the framework of first-century Judaism. According to this narrative, the later Catholic Church and broader Christian tradition arose accidentally through historical evolution, imperial politics, and institutional consolidation—especially after Constantine. This article argues that such claims impose anachronistic categories upon the Gospels. Jesus did not speak in modern sociological terms of “religion,” but He did proclaim and inaugurate the Kingdom of God as the renewed Davidic Kingdom. Within this Kingdom framework, Christ deliberately established a visible Church with apostolic governance, sacramental authority, and a Petrine steward-office prefigured in the Davidic “keys” tradition of Isaiah 22. Patristic testimony and modern scholarship support the conclusion that Christianity’s institutional development is best understood not as an accidental invention but as the historical unfolding of Christ’s Kingdom mission.

Introduction: The Modern Claim and the Anachronism of “Religion”

The question “Did Jesus come to start a new religion?” is often presented as if it were self-evidently meaningful. In modern secular categories, “religion” typically denotes a system of private belief and ritual separated from public governance. Under this definition, Jesus is frequently recast as a Jewish moral teacher or apocalyptic prophet whose message was later reinterpreted into an institutional Church—an institution that critics portray as foreign to His intentions.

This narrative has become popular in both secular historical writing and progressive theological commentary. It tends to claim that Jesus’ mission was Jewish, local, and reformist; that the Church was a later invention; and that “Catholicism,” in particular, represents the fusion of Christianity with Roman imperial structures.

Yet this approach rests on a fundamental category mistake. Jesus did not arrive in a world that distinguished “religion” from politics in modern liberal terms. The biblical worldview assumes covenant, law, kingship, and worship as integrated realities. The Old Testament itself is not merely a religious document; it is a national and covenant constitution. Therefore, to ask whether Jesus came to start “a religion” risks imposing anachronistic assumptions onto the first century.

A more historically coherent question is this: Did Jesus come to inaugurate the Kingdom of God, and did He establish a visible covenant community to embody that Kingdom in history?

Catholic theology answers decisively: Jesus did not merely inspire a movement. He came as Messiah and Son of David to establish the Kingdom of God, and the Catholic Church is the historical and sacramental manifestation of that Kingdom on earth.

I. The Kingdom of God as Jesus’ Central Proclamation

The Synoptic Gospels are explicit that Jesus’ preaching centers upon the Kingdom. Mark summarizes the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry in programmatic form:

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the gospel.”¹

This proclamation is not marginal. It is the interpretive key to Jesus’ identity and mission. As N. T. Wright has argued, Jesus’ preaching must be read within the Jewish expectation that God would finally return to Zion, defeat Israel’s enemies, and restore His reign.² In this sense, “Kingdom” language cannot be reduced to metaphorical spirituality. It signals divine kingship entering history.

Luke intensifies the political-theological claim by framing Jesus explicitly as the Davidic heir. The angel Gabriel announces:

“The Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David… and of his kingdom there will be no end.”³

This is dynastic and covenantal language. It indicates that Jesus is not merely a teacher of ethics but the promised King of Israel. The Gospels reinforce this claim repeatedly through titles such as “Son of David” and through the royal symbolism of Palm Sunday.⁴

Even the Roman execution confirms that Jesus’ claims were understood in political terms. The charge placed above Christ on the Cross read:

“Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.”⁵

Rome crucified those perceived as threats to imperial sovereignty. Whatever else Jesus was, He was not interpreted as harmlessly spiritual.

II. Jesus Reconstitutes Israel: The Twelve and the Renewal of the Tribes

The modern claim that Jesus merely created a reform movement within Judaism often ignores one of the most obvious symbolic actions in the Gospels: Christ’s deliberate selection of the Twelve.

Jesus did not gather a vague and fluid number of disciples. He chose twelve apostles, mirroring the twelve tribes of Israel. This act signals that He is reconstituting Israel in renewed covenant form. Brant Pitre has emphasized that Jesus’ ministry consistently reflects the expectation of a restored Israel, now gathered around the Messiah.⁶

Jesus confirms the governmental significance of the Twelve in Matthew:

“You who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”⁷

This is judicial and royal language. Thrones belong to rulers; judging belongs to governance. Jesus is not establishing an invisible collection of independent believers but a structured Kingdom community with appointed leadership.

Scott Hahn has likewise argued that the covenant framework of Scripture implies that Jesus’ Kingdom must take visible and institutional form, since biblical covenants consistently establish an ordered people with priestly mediation and communal worship.⁸

III. “I Will Build My Church”: Jesus and Institutional Intention

Perhaps the clearest obstacle to the “Christianity was accidental” narrative is Jesus’ explicit statement in Matthew:

“You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”⁹

This is not the language of improvisation. It is the language of deliberate construction. Christ speaks of building a Church that will endure.

The phrase “gates of hell” is also significant. Gates are defensive fortifications, implying not merely survival but conquest. Christ is describing a community that will withstand the assaults of death and demonic opposition, continuing through history with divine protection.

Jaroslav Pelikan observed that early Christianity understood itself not as a loose philosophical school but as a visible society with continuity of teaching, worship, and authority.¹⁰ This self-understanding appears already in the New Testament and becomes explicit in patristic writings.

IV. The Davidic Kingdom and the Keys: Peter as Chief Steward

The Catholic claim to Petrine primacy is best understood not as Roman political imitation but as biblical continuity. If Jesus is the Davidic King, then the Kingdom He inaugurates would naturally reflect Davidic patterns of governance.

In the Old Testament, the Davidic king ruled Israel, but he appointed a chief steward over the royal household. This steward possessed delegated authority symbolized by the “key” of David’s house. Isaiah describes the office when Shebna is removed and Eliakim is installed:

“And I will place on his shoulder the key of the house of David; he shall open, and none shall shut; and he shall shut, and none shall open.”¹¹

This is not a private spiritual symbol. It is the insignia of royal administration.

Christ’s language to Peter echoes Isaiah unmistakably:

“I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”¹²

The imagery is governmental. The binding and loosing language corresponds to rabbinic judicial authority: the authority to permit, forbid, and render binding decisions. Yet Jesus elevates this authority by linking it to heaven’s ratification.

Brant Pitre argues that Matthew 16 should be read as a Kingdom appointment scene, in which Jesus, the Davidic Messiah, establishes Peter as the chief steward in the renewed Kingdom.¹³

This interpretation is not a medieval innovation. It is grounded in Old Testament typology and early Christian understanding of apostolic authority.

V. Peter’s Leadership in the New Testament: Pattern, Not Accident

Beyond Matthew 16, the New Testament repeatedly depicts Peter as the visible leader among the apostles.

Peter speaks on behalf of the Twelve.¹⁴ He is consistently named first in apostolic lists.¹⁵ He initiates decisive acts of leadership in Acts, including the election to replace Judas.¹⁶ He delivers the first public proclamation of the Gospel at Pentecost.¹⁷

Christ also gives Peter a unique commission in Luke:

“I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail; and when you have turned again, strengthen your brethren.”¹⁸

And after the Resurrection, Christ gives Peter a pastoral mandate:

“Feed my lambs… Tend my sheep… Feed my sheep.”¹⁹

These passages are difficult to reconcile with a purely egalitarian apostolic model. They indicate that Peter’s role was not merely honorary but functional and enduring.

