By Michael Pakaluk
When J.D. Vance’s memoirs of his journey back to Christianity, Communion: Finding My Way Back to Faith, are described at a high level of generality, we immediately see that this is a book of the greatest importance. Here we have a leader on the world stage who understands, and is not afraid to say, that Christianity has been the source of social unity for European civilization—that is, Western civilization—and also for that nation we call the United States, and even for neighborhoods and families.
He likes to say that the only two realities that unite us above disparities of wealth, race, and creed are the armed forces and the Church. Economic ties—trade agreements and commercial relationships—are insufficient. So are the procedural constructs of the “international order” and human rights.
Rather, these systems run the risk of dissolving subsidiary units; and when they become “global,” they only serve to unite the elites of various countries, rendering them incapable even of understanding the concerns of ordinary workers.
Now add that this perceptive world leader embraced Catholicism as the realization of Christianity that he considers best. I do not think the commentators who anticipated a “Catholic moment” thought it could take this form.
Working also at a high level of generality, we can say that Vance converts to Catholicism because of a neglected transcendental. Some saw Christianity as the source of Beauty (Kenneth Clark). Others, as the source of knowledge, science, and our understanding of Truth (Pierre Duhem). Still others, for its fostering of holiness, the virtues, and the Good (Tom Holland). But Vance rightly sees it as the glue that can make us, through our differences, in various ways One.
In this he closely follows Vatican II, which in Gaudium et spes taught that the Church, “by her relationship with Christ, [is] a sacramental sign and an instrument of intimate union with God and of the unity of the whole human race.” (n. 42, citing Lumen gentium n. 1)
But this is at a high level of generality. The book is a memoir and begins, again, with Vance’s hillbilly roots in Appalachia, with stories of Mamaw and her vulgar bits of wisdom and weapons. It is true that the book is interspersed with mini policy documents on Catholic social doctrine—immigration and other topics one would expect from a potential presidential candidate—that are not always very precise or well grounded. But what keeps the book moving are the anecdotes and the tone of a tent-revival testimony.
Therefore, ultimately, it must be evaluated by that testimony and, as the memoirs of a Catholic, whether it bears good witness to Catholicism.
The man who gives testimony is attractive and good-hearted. He shows real self-knowledge about the futility of his ambitions when he was young. He wants, above all, to be a good father. He places being a good father above his career. He sees that being a good father means caring for the character of his children above all.
Although he has high academic credentials, he wants to stay connected to ordinary workers, like his dad, who was a welder. He strives not to consider himself better than they are, to regard their work as having the same dignity as his own.
He has a generous love for the distinctive religious pluralism of the United States. In this, he is like a traditional Protestant of the 1950s. He is a Catholic who loves Charlie Kirk, and who can also get along with progressive Christians to support the labor movement. He loves the generically Christian American civic religion of the 1950s.
But when I consider the book as the story of a Catholic convert, I find multiple deficiencies and a very disturbing and scandalous chapter, which together make this a book I cannot recommend to the young or to those inquiring. It is a pity, because these deficiencies could easily have been repaired.
The scandalous chapter is titled “My Favorite Year,” which describes how he and Usha lived together without marrying in Cincinnati, bought two dogs, and lived like the secular elites Vance loves to criticize:
It was a very good year: a young couple, madly in love, planning a wedding with no children and few responsibilities. We took road trips all over the region. We learned to cook. We discovered our favorite restaurant downtown in Cincinnati and went there all the time because we had nothing else to do.
He is implying that sex is better than marriage, sin better than chastity, courtship better than the union of one flesh, having dogs better than having children. He is implicitly recommending to young people that they postpone marriage so they too can enjoy their “favorite year.” Add to this that he was not yet baptized, so also: being pagan can be better than being united to Christ. St. Paul gave a different testimony: “I consider these things as dung.” (Phil 3:8)
As I said, a repair is easy: imitate C.S. Lewis when he confessed that he did not like children, and say something like: “I understand that my attachment to that year is disordered; I pray for the grace to lament the evil of sin and my poverty in being separated from Christ.”
At one point, with an unrecognized self-revelation, Vance quotes a priest who tells him: “you are too emotionally invested in Usha.” I wondered whether that priest might have had in mind: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own… wife… he cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:26) There are no discussions in the book about the difficulties in marriages with “disparity of cult.”
Vance makes serious errors about the Real Presence. (173) He says he lives without caring whether Heaven and Hell exist. (252-3) He refers to the Good Friday liturgy at St. Peter’s as a “Mass.” (200-201) He denies that Christianity promises victory over physical death. (172) He says that the Church itself is scattered and divided. (283)
These are not trifles because a book that aspires to communion cannot achieve it through errors about the very mysteries —the Eucharist, the unity of the Church, the Last Things— that constitute communion.
About the author:
Michael Pakaluk, a specialist in Aristotle and ordinary member of the Pontifical Academy of St. Thomas Aquinas, is Professor of Political Economy at the Busch School of Business at The Catholic University of America. He lives in Hyattsville, MD, with his wife Catherine, also a professor at the Busch School, and their children. His collection of essays, The Shock of Holiness (Ignatius Press), is now available. His book on Christian friendship, The Company We Keep, is available from Scepter Press. He was a contributor to Natural Law: Five Views, published by Zondervan last May, and his most recent book on the Gospels came out with Regnery Gateway in March, Be Good Bankers: The Economic Interpretation of Matthew’s Gospel. You can follow him on Substack at Michael Pakaluk.