Land of Possibility: America at 250

Compiled by Dave Hazen and Kathryn Mullan

The United States of America is celebrating its 250th birthday. This is not a moment for nostalgia — it’s a moment for honest reflection. 

A quarter millennium ago, Catholics in this new republic made a wager that faith and freedom could not only coexist but also enrich each other. That wager is still open, and how we answer it matters more than ever. 

The Catholic University of America was founded to form leaders for exactly this kind of moment. Not to retreat from the complexity of our time, but to meet it — with faith, with reason, and with the courage that comes from knowing who you are and Whose you are.

In the spirit of this moment, Archbishop William Lori, S.T.D. 1982, Archdiocese of Baltimore, has published the pastoral letter “Charity & Truth: Toward a Renewed Political Culture” as both a call and a challenge to all citizens in this age. 

In the tradition of his predecessor Archbishop John Carroll, who held the first Catholic See in the United States, Lori’s January 2026 letter has founding connections and the weight of tradition that is both American and Catholic. In this letter, Lori, former chairman of our University Board of Trustees (2003–2009), emphasizes that faith and freedom feed one another — but we have to do our part to unlock that fruitful coexistence.

Seven key sections of this pastoral guidance seem especially appropriate as we reflect on America at 250, so we excerpted and reprinted them below with permission from the Archdiocese of Baltimore, along with illuminations offered by six Catholic University faculty members.

A Moment of Grace and Responsibility

As our nation approaches the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, we find ourselves invited into a moment of profound reflection and renewal. Anniversaries are not merely occasions for nostalgia or celebration. Authentic remembrance always orients us toward renewal; it calls us to consider not only who we have been, and who we are becoming — but, by God’s grace, who we are called to be.

This anniversary can be a moment of grace if embraced also as a moment of responsibility. For while we rightly take pride in the achievements of our nation and the vibrancy of our Catholic faith, we cannot ignore the fractures, wounds, and crises that mark both our national life and, sadly, even at times our ecclesial life. The task before us is not to romanticize the past but to offer a hopeful and credible witness today.

At the heart of this witness is a truth the Church never ceases to proclaim: The human person finds his or her full meaning and dignity only in Jesus Christ. As the Second Vatican Council teaches, “Christ …fully reveals man to man himself and makes his supreme calling clear” (Second Vatican Council, Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World Gaudium et Spes [December 7, 1965], 22). Our reflections on politics, culture, unity, and civic responsibility must therefore begin — and end — with Christ, who reveals both the dignity of the human person and the path to authentic freedom.

The Cultural Atmosphere We Breathe

Like the Church herself, we operate in a cultural atmosphere that is something like the air we breathe. Rarely is it entirely fresh and bracing. All too often it is polluted, even toxic. Such is the political atmosphere in which we find ourselves today. Political discourse has become more vitriolic than usual. Political violence and threats of such violence have erupted. There is deep polarization. Extreme ideologies of both the left and the right are being asserted — ideologies that reveal not only political division, but also cultural and even religious polarization.

"Let us name national secular politicians, lobbyists, and influencers who enrich multinational corporations and a massive military industrial complex, and others who benefit from our polarized, toxic atmosphere. Beneath this surface, however, is a more hopeful reality. Large majorities of U.S. Americans identify as independents. Perhaps the most important issue of our day, how we will respond to the AI revolution, is not coded as liberal or conservative. There is now a clear populist movement which resists the monied interests which run both major parties. Catholics can and should get underneath the toxic polarization and scatter the seeds of the Gospel of life, justice, and peace on ground that is more fertile than we might imagine."

—Charles Camosy, associate professor, moral theology/ethics

Few among us are untouched by this. The polarization of our public life has produced an epidemic of loneliness and isolation — an aching sense of being unmoored, misunderstood, or unheard. Pope Francis warned that a culture of indifference and division slowly erodes the human heart (Pope Francis, Homily at Casa Santa Marta, January 8, 2019). At its root, this crisis reflects a wounded understanding of the human person. When we forget that every human being is created in the image of God — body and soul united, destined for communion — we begin to see one another not as brothers and sisters, but as obstacles and threats. Political life then becomes a contest of power rather than a shared pursuit of the common good.

This crisis is not unlike the world Dante depicts in The Divine Comedy, where the pilgrim begins his journey, disoriented and alone in a dark wood, reflecting the fragmentation of the human spirit. As he descends into the Inferno, he witnesses the tragic consequences of communities torn apart, of individuals cut off from one another and from the good that gives life meaning. Yet Dante’s path upward begins only when he turns away from this suffocating isolation and embraces a way ordered toward truth, communion, and renewal. But to do this he has to face the depths of the reality of brokenness and sin. 

For Dante, the way up was down. His journey out of the depths speaks with renewed urgency to our present moment, reminding us that the air of our political culture can once again become breathable only if we choose the path of unity, responsibility, and love.