John Chrysostom, in his homilies on John, explicitly notes Peter’s pastoral commission as evidence of his leadership responsibility.²⁰ While Chrysostom does not articulate later medieval papal claims, he clearly recognizes Petrine primacy in pastoral authority.

VI. Patristic Witness: Peter, Rome, and Ecclesial Unity

The patristic record does not support the notion that Roman primacy was invented after Constantine. Rather, early Christians repeatedly appeal to Rome’s apostolic foundation as a standard of unity and orthodoxy.

Clement of Rome (c. AD 96)

Clement, writing from Rome to Corinth, intervenes authoritatively in the internal disputes of another local church. This is significant because it occurs within the first century, during the lifetime of apostolic memory. Clement appeals to apostolic succession and insists that the Church must maintain the order instituted by the apostles.²¹

Irenaeus of Lyons (2nd century)

Irenaeus explicitly appeals to Rome as the Church whose apostolic succession is universally known:

“For it is a matter of necessity that every Church should agree with this Church, on account of its preeminent authority.”²²

Irenaeus then traces the succession of Roman bishops from Peter and Paul onward, using this continuity as an argument against heretical innovation.

Origen (3rd century)

Origen, commenting on Matthew, speaks of Peter as the foundational rock in relation to Christ’s commission. While Origen’s exegesis is sometimes spiritualized, he nevertheless acknowledges Peter’s special role within the apostolic foundation.²³

Cyprian of Carthage (3rd century)

Cyprian famously writes:

“There is one God and one Christ, and one Church, and one chair founded upon Peter by the word of the Lord.”²⁴

Cyprian’s broader ecclesiology emphasizes the unity of bishops, yet he still uses Petrine imagery to express the visible unity of the Church.

Augustine (4th–5th century)

Augustine at times interprets “the rock” as Christ Himself, yet he also acknowledges Petrine primacy and the authority of the Roman See in disputes. Augustine’s anti-Donatist writings repeatedly emphasize the necessity of Catholic unity and apostolic succession, including communion with Rome.²⁵

Leo the Great (5th century)

Leo articulates Roman Petrine theology with clarity:

“The care of the universal Church should converge toward Peter’s one seat.”²⁶

Leo insists that Peter’s authority continues in his successors, framing papal governance not as imperial power but as ecclesial stewardship.

Eamon Duffy notes that while the papacy’s political influence expanded over time, its spiritual claim to Petrine inheritance is rooted in early Christian memory and Roman apostolic identity.²

Interlude: Why I Am Not Eastern Orthodox (Revised, Forte Voice)

At this point I want to clarify something personal, because readers often assume that if I reject the claim that Catholicism is merely a “Roman invention,” then my natural alternative must be Eastern Orthodoxy. And I understand why many serious Christians find the East compelling. I have genuine respect for Orthodox Christianity in its many forms—Eastern, Greek, Russian, and the Oriental communions as well. In my view, the Orthodox churches preserve an extraordinary inheritance of holiness, apostolic succession, sacramental life, and theological depth. Their liturgy, ascetic tradition, and continuity with the ancient world are not modern fabrications—they are real, ancient, and profoundly Christian.

But for me, admiration is not the same thing as conclusion.

The question I cannot escape—precisely because I take the Kingdom theme seriously—is whether Christ established not only a sacramental communion of bishops, but also a visible chief steward within that communion: a Petrine office meant to serve as the Kingdom’s principle of unity on earth. If Jesus truly inaugurates the renewed Davidic Kingdom, and if the “keys” imagery functions in continuity with Isaiah’s Davidic steward-office, then Peter’s role is not a decorative honor. It is structural. It is governmental. It is the Kingdom’s visible architecture.¹

This is why I remain Catholic.

I do not stay Catholic because I think the West is “more civilized,” or because I have no appreciation for the East, or because I deny the Orthodox churches’ apostolic legitimacy. I stay Catholic because I believe the Catholic Church uniquely preserves the fullness of the Kingdom’s visible governance—not by replacing Christ’s kingship, but by serving it in history through the office Christ established when He gave Peter the keys, charged him to strengthen the brethren, and commanded him to shepherd the flock.²

In my reading of Scripture and the early Church, the Orthodox model preserves true apostolicity, but it lacks the one element that holds the Kingdom together across geography, culture, and time: the chief steward in Peter’s chair. Without that office, unity becomes dependent on consensus, diplomacy, and historical circumstance—rather than on a divinely instituted center of visible communion.

This is not an insult to Orthodoxy. It is simply the hinge-point of ecclesiology. If the Petrine office is part of Christ’s original Kingdom design, then communion with that office is not a cultural preference or a Western quirk. It is a theological conclusion about what Christ built—and how His Kingdom remains visibly one “on earth as it is in heaven.”³

Footnotes (Chicago Style) for This Section

  1. Isaiah 22:22; Matthew 16:19 (RSV-CE). See also Brant Pitre, Jesus, the Tribulation, and the End of the Exile (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), 92–110.

  2. Luke 22:31–32; John 21:15–17 (RSV-CE).

  3. Matthew 6:10 (RSV-CE). For early Christian appeals to Roman primacy as a standard of catholic unity, see Irenaeus of Lyons, Against Heresies 3.3.2.

VII. Constantine, Legalization, and the Edict of Thessalonica: What Actually Happened

The claim that Constantine “created Catholicism” is historically untenable.

Constantine and the Edict of Milan (313)

In AD 313, Constantine and Licinius issued what is commonly called the Edict of Milan, granting toleration to Christians and restoring confiscated property.²⁸ This did not establish Christianity as the state religion; it ended persecution and permitted open worship.

Christianity was already a widespread and organized institution long before Constantine, possessing bishops, liturgy, sacraments, theological controversies, and a strong martyr tradition.

Theodosius and the Edict of Thessalonica (380)

In AD 380, Emperor Theodosius I, together with Gratian and Valentinian II, issued the Edict of Thessalonica (Cunctos Populos), declaring Nicene Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire.²⁹

This event is often misunderstood. It did not invent the Church; it recognized and privileged the Nicene faith as imperial policy.

Pelikan emphasizes that doctrinal orthodoxy was forged through internal theological conflict long before imperial enforcement, meaning the Church’s dogmatic identity cannot be reduced to political convenience.³⁰

Thus, Constantine’s legalization and Theodosius’ establishment of Nicene Christianity as official are best interpreted not as the origin of Catholic structure but as the moment the empire formally acknowledged a Kingdom already advancing within it.

VIII. “Thy Kingdom Come”: The Church as the Kingdom’s Historical Manifestation

The Catholic claim is not that the Church exhausts the Kingdom in its final eschatological fullness. The Kingdom will be consummated only at the end of history. Yet the Kingdom is already present sacramentally and institutionally through the Church.

The Lord’s Prayer is explicit:

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”³¹

Revelation likewise declares:

“The kingdoms of this world have become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ.”³²

These passages were interpreted by many early Christians as expressing not only heavenly destiny but earthly mission: Christ’s reign spreading through the nations.

