In commemoration of the 250th anniversary of the American founding, our Semiquincentennial Essay Contest invited undergraduate students to reflect deeply on the foundational principles of 1776—exploring core ideas of human equality, liberty, and the nature of constitutional governance. We are pleased to publish the grand prize-winning entry by Notre Dame undergraduate Kevin Bizily, which thoughtfully examines the historical and philosophical relationship between the Catholic faith, the Declaration of Independence, and American citizenship.
This July 4 marks 250 years since our nation’s birth. Yet it also marks another, lesser known anniversary: 250 years since the last Pope Night. Held in Boston each November, crowds would parade through the streets with effigies of the Pope to burn. General Washington shut down the practice soon after the Declaration of Independence passed Congress. For all his goodwill to Catholics, the deed was part realpolitik: Catholic France was Britain’s mortal enemy; the fledgling union needed its help. Nevertheless, Pope Night points to a longstanding prejudice: the notion that one cannot be both a loyal American and a faithful Catholic.
What, then, was the charge against American Catholics? As a matter of faith, we follow the Pope’s leadership on spiritual matters—questions of faith and morals. Consequently, many said that we can’t be trusted to lead the nation; our true loyalty lies with Rome. 250 years later, the bias still isn’t dead. At least as recently as Amy Coney Barrett’s nomination to the 7th Circuit, faithful Catholics have been called unfit to serve this country because “the dogma lives loudly within [us].” Amidst the prejudice lies the critical question: is the Declaration, which explicitly rejected fealty to any foreign (including papal) authority, compatible with the Catholic faith?
Its author, Jefferson, was no Catholic. Its only Catholic signer, Charles Carroll, was included principally for his financial backing. Yet the heart of the Declaration is deeply rooted in the Catholic understanding of humanity:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
Off the bat, the Declaration’s statement of rights accords with a Catholic understanding of humanity. As Catholics, we believe our lives aren’t the product of some cosmic accident. From our first parents to a child just conceived, God created each of us in his own image and likeness. And that has real significance—as creatures in imago Dei, every human possesses a God-given dignity that implies certain natural rights.
Start with the first and most important right, the right to life. If God gave every person life, it follows that nobody else has the right to take it away. What’s more, God didn’t create us as lawn ornaments; he created each of us for a purpose. So we must possess the freedom to discern and fulfill that purpose. That doesn’t mean freedom from moral rules; rather, freedom to keep the faith and act justly. And finally, we Catholics understand that God created us to attain the highest happiness, in this life and the next. Thus we have a right to pursue God’s design. Now we reach the crux of the Declaration’s argument, a bold claim about the nature of political power:
“That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.”
Legitimate political power, according to our founding decree, must come from the people themselves. In keeping with St. Paul’s words, the Church and the Declaration’s Protestant Framers agreed that “there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God.” Historically, monarchs used this divine origin of authority to claim their right to rule—a far cry from consent of the governed.
On its 150th anniversary, however, President Coolidge justified the Declaration’s claim in light of God’s power: “It is not a denial of the divine right of kings; it supplements that claim with the assertion of the divine right of all men.” The right to rule inheres in our God-given dignity; even kings receive it through consent, not coronation.
Not so for the Church and her bishops. We Catholics believe that God directly vested all spiritual power in St. Peter and his successors, without regard for consent of the governed. So a Catholic citizen is bound by moral teachings that his fellow citizens didn’t agree to obey. That means inevitable disagreement between the Church and the United States.
Thankfully, the Declaration doesn’t make us choose sides. The inalienable liberty of every American includes the freedom of religion; by extension, the right to be a faithful Catholic. Catholic citizens can—and should—advocate for the moral truths we know by faith. But that doesn’t mean imposing Church teaching upon the whole country. It means persuading others to win democratic support, exactly how the Declaration envisioned our government. Amidst a backdrop of anti-Catholic bigotry, the Declaration gave faithful Catholics a place as loyal citizens.
So on the eve of this 250th anniversary, what does the Declaration mean to American Catholics like me? This isn’t a Catholic nation; it never has been. The Declaration doesn’t claim otherwise. But America’s founding principles mirror the Church’s understanding of human dignity, from our creation in the image and likeness of God. The Declaration recognizes that dignity in our government and the ordered liberties it protects. It wasn’t a coincidence that Washington shut down the last Pope Night mere months after the Declaration’s passage. Our first President recognized that the nation isn’t complete without Catholicism. In an overwhelmingly Protestant—and often openly anti-Catholic—nation, the liberty enshrined by our Declaration still gave the Church a home.