"Archbishop Lori’s invocation of Dante is a wonderful invitation to approach our nation’s own story with renewed wonder and resolve. Though some feel ‘in a dark wood, for the straight way is lost,’ (I.3), our national adventure in self-government offers a litany of characters, achievements, challenges, and mysteries worthy of study and gratitude. This year, I am inviting Catholic University students to become co-creators in this great adventure — students of the past, stewards for the present, and exemplars for the future. [See p. 26 for reference] Like Dante, we step into the great flow of our history to renew our commitment to ‘liberty and justice for all.’"

— Michael Promisel, professor, politics

A Moment for Renewal, Not Nostalgia

Anniversaries can easily tempt us into selective memory — remembering what was noble while forgetting what was painful or flawed. But the Church reminds us that authentic celebration emerges not from denial but from the courage to face both our strengths and our failures.

Our nation has been, from its founding, a land of possibility. Yet, it has also been a land of profound contradictions. The Declaration of Independence proclaimed that all are created equal, endowed with certain unalienable rights. And yet, as we know, many were excluded from those very rights for generations.

Similarly, the Church we love has been radiant with holiness and often disfigured by sin. To love one’s homeland and one’s Church is not to ignore their faults, but to commit oneself to their renewal — always in light of the Gospel.

St. Thomas More, a statesman and martyr, put it best when he declared, “I die the King’s good servant, but God’s first.” His faith-filled patriotism is one we would do well to imitate — a patriotism that loves one’s nation enough to speak the truth and to help it become its best self. 

"Bishop Lori’s call for honest celebration finds an American Catholic echo in Cardinal Gibbons, who argued in The Faith of Our Fathers (1876) that genuine religious liberty rests not on indifference but on duty — the duty of a conscience fully formed and freely exercised. Gibbons understood: authentic patriotism demands what faith requires — love for what is, and hope for what can be. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son; all things are possible through Him.

In this year of renewal, let us return to Gibbons’ vision: a country of ‘liberty without license, and authority without despotism.’"

— Catherine R. Pakaluk, executive director, The James Cardinal Gibbons Institute for Human Ecology

A New Kind of Politics, Rooted in the Truth of the Human Person

Our world is in desperate need of a new kind of politics — one that begins not with power, but with the truth of the human person revealed in Jesus Christ. Christ, in His Incarnation, affirms the goodness of the human body and the meaning of human history. In His Passion, He reveals the cost of love and the depth of human suffering. In His Resurrection, He discloses humanity’s destiny: not annihilation or domination, but eternal life in communion with God.

Such a vision is not naïve; it is realistic in the most Christian sense of the word. It recognizes that societies flourish only when people place moral and spiritual commitments above the pursuit of power. In “Fratelli Tutti,” Pope Francis called for the “new politics” our world needs — one shaped by social and political charity, animated by a genuine love for the people, and capable of bearing fruit through concrete and effective action. Far from idealism detached from reality, this vision insists that political life grounded in love of neighbor and commitment to the common good is not only possible, but necessary for authentic and lasting renewal.

This new kind of politics calls us to:

• Resist the idolatry of ideology.
• Honor the inherent dignity of every human life from conception to natural death.
• Protect the vulnerable and the marginalized.
• Engage in dialogue rather than accusation.
• Place the common good above partisan loyalty.

This does not mean we will always agree. It means that disagreement becomes a place 
of encounter, not enmity.

"Social work is uniquely positioned to embody this new kind of politics rooted in the truth of the human person. At its core, the profession affirms the inherent dignity and worth of every individual, particularly those who are vulnerable and marginalized. In today’s polarized climate, social workers witness how ideology can overshadow human need, fragmenting communities and limiting compassionate response. A renewed politics calls us to bridge divides through dialogue, advocate for the common good, and accompany individuals in suffering. In doing so, social work bears witness to Christ’s love, calling us to serve with justice and charity.'

— Jo Ann R. Regan, dean, National Catholic School of Social Service

The Role of Virtue in Public Life

A healthy republic does not rest solely on the strength of its institutions, its courts, or its electoral systems. It rests, above all, on the character of its people. The Founding Fathers themselves understood this well. John Adams famously wrote that the Constitution was made “… only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other” (From John Adams to Massachusetts Militia, October 11, 1798, Founders Online, National Archives). Though he wrote from a Protestant worldview, his insight resonates deeply with the Catholic tradition, which has long taught that political life — not unlike personal life — requires virtue. Law guides and establishes structure, but virtue is what animates.