This is why Christianity did not remain a sect of Judaism. The New Covenant expands Israel into a universal people of God, fulfilling the Abrahamic promise that all nations would be blessed.³³ The Church becomes the renewed Israel, catholic in scope, apostolic in foundation, and sacramental in life.

Wright argues that the early Christian proclamation of Jesus as Lord necessarily entailed a challenge to Caesar’s lordship, since “Lord” was not merely devotional language but a claim of sovereign allegiance.³⁴

This Kingdom claim is precisely what makes Christianity historically disruptive. It was not merely a philosophy. It was a rival sovereignty.

Conclusion: Jesus Did Not Accidentally Create Christianity

The question “Did Jesus come to start a new religion?” is too modern, too narrow, and too detached from biblical categories. Jesus did not arrive offering a privatized spirituality disconnected from authority and covenant order. He proclaimed the Kingdom of God, gathered the Twelve as renewed Israel, founded His Church, instituted sacramental authority, and appointed Peter as steward with the keys of the Kingdom.

The Catholic Church is therefore not a Roman accident, not a Constantine-era invention, and not a medieval corruption of a simple Jewish movement. It is the historical unfolding of Christ’s Kingdom mission: the renewed Davidic Kingdom made visible through apostolic succession, sacramental worship, and Petrine unity.

Jesus did not merely speak of the Kingdom.
He built it.

And the Church remains His Kingdom’s earthly embassy until the end of the age.

Footnotes (Chicago Style)

  1. Mark 1:15 (RSV-CE).

  2. N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 202–240.

  3. Luke 1:32–33 (RSV-CE).

  4. Matthew 21:1–11.

  5. John 19:19 (RSV-CE).

  6. Brant Pitre, Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist (New York: Doubleday, 2011), 43–72.

  7. Matthew 19:28 (RSV-CE).

  8. Scott Hahn, Kinship by Covenant: A Canonical Approach to the Fulfillment of God’s Saving Promises (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009), 305–340.

  9. Matthew 16:18 (RSV-CE).

  10. Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, vol. 1, The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100–600) (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1971), 1–35.

  11. Isaiah 22:22 (RSV-CE).

  12. Matthew 16:19 (RSV-CE).

  13. Brant Pitre, Jesus, the Tribulation, and the End of the Exile (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), 92–110.

  14. John 6:68.

  15. Matthew 10:2.

  16. Acts 1:15–26.

  17. Acts 2:14–41.

  18. Luke 22:31–32 (RSV-CE).

  19. John 21:15–17 (RSV-CE).

  20. John Chrysostom, Homilies on the Gospel of John, Homily 88, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, vol. 14, ed. Philip Schaff (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1889).

  21. Clement of Rome, 1 Clement 42–44.

  22. Irenaeus of Lyons, Against Heresies 3.3.2, trans. Alexander Roberts and William Rambaut, in Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 1, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885), as hosted at New Advent, accessed February 17, 2026.

  23. Origen, Commentary on Matthew 12.10–11.

  24. Cyprian of Carthage, On the Unity of the Catholic Church 4, trans. Ernest Wallis, in Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 5, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1886), as hosted at New Advent, accessed February 17, 2026.

  25. Augustine, Against the Letter of Parmenian 2.13; Augustine, On Baptism, Against the Donatists 2.1.

  26. Leo the Great, Letter 14, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, vol. 12, trans. Charles Lett Feltoe, ed. Philip Schaff and Henry Wace (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1895), as hosted at New Advent, accessed February 17, 2026.

  27. Eamon Duffy, Saints and Sinners: A History of the Popes, 4th ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014), 15–30.

  28. Lactantius, On the Deaths of the Persecutors 48; Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 10.5.

  29. “Edict of Thessalonica” (Cunctos Populos), February 27, 380, in The Theodosian Code and Novels and the Sirmondian Constitutions, trans. Clyde Pharr (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1952), 1.1.2.

  30. Pelikan, Christian Tradition, 1:220–260.

  31. Matthew 6:10 (RSV-CE).

  32. Revelation 11:15 (RSV-CE).

  33. Genesis 12:3; Galatians 3:8.

  34. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, 352–370.

Bibliography (Chicago Style)

Augustine. Against the Letter of Parmenian.

Augustine. On Baptism, Against the Donatists.

Chrysostom, John. Homilies on the Gospel of John. In Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, vol. 14. Edited by Philip Schaff. Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1889.

Clement of Rome. First Epistle to the Corinthians (1 Clement). c. AD 96.

Duffy, Eamon. Saints and Sinners: A History of the Popes. 4th ed. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014.

Eusebius of Caesarea. Ecclesiastical History.

Hahn, Scott. Kinship by Covenant: A Canonical Approach to the Fulfillment of God’s Saving Promises. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009.

Irenaeus of Lyons. Against Heresies. In Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 1. Edited by Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe. Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885.

Lactantius. On the Deaths of the Persecutors.

Origen. Commentary on Matthew.

Pelikan, Jaroslav. The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine. Vol. 1, The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100–600). Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1971.

Pitre, Brant. Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist. New York: Doubleday, 2011.

Pitre, Brant. Jesus, the Tribulation, and the End of the Exile. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005.

Pharr, Clyde, trans. The Theodosian Code and Novels and the Sirmondian Constitutions. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1952.

Wright, N. T. Jesus and the Victory of God. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996.

Appendix: Protestant Objections and Catholic Replies (Brief, Academic)

Because this essay argues that Jesus established a visible Kingdom structure culminating in Petrine stewardship, it naturally invites several Protestant objections. These deserve to be stated fairly and answered with clarity.

Objection 1: “The keys in Matthew 16 have nothing to do with Isaiah 22.”

Many Protestant interpreters argue that Matthew 16:19 should not be connected to Isaiah 22:22, claiming the resemblance is superficial and that Catholics read later papal ideas back into the Old Testament.

Reply:
The Catholic argument does not require a strict word-for-word quotation to establish typological continuity. Rather, the force of the claim lies in the shared symbolic function: in both passages, a “key” is given as a sign of delegated authority to govern the household of the king. Isaiah explicitly identifies the key as the emblem of the chief steward’s office in the Davidic kingdom. When Jesus—who is publicly proclaimed as the Davidic Messiah—gives Peter “the keys of the kingdom,” the conceptual parallel is difficult to dismiss as coincidence.¹

Moreover, Jesus is not operating outside Jewish symbolism. The Gospels consistently portray Him as fulfilling Israel’s covenant institutions. The keys motif fits naturally within this restoration framework.

Objection 2: “The rock is Peter’s faith, not Peter himself.”

A classic Protestant claim is that Jesus is praising Peter’s confession, not instituting a Petrine office. The “rock,” it is argued, is the truth Peter spoke, not the man.

Reply:
Catholic interpretation does not deny the importance of Peter’s confession. But grammatically and narratively, Matthew 16 is focused on Peter personally. Jesus changes Simon’s name to “Peter” (Petros), then immediately says “upon this rock (petra) I will build my Church.” The name-change strongly suggests an intentional connection between Peter’s identity and his commissioned role.²

Additionally, even if one grants that the confession is part of the foundation, the text still explicitly gives Peter the keys and binding/loosing authority. Thus, the debate over the precise meaning of “rock” does not remove the central issue: Peter receives a unique Kingdom commission that the Gospel treats as real authority, not mere praise.

