Can a Catholic doubt? Many believers ask the question with anguish, as if the slightest hesitation made them bad Christians, or even excluded them from the Church. The answer of the Catholic tradition is reassuring and precise: yes, a Catholic can doubt — and experiencing doubt is not in itself a sin. What matters is not that doubt appears, but what you do with it.
The whole teaching of the Church can be summed up in a decisive distinction. There is the doubt you undergo: hesitation, difficulty answering an objection, anxiety before the obscurity of faith. That doubt, involuntary, is not a fault; it belongs to the condition of the believer who "walks by faith, not by sight" (2 Cor 5:7). And there is the doubt you choose: the deliberate refusal to hold as true what God has revealed, or the doubt you cultivate complacently until it blinds you. That doubt, voluntary, is a sin against faith.
This truth is liberating. The greatest saints have sometimes gone through terrible interior nights — Saint Thérèse of Lisieux sat "at the table of sinners," Saint Teresa of Calcutta lived for half a century with the sense of God's absence — without ceasing to be saints, because in the heart of darkness they went on willing to believe. Doubt can even become a path: it keeps faith from hardening into lazy certitude and pushes it to seek further.
This article sets out what the Church teaches about doubt and faith: why faith is certain without being evident, how to distinguish innocent doubt from guilty doubt, what the Bible and the saints say about it, why God allows the trial, and above all what to do concretely when doubt settles in.
The short answer: yes — and it all depends on the doubt
Let us say it straight away to dispel anxiety: according to the Catholic faith, feeling doubt is not a sin. Temptation against faith, the troubling objection, the dryness in which God seems absent — all this can visit the best of believers without touching their fidelity in the least. Sin does not begin with the doubt that arises, but with the consent you give it.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church states the distinction with remarkable precision, separating two realities that ordinary language confuses under the same word:
"Voluntary doubt about the faith disregards or refuses to hold as true what God has revealed and the Church proposes for belief. Involuntary doubt refers to hesitation in believing, difficulty in overcoming objections connected with the faith, or also anxiety aroused by its obscurity. If deliberately cultivated doubt can lead to blindness of spirit." — Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 2088[1]
That says it all. Involuntary doubt — the doubt you did not want, which you undergo and fight — is not called a sin: it is a trial, sometimes painful, of the believing condition. Voluntary doubt — the doubt you choose, maintain, which "disregards or refuses" — is a fault, because it engages the will against a recognised truth. And the Catechism warns of a danger: a doubt innocent at first can, if "deliberately cultivated," slip toward "blindness of spirit." It is this frontier, not the appearance of doubt, that decides everything.
What is faith? A dark certainty
To understand doubt, you must first understand what faith is. Much anxiety comes from a misunderstanding: people imagine that believing should bring an evidence comparable to that of eyesight or mathematics — and they are frightened not to find it. But faith is not of that nature. It is a certainty, but a certainty of a particular kind: firm in its support, obscure in its object.
Faith is more certain than science
A central paradox of Catholic theology: faith is more certain than any human knowledge. Not because it is clearer — it is less clear — but because it rests on an infallible foundation. The Catechism states it without hedging:
"Faith is certain. It is more certain than all human knowledge because it is founded on the very word of God who cannot lie." — Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 157[2]
Saint Thomas Aquinas fixed the distinction that unties the paradox. Faith, he says, is more certain simply speaking than science, because its cause — divine Truth — is more assured than any human reasoning; but it is less certain in relation to us, because its object exceeds the reach of our intellect[3]. In other words: what faith holds is guaranteed by God himself, but we hold it without seeing it. Solidity comes from above; obscurity comes from our short sight. This places faith in a unique situation: it adheres as firmly as science, but without the full clarity of evidence — "to believe is to think with assent," in the definition Saint Thomas takes from Saint Augustine[4].
Yet it remains obscure: to believe is not to see
That is why faith is normally lived in a kind of half-light. Saint Paul put it in a formula that has become proverbial: here below we see "as in a mirror, dimly" (1 Cor 13:12), and "we walk by faith, not by sight" (2 Cor 5:7)[5]. The Catechism draws the consequence and does not hide that faith can be tried:
"Luminous by him in whom it believes, faith is often lived in darkness. Faith can be put to the test. The world we live in often seems very far from the one promised us by faith; the experiences of evil and suffering, injustice and death, seem to contradict the Good News; they can shake faith and become a temptation for it." — Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 164[6]
That defuses anxiety: the Church herself teaches that faith is "often lived in darkness" and that it "can be put to the test." Darkness is therefore not the sign of a sick faith — it is the ordinary regime of faith on the way. On how evil and suffering seem to contradict faith, see How to explain the problem of evil?; on God's apparent silence, see Why does God seem silent?.
