Against saying “Catholics believe”

My sophomore English teacher taught an invaluable writing lesson that has stayed with me: “Show, don’t tell.” In explicating texts, we should make our point directly without saying we are doing so.

Rather than begin sentences, for example, with an unnecessary introduction (“I think that Willy Loman felt insecure”), we should state our point directly (“Willy Loman felt insecure”). The latter is more effective in style and conveys confidence in our interpretation.

The same rule should be applied when explaining the Catholic faith to interlocutors, whether they are young, old, curious, or hostile: Show the faith, don’t tell about it.

We should state, for example, “Jesus rose from the dead,” and not, “Catholics believe that Jesus rose from the dead.” The reason for doing so exceeds preferences for style and confidence: it concerns whether our faith is objective and universal or subjective and applicable only to some.

The beliefs of Catholics are objective and universal because they come from God, who can neither deceive nor be deceived, and are revealed for the salvation of all people. With moral certitude, Catholics know in faith the truths articulated in the Nicene Creed and summarized in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Faith is a valid form of knowledge that depends on the credibility of witnesses, and we have every reason to trust the writers of the Bible and the apostles who handed on what they received from Jesus Himself. And it is Christ, as the Son of God, upon whom our faith ultimately rests.

“Nothing is truer than His word of truth,” writes St. Thomas Aquinas in the Adoro Te Devote.

Of course, Catholics believe these truths. The difficulty is not in that fact. It arises when someone asks a question about the faith, and our first two words in response are “Catholics believe.”

Why? When we lead with those two words, we unwittingly relativize the faith. We give the impression that the truths of faith are only for Catholics. Yes, Catholic beliefs are different from those of other religions or belief systems. But we know our beliefs are true; the interlocutors require instruction or correction. Hence, we should state with confidence the truth without qualifying it, without giving an opening that can be interpreted, however wrongly, as “Catholics believe this. But others believe something different, and that’s their prerogative.”

Consider some scenarios in which introducing a response with “Catholics believe” can undermine the truths we intend to articulate:

• A child asks his parents: “Why can’t someone have two mommies?”
• A Protestant in a Catholic school asks: “Why do you believe the Eucharist is the body of Christ?”
• A friend asks: “Why do you have a problem with IVF?”

Answers to each of these questions depend on objective realities: the first on biological facts that exist in nature, the second on the witness of Scripture and the unbroken Tradition of the Church, the third on nature and on human dignity. Objectivity points to universal applicability: the teachings of the Church are true for all because they are based on metaphysics, which in turn shows the reasonableness of the Church’s teachings. To hold the contrary opinion is not to disagree with the private views of some religious body; it is to place oneself at odds with reality: with nature, Scripture, and Tradition.

If, by contrast, we open a response to these questions with “Catholics believe,” we place ourselves on relativistic grounds—grounds of our interlocutor. Even if we think we are adequately defending Church teaching, we give the impression that our beliefs are subjective rather than objective, that they belong to some but not to all.

After all, what makes one subject’s argument greater than that of another? It is a better hold on the evidence, on objective reality. Beginning with the subjective risks failing to lead our interlocutor to the finish line.

In these instances, the child asking his parents about “two mommies” can come away with the impression that the secular world has painted: Catholics are “homophobes” because they believe two people who love each other cannot marry. The Protestant asking about the Eucharist accepts “denominational differences” as the reason for Catholics believing in the real presence, while Protestants do not. The friend asking about IVF sees Catholics as insensitive to the plight of infertile parents: “What about their beliefs?” goes the retort.

Their beliefs are incorrect, not because of what Catholics believe but because they are not in accord with reality, and reality is the basis of truth. Beliefs must be true to be worthy of respect. The interlocutor can point to feelings or other forms of rationalization in defense—something we all do to justify our sins—but none of these factors make beliefs true. Sometimes stubbornness perdures and becomes something else, as St. Augustine bluntly stated in Book VI of the City of God: “Stupidity glories in never yielding to the force of truth.”

To answer questions by articulating the Church’s teachings is an apology in the classical sense: a defense. Too often, however, especially in uncomfortable situations when we are put on the spot, an answer that begins “Catholics believe” can sound like an apology in the modern sense: a statement of contrition.

Given the stakes of defending the faith in a secular age, when a misconstrued response can send interlocutors back into the arms of unbelief that stretch over every area of life, the proper framing of our answers is critical.

“Always be prepared to make a defense to anyone who calls you to account for the hope that is in you,” St. Peter urges us (1 Pt 3:15). Our preparation should include training ourselves to show the faith plainly and not tell about it.