Objection 3: “Rome had primacy of honor only, not jurisdiction.”

A common Protestant and Orthodox-friendly claim is that Rome was respected because it was the imperial capital and the Church of Peter and Paul, but this respect was only honorary—not a governing authority over the universal Church.

Reply:
It is historically undeniable that Rome held a special position early on. The question is why that position mattered. Irenaeus does not appeal to Rome merely as a prestigious city. He appeals to Rome as the Church whose apostolic succession is publicly known and whose authority functions as a doctrinal standard.³

Likewise, Clement of Rome’s intervention in Corinth (c. AD 96) reads less like polite advice and more like authoritative correction. Even if one does not define this as “universal jurisdiction” in the later medieval sense, it still reflects an early consciousness that Rome held a unique stabilizing role for catholic unity.

Objection 4: “Universal jurisdiction is a late medieval invention.”

Some Protestants argue that papal supremacy as defined at Vatican I (1870) is far removed from the early Church, and therefore cannot plausibly be traced to Jesus or the apostles.

Reply:
Catholic theology distinguishes between seed and development. The Church does not claim that every later doctrinal formulation was articulated in its final precision in the first century. Rather, the claim is that the Petrine office is present in principle from the beginning, and that its implications became more explicit over time as new controversies forced clarification.

This is not unique to the papacy. The Trinity and Christology also developed through centuries of debate before being defined with technical precision at Nicaea and Chalcedon. Development does not imply invention. It implies clarification under historical pressure.

Eamon Duffy, while not writing as a Catholic apologist, notes that the papacy’s role expanded gradually and unevenly, shaped by both theology and circumstance. Yet this historical growth does not erase its early Petrine self-understanding—it demonstrates how an ancient office adapted to new demands.⁴

A Note on Orthodoxy (Respectfully)

These Protestant objections sometimes overlap with Orthodox critiques of later papal claims. As I have already stated, I do not treat Orthodoxy as “fake Christianity.” In my view, Orthodox churches possess apostolic succession, sacraments, and profound continuity with the early Church. The Catholic-Orthodox divide is not a question of whether the East is Christian, but whether the Kingdom Christ established includes a continuing Petrine steward-office as a universal principle of unity.

That remains, for me, the decisive issue.

Footnotes (Chicago Style)

  1. Isaiah 22:22; Matthew 16:19 (RSV-CE). See also Brant Pitre, Jesus, the Tribulation, and the End of the Exile (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), 92–110.

  2. Matthew 16:17–19. On the significance of Peter’s naming and commission, see also Scott Hahn, Kinship by Covenant: A Canonical Approach to the Fulfillment of God’s Saving Promises (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009), 305–340.

  3. Irenaeus of Lyons, Against Heresies 3.3.2.

  4. Eamon Duffy, Saints and Sinners: A History of the Popes, 4th ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014), 15–30.


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Valentine's Day is Pagan! I. CHICAGO-STYLE ACADEMIC PAPER

 



Saint Valentine’s Day and the Pagan Origins Claim: Lupercalia, Late Antique Christianity, and the Evolution of a Modern Holiday

I. CHICAGO-STYLE ACADEMIC PAPER

Abstract

Valentine’s Day is frequently described in popular culture as a Christianized continuation of pagan Roman fertility rites, particularly the festival of Lupercalia. This paper argues that such claims are historically overstated and often based on weak causal assumptions. While Lupercalia was a genuine Roman religious festival celebrated in mid-February, the Christian commemoration of Saint Valentine on February 14 originates in martyrological tradition and does not demonstrably derive from pagan ritual continuity. The paper further argues that the holiday’s association with romantic love emerges primarily from medieval literary culture and courtly traditions, later reshaped by modern commercial forces. Finally, Catholic, Protestant, and secular historical interpretations are compared to clarify what can and cannot responsibly be claimed regarding the holiday’s origins.

Introduction

Among modern popular controversies, one of the most persistent claims is that Valentine’s Day is “pagan,” a Christian rebranding of Roman fertility rituals. This argument is commonly presented as self-evident: Lupercalia was held in mid-February; Valentine’s Day occurs one day earlier; therefore the Church must have replaced a pagan feast with a Christian one. Yet historical method demands more than chronological proximity. It requires documentary evidence demonstrating intentional substitution and ideological continuity.

This paper argues that Valentine’s Day, properly understood, is not a pagan feast disguised as Christianity. Rather, it is best interpreted as a Christian martyr commemoration later transformed by medieval romantic symbolism and modern consumer culture. While some Christian authorities did condemn and suppress Lupercalia, the claim that the Church instituted Saint Valentine’s feast as a deliberate replacement is often asserted without strong primary textual grounding. The cultural evolution of Valentine’s Day into a romantic holiday is likewise medieval and modern rather than ancient and pagan.

I. Lupercalia and Roman Religious Culture

Lupercalia was an ancient Roman festival observed on February 15, associated with purification, fertility, and civic religious ritual. Ancient accounts describe sacrifice and ritual actions performed by the Luperci, who ran through the city and struck bystanders—especially women—with strips of animal hide, an act believed to promote fertility.¹ Such rites were not merely social customs but religious practices embedded in Roman sacrificial tradition.

Modern popular accounts often imply that Lupercalia was a romantic festival resembling modern Valentine’s Day. This is misleading. Lupercalia’s rituals were oriented toward civic purification and fertility rather than interpersonal romantic affection. Its meaning was public, ritualistic, and deeply tied to Roman religious identity.²

II. Saint Valentine(s): Martyrdom, Memory, and the Problem of Sources

The Christian figure behind Valentine’s Day is historically elusive. The name “Valentinus” appears in multiple late antique and medieval traditions, and it is likely that more than one martyr named Valentine existed.³ The Church’s commemoration of Valentine(s) is grounded in martyrological tradition rather than theological innovation.

Vatican summaries of the saint emphasize his status as a martyr commemorated on February 14 and buried along the Via Flaminia.⁴ This basic claim is plausible and consistent with known patterns of early Christian cults of martyrs. However, the precise details of his life are uncertain.

The “Secret Weddings” Legend

Perhaps the most popular narrative associated with Saint Valentine is that he was a third-century priest who performed Christian marriages in secret for Roman soldiers, defying an imperial ban on marriage allegedly instituted by Emperor Claudius II. According to this tradition, Valentine was arrested and executed for these actions.⁵

Yet historians generally regard this story as late and difficult to verify. The earliest reliable evidence concerns the saint’s martyr commemoration rather than a detailed biography. The “secret marriages” motif appears to be a later hagiographical elaboration, possibly arising from the medieval tendency to supply saints with moralized narratives reflecting later devotional concerns.⁶ Additionally, confusion between multiple Valentines—often described as a Roman priest and a bishop of Interamna (Terni)—likely contributed to the blending of traditions into a single dramatic story.⁷

Thus, while it is possible that some cleric named Valentine was martyred under Roman persecution, the romanticized marriage narrative is best treated as legend rather than established historical fact.

