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Seekers can question Catholic Church teachings and still join in faith
Faith can include doubt. Catholics can question difficult teachings, keep seeking understanding and trust Christ while their faith continues to grow.
By Mark Griswold | FāVS News Columnist
The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News.
A friend recently told me that he had doubts about some teachings of the Catholic Church and had therefore been advised not to join.
I don’t know the full conversation, and I wouldn’t presume to judge the advice without understanding what was said. But I wish there had been room for a deeper discussion. There is a meaningful difference between rejecting a teaching and struggling to believe it. Someone who says, “I cannot accept this and have no intention of reconsidering,” is in a different place from someone who says, “I want to accept this, but I still have questions.”
That distinction matters because faith is more than a feeling of certainty.
Faith enough to keep walking
One of my favorite prayers comes from Mark 9:24: “I believe; help my unbelief!” It expresses something I recognize in myself: Belief and struggle can exist together. I can accept something as true while finding it difficult to understand. I can trust without feeling completely comfortable.
The real presence of Christ in the Eucharist is an example. Having grown up Protestant, I spent much of my life understanding Communion as a symbol, accepting the Catholic teaching did not instantly erase those instincts. I believe, but the idea can still feel strange. My imagination has not entirely caught up with my commitment.
I don’t think that makes my faith insincere.
Love offers a useful comparison. We choose to act lovingly even when affectionate feelings are absent. We keep promises, care for people and show up when we would rather stay home. Those actions express and sustain our love. Waiting until we feel perfectly loving before doing anything loving would make us unreliable spouses, parents and friends.
Something similar happens with faith. We pray, worship, learn and keep walking. Our actions give our convictions a place to grow.
This is one reason Catholicism appeals to me. Its practices engage the whole person. There are words to pray when my own words fail, a posture to assume when my attention wanders and a community with which to worship when enthusiasm is hard to find. My emotional state does not have to carry the entire weight of my religious life.
Staying before we understand
In John 6, Jesus gives a teaching that many of his followers find difficult to accept. Some leave. He asks the Twelve whether they want to leave as well, and Peter responds: “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
Peter does not explain how everything Jesus has said makes sense. He expresses his trust in the person speaking.
We should be careful about assigning Peter feelings the text does not explicitly describe. But Benedict XVI offered the reasonable interpretation that Jesus’ words may have been difficult for Peter, too. Peter’s faith was real even though his understanding was still developing.
I hear something deeply familiar in that response: I don’t understand everything you are telling me. But I have come to trust you, and I am going to keep following.
That is how I understand my own faith. I have reasons for trusting Christ and accepting the Church’s teaching. A difficult question does not automatically erase those reasons. It gives me something to study, pray about and live with.
Of course, Catholicism makes definite claims. Joining the Catholic Church involves a sincere profession of faith; its teachings cannot simply mean whatever I want them to mean. But accepting a teaching and fully comprehending it are different things. So are honest difficulty and deliberate rejection.
The important conversation is therefore more specific than “Do you have doubts?” It is about what those doubts mean, what the person accepts and whether they remain willing to learn.
A universal church of imperfect people
I also believe that the Catholic Church is the church Christ established. That does not mean I believe its members or leaders are beyond failure.
The apostles themselves should discourage that expectation. They misunderstood Jesus, competed for status, lost courage and abandoned him. Peter professed his loyalty and later denied knowing him. These were the people through whom Christ chose to work.
The church’s history contains both extraordinary goodness and terrible wrongdoing. Neither should be concealed. For me, its failures are a call to repentance, while its works of mercy testify to what God can accomplish through imperfect people.
The word “catholic” means universal. That is different from universalism understood as the claim that everyone will necessarily be saved. Still, the church’s universality helps me resist imagining that God’s mercy ends at the boundaries of my knowledge — or that someone who has never had a meaningful opportunity to know Christ must therefore be beyond his reach.
I think about this through a simple illustration.
Two people are trapped in a burning building. A firefighter enters. One sees him and cries, “Save me!” The firefighter carries him outside. The other is unconscious. He cannot identify his rescuer or ask for help. The firefighter carries him out, too.
Both are saved by the same person, although only one recognizes who is saving him.
That picture helps me understand how Christ can be the source of salvation even for someone who does not know his name. It does not settle every question about salvation, freedom or judgment. It reminds me that the rescuer’s ability exceeds the victim’s understanding.
I also think about people whose experiences of religion have made trust difficult. Someone may have encountered cruelty, manipulation or fear from people claiming to speak for God. I cannot assume that their rejection of that experience tells me everything about their response to God himself. God knows the wounds and misunderstandings I cannot see.
That should make us humble in how we speak to others. Truth matters, including the need for repentance. So does the way we communicate it. Our words should help people encounter the goodness we claim to proclaim.
Making room for the conversation
I would encourage someone in my friend’s position to keep asking questions and to have a fuller conversation with a priest, deacon or an Order of Christian Initiation for Adults leader. Inquiry is precisely the time to bring difficulties into the open. Whether someone is ready to enter the church deserves careful discernment and an honest understanding of what they believe.
I would never tell a person to make a profession of faith they do not mean. But neither would I assume that unresolved questions make a sincere profession impossible.
The question I would want to explore is this: Can you honestly entrust yourself to Christ while continuing to seek understanding?
For me, the answer is yes. That is the faith I am trying to practice: accepting, questioning, learning and returning to a prayer that remains as necessary as ever.
I believe. Help my unbelief.
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Thank you, Mark, for your insights and doubts that continue to give rise to increased faith despite the question marks–continuing to explore and discover the wonder and mysteries while moving in a forward direction. Amen.