Faith seeks understanding
Because it is obscure, faith does not ask you to stifle your intelligence: on the contrary, it calls you to seek. This is the great tradition of fides quaerens intellectum, "faith seeking understanding," formulated by Saint Anselm and received throughout the Middle Ages. The Catechism makes it its own:
"It is intrinsic to faith that a believer desires to know better him in whom he has put his faith, and to understand better what he has revealed; a more penetrating knowledge will in turn call forth a greater faith, increasingly set afire by love." — Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 158[7]
Long before Anselm, Saint Augustine had sealed the virtuous circle of faith and intelligence in a lapidary formula: "Believe so that you may understand"[8]. Faith is not the enemy of reason; it is its starting point and its horizon. Far from forbidding questions, it awakens them. A faith that never asked a question would be a faith that had ceased to love what it believes. Doubt, when it pushes you to seek rather than to flee, can thus become a spur to faith — provided it does not turn against it.
Two kinds of doubt: involuntary and voluntary
Let us return to the heart of the question, for everything hinges on it. The word "doubt" covers two realities that Catholic moral theology carefully distinguishes, and which receive a completely different judgment. Everything depends on the attitude of the will before the difficulty that presents itself.
Involuntary doubt: the hesitation you undergo
Involuntary doubt is the doubt that comes upon you despite yourself. It is the objection that forces itself on the mind, the troubling image left by something you read or heard, the spiritual dryness in which you no longer "feel" anything, the anguish before a mystery that overwhelms you. The Catechism describes it as "hesitation in believing, difficulty in overcoming objections connected with the faith, or also anxiety aroused by its obscurity"[9]. As long as you do not consent to this hesitation, as long as you push it back and go on willing to believe, there is no sin. On the contrary: the very struggle against this doubt is a meritorious act of faith. Many scrupulous souls torment themselves needlessly, believing they offend God by thoughts they never wanted and that they detest.
Voluntary doubt: the refusal you choose
Voluntary doubt is of a wholly different nature. It "disregards or refuses to hold as true what God has revealed"[10]: it is no longer a hesitation undergone, but a decision to suspend or withdraw assent. It can be done through intellectual laziness, pride, desire to be rid of a troublesome moral demand, or complacency in entertaining the trouble. Here the will turns against a truth it nevertheless recognises: it is a sin against the first of the theological virtues[11]. Its gravity depends on the degree of refusal, but the principle is clear: we are responsible not for the doubts that assail us, but for those to which we choose to yield.
"Ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt"
A famous distinction illuminates the whole subject: that between difficulty and doubt. We owe it to Saint John Henry Newman, who summed up his own experience as a convert-intellectual in a phrase that has become classic:
"Ten thousand difficulties do not make a single doubt." — Saint John Henry Newman, Apologia pro Vita Sua, 1864[12]
Newman means this: a difficulty is an objection you cannot yet answer — a question of history, science, philosophy, an obscure text, a troubling fact. You can pile up thousands without thereby doubting the truth of the faith, for "difficulty and doubt are incommensurate": they are not on the same plane. The believing scholar can stumble over a hundred enigmas and go on adhering firmly, just as one can be unable to answer every objection against the existence of air without ceasing to breathe. The phrase is so apt that the Catechism itself quotes it, precisely in the paragraph on the certainty of faith[13]. To retain this distinction is liberating: having unanswered questions is not doubting; it is simply not having finished understanding.
When doubt cultivated becomes blindness
There remains the Catechism's warning: doubt "deliberately cultivated" can "lead to blindness of spirit"[14]. There is a possible slide, from innocent trouble to complete refusal of faith. The Catechism names the stages of this slope when the will engages in it:
"Unbelief is the disregard of revealed truth or the willful refusal to assent to it. Heresy is the obstinate post-baptismal denial of some truth which must be believed with divine and catholic faith, or it is likewise an obstinate doubt concerning the same. Apostasy is the total repudiation of the Christian faith. [...]" — Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 2089[15]
Note that heresy includes "obstinate doubt" — not passing doubt, but doubt that takes root and hardens against a truth of faith. The following table summarises this ladder, from the most innocent to the most grave, showing that it is always the assent of the will that tips into fault.