III. Pope Gelasius I, the End of Lupercalia, and the “Replacement” Claim

The most common argument for pagan origins asserts that Pope Gelasius I abolished Lupercalia and replaced it with Saint Valentine’s Day. Gelasius is known to have condemned the festival, notably in a letter addressed to Roman elites, often associated with the Collectio Avellana.⁸ This letter criticizes the continued participation of Christians in pagan rites and insists that such practices are incompatible with Christian identity.

However, the key historical question is not whether Gelasius opposed Lupercalia, but whether he instituted Valentine’s Day as a deliberate substitute. Modern scholarship often cautions that the “replacement” narrative is asserted without decisive evidence. While later popular histories frequently claim Gelasius replaced Lupercalia with a Christian feast, the surviving evidence does not provide a clear statement that Valentine’s feast was created specifically as a counter-festival.⁹

Therefore, it is historically safer to state that Gelasius opposed Lupercalia and contributed to its decline, while the existence of a February 14 Valentine commemoration may have been inherited from earlier martyrological tradition rather than invented as a direct replacement.

IV. Medieval Transformation: Courtly Love and the “Romantic Valentine”

The association between Saint Valentine and romantic love is not strongly attested in late antiquity. Rather, it appears prominently in medieval Europe, shaped by courtly love conventions and literary imagination. Geoffrey Chaucer is frequently credited with helping popularize the link between Saint Valentine’s Day and romantic pairing, particularly through poetic references to birds mating on “Saint Valentine’s Day.”¹⁰

While scholars debate the exact mechanisms of this association, the broader point is clear: the romantic symbolism of Valentine’s Day emerges in medieval cultural developments rather than Roman fertility ritual continuity. The holiday’s meaning was not fixed but evolved through layers of reinterpretation.

V. Modern Commercialization and the Emergence of the Contemporary Holiday

The modern holiday recognizable today—marked by greeting cards, romantic gifts, flowers, and consumer spending—is largely a product of industrial-era capitalism and print culture. The rise of mass-produced valentines in the nineteenth century accelerated the transformation of the day into a commercialized social ritual. The Library of Congress notes that the holiday’s commercialization developed significantly through the mass production of cards and consumer culture.¹¹

In the United States, Esther Howland is often associated with early mass production of valentines, reflecting the industrialization of sentimental expression.¹² This development demonstrates that contemporary Valentine’s Day is not a direct continuation of pagan religious rites but rather a modern cultural invention layered atop a medieval romantic tradition and an ancient saint’s commemoration.

VI. Catholic, Protestant, and Secular Interpretations

Catholic Perspective

From a Catholic theological standpoint, saint days are defined by liturgical intention and ecclesial memory: the commemoration of martyrs and the encouragement of Christian virtue. Even if a feast day shares proximity with pagan festivals, proximity alone does not establish identity. Gelasius’s condemnation of Lupercalia demonstrates the Church’s opposition to pagan ritual worship rather than an attempt to preserve it under Christian disguise.¹³

Protestant Perspective

Protestant attitudes vary. Liturgical Protestants often retain Saint Valentine as a commemorated figure in ecclesiastical calendars, though without Catholic veneration practices. More evangelical traditions frequently criticize the holiday for lacking explicit biblical foundation and for encouraging moral excess or commercial triviality. Yet even within Protestant critique, labeling the holiday “pagan” is not historically necessary; the holiday can be rejected as culturally unhelpful without asserting direct pagan religious continuity.

Secular Historical Perspective

A secular historian’s approach distinguishes origins from later developments. Lupercalia was a pagan Roman rite; Valentine’s commemoration is a Christian saint’s day. The romantic holiday largely emerges from medieval culture and later commercialism. Claims of direct replacement often depend on weak evidence and retrospective narrative simplification rather than primary sources.¹⁴

Conclusion

The claim that Saint Valentine’s Day is pagan is historically overstated. Lupercalia was a real pagan festival, but its rites differ substantially from the meaning of Saint Valentine’s feast. While Pope Gelasius condemned Lupercalia, the evidence that he instituted Saint Valentine’s Day specifically as its replacement is inconclusive. Saint Valentine’s Day is better understood as a Christian martyr commemoration later reshaped by medieval courtly love literature and modern commercial consumerism.

In sum, Valentine’s Day is not pagan by origin in any straightforward sense. Rather, it is an example of how Christian commemorations can be culturally transformed over time—sometimes to the point that their original religious meaning is obscured.

Footnotes (Chicago Notes)

  1. “Lupercalia,” Encyclopaedia Britannica, accessed February 17, 2026, https://www.britannica.com/topic/Lupercalia.

  2. Ibid.

  3. “Saint Valentine,” Encyclopaedia Britannica, accessed February 17, 2026, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Valentine.

  4. “St. Valentine, Martyr on the Via Flaminia,” Vatican News, accessed February 17, 2026, https://www.vaticannews.va/en/saints/02/14/st--valentin--martyr-on-the--via-flaminia.html.

  5. “Valentine’s Day 2026: Origins and Meaning,” History.com, accessed February 17, 2026, https://www.history.com/articles/valentines-day-bible-religious-origins.

  6. Ibid.

  7. “Saint Valentine,” Encyclopaedia Britannica.

  8. Roger Pearse, “The Abolition of the Lupercalia: Letter 100 of the Collectio Avellana,” Roger Pearse Blog, March 24, 2011, accessed February 17, 2026, https://www.roger-pearse.com/weblog/2011/03/24/the-abolition-of-the-lupercalia-letter-100-of-the-collectio-avellana/.

  9. “Lupercalia,” in William Smith, ed., A Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities (London: John Murray, 1875), hosted at University of Chicago, accessed February 17, 2026, https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/secondary/SMIGRA*/Lupercalia.html.

  10. Geoffrey Chaucer, Parlement of Foules, in relation to Valentine’s Day traditions; see also discussion in modern scholarship: Henry Ansgar Kelly, “Chaucer and the Cult of Saint Valentine,” The Journal of English and Germanic Philology 88, no. 3 (1989): 322–339.

  11. “Commercialization of Valentine’s Day,” Library of Congress Blogs, accessed February 17, 2026, https://blogs.loc.gov/inside_adams/2016/02/commercialization-of-valentines-day/.

  12. “Valentines,” Worcester Historical Museum, accessed February 17, 2026, https://worcesterhistorical.com/digital-exhibits/valentines/.

  13. Pearse, “Abolition of the Lupercalia.”

  14. Associated Press, “Valentine’s Day Isn’t Pagan—Here’s Why Historians Doubt the Lupercalia Myth,” AP News, accessed February 17, 2026, https://apnews.com/article/2d9a2d67c95ae06322aa9417c62a6baf.

Bibliography (Chicago Style)

Associated Press. “Valentine’s Day Isn’t Pagan—Here’s Why Historians Doubt the Lupercalia Myth.” AP News. Accessed February 17, 2026. https://apnews.com/article/2d9a2d67c95ae06322aa9417c62a6baf.

