OPINION:
When the Vatican starts sounding like a campaign war room, Catholics have every right to ask what is going on.
The pope recently sat down with David Axelrod, chief architect of President Obama’s political machine and a man with no ties to the Catholic faith. Within days, criticisms of President Trump began surfacing from the Vatican’s orbit, amplified by media appearances from U.S. cardinals.
We are told this is all coincidence. Forgotten Americans aren’t naive enough to believe that.
I say this as a practicing Catholic: My faith is not a political prop, and my church is not an extension of any party apparatus.
Yet that is exactly how it feels.
For years, Catholics have watched a troubling pattern unfold. When governments padlocked churches during COVID-19, restricting worship and access to the sacraments, the response from Rome was muted.
When President Biden championed policies that expanded abortion access, in direct conflict with church teaching, the response was cautious. When bishops who defend doctrine face removal or marginalization, the message is unmistakable: Clarity is punished, while political alignment is tolerated.
Then there is the global crisis of Christian persecution, where the disconnect becomes impossible to ignore. Across the Horn of Africa and beyond, Christian communities face sustained violence. Churches are burned, clergy are targeted, and families are displaced or killed.
By any reasonable definition, these are acts of religious persecution at scale. Yet even here, clarity is elusive. The Vatican’s top diplomat, Pietro Parolin, cannot bring himself to call it what it is. Instead, he downplays the violence as a “social conflict … between herders and farmers” rather than acknowledging the targeted nature of the attacks.
For faithful Catholics watching from the pews, that kind of language doesn’t reassure; it alarms. It suggests a reluctance to speak plainly about the suffering of Christians, even as the evidence mounts.
Yet at the very same moment, we see the pope’s willingness to engage in pointed political messaging aimed at Mr. Trump.
That contrast is why the outrage directed at Mr. Trump rings hollow. Because whatever critics say about his tone — and he speaks directly, as he always has — his record tells a different story.
Under Mr. Trump and the direction of pastor Paula White and Jenny Korn, religious liberty is now a priority. The Trump-Vance administration has advanced protections for conscience rights, supported faith-based organizations and pushed back against government overreach that threatens religious Americans.
That matters to forgotten Americans: the families, workers and parish communities who don’t have a voice in elite institutions but still believe their faith should be respected.
It matters globally as well. While too many international bodies speak in vague generalities, Mr. Trump has elevated the issue of religious persecution, including the plight of Christians facing violence across Africa, the Middle East and South Asia.
These are not abstract concerns; they are life-and-death realities for millions.
The difference lies in clarity and courage. Instead of confronting these realities head-on, too many institutional voices default to carefully worded statements that avoid offense but fail to defend the vulnerable. At the same time, they appear increasingly comfortable engaging in political signaling that aligns with the priorities of the American left.
That is not moral leadership. It is institutional drift.
Mr. Trump’s critics want to frame this moment as a clash between faith and politics. It is not. It is about whether faith is being used as a political instrument. Because when church leaders appear to coordinate messaging that targets a sitting U.S. president — especially one who has delivered concrete protections for religious believers — it sends a troubling message. It suggests that faithful Catholics must choose between their beliefs and their vote.
Forgotten Americans reject that false choice. They see the difference between rhetoric and results. They understand that defending life, protecting religious liberty and standing up for persecuted Christians are not partisan positions; they are moral obligations.
They also know that leadership is measured by action, not optics.
That is why this moment matters. Not because of one meeting or one media cycle, but because of what it reveals about the direction of institutions that should stand above politics.
As Catholics, we are called to speak truth clearly, especially when it is uncomfortable. We are called to defend the vulnerable, especially when it is inconvenient. And we are called to resist the temptation to turn faith into a tool of political leverage.
The church should be a beacon, not a battlefield. The faithful, especially the forgotten Americans who still fill its pews, deserve leaders who remember that.
• Jorge Martinez is a Republican strategist and public affairs consultant. He previously served as press secretary for the U.S. Department of Justice.

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