Katlyn Toelle is the Director of Communications at Catholic Mobilizing Network. Millennial editor Robert Christian interviewed her on her work, her faith, and the death penalty.

Polarization and partisanship have been huge obstacles to advancing the common good in recent years. On the issue of the death penalty, do you think the prospect of achieving change is as daunting as it is in so many other areas or do you think there’s more hope, particularly at the state level? 

One of the things that most encourages me in working to end the death penalty is seeing how this issue unifies people in ways we rarely see in our polarized world. It really doesn’t matter where you fall on the political spectrum; the problems surrounding our death penalty system are so widespread, it’s almost certain to violate your values. At Catholic Mobilizing Network (CMN), we work with staunch conservatives and pro-life advocates who are concerned about how the death penalty goes against pro-life values, costs the government millions of dollars more than alternative sentences, and gives the state way too much power to kill its own citizens. At the same time, our community also includes many progressive Catholics and social justice activists who take issue with how the death penalty perpetuates systemic injustices and disproportionately targets people of color and vulnerable groups. And still there are more folks who are outraged at the persistent issues of innocence, arbitrariness, and botched executions in the death penalty system.

This “coming together” is happening not only on the grassroots level, but among our Church and government leaders as well. Bishops who might be divided politically often join forces to call for an end to executions. And in state legislatures, efforts to repeal the death penalty have grown increasingly bipartisan over the years. Right now in Ohio, for example, a bipartisan coalition of lawmakers is considering legislation to abolish the state’s death penalty—an effort for which Republican Governor Mike DeWine has already signaled his support. These united efforts toward abolition are a far cry from decades past when the death penalty was regarded as a Democrat-only issue. If we can overcome division and polarization to abolish the death penalty, it gives me hope that we can do so to address other issues of life and justice as well.

What role can and should Catholics play in efforts to abolish the death penalty?

There are so many ways for Catholics to help end the death penalty. For one, they can make their voices heard through advocacy. Catholics are disproportionately represented in political office and decision-making bodies throughout the country, and that makes our collective advocacy incredibly influential when it comes to stopping executions or supporting abolition efforts on the state and federal level. Anyone interested in these advocacy opportunities can sign up for CMN’s email alerts, by the way (catholicsmobilizing.org/join).

Another important piece of the puzzle is education. Catholics should educate themselves and their communities about what the Church teaches about the death penalty—that it’s “inadmissible” in all cases—and why. They can also learn what makes this system so flawed and dehumanizing, like the alarming rates of wrongful conviction and persistent racial bias. By forming ourselves in the Church’s teaching and getting to understand the systemic issues at play, we can become more equipped and empowered advocates for change.

And of course, there’s always prayer. Catholics can pray for people on death row, for victims of violence and their families, for anyone who’s been harmed by the death penalty system in any way. Catholic Mobilizing Network holds a prayer vigil on the First Friday of every month, in which we gather virtually to lift up these individuals, including those facing execution that month. It’s an incredibly moving experience, one I would encourage any Catholic to join. More information about how to participate is available at catholicsmobilizing.org/first-friday-vigils for those who are interested.

Proponents of the death penalty believe it is just—that the punishment is deserved and that it perhaps makes society safer for law-abiding people. What is the vision of justice that shapes Catholic opposition to the death penalty? 

Catholic social teaching says that the ”original meaning of justice” is when we are “in right relationship with God, with one another, and with the rest of God’s creation.” Many things can strain or break right relationship—violent crime is certainly one of them. When crime occurs, a “just” response, from a Catholic perspective, would involve seeking ways to repair the harm done and helping those who were impacted find a path to healing. The death penalty, of course, falls far short of this vision. Executions don’t repair relationships—not for victims’ families, not for those convicted of murder, not for the community, and not for anyone else. Instead, they perpetuate the cycle of violence by responding to killing with more killing. Executions just throw more lives away.

It’s clear how the death penalty doesn’t align with God’s vision of justice, but what’s more challenging is finding approaches that do. This is where the other side of CMN’s work comes into play. In addition to advocating against the death penalty, we also advocate for something called restorative justice. It’s a voluntary approach that’s all about repairing harm and healing relationships. Unlike the punitive forms of justice that often aim to punish offenders to the maximum extent possible—sometimes even with execution—restorative justice approaches things differently. It brings together the people affected by harm to understand the impacts of what happened and to determine what’s needed to make things more right. This process can be transformative and healing for everyone involved.

While a restorative justice approach might not be suitable for every case, you can see how it brings us closer to that “original meaning of justice”: the state of right relationship. Ultimately, the way of restorative justice emulates the way of Jesus—it’s all about reconciliation, healing, and honoring human dignity, regardless of the harm someone has endured or caused.

Why did you become involved in this type of work?

When I was younger, my understanding of justice was pretty much “an eye for an eye.” If you’d asked me about the death penalty back then, I might’ve said it’s only fair that someone who took a life should lose their own. But over the years, my perspective shifted, thanks in part to my faith. One significant turning point was my time as a student at Virginia Tech, just a few years after the tragic shooting there. The entire campus and town were still grappling with the trauma, yet there were signs of resilience everywhere. I was learning firsthand what it meant to come together in the aftermath of such harm—not driven by a spirit of vengeance and anger, but with a shared determination to heal and build a stronger, more connected community.

I was actively involved in Catholic campus ministry at the time, and on the fifth anniversary of the shooting, we organized a special Mass. The father of one of the victims came to share his story, and he spoke about the decision he made to forgive the shooter in order to release some of his anger and begin to heal. I distinctly remember him saying that although 32 people were murdered that terrible day, it was really 33 lives that were lost; he was counting the shooter who took his own life. At first, this perspective challenged me, but gradually it opened my eyes to a new understanding of justice: one that upholds a consistent ethic of life, even in the face of unimaginable violence.

Naturally, my stance on the death penalty shifted profoundly after this. It went from being a moral gray area to one of the issues I most staunchly opposed. There was no room for ambiguity; the death penalty was fundamentally incompatible with my faith and values. So when I had the opportunity to join the team at CMN, advocating against the death penalty from a Catholic perspective, I jumped at it. I feel incredibly privileged to do this work. I believe the Church has incredible potential to be an agent of healing in this world; every day I see a bit of it in action, and this is a great consolation for me.

How does your faith impact your life outside of work?

My faith is central to how I make sense of the world, how I navigate my life, and how I approach my relationships. To be honest, I’m not sure I’d even recognize myself without my faith; it’s that integral to who I am. One of the most concrete ways I see my faith influencing my life is in how I engage with the people around me. I try to look at them the way Jesus might. Whether it’s my toddler, my coworker, the driver who cut me off in traffic, or the politician with whom I most strongly disagree, I hold onto the idea that they are equal in dignity to me. I’m far from perfect at it, of course. But I try to recognize and delight in other people’s humanity, even when it’s not immediately evident or deserved, because I know God extends the same mercy and compassion to me every day.

Why are you Catholic in 2023? 

There have been moments in the past few years when I seriously questioned whether I’d remain Catholic. Like others, I’ve been discouraged by the deepening polarization within the Church. My parish had a devastating incident of clergy sexual abuse, which broke my heart in many ways, but also broke my trust.

Despite these challenges, a few things have kept me tethered to the Church. One is the fact that, even when my mind is angry or hurt by the Church, my heart is still in love with it. When I walk into a church and participate in the Mass, I can’t help but feel at home and at peace.

I’m well aware that for many, their experience of church is exactly the opposite. The comfort I find in a sanctuary pew is, for some, a source of deep pain, trauma, or isolation. I don’t take that lightly.

My work at CMN helps me work through a lot of this complexity. In our work, we regularly bear witness to people going through immense pain and sorrow, like those who’ve lost loved ones to murder, or those who’ve experienced the dehumanization of death row. In the face of such profound suffering, I’ve been repeatedly reminded that with God, healing is still possible. But we, as the Body of Christ, have a role to play in guiding that healing process along, accompanying those who’ve been hurt, and transforming the broken systems that allowed harm to happen in the first place.

I firmly believe that the Church can heal too, from the wounds it’s suffered and those it’s caused. But it’s not going to happen unless all of us come together and actively participate in the process.