“Commercialization of Valentine’s Day.” Library of Congress Blogs. Accessed February 17, 2026. https://blogs.loc.gov/inside_adams/2016/02/commercialization-of-valentines-day/.

Kelly, Henry Ansgar. “Chaucer and the Cult of Saint Valentine.” The Journal of English and Germanic Philology 88, no. 3 (1989): 322–339.

“Lupercalia.” Encyclopaedia Britannica. Accessed February 17, 2026. https://www.britannica.com/topic/Lupercalia.

Pearse, Roger. “The Abolition of the Lupercalia: Letter 100 of the Collectio Avellana.” Roger Pearse Blog. March 24, 2011. Accessed February 17, 2026. https://www.roger-pearse.com/weblog/2011/03/24/the-abolition-of-the-lupercalia-letter-100-of-the-collectio-avellana/.

“Saint Valentine.” Encyclopaedia Britannica. Accessed February 17, 2026. https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Valentine.

Smith, William, ed. “Lupercalia.” In A Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities. London: John Murray, 1875. Hosted at University of Chicago. Accessed February 17, 2026. https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/secondary/SMIGRA*/Lupercalia.html.

“St. Valentine, Martyr on the Via Flaminia.” Vatican News. Accessed February 17, 2026. https://www.vaticannews.va/en/saints/02/14/st--valentin--martyr-on-the--via-flaminia.html.

“Valentine’s Day.” History.com. Accessed February 17, 2026. https://www.history.com/articles/valentines-day-bible-religious-origins.

“Valentines.” Worcester Historical Museum. Accessed February 17, 2026. https://worcesterhistorical.com/digital-exhibits/valentines/.

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Tuesday, February 10, 2026

You Can't Support I.C.E. and be Catholic!

 


Conscience, Authority, and Prudential Disagreement: How I Remain a Faithful Catholic While Supporting Immigration Enforcement and Deportation Policy

Christopher M. Forte
Independent Catholic Writer and Researcher
San Diego, California

Abstract

Immigration enforcement has become a contested subject within contemporary American Catholic discourse, especially regarding deportation policy, the legitimacy of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), and immigration policies associated with the Trump administration. This paper argues that a lay Catholic may remain fully faithful to the Catholic Church while disagreeing with bishops and even papal statements on immigration policy insofar as such statements involve prudential judgments rather than definitive moral teaching. Writing from a first-person Catholic perspective, I examine the distinction between doctrine and prudential application, the formation of conscience, the state’s authority under natural law, and the moral boundaries of immigration enforcement. Drawing from the Catechism of the Catholic Church, Vatican II, the USCCB pastoral letter Strangers No Longer, and papal encyclicals such as Benedict XVI’s Caritas in Veritate and Francis’ Fratelli Tutti, I argue that support for deportation is not intrinsically anti-Catholic. I further engage the ecclesiological reflections of Avery Dulles, the political theology of John Courtney Murray, and Joseph Ratzinger’s account of the limits and authority of the Magisterium. I conclude that lay Catholics may legitimately dissent from prudential policy recommendations while maintaining ecclesial fidelity, provided they assent to Catholic moral principles and avoid the distortions of contempt, ideology, and ultramontanism.

Keywords

Catholic social teaching; immigration; deportation; ICE; conscience; Magisterium; prudence; ultramontanism; natural law; Vatican II; Aquinas; common good; Murray; Ratzinger; Dulles.

1. Introduction: A Contemporary Catholic Problem

I write as a Catholic who believes that the Catholic Church is the one true Church founded by Jesus Christ, preserved by apostolic succession, and guided by the Holy Spirit through the bishops in communion with the successor of St. Peter. My Catholicism is not a vague spirituality, nor a cultural affiliation. It is a theological submission to the Church’s sacramental life, doctrinal continuity, and apostolic authority.

At the same time, I write as an American citizen who supports strong immigration enforcement. I am pro-ICE, and I support the deportation of illegal immigrants. I hold these positions not because I deny the dignity of migrants, but because I believe that the integrity of law, national sovereignty, and the common good require coherent border enforcement.

The contemporary tension arises because many bishops, episcopal conferences, and papal statements appear to treat deportation and enforcement as intrinsically immoral or as presumptively incompatible with the Gospel. This creates a dilemma for Catholics who simultaneously affirm the Church’s authority and believe strict enforcement is necessary for justice and national stability. The result is a moral and ecclesial conflict: one can feel forced to choose between fidelity to the hierarchy and fidelity to one’s prudential civic judgment.

The core claim of this paper is that this dilemma is false. Catholic tradition provides a conceptual framework that allows me to remain fully Catholic while disagreeing with bishops and popes on immigration policy—provided the disagreement concerns prudential application rather than binding doctrine, and provided it is expressed with reverence and formed conscience.

2. Literature Review: Immigration in Catholic Social Teaching

The Catholic moral tradition addresses immigration through the broader categories of human dignity, the common good, solidarity, subsidiarity, and the rights and duties of political communities. Contemporary Catholic sources include the Catechism of the Catholic Church, Vatican II, papal encyclicals, and episcopal pastoral letters.

The Catechism provides the most concise synthesis. It affirms a moral obligation of hospitality while also recognizing legitimate restriction:

“The more prosperous nations are obliged, to the extent they are able, to welcome the foreigner… Political authorities, for the sake of the common good… may make the exercise of the right to immigrate subject to various juridical conditions.”¹

This dual statement is fundamental: it affirms both welcome and regulation, preventing Catholic immigration ethics from collapsing into either nationalist exclusion or borderless idealism.

In the American context, the USCCB pastoral letter Strangers No Longer: Together on the Journey of Hope (2003) has shaped Catholic discourse substantially. The bishops affirm national sovereignty but condemn violations of basic rights:

“The Church recognizes the right of sovereign nations to control their territories but rejects such efforts as incompatible with the Gospel when they involve the denial of basic human rights.”²

Importantly, they also acknowledge that migration rights are conditioned:

“The right to migrate… is not absolute.”³

Papal encyclicals have intensified the moral tone of immigration discussion. Benedict XVI describes migration as “epoch-making,” requiring international cooperation and integral development.⁴ Francis, in Fratelli Tutti, offers a powerful critique of xenophobia and cultural indifference.⁵ Yet neither encyclical functions as a technical immigration manual. Both operate primarily at the level of moral anthropology and social conscience.

Thus, the literature consistently points to a structural reality: Catholic teaching supplies binding moral principles, but it does not automatically dictate one enforcement policy. This distinction becomes central in evaluating claims of episcopal authority over immigration policy.

3. Theological Framework: Authority, Assent, and the Formation of Conscience

3.1. The Magisterium and the Question of Binding Authority

Catholic theology recognizes that the Church’s teaching authority is real, apostolic, and divinely instituted. The Catechism defines papal infallibility precisely:

“The Roman Pontiff… enjoys this infallibility… when… he proclaims by a definitive act a doctrine pertaining to faith or morals.”⁶

This definition is intentionally narrow. It implies that much of what popes and bishops say—especially about contemporary politics—does not constitute definitive teaching.

