My dear friends in Christ, 

There is a passage in Scripture that has troubled me for many years. It is a passage that becomes more unsettling the older I get and the more I watch the world around me. 

Our Lord says: “For there shall arise false Christs and false prophets, and shall show great signs and wonders, insomuch as to deceive – if possible – even the elect” (Matthew 24:24).  

Not sinners. Not unbelievers. Not those who have rejected God. The elect. Those who sincerely desire to follow Him. Those who pray. Those who go to church. Those who believe themselves faithful.  

That warning should stop every one of us in our tracks. Because most of us assume that if deception comes, we will recognize it. We imagine that evil will look evil. We imagine that falsehood will announce itself as falsehood. We imagine that we would never be fooled. Yet history teaches otherwise. 

The people who welcomed Christ were often the people least expected to do so. And the people who opposed Him were often those who were absolutely certain they were defending God. That should make us uncomfortable. 

We are living in what often feels like an upside-down world. Things that once seemed obvious no longer seem obvious. People who once defended certain principles now appear willing to abandon them. Institutions that once seemed trustworthy have lost the confidence of many. Voices we trusted have disappointed us. Leaders we admired have failed us. And many Catholics find themselves asking a painful question: “What happened?” 

But perhaps there is an even more important question. What if the greater danger is not what happened around us? What if the greater danger is what happened within us? Because deception rarely begins with a dramatic rejection of truth. More often it begins with a small compromise. A small exception. A rationalization. A willingness to excuse something we once would have condemned.  

And usually we do not make that exception because we have stopped believing. We make that exception because it is being done by people we trust. That may be one of the greatest spiritual dangers of our age. We begin to excuse what we once knew was wrong because it serves a cause we support. We begin to tolerate what we once rejected because it advances goals we consider important. We begin to defend conduct that would have shocked us a few years earlier. And eventually we find ourselves in a place we never intended to go.  

The frightening thing is that all of this can happen while we still consider ourselves faithful Christians. Perhaps that is exactly why Our Lord warned about the deception of the elect. The deception is not always abandoning Christ. The deception may be believing we are following Christ when we have actually begun following something else. 

A political movement. A national identity. An ideology. A media personality. A favorite commentator. A charismatic leader. Or even our own certainty.  

And before we go any further, we must be honest enough to say that this danger is not limited to politics. It exists in the Church as well. For many Catholics, the temptation is to believe that if a political leader says it, it must be right. For others, the temptation is to believe that if a church leader says it, it must be right. But our faith is not in a political party. And our faith is not in a human personality. Our faith is in Jesus Christ.  

The purpose of every bishop, every priest, every pope, every teacher, every apostolate, and every ministry is to lead souls to Him. Yet history teaches us that churchmen are human. They are capable of mistakes. They are capable of poor judgments. They are capable of weakness. They are capable of failing to see clearly. That does not mean we reject authority. It means we remember that authority itself remains under the authority of Christ. And that brings us to what may be the most important question of all. 

If Christ walked among us today, would we recognize Him? And if He challenged our assumptions, our politics, our fears, our loyalties, the members of our chosen political party, our favorite commentators, our preferred bishops, our cherished opinions, and our deepest certainties – would we follow Him? Or would we explain why He was wrong?  

That is not a question for Democrats. That is not a question for Republicans. That is not a question for conservatives or liberals. That is a question for every disciple. Because the people who opposed Christ in the Gospel did not think they were opposing God. Many believed they were defending Him. And that is what makes this warning so sobering.  

The greatest danger is not that we stop following Christ. The greatest danger is that we become so certain Christ is following us that we never stop to ask whether we are still following Him. And perhaps that is the challenge of the upside-down world. To stop asking whether God is on our side. And start asking whether we are still on His.  

Let us now move from the abstract to the concrete. Because there is little value in speaking about deception if we are unwilling to examine the places where deception may be operating.  

One of the characteristics of an upside-down world is that loyalties gradually become idols. We begin by supporting a cause. Then we begin defending it. Then we begin identifying with it. And eventually we become unable to criticize it. That is when a loyalty becomes an idol. 

The ancient Israelites struggled with idols made of wood and stone. Our idols are often more sophisticated. Political parties. Political movements. National identities. Economic systems. Ideologies. Personalities. Media figures. Even religious leaders. 

Anything that becomes immune from criticism has begun to occupy a place that belongs to God alone. And this is where Christians must be especially careful. Because we often assume that idolatry means worshiping something evil. Most of the time, it means elevating something good above its proper place.  

