The words of Venerable Andrei were uttered 105 years ago in the city that is both the birthplace of the United States and the center of the Ukrainian Catholic Church in America. And they still speak to us today. They address all Americans living through a time of acute political and social dissonance, a turmoil that points to a deeper problem—a spiritual problem, one which Archbishop William E. Lori of Baltimore in a recent pastoral letter identifies as a “crisis of hope, identity, and communion” (In Charity & Truth: Toward a Renewed Political Culture, 2026).
What is needed today to rebuild the “unity and respect for authority and legitimate leadership” of which Venerable Andrei speaks? What kind of leadership engenders authentic respect? The solution lies not in displays of power, postures of dominance, or louder argument, but in close and compassionate accompaniment of the people, with hearts open to the poor and weak. The solution also requires genuine reflection that is noble in its point of departure and in its aims, manner, and method. Such reflection elevates and ennobles all participants. And it requires true listening, without preparing a response while the other is still speaking. Such reflection appeals for the kind of solidarity that goes beyond tolerance and extends to genuine accountability for one another.
This type of listening and solidarity are nothing but expressions of love. God, who is himself Love (1 Jn. 4:8), is the ultimate Listener—he is ever patient with our prayers, our laments, our groans. And what greater expression of solidarity is there than the Incarnation of Jesus Christ? God-like love—expressed through listening, solidarity, and every other type of self-sacrifice—becomes the basis for community. And it is this life of the loving community, leavened by the Gospel, kindled by the love of God, that provides the Christian antidote to the present plague of distrust and hate, alienation and isolation.
America has given security, prosperity, and religious freedom to multiple generations. Such extraordinary gifts do not sustain themselves automatically. A society holds together not merely because its institutions are strong, but principally because its people are bound to one another in trust and shared purpose. When that bond frays, no constitution can repair it, no power can hold it together.
The human person carries within him or herself a natural fruitfulness: the capacity to build, to give life, to form community, to contribute to something beyond him or herself. But fruit requires roots, and roots have need of a shared soil: a common sense of what human nature is, where human dignity comes from, and what we owe one another because of it.
In all this, we observe, once more, that the bond between America and Ukraine is more than historical. Both peoples have known the defense of human dignity against forces that would diminish or extinguish it. Their intuition about this dignity—both its holiness and its fragility—is an inheritance that both nations hold in trust.
What we still hold to be true is this: dignity and liberty are not self-sustaining. They must be cared for and protected. Their continuance summons us to a communal commitment, to accept responsibility not only for our own flourishing but for that of others. Where that commitment is alive, human life thrives. Where it is absent, even the strongest state, as Sheptytsky warned, is bound to decline and even collapse.
The Second Vatican Council expresses quite forcefully the Christian imperative to assume accountability for civic affairs:
The laity must take up the renewal of the temporal order as their own special obligation. Led by the light of the Gospel and the mind of the Church, and motivated by Christian charity, they must act directly and in a definite way in the temporal sphere. As citizens they must cooperate with other citizens with their own particular skill and on their own responsibility. Everywhere and in all things, they must seek the justice of God’s kingdom. The temporal order must be renewed in such a way that, without detriment to its own proper laws, it may be brought into conformity with the higher principles of the Christian life… (Apostolicam Actuositatem, § 7).
Accordingly, we remind our faithful of the need to manifest their love for one another and all our neighbors through civic engagement. The Church is not a political organization, yet she charges the laity in particular to animate civil society through Christ-minded involvement in the political process. This begins with maintaining basic political literacy—always enlightened by the Gospel and informed by the Church’s social teaching—and with basic political participation in the electoral process. All Christian members of a democracy should continually form their civic consciences and exercise their right to vote. This is a citizen’s duty and moral obligation. Christians should also be ready to serve in public and governmental roles, thus bringing the love and truth of the Gospel into those spheres.
And yet let us be clear: the path forward we are proposing is not a political or ideological program. It is a spiritual one. It begins with the willingness to be divinely transformed in our understanding of who God is, who we are, what we owe one another, and what kind of people we intend to be.
Ultimately, this is the path of the Cross, which is none other than the path of love. On the night in which he was given up—or, rather, gave himself up for the life of the world—the Lord spoke to his disciples, telling them, “Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (Jn. 15:13, 13:35).
If the greatest love is self-sacrifice, and if love is the sign of true discipleship, then our path is the path of self-sacrificial love. This love summons us to listening, solidarity, and dwelling in community. In the political and social sphere, such love demands that we make use of our own liberty to secure the freedom and rights of others, especially the most marginalized, the most friendless, the weakest.