The Catechism further states that ordinary teaching requires “religious assent,”⁷ but this assent is not identical in weight to the assent of faith given to dogma. The tradition has long recognized gradations of authority. Joseph Ratzinger repeatedly emphasized this point in his theological writings: the Magisterium’s authority is real, but it is ordered toward guarding revelation and moral truth, not toward becoming a substitute political technocracy. In other words, the Magisterium is authoritative, but it is not omniscient in empirical matters.

This is essential for immigration debates. If episcopal policy recommendations are treated as binding in the same way as dogma, Catholicism becomes unstable and incoherent. It would mean that Catholic fidelity depends on agreement with political analysis, not on assent to revealed truth.

3.2. Avery Dulles and the Limits of Ecclesial Teaching Claims

Avery Dulles’ ecclesiology provides a useful lens here. Dulles famously articulated different “models of the Church,” highlighting that the Church is not reducible to one institutional function. The Church is sacrament, community, herald, servant, and mystical communion. While the institutional model is essential, it is not exhaustive. This helps clarify why episcopal statements, especially political statements, must be interpreted within the broader nature of the Church.

Dulles also warned that confusion about authority can lead to distortions: either authoritarianism, where every ecclesiastical statement is treated as binding, or congregationalism, where the hierarchy is treated as irrelevant. A properly Catholic approach must reject both extremes.

Thus, when bishops speak on immigration, I must listen carefully and reverently, but I must also interpret their statements within the proper scope of their authority. Not all pastoral recommendations carry doctrinal weight.

3.3. Conscience: The Immediate Norm of Moral Action

Vatican II describes conscience as man’s inner sanctuary:

“His conscience is man’s most secret core and his sanctuary.”⁸

The Catechism defines conscience as “a judgment of reason,”⁹ and insists it must be formed:

“Conscience must be informed and moral judgment enlightened.”¹⁰

This means I cannot dismiss bishops lightly. Their teaching is a primary source for forming conscience. Yet conscience remains my responsibility. The Church does not ask me to abandon reason.

A properly formed conscience must consider moral principles, but also empirical reality. Immigration enforcement involves practical questions of law, crime, exploitation, housing, and institutional capacity. These are not purely theological issues; they are political realities requiring prudence.

Therefore, I may accept the Church’s moral principles while disagreeing with specific episcopal applications if I believe their analysis of facts or consequences is flawed.

4. Political Theology Analysis: Enforcement, Deportation, and the Common Good

4.1. The State’s Duty Under the Common Good

Catholic tradition affirms the legitimacy of political authority. The Catechism states:

“Authority is exercised legitimately only when it seeks the common good.”¹¹

The common good includes public order, legal coherence, safety, economic stability, and the protection of citizens. A government that refuses to enforce its laws undermines justice.

Therefore, immigration enforcement is not inherently immoral. If immigration laws exist, enforcement mechanisms are logically required. To condemn enforcement in principle is to condemn the idea of law itself.

4.2. The Catechism’s Immigration Framework: Welcome and Regulation

The Catechism explicitly recognizes the legitimacy of regulating immigration:

“Political authorities… may make the exercise of the right to immigrate subject to various juridical conditions.”¹²

This sentence alone refutes the claim that Catholicism requires open borders. It also suggests that deportation, as a legal consequence of violating immigration law, is not intrinsically unjust.

The moral issue is not deportation as such, but deportation conducted unjustly—through cruelty, racism, exploitation, or disproportionate harm.

4.3. Strangers No Longer and the Problem of Policy Absolutism

Strangers No Longer is often cited as if it mandates a particular political platform. Yet it explicitly affirms sovereignty:

“The Church recognizes the right of sovereign nations to control their territories…”¹³

And it admits migration is not absolute:

“The right to migrate… is not absolute.”¹⁴

Thus, even the bishops’ major immigration letter supports the idea that enforcement is legitimate. Where I disagree is with certain episcopal rhetoric that appears to treat enforcement as presumptively immoral or as a failure of Catholic compassion.

This is a prudential disagreement, not doctrinal dissent.

4.4. Benedict XVI and Integral Development

Benedict XVI’s Caritas in Veritate provides a more analytically balanced framework than many political polemics. Benedict calls migration “epoch-making” and emphasizes both the dignity of migrants and the structural realities that drive migration.¹⁵ His perspective implies that migration is not merely an emotional moral issue, but a global economic and political phenomenon requiring prudence and international responsibility.

This supports my argument that immigration policy cannot be reduced to simplistic binaries such as “compassion vs. cruelty.” Prudence is necessary.

4.5. Pope Francis and the Formation of Moral Imagination

Francis in Fratelli Tutti condemns xenophobia and warns against indifference to migrants.¹⁶ I take this seriously, because Catholic political reasoning is not merely about policy outcomes but about moral formation. Francis’ critique challenges me to examine whether my enforcement instincts are hardened into contempt.

However, Francis’ teaching is best interpreted as a moral exhortation about human fraternity rather than a binding technical blueprint for deportation policy. It forms conscience, but it does not automatically dictate enforcement strategy.

5. Obedience vs. Ultramontanism

A major distortion in contemporary Catholic discourse is the confusion between obedience and ultramontanism.

Obedience is a virtue. Ultramontanism, as popularly practiced, is an exaggerated view that treats every papal remark as binding dogma. This distortion is not required by Catholic theology.

The Catechism’s definition of infallibility is narrow and conditional.⁶ If Catholics treat every papal statement on politics as binding, Catholicism becomes unstable and vulnerable to ideological manipulation. The pope becomes a political oracle rather than the guardian of the deposit of faith.

Joseph Ratzinger’s theological method is relevant here: he consistently emphasized that papal authority exists to preserve apostolic faith, not to replace prudential political reasoning. The pope is not a technocrat. His role is theological and pastoral.

Thus, I can respect papal authority without surrendering prudential judgment. This is not Protestant rebellion; it is Catholic intellectual discipline.

6. Addressing the Claim: “If the Pope Says It, It Must Be Binding”

The common claim that “if the pope says it, it must be binding” is theologically incorrect.

The Catechism states that the pope is infallible only when he teaches definitively on faith and morals.⁶ Most papal immigration remarks do not meet that standard.

Furthermore, the Catechism distinguishes religious assent from the assent of faith.⁷ This implies gradation.

Therefore, I am not obligated to treat every papal political opinion as binding doctrine. I must listen respectfully and consider seriously, but prudential disagreement remains possible.

7. Responding to the Accusation: “You’re Rejecting the Church if You Support Deportations”

The accusation that supporting deportation is equivalent to rejecting the Church is both theologically careless and pastorally harmful.

First, Catholic doctrine does not condemn deportation as intrinsically immoral. The Catechism explicitly affirms the state’s authority to regulate immigration.¹²

Second, Strangers No Longer affirms sovereignty.¹³

Third, the bishops admit migration rights are not absolute.¹⁴

Thus, the accusation rests on a false premise: that deportation is inherently anti-Christian. The real moral question is how deportation is executed—whether it is humane, just, proportionate, and ordered toward the common good.

