Recently, after I led a discussion on some of the patriarchal and misogynistic strains of Catholic theology, a student from the class approached me. “Why do you stay Catholic?” he asked, somewhat incredulously.
This student is a former Catholic, who—like many young adults who were raised Catholic—has disaffiliated from the church, and he now views religion as unnecessary at best and oppressive at worst. His question felt heavy to me.
To be honest, I have been reckoning with this query for some time, questioning the ethical implications of belonging to an institution that often seems, at least in the United States, to motivate in its members a sense of superiority rather than humility, a scarcity mindset rather than a paradigm of abundant life and a commitment to abstract absolutisms rather than relational encounter. Survey after survey shows a correlation between high religiosity (especially church or Mass attendance) and what I see as unjust social and political positions. While our faith does not demand a particular political ideology, and indeed calls us to resist absolutizing our political positions, I cannot ignore the reality that in the current moment, certain political movements are characterized by sinful worldviews, and yet Christians seem to be at the heart of them.
For example, white Christian voters played a key role in the MAGA movement, though it is undergirded by racism, misogyny and a disregard for the poor and vulnerable, in violation of every principle of Catholic social thought. And indeed, Christians with higher church attendance are more likely to be sympathetic to Christian nationalism, which is characterized by racist and misogynistic worldviews, as well as a willingness to consider political violence to achieve aims. For Catholics, specifically, increased Mass attendance also correlates with a reluctance to accept female leadership in the public sphere.
I have argued previously that hierarchical and patriarchal theology is easily weaponized in support of this kind of worldview. Catholic moral formation does not promote racism and misogyny, which clearly run counter to our faith, but the positive correlation between religiosity and unjust social and political positions indicates an institutional failure. We are clearly not doing enough. And yet, every Sunday, my husband and I take our three children to Mass.
We have been members of the same parish since I was pregnant with my youngest, who is now 8 years old and just received the Eucharist for the first time earlier this spring. My older kids have grown from toddlers to preteens here, and they can now be found serving at the altar or entertaining the newest generation. When we have had illnesses or injuries, our parish family has brought us meals and offered support, and we reciprocate when needed.
My point is this: Despite the political, ideological and moral divisions that are evident in the church from a bird’s-eye, statistical view, the local embodiment of Christ keeps me grounded. At a time when I struggle to belong to the church in the abstract, I can serve my community and nurture the bonds of belonging there, leaning into the hope of the Eucharist: that we find grace in the particularization of universal love.
Though I worry that my kids will come to associate the church with harmful political ideologies, I pray that the message my kids internalize is that the body of Christ is actually enfleshed in community. There should not be a difference between the embodied care that we offer one another and the way we think about salvation and truth. The incarnation of Christ breaks down every form of dualism. We are called, as Pope Francis said, to live into our “constitutive relationship with all, especially with the poorest,” and this should motivate Christian “love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception.”
I don’t want to let the institutional church off easy. The failings of a church that seems to perpetuate, or at least does not temper, tendencies toward exclusivity and worldviews of misogyny and racism are evident. But perhaps rather than leaving the church altogether, we can confront these failings as members of a community committed to the radical love of the Gospel.
Indeed, knowing that our faith is being weaponized and exploited, we should all be doing some soul searching to discern whether our Christian walk aligns with the Gospel. Receiving the Eucharist should bring about the fruits of healing and reconciliation, and we should examine our hearts with humility and courage to discern whether it does so in us.
I will continue to urge our priests and deacons to use their positions of authority to speak prophetically, especially during homilies, recognizing that Jesus came to bring glad tidings to the poor and to set the oppressed free.
At the same time, here are some of the questions I ask of myself: Because of my faith, am I more likely to be a neighbor to those in need, or am I motivated to close myself off to the perspectives of others or impose a purity test for those in need of my care? Does an encounter with Jesus in the Eucharist empower me with a worldview of abundant life, knowing that my flourishing is bound to the flourishing of all, or does it offer the certainty of a salvation that is limited in its capacity for healing now? When I attend Mass, do I allow my heart to be changed by love that transcends my own knowing? For me, the presence of this transcendent love, embodied in the Eucharist, in the relationships we nurture in our parish, and in each and every created being, is what keeps me at Mass—and what sustains me going forward.
As Pope Leo XIV reminds us, “the Church of Rome presides in charity and its true authority is the charity of Christ. It is never a question of capturing others by force, by religious propaganda, or by means of power. Instead, it is always and only a question of loving as Jesus did.” And Jesus loved by inviting people into community, resisting systems of oppression and exclusion, while opening possibilities for all to belong.
So why do I stay Catholic? To receive the grace to “go and do likewise.”
