The competition to be recognized as the most disreputable supporter of former President Trump seems to be an ongoing contest. Yet, JD Vance consistently emerges as a leading contender. While one might consider Stephen Miller for this dubious title, his reclusive nature prevents him from being a prominent figure within Trump’s circle of controversial associates. Miller appears to have been deemed so excessively alarming that he is kept out of the public eye, only referenced in hushed tones by sycophantic aides. “We do have some exclusive items in back—if you’re looking for something a bit more… specialized,” they might suggest.
Conversely, Vance bombards us with his numerous media appearances, reminiscent of a plague—perhaps the 11th plague, which could be humorously depicted in the next season of South Park, complete with his own papal mitre. Here is a man whose upcoming memoir about his journey to Catholicism has yet to be released, lying in wait at HarperCollins, scheduled for publication in June. Nevertheless, Vance is already offering ominous theological counsel to the pope amid the widespread fallout from the recent political turmoil.
This week, at a conference for MAGA supporters, the vice-president admonished, “It’s crucial for the pope to exercise caution when discussing theological issues.” Really, Vance? He is the representative of Christ on Earth. Have you even expressed gratitude once? In some respects, Pope Leo may have escaped lightly from this encounter, considering that last year his predecessor, Pope Francis, met Vance and passed away shortly after.
Throughout history, there have been many methods to voice dissatisfaction with Vatican leadership. Martin Luther famously posted his 95 theses on a church door; Trump, in contrast, took to Truth Social to vent his frustrations after a particularly upsetting television appearance. Perhaps Vance will align with a faction of Catholics, like Mel Gibson, who reject the authority of any pope since the Second Vatican Council, resulting in their non-recognition of papal leadership since 1963. This rejection led to Gibson establishing a private church in Malibu, valued at $42 million, consisting of just 70 families, while also publicly chastising those same congregants regarding his personal life challenges.
Meanwhile, it seems we are led to believe that these are challenging times for MAGA Catholics. However, sympathy may be in short supply for those who embody the adage that the “Christian right” often fails to live up to its principles. It’s hard to imagine how one could misinterpret so profoundly that they genuinely trusted the anti-abortion claims of someone who once described every vagina as a “potential landmine.” Trump’s memorable remark about avoiding STDs in the 1990s was to liken it to “my personal Vietnam, a feat of bravery.”
Some MAGA Catholics are now beginning to question their faith in a moral chasm so vast it is visible from space—perhaps even from heaven. The critique of the pope, combined with Trump’s recent social media post featuring an AI-generated image of himself as Jesus, has led some to ponder the true nature of Trump’s religious beliefs. “I’m not entirely sure what that faith entails,” remarked a former supporter who now harbors doubts. “I understand he was raised as a traditional Protestant, but he doesn’t regularly attend church. His grasp of the Bible seems quite limited.”
It is unlikely that such inquiries about his religious credentials will cause Trump any unease. If there is an afterlife, his best strategy against eternal damnation may be his own abrasive nature, which could deter even Satan from wanting to spend eternity with him. Alternatively, he might view hell as a lucrative real estate venture, considering it an uncharted opportunity to develop a “Stygian Riviera.” “It’s pleasantly warm down there; the climate is excellent, but they’re simply too foolish to capitalize on it,” he might assert.
Currently, we may be witnessing the perfect environment for a potential American schism from the Catholic Church. Historically, when England initiated the Reformation, it was under the rule of a narcissistic tyrant who threw a tantrum when the Vatican refused to indulge his whims. He was also known for his kleptocratic tendencies and often manipulated policies for his personal gain. There’s a sense of familiarity in this scenario that is hard to ignore.
Yet, a defining trait of the Trump era is the relentless feeling that one may eventually look back and ponder if there were any warning signs. Certainly, the vice-president is effectively threatening the Vatican by implying it’s a lovely place, while the president exhibits a God complex through his social media portrayals, and the defense secretary quotes the Bible with citations from Pulp Fiction while displaying Crusades tattoos. But yes—this all came as a complete surprise.
Marina Hyde is a columnist for The Guardian.