Supporting deportation is not rejecting Catholicism. Rejecting Catholicism would mean rejecting apostolic authority, denying doctrine, or despising sacramental life. I do none of these. I remain Catholic precisely because I refuse to make political ideology my highest authority.

8. Natural Law, Borders, and the Moral Structure of Political Community

Catholic moral reasoning is grounded in natural law. Human beings are social by nature and flourish in political communities. Borders are not arbitrary lines of hatred; they are expressions of political community.

Aquinas defines law as:

“an ordinance of reason for the common good.”¹⁷

This implies that law exists to secure communal flourishing. Immigration law is part of this structure. Without the ability to regulate borders, a nation loses the capacity to govern itself and thus loses the capacity to pursue the common good.

Natural law does not permit cruelty or dehumanization. But it does permit sovereignty, because sovereignty is a precondition for political responsibility.

9. Aquinas on Justice and the Limits of Human Law

Aquinas defines justice as:

“a habit whereby a man renders to each one his due.”¹⁸

Justice concerns what is owed. Migrants are owed humane treatment. Citizens are owed stability and safety. Lawful immigrants are owed fairness. Society is owed legal coherence.

Aquinas also explains that human law is framed for imperfect persons:

“Human law is framed for a number of human beings, the majority of whom are not perfect in virtue.”¹⁹

Thus, law must address disorder and vice. Immigration policy must account for trafficking, exploitation, and crime.

Finally, Aquinas notes that human law does not forbid every vice, but only those threatening society:

“Human law does not prohibit all vices… but only the more grievous vices… without the prohibition of which human society could not be maintained.”²⁰

If illegal immigration becomes mass-scale and destabilizing, enforcement may be necessary to maintain society.

10. Dignitatis Humanae and Prudential Judgment in Political Pluralism

Dignitatis Humanae teaches that human dignity requires immunity from coercion in religious matters:

“The human person has a right to religious freedom.”²¹

This document implicitly supports political pluralism. The Church teaches binding moral principles but recognizes that civil society includes diverse convictions and requires prudential governance.

The Council states:

“Truth cannot impose itself except by virtue of its own truth.”²²

This offers a template for Catholic political debate: bishops and popes persuade; they do not always legislate binding policy.

Thus, Vatican II provides a framework for distinguishing moral universals from prudential application.

11. Conclusion

I remain Catholic because I believe the Church is the Bride of Christ and the guardian of apostolic truth. I affirm the pope and bishops as successors of the Apostles. Yet Catholic tradition also recognizes the role of conscience, the necessity of prudence, and the legitimate autonomy of civil governance.

Immigration enforcement is not an area where Catholic doctrine mandates a single policy. The Catechism explicitly affirms both welcome and regulation. Strangers No Longer affirms sovereignty and admits that migration rights are not absolute. Benedict XVI emphasizes the complexity of migration, and Pope Francis insists on fraternity and the rejection of contempt.

Therefore, I believe I can remain fully Catholic while supporting ICE and deportation policies, provided my support is bounded by justice, humane restraint, and reverence toward ecclesiastical authority. My disagreement with bishops and popes is not rebellion. It is an exercise of prudential reasoning within the Catholic tradition—faithful to doctrine, respectful toward the hierarchy, and committed to the common good.

Footnotes

  1. Catechism of the Catholic Church (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1992), §2241.

  2. United States Conference of Catholic Bishops and Conferencia del Episcopado Mexicano, Strangers No Longer: Together on the Journey of Hope (Washington, DC: USCCB, 2003), §39.

  3. USCCB, Strangers No Longer, §34.

  4. Benedict XVI, Caritas in Veritate (Vatican City, 2009), §62.

  5. Francis, Fratelli Tutti (Vatican City, 2020), §§37–41.

  6. Catechism of the Catholic Church, §891.

  7. Catechism of the Catholic Church, §892.

  8. Second Vatican Council, Gaudium et Spes (Vatican City, 1965), §16.

  9. Catechism of the Catholic Church, §1778.

  10. Catechism of the Catholic Church, §1783.

  11. Catechism of the Catholic Church, §1903.

  12. Catechism of the Catholic Church, §2241.

  13. USCCB, Strangers No Longer, §39.

  14. USCCB, Strangers No Longer, §34.

  15. Benedict XVI, Caritas in Veritate, §62.

  16. Francis, Fratelli Tutti, §§37–41.

  17. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae I–II, q. 90, a. 4.

  18. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae II–II, q. 58, a. 1.

  19. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae I–II, q. 96, a. 2.

  20. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae I–II, q. 96, a. 2.

  21. Second Vatican Council, Dignitatis Humanae (Vatican City, 1965), §2.

  22. Dignitatis Humanae, §1.

Bibliography (Chicago Style)

Aquinas, Thomas. Summa Theologiae. Translated by Fathers of the English Dominican Province. New York: Benziger Brothers, 1947.

Benedict XVI. Caritas in Veritate. Encyclical Letter. Vatican City, June 29, 2009.

Catechism of the Catholic Church. Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1992.

Dulles, Avery. Models of the Church. New York: Doubleday, 1974.

Francis. Fratelli Tutti. Encyclical Letter. Vatican City, October 3, 2020.

Murray, John Courtney. We Hold These Truths: Catholic Reflections on the American Proposition. New York: Sheed and Ward, 1960.

Ratzinger, Joseph. Called to Communion: Understanding the Church Today. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1996.

Second Vatican Council. Dignitatis Humanae. Declaration on Religious Freedom. Vatican City, December 7, 1965.

Second Vatican Council. Gaudium et Spes. Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World. Vatican City, December 7, 1965.

United States Conference of Catholic Bishops and Conferencia del Episcopado Mexicano. Strangers No Longer: Together on the Journey of Hope. Pastoral Letter. Washington, DC: United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, January 22, 2003.



Chris M. Forte is an independent writer, researcher, and cultural commentator based in downtown San Diego, California. Raised within both Lutheran and Catholic traditions, Forte’s work is shaped by a lifelong engagement with Scripture, theology, history, and the enduring question of how Christianity is grounded in both reason and revelation. His writing frequently focuses on Catholic apologetics, early Church history, the development of doctrine, and the continuity between Judaism, apostolic Christianity, and the Catholic Church.

Forte is also deeply invested in the preservation of Italian American heritage in California and the broader United States. As the descendant of Italian American families rooted in New York and later established in California, he explores the intersection of ethnic identity, Catholic culture, and community memory—particularly as expressed through Italian American devotional traditions, feast-day festivals, and national parish life.

Politically, Forte is a Republican and a supporter of President Donald J. Trump. He approaches contemporary debates through a lens shaped by Catholic moral theology, an emphasis on civic order and the common good, and a conviction that public life must remain accountable to truth, justice, and the dignity of the human person.

Alongside theological and historical writing, Forte is the creator of several long-term projects that blend scholarship, cultural commentary, and narrative storytelling. His work is informed by both academic research and personal experience, combining accessible prose with a strong emphasis on historical continuity, textual evidence, and fidelity to Catholic tradition.

He currently resides in San Diego, where he continues to write on Christianity, culture, and history while contributing to local heritage and community initiatives.

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