Fulton Sheen beatified as Catholic icon whose anti-communism, traditionalism resonate today

On Thursday in St. Louis, the Roman Catholic Church formally beatified Archbishop Fulton Sheen, moving him one significant step closer to sainthood. The ceremony drew President Donald Trump and First Lady Melania Trump, along with hundreds of Catholics gathered to mark the occasion. For those who remember American television in the 1950s and 1960s, the name carried weight: Sheen had been a broadcasting phenomenon, a priest in clerical robes standing before a chalkboard, speaking directly into the camera about faith, morality, and the human condition. His radio program "The Catholic Hour" reached four million people. His television show "Life Is Worth Living" eventually captivated an estimated thirty million viewers—numbers that put him in direct competition with entertainment titans like Milton Berle and Frank Sinatra in the weekly ratings.

Conservative commentator Michael Knowles, reflecting on Sheen's legacy in the context of his beatification, offered a provocative observation: if Sheen were to deliver essentially the same message today—his teachings on traditional Catholicism, his warnings about communism, his refusal to apologize for either—he would almost certainly be branded a far-right extremist without uttering more than the opening words. Knowles suggested that the three elements of Sheen's public ministry—his Catholicism, his anti-communism, and his uncompromising stance—were so intertwined that separating them was nearly impossible. What would draw the fiercest criticism, Knowles argued, were Sheen's traditional Catholic teachings about sex, marriage, and human nature. The underlying substance of Sheen's warnings, he suggested, still applies: they rested on a Christian understanding of human nature that modern utopian and communist movements have consistently misunderstood or rejected.

Sheen's path to beatification, however, did not rest primarily on his television ratings or his political commentary. The Catholic Church's formal recognition of him was grounded in its assessment of his religious life and a documented miracle attributed to his intercession. His cause for sainthood opened in Peoria, Illinois, in 2002. The miracle that cleared the way for his beatification involved a child born in 2010 without a heartbeat or respiration. After sixty-one minutes, the child revived and ultimately recovered to full health. Pope Francis approved this miracle in 2019, removing a major obstacle in Sheen's journey toward beatification.

Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle, representing Pope Leo at Thursday's Mass, emphasized in an apostolic letter that Sheen's significance lay not in his celebrity but in his relationship with Christ and his missionary work. The letter described him as an evangelist who understood how to use modern communications to proclaim the Gospel. Sheen had participated in the Second Vatican Council, where he encountered two clerics who would later become popes: Karol Wojtyla, who became John Paul II, and Joseph Ratzinger, who became Benedict XVI. Shortly before his death in December 1979, Sheen's path crossed John Paul II's again during the pope's visit to New York. The aging archbishop approached the pontiff at St. Patrick's Cathedral and attempted to kneel. John Paul lifted him up and embraced him, telling him, "You have written and spoken well of the Lord Jesus Christ. You are a loyal son of the Church." Sheen died two months later.

What made Sheen's approach to broadcasting distinctive, according to Knowles, was not merely his theology or the novelty of television itself. Sheen took life seriously but did not take himself seriously—a combination that allowed him to address weighty subjects without becoming ponderous, making complex religious and philosophical arguments accessible to audiences far beyond practicing Catholics. People might have discovered Sheen through his anti-communism, his cultural traditionalism, or even, as Knowles joked, an appreciation for formal dress in an age of casual clothing. But beneath the television celebrity and political messaging was a priest who maintained a daily Holy Hour before the Eucharist throughout his ministry, a practice Sheen himself called "the hour that makes my day." Knowles concluded by suggesting that admiring Sheen's example and actually following it were two different things—and that the latter was what truly mattered.