"The American founders and framers built so well, in part, because they knew human nature so well. No institutional design or large-scale political activity can long succeed when based on a false idea. Understanding this, the deeply-read Charles Carroll of Carrollton became a leading national figure, the only Catholic signer of the Declaration of Independence, and a key contributor to the thinking behind the U.S. Constitution. At a time when many Catholics were otherwise viewed with suspicion and treated with prejudice, he argued forcefully and persuasively that there need be no difference between Americans and Catholics at their best."

— Justin Litke, professor, politics

In our times, we find that many of the crises affecting our political culture — polarization, suspicion, hostility, and the temptation to reduce opponents to caricatures — are ultimately crises of the human heart. They arise from habits of vice: pride, anger, rash judgment, fear, and greed. A renewed political culture will not emerge from policy changes alone. It will require the cultivation of virtue, which begins in individuals and takes root in families. From there, virtue radiates outward into society.

For this reason, the renewal of our political culture cannot begin in legislatures or courts; it must begin in the places where the human heart is first formed. The family is the primary school of virtue, where patience, honesty, responsibility, forgiveness, and concern for others are learned through daily life. Alongside families stand other vital intermediate institutions — parishes, schools, neighborhood associations, charitable organizations, and faith-based communities — which help bridge the space between the individual and the state. These communities foster habits of trust, solidarity, and civic friendship, teaching us how to live with difference, to resolve conflict without hostility, and to seek the common good rather than private advantage. When these institutions are strong, they form citizens capable of self-governance and respectful engagement; when they are weakened or ignored, society becomes more vulnerable to isolation, polarization, and the overreach of both ideology and power.

The Gift and Responsibility of Catholic Citizenship

Catholics in the United States inherit a rich legacy. The American experiment in liberty was shaped, in part, by Catholic minds and Catholic hearts — from the Catholics who arrived in 1634 at St. Clement’s Island, Md., the Carrolls of the 18th century to the millions of immigrants who arrived on our shores.

These immigrant families did not merely seek opportunity; they brought with them a living faith which sustained parishes, built schools and hospitals, and enriched the Church with diverse traditions of prayer, devotion, and service. Often amid hardship, exclusion, and sacrifice, they bore witness to hope, perseverance, and trust in God.

Their contributions remind us that immigration is not only a social reality but a spiritual gift — one that has continually renewed the Church and strengthened the moral and civic fabric of our nation.

"Catholic immigrants were often excluded from mainstream public institutions throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In response, they rooted themselves in parish communities, ethnic solidarity, and lay initiative to build a massive social network — schools, hospitals, and benevolence societies — that served both Catholics and their neighbors. This approach fostered a practical engagement with democracy, encouraging Catholics to balance their faith with the fundamental American commitment to pluralism. Over time, Catholics have moved from a marginalized minority to active participants in civic life who offer moral perspectives on social obligations and the common good that are influential across the spectrum of American public life."

— Seth Smith, professor, history; vice dean, College of Arts and Sciences

Today, we are called to carry forward this legacy. Catholic citizenship is not about aligning the Church with one party or another. It is about witnessing to the Gospel in the public square.

This vision transcends party lines. It is neither conservative nor progressive. It is Catholic.

A Call to Hope and Commitment

The saints and countless others throughout time did not wait until circumstances were perfect before offering their lives. They responded to God’s call amid turmoil, uncertainty, and division. They remind us that hope is not optimism; it is fidelity. Hope is the quiet, steady conviction that God is at work even when we cannot see the path ahead.

As disciples of Christ and citizens of this great nation, we are called to that same hope. We are called to participate in the renewal of our political culture not out of fear, but out of love — love for God, love for neighbor, and love for the country that has been entrusted to us. We are called to be saints for our time. … Let us speak with charity and disagree with respect. Let us reject violence in all its forms, cultivate the habits of virtue, and anchor our lives in prayer.

May the next 250 years of our nation be marked by greater justice, deeper solidarity, renewed trust, and a profound respect for the dignity of every human person. May the Church — in the Premier See of Baltimore and throughout the United States — be a leaven of unity and a witness of hope in a world thirsting for both. 

May God bless you and may God bless the United States of America.  

A Path Forward — Practical Commitments for a Renewed Political Culture

In this 250th anniversary year, I invite all Catholics — and all people of goodwill — to commit themselves 
to the following practices:

1. Renew Your Prayer for the Nation. Pray for those in authority. Pray for those with whom you disagree. Pray for peace.
2. Practice Civil Dialogue. Listen before speaking. Seek to understand before responding. Assume good will.
3. Reject Hatred and Violence. Refuse to participate in rhetoric or actions that dehumanize.
4. Serve the Common Good. Volunteer. Build community. Support families. Work for justice.
5. Form Your Conscience. Study Catholic social teaching. Discern your media intake. Develop your capacity for moral clarity.
6. Encounter Those Who Differ from You. Build friendships that challenge your assumptions.
7. Foster Hope. Speak of possibilities, not just problems. Remind others that God is at work. Witness to a different way to live.