As I continue on my journey of faith, a lot of people have asked me about whether I went to my first confession. The short answer is: I did not. There are multiple reasons for this, but one that stands out is my difficulty with the doctrine of transubstantiation. I just can't seem to reconcile it. I fully believe in Christ's real presence, but I don't see how it all hinges on the specific nature of that presence. Is it consubstantiation versus transubstantiation? What about those who hold a symbolic view, but still acknowledge Christ’s role in the sacrament? For me, my personal belief centers on Christ being present, rather than how that presence manifests in the physical elements.
This belief, while meaningful to me, has placed me at odds with certain aspects of Catholic teaching—specifically regarding the Eucharist. The Catholic Church teaches that transubstantiation is essential to understanding Christ's presence in the Eucharist, and my refusal to fully accept this doctrine has, in effect, disqualified me from participating in what is considered the "apex of Christian life"—the Eucharist itself. But perhaps more accurately, it’s "the apex of Catholic life," and I can only stand on the periphery.
I won't lie: this tension has caused some internal and external conflict. Some members of the Catholic community have mocked me for my views. I've even been ridiculed on platforms like Threads, where my open letter to priests was met with harsh criticism. I expressed my hope that the Church could at least consider different perspectives, but the response I received was less than welcoming. Many felt that I had no place writing such a letter to the clergy, let alone to priests across the world. After all, what do I, a person who isn't fully in line with all Catholic teachings, know about the deep intricacies of these centuries-old beliefs?
One of the most striking and disheartening moments came when I shared with someone that I wasn’t planning to join the Catholic Church. Their response was jarring: they told me that God would ask me, "Why I left His sacramental body," before sending me to hell. To be honest, it shook me. This sense of finality, of being condemned to hell for simply not adhering to a particular set of doctrines, left me questioning: is this really what God’s love looks like? Is there no room for those who wrestle with understanding, for those who seek Him in a different way?
This experience highlighted something important for me about navigating faith—what happens when your beliefs don't entirely align with the community you're a part of? Can you still be a part of the larger body of Christ even when you don't see eye to eye with certain aspects of tradition?
Faith, in its truest sense, is personal. It’s an ongoing dialogue between one’s heart, mind, and spirit. When you're confronted with doctrinal disagreements, it can feel isolating, but it's also an opportunity for deeper reflection. The question isn’t necessarily about being "right" or "wrong" in doctrinal terms, but about what your beliefs say about your relationship with God and with others. Does the disagreement distance you from others, or does it invite a deeper, more compassionate understanding of where everyone is coming from?
I still find myself holding on to a hope that one day, Catholicism—and indeed all branches of Christianity—can move toward a place where diverse understandings of Christ’s presence are honored. That doesn’t mean everyone has to believe the same way, but I hope for a space where open dialogue and respect can thrive even amidst our differences.
In the end, it’s not about whether I can take part in the Eucharist or not, but about how I choose to live out my faith. I know that many in the Catholic community feel hurt by my rejection of certain teachings, and I don’t take that lightly. But I also know that my faith is valid, just as theirs is, even if we walk slightly different paths.
Navigating faith means acknowledging the complexities, understanding that none of us has a perfect grasp on truth, and extending grace to ourselves and to others along the way. The road may be uncertain, and the disagreements will continue, but the hope remains: that through it all, we are still seeking the same God.
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