Election Day Diary
- pastorcorner
- 3 hours ago
- 4 min read
Election Day Diary
It is possible for two strangers to stand outside a polling place, discuss life and death, faith and truth—and end with mutual kindness.
(Image: Element5 Digital/Unsplash.com)
In my usual—well, slightly unkempt—priestly black clothing and white tab collar, I arrived at the voting station this morning, ready to do my civic duty. As I walked in, an older man—maybe my age or a bit older—approached with a voter guide in hand. He was friendly, clearly a poll activist. We priests often keep our views to ourselves outside the walls of our churches, but I’m always alert for opportunities to discuss the pressing moral issues of our day.
I hope I am not too annoying as I invoke Catholic principles as the prudential clearinghouse for evaluating elected officials. Can’t hurt, methinks.
He offered me his guide. Expecting agreement because of my garb, he smiled. I glanced at it and realized we were polar opposites. Respectfully, I asked, “Do your candidates stand for the protection of innocent unborn life?”
He replied, “That’s not the only issue.”
“Yes,” I said, “but it’s foundational. Get that wrong, and you’ll get everything else wrong too.”
He admitted he wasn’t too keen on abortion himself, but then countered, “They’re killing innocent people in Gaza.”
I agreed: indiscriminate killing of civilians by all sides is immoral. The Fifth Commandment governs all humanity—it doesn’t take sides. But he returned to abortion, following a familiar script. When he asked about life-threatening pregnancies, I explained that even in those rare cases, we must not choose evil to achieve good. To illustrate, I gave an example that tends to unsettle most Americans (and probably most American Catholics): “That’s how Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and the firebombing of Tokyo were justified. The IDF similarly justifies killing innocents.” We must not condone evil means for good ends. I was slightly surprised that my stridency did not end the conversation.
He seemed reluctant to agree, then questioned my motives: “Why aren’t you preaching this to your people?”
“I do,” I told him. “But some parishioners think I’m being political when I preach and apply the Ten Commandments. Others are perplexed or annoyed.” I added playfully, “I can’t even persuade you!” He didn’t respond to the benign jab.
Then he brought up another grievance: “Catholics want to close the town library.” I noted the broad brush he painted. Hey, Catholics are people too!
Then I clarified, “I’m not for shutting it down, but I am for removing immoral material. You mean the so-called transgender content, don’t you? Science shows there are distinctions—boys and girls. Follow the science—be reasonable—and remove the immorality.”
Finally, I realized the probable reason for his persistence: he had the attention of a priest—and a talkative one at that. He admitted he used to be Catholic—baptized, confirmed, raised his kids in the faith—but left because of “too many bad Catholics.” Time was short, and I was late for my nap, so I offered a brief comparison: Jeremiah and Isaiah condemned apostasy in ancient Israel, not the faith of the Chosen People. The Catholic Church is universal, and her teachings judge all human behavior, not only the faithful.
The conversation shifted briefly to Trump. He said he didn’t like him and complained that he’s “omnipresent.” I got his drift. A lot of talkative people, ahem, can be annoying. I said, “So don’t vote for him. Every ballot has a write-in option. Write in my dog instead. She’s in my truck over there. Molly is pro-life, she opposes terrorism and the indiscriminate attacks on civilians, and she follows the science—she knows the difference between boys and girls.”
He wanted to meet Molly, so I brought him to my truck (without the shotgun mounted in the back). She greeted him as a happy puppy, without guile and overlooking his politics, as that little narcissist does with every stranger.
We parted amicably. The encounter, though full of argument and debate, remained civil. It is possible for two strangers to stand outside a polling place, discuss life and death, faith and truth—and end with mutual kindness. The dog helped. Who woulda thunk it? I’ll add him to my prayer list and hope he does the same.
After 35 years as a priest, I’ve never had a truly unpleasant encounter—well, outside the parish sitcom. Today’s experience continues that streak. The good guys lost this one—big time. It was a painful loss. The noble Winsome Sears lost, though she stood firmly for the dignity of unborn babies. As a keynote speaker at this year’s March for Life rally in Richmond, she asked the crowd of about 2,000 attendees, “We stand for life—and how can it ever be wrong to stand for life?” Exactly.
Looking forward to next year’s election day, I’ll continue to seek out the folks handing out those voter guides—and I’ll make sure to bring my dog (if she’s still pro-life). As U.S. Grant said after the first day of bloody Shiloh, we’ll whip them tomorrow. Maybe—with God’s grace.
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