Love of country is good. Love of tradition is good. Love of the Church is good. But when anything becomes more important than truth itself, it becomes dangerous. The moment we are unable to question them honestly, they have become idols.  

History shows that Christians are often at their spiritual best when they have little power. The early Christians had no political influence. No armies. No wealth. No cultural dominance. Yet they transformed the world. Why? Because their confidence rested in Christ. 

But throughout history Christians have repeatedly been tempted by political power. The temptation is understandable. We see evil in society. We want to stop it. We want good laws. We want justice. These are worthy goals. Yet the temptation arises when we begin to believe that political victory is the same thing as the Kingdom of God. It is not.  

The Kingdom of God existed before any modern nation. It will exist after every nation has passed away. Christ did not establish a political party. He established a Church. And He warned that His Kingdom was not of this world. 

This becomes especially important when we begin excusing conduct we would otherwise condemn because it advances objectives we support. That is one of the most dangerous forms of self-deception. We tell ourselves that the larger cause justifies the compromise. We tell ourselves that the stakes are too high to worry about consistency. We tell ourselves that extraordinary times require extraordinary exceptions. And before long, standards that once seemed non-negotiable quietly disappear. 

Yet we must be equally honest about something else. The temptation of deception does not exist only in governments. It exists also within the Church. This is uncomfortable for many to discuss. But it is necessary. Every generation faces the temptation to place excessive trust in human leaders. Some place that trust in politicians. Others place it in bishops. Others place it in theologians. Others place it in popes. But every human authority remains human. 

The Church is holy because Christ is holy. The members of the Church remain sinners in need of grace. History demonstrates this repeatedly. Saints have sometimes had to correct bishops. Saints have sometimes had to challenge prevailing attitudes. Saints have often stood almost alone in defending truths that others had forgotten. Their loyalty was never to their own opinions. Their loyalty was to Christ.  

That is why the Church’s greatest saints were also its greatest reformers. Not because they rejected the Church. But because they loved her enough to call her back to Christ. And that remains necessary in every age. 

Perhaps the most unsettling question is this: If Christ walked among us today, would we recognize Him? Not the Christ of our imagination. Not the Christ of our political preferences. Not the Christ who conveniently supports every opinion we hold. The real Christ. The Christ of the Gospel.  

The Christ who challenges every side. The Christ who comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable. The Christ who welcomes the stranger. The Christ who calls sinners to repentance. The Christ who refuses to become the mascot of any earthly movement.  

Would we recognize Him? Or would we find reasons to dismiss Him? Would we explain that He does not understand the complexities of our situation? Would we tell Him that times have changed? Would we explain why His words are impractical? Would we insist that our fears justify our compromises? Would we assure Him that our tribe is different?  

These questions are uncomfortable because they expose our attachments. And that is precisely why they are important. 

The upside-down world calls every Christian to a deeper examination of conscience. Not merely: “What do I believe?” But: “Why do I believe it?” Who has shaped my conscience? The Gospel? Or political commentators? The saints? Or social media? Christ? Or fear?  

Have I become more interested in winning arguments than seeking truth? Do I judge my own side by the same standards I apply to others? Am I willing to admit when those I admire are wrong? Am I willing to admit when I am wrong? Do I still allow Christ to challenge me? Or have I already decided what He is allowed to say?  

These questions are not signs of weak faith. They are signs of living faith. 

My brothers and sisters, ours is not the first generation to face confusion. It will not be the last. Empires have risen and fallen. Movements have come and gone. Political parties have appeared and disappeared. Church controversies have erupted and subsided. Yet Christ remains.  

The safest place is not a political movement. The safest place is not a personality. The safest place is not even our own certainty. The safest place is at the feet of Jesus Christ. There, and only there, can we see clearly. There, and only there, can we avoid the deception that threatens every age. 

And so let us return to this question: If Christ walked among us today, would we recognize Him? And if He challenged our assumptions, our politics, our fears, our loyalties, our preferred leaders, and even our most cherished certainties – would we follow Him? Or would we explain why He was wrong? 

May the Lord give us eyes to see clearly in a world of confusion, hearts that seek truth above every earthly loyalty, and the humility to follow Christ wherever He leads. 

May He preserve us from the deception that Our Lord warned could reach even the elect. 

May He grant us the grace to recognize His voice amid the noise of our age, the courage to follow Him when it is difficult, and the wisdom to place our trust in Him above every human power, every ideology, and every fear. 

And may Almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. 

Amen. 

Bishop Joseph E. Strickland 
Bishop Emeritus