| Reality | What it is | Engages the will? | Sin? |
|---|---|---|---|
| Difficulty | An unresolved intellectual objection | No | No |
| Involuntary doubt | Hesitation undergone, anxiety before obscurity | No (it is resisted) | No |
| Voluntary doubt | Deliberate refusal to hold as true what is revealed | Yes | Yes — against faith |
| Unbelief | Disregard or refusal to assent to revealed truth | Yes | Yes |
| Heresy | Obstinate denial, or obstinate doubt, of a truth of faith | Yes, obstinate | Yes — grave |
| Apostasy | Total repudiation of the Christian faith | Yes, total | Yes — gravest |
Reading the table is simple: the first two rows are not sins; the following rows become sins to the exact extent that the will consents to refusal. The entire spiritual life of the troubled believer consists in not crossing that line — in remaining in difficulty and undergone doubt without ever sliding into chosen refusal.
What does the Bible say? Doubt at the heart of the Gospel
Far from hiding the doubt of his closest disciples, the Gospel puts it on stage without embarrassment. It is one of the signs of the texts' honesty: those who saw the Risen One do not erase the fact that they first doubted. Better still: Christ never condemns doubt that seeks; he welcomes it, straightens it, and leads it to faith.
"I believe; help my unbelief!"
Perhaps the most consoling word in all of Scripture on doubt is that of the father of the possessed boy. In despair, he begs Jesus to heal his son "if you can" — and Jesus challenges him on that "if." Then the man throws out the cry in which faith and doubt coexist:
"Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, 'I believe; help my unbelief!'" — Gospel according to Saint Mark 9:24[16]
This sentence is a summit of spiritual truth. The man does not lie when he says "I believe," nor does he lie when he confesses his "unbelief": both live together in him. And Jesus, far from rejecting this imperfect faith, grants his prayer and heals the child. Faith mixed with doubt, when it turns to Christ to ask to be increased, is already true faith. "Help my unbelief" is the exact prayer every troubled believer can make his own.
Thomas, the apostle who wanted to see
Doubt has its patron saint: the apostle Thomas, nicknamed "the doubter." Absent at the first appearance of the Risen One, he refuses to believe the testimony of the others: "Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails... I will not believe" (Jn 20:25). Eight days later, Christ returns and addresses him without crushing reproach, but with a gentleness that invites:
"Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side; do not be faithless, but believing." — Jesus, Gospel according to Saint John 20:27[17]
Thomas then falls into the highest confession of faith in the whole Gospel: "My Lord and my God!" (Jn 20:28). And Jesus draws the lesson valid for all believers to come: "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe" (Jn 20:29)[18]. Thomas's doubt was not the last word: it was the path by which his faith became confession. And the final beatitude is for us — those who believe without seeing, and whom Thomas's doubt, paradoxically, strengthens.
Peter doubting as he walks on the water
Peter himself, the future head of the Apostles, knows the moment of doubt. Walking on the water at Christ's call, he takes fright at the wind and begins to sink. Jesus catches him at once, with a word that says everything about divine pedagogy:
"O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" — Jesus, Gospel according to Saint Matthew 14:31[19]
Peter's doubt was born of fear and of fixing his eyes on the storm rather than on Christ. But note that Jesus stretches out his hand and catches him before rebuking him: he does not let him sink. The reproach is tender — "you of little faith" — and it diagnoses: doubt often comes from looking at the storm instead of looking at the Lord.
James and prayer without hesitation
Only one text in the New Testament warns against a certain form of doubt: the letter of Saint James, concerning prayer. He who asks God must do so with confidence:
"But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind." — Letter of Saint James 1:6[20]
It is not a question here of involuntary intellectual hesitation, but of instability of heart — the "double-minded" soul, says James, "unstable in all his ways" (Jas 1:8). This doubt is a failure of trust in prayer, a way of asking God with one hand while withdrawing with the other. The remedy is not to force yourself to "feel nothing more," but to lean more firmly on God's faithfulness. On this precise subject, see Does God hear every prayer?.
When saints went through the night
Here is perhaps the most consoling point. Trials against faith are not the lot of lukewarm Christians: they have visited some of the greatest saints, and sometimes with overwhelming violence. Far from proving God's absence, these nights were for them purifications of faith — a stripping in which the soul learns to believe no longer by sensible support, but by pure love. None of these saints yielded to voluntary doubt; all, in darkness, went on willing to believe.
Saint Thérèse of Lisieux and the "table of sinners"
We readily imagine "little Thérèse" as a soul bathed in spiritual sweetness. The reality was quite different. During the last eighteen months of her life, ravaged by tuberculosis, this future Doctor of the Church was plunged into a terrible trial in which the very thought of Heaven became a torment. She described it, out of obedience, in her Manuscript C:
"He permitted my soul to be invaded by the thickest darkness, and that the thought of Heaven, so sweet to me, should be no more than the cause of struggle and torment." — Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Manuscript C, 1897[21]
Even more striking, Thérèse personifies doubt: the darkness, she says, "borrowing the voice of sinners," mocks her and promises her, instead of the hoped-for Heaven, "the night of nothingness"[22]. She says she sits spiritually "at the table of sinners," that is, of those who have no faith, to bear this trial with them[23]. And yet she never yields. Her response is a pure act of faith, wrested from darkness:
"I am content to simply sing what I want to believe." — Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Manuscript C, 1897[24]
"What I want to believe": there lies the secret. Thérèse's faith, deprived of all consolation, took refuge entirely in the will to believe — and that is precisely what made it heroic. Her trial was not guilty doubt, but a purifying night offered for unbelievers.
Saint Teresa of Calcutta, the saint of the night
The publication in 2007 of Mother Teresa's intimate writings revealed a staggering secret to the world. This woman radiant with charity had lived for nearly half a century with the constant sense of God's absence. Her letters to her spiritual directors speak of an almost unbroken darkness, which she confided to one of them as early as 1959:
"In my soul I feel just that terrible pain of loss — of God not wanting me — of God not being God — of God not really existing." — Saint Teresa of Calcutta, letter of 1959[25]
One might think this was a loss of faith. Father Brian Kolodiejchuk, postulator of her cause, showed the opposite: this night was the crucible of a heroic faith. Mother Teresa never recanted, never abandoned prayer or service; she bore this emptiness in union with Christ's abandonment on the cross, and even recognised a grace in it, to the point of writing:
"If I ever become a Saint — I will surely be one of 'darkness.'" — Saint Teresa of Calcutta, Come Be My Light[26]
Her night was not voluntary doubt, but a mystical sharing in Jesus' thirst for souls. It illustrates a paradoxical truth: you can no longer feel anything of God and remain totally faithful to him.
Saint John of the Cross and the dark night
These trials find their key in the great mystical doctor, Saint John of the Cross. He called "dark night" the process by which God purifies the advanced soul by depriving it of every sensible and even intellectual support, to make it believe with a barer, purer faith[27]. This night is not a punishment or a sign of distance: it is an action of God that tightens union by removing the consolations on which the soul was leaning. The Catechism itself acknowledges this category by presenting the Virgin Mary as she who, "in her pilgrimage of faith, even went into the 'night of faith' in sharing the darkness of her Son's suffering and death"[28]. The night of faith is thus, in the saints, the luminous reverse of a faith become adult — never to be confused with doubt that is cultivated.
The hidden God: why does God allow the trial of doubt?
The underlying question remains: if God exists and wants to be believed, why does he not make himself evident to the point of making all doubt impossible? The Catholic tradition does not dodge the question: it answers that this share of obscurity is willed, and that it is even necessary for the freedom and quality of our faith.
"Verily thou art a God that hidest thyself"
No one has put it better than Blaise Pascal. Taking up Isaiah's words — "Verily thou art a God that hidest thyself" (Is 45:15) — he makes it a principle of any true religion: "Any religion which does not say that God is hidden is not true"[29]. And he draws from it the famous law of the balance between light and shadow:
"There is enough light for those who only desire to see, and enough obscurity for those who have a contrary disposition." — Blaise Pascal, Pensées[30]
The idea is decisive. God shows himself enough for the sincere seeker to find him, but not so much as to compel the one who refuses. If he imposed himself with the evidence of the midday sun, faith would no longer be a free act of love, but forced submission. The obscurity of faith is thus the price — and the guarantee — of our freedom. Possible doubt is the necessary reverse of a faith that is a choice.
Doubt, the common frontier of believer and unbeliever
The future Benedict XVI deepened this insight profoundly. In his Introduction to Christianity (1968), Joseph Ratzinger observes that neither believer nor unbeliever possesses total, closed certitude: the believer remains confronted with the "perhaps not" of the unbeliever, and the unbeliever never quite escapes the "perhaps" of the believer[31]. This shared doubt prevents each from barricading himