I recently met someone who identified their faith in a way I had never heard before: 90 percent Catholic.

This person, whom I’ll call Juan, is a Mexican American man who I came to know through bringing the Eucharist to his homebound father as part of my ministry in Jalisco, Mexico, where I live as a Jesuit in formation. 

The first time I met Juan was over a video call. Another scholastic and I were making one of our regular visits to Juan’s father when a severe storm began and we had to stay put for safety. Our departure delayed, Juan’s sister invited us to join the family’s daily rosary, which they pray on a video call. Juan was one of the family members on the call, and we spent the next 30 minutes praying together.

In the next two weeks, Juan’s father passed away. The next time I visited, I met Juan in person when he and other family members traveled from the United States to Mexico to host a wake in remembrance of their father. I listened as he shared fond childhood memories of his dad.

The following Saturday, we stopped by again to say hello. During our conversation, Juan spoke proudly of his father’s influence on his faith. As we continued talking, Juan mentioned that he himself was 90 percent Catholic. Curious, I asked what he meant.

Juan explained that he is a baptized Catholic who has been married civilly—but not sacramentally—for 28 years. During these years, Juan’s parish priest has told him that, because he is living in what the Church calls an “irregular situation” as a Catholic who married outside of the church, he cannot receive absolution at the sacrament of reconciliation or receive the Eucharist at Mass.

Juan’s wife—let’s call her María—hopes to return to her home state in Mexico to celebrate their church wedding with her parents. This is a common cultural expectation for many Mexican Americans. However, María is undocumented and fears that if she goes home for a wedding, she will not be able to return to the United States.

As I listened to Juan, I was struck by his capacity for acceptance and fidelity. He wishes that he could receive the sacraments, but that has not led him to resentment towards the church. Instead, out of fidelity to his wife and fidelity to his faith, Juan continues to be a devout and practicing Catholic who accepts the sacramental limitations placed on him.

His story resonated even more as I followed the news about the recent meetings at the Vatican to mark the 10th anniversary of Pope Francis’ apostolic exhortation “Amoris Laetitia.” Pope Leo met with bishops and other Catholics from all around the world to reflect on family life in the church. Much of the discussion in the United States over the last decade has focused on questions about Catholics who are divorced and remarried. In my ministry, however, I have met many Latino Catholics who are not divorced but who are nevertheless affected by the church’s teaching on sacramental marriage.

Many Latino Catholics I have met, both in the United States and in Mexico, are married civilly but not sacramentally. Yet they desire to remain active and faithful members of the church. The reasons that they have not yet asked for their marriages to be convalidated in the Church are shaped by immigration, cultural expectations, family obligations and economic limitations, among others.

For example, couples who get married in their home countries and then come into the United States often have additional financial responsibilities. This can include paying for crossing the border or supporting family members back home. Combined with the cultural expectation of a sacramental wedding with a big celebration, this often leads couples to postpone having their weddings convalidated. But because they are not married sacramentally, their relationships are considered irregular.

Yet irregular does not mean being unfaithful to the church. The reasons that Juan and María want their convalidation to happen in the place where she grew up are profoundly important to them. Their willingness to continue to live according to the church teaching and the limits it now places on them demonstrates their deep faithfulness to the church, to their families in Mexico and to their responsibilities in the United States. I admire this faithfulness.

To begin the meeting at the Vatican, Pope Leo acknowledged that “we have much to learn from families.” Juan’s story helps me to see that sometimes tensions between familial and religious commitments have significant consequences. Though Juan appeared to be mostly at peace with his circumstances (maybe 90 percent?), I know other couples who struggle to find their place in the church community. They can feel like second-class citizens. It is important that, as Catholics, we continue to learn from one another and stay connected through our faith, even more so in situations when life does not go quite the way we had hoped.

“The experience of fragility raises the question of whether we are able to remain close to one another when life no longer corresponds to what had been hoped for and whether we can recognize the work of grace even in situations marked by limits, wounds and apparent failure,” Pope Leo said in that same address.

This is what I admire most about Juan and María. They remain close to one another and to the church even though they did not expect to wait this long to have their marriage convalidated. This closeness amid life’s challenges is what Pope Leo—and Jesus—hopes for us. And Juan’s lived example demonstrates that hope.

My hope is that, as the church continues to have conversations around “Amoris Laetitia,” people like Juan will have their stories heard and understood at all levels of the institutional church and by Catholics around the world. I do not know how the Holy Spirit will lead the church in these conversations, but I do know that it is important for us to know and listen to the faith experiences of fellow Catholics.

One reason for this importance is the gratitude that grows when we get to know one another. I am grateful for knowing Juan. I am grateful to Juan and María for their example. I am grateful for their commitment to their faith. I am grateful for their commitment to each another. I am grateful for their commitment to their children. I am grateful for their commitment to the church. I am grateful for their witness of patience, hope and perseverance. And I am grateful for the ways in which they have inspired me to seek that same fidelity in my own life of faith.

Eric Panicco, S.J., is a Jesuit scholastic studying theology at Fordham University. As part of an exchange program, he is currently living and studying in Guadalajara, Mexico.