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I once found great comfort in the black-and-white world of apologetics.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church provided the answers to all of my questions concerning faith and morals.
It was the definitive voice of the church, and I believed everything that voice said. And then my black-and-white world began to fall apart.
Dysfunctional leadership at the local and diocesan levels left me questioning my place in the church and its place in my life.
Disillusionment with the institutional church brought on a dark night of the soul for me, and previous certainties vaporised in clouds of doubt.
This forced me to dig deeper into the core of my faith.
- What do I believe?
- Why do I believe it?
- How can I regain the joy in my belief when I am feeling so much pain and unease within the four walls of my church?
During this time of painful exile, a Benedictine friend introduced me to the lectio divina form of prayer.
I began to listen for the Word of God speaking to me personally in the scriptures.
I slowly learned to balance the knowledge of the mind with the emotions of the heart, for we need both.
Our faith is neither solely about black-and-white pronouncements, nor is it simply about warm, fuzzy feelings. It is about knowing what we believe, loving what we believe, and putting that belief into concrete action in the messiness of everyday life.
It is also about acknowledging that faith is a lifelong journey.
Because the Church says so is not enough
We will often find ourselves struggling with some aspect of our belief or unable to live up to the high standards set before us.
Sometimes we know what the church teaches but still do not understand or accept the reasoning behind a specific teaching.
The answer of “because the church says so” can be as ineffective as a parent’s “because I said so.”
Today, the accusation of being a “cafeteria Catholic” is flung around with the same zealousness as the term “heretic” was at one time.
Doctrinal police
Passionate traditionalists troll online discussion boards and blogs seeking to attack women and men who do not give their full assent to each and every teaching of the Catholic Church.
These self-appointed gatekeepers of orthodoxy believe it is for the glory of God and the good of the church that all questioners be denounced and told if they don’t like it they can—and should—leave.
I have no desire to be part of the smaller, purer church envisioned by these doctrinal police.
The church must keep its doors open for all of us who are on an imperfect, bumpy, and often messy journey toward holiness.
As a writer, I have been the object of some mean-spirited attacks online. I once wrote an article questioning the derogatory use of the term “cafeteria Catholics,” stating that in some ways we all pick and choose from the great buffet table of Catholicism.
I once wrote an article questioning the derogatory use of the term “cafeteria Catholics,” stating that in some ways we all pick and choose from the great buffet table of Catholicism.
Several months later I discovered that I had been personally attacked on some Catholic blogs. My words were taken out of context, and I was denounced as a “militant atheist” who “spread calumny and false witness” and believed that we are all “irrational animals.”
My words were taken out of context, and I was denounced as a “militant atheist” who “spread calumny and false witness” and believed that we are all “irrational animals.”
I tried to shrug it off, but I had to admit that the attacks upset me. These people knew nothing about me, my relationship to the church, or my personal faith life. Nevertheless, based on a few written words of mine, they had
These people knew nothing about me, my relationship to the church, or my personal faith life.
Nevertheless, based on a few written words of mine, they had labelled me a heretic and dissenter.
Love of God and love of others becomes mighty complicated. We squabble over liturgies, worship language, and prayer forms. We believe in the same basic commandments but disagree with how they have been interpreted over the years.
In the Middle Ages, the church attempted to keep its purity by aggressively cleansing the ranks of all traces of unorthodoxy.
Inquisitors enforced loyalty oaths and sent spies to sniff out the slightest odour of heresy from pulpits, pews, and back streets.
It was a time of malicious accusations, unjust trials, and raging bonfires. Zealousness for the faith inspired crusader armies to battle heathens in the name of Jesus Christ.
It was a time of “if you’re not with us, you’re against us.”
And, if you are against us, we believe that it is God’s will that you experience the earthly wrath of the church now and eternal damnation in the hereafter.
It was a time of “if you’re not with us, you’re against us.” And, if you are against us, we believe that it is God’s will that you experience the earthly wrath of the church now and eternal damnation in the hereafter.
Here and now in the 21st century, the new evangelization calls us to put aside such a militant defence of the faith. Continue reading
- Isabella R. Moyer is the past president of the International Organization of Marianist Lay Communities
- Image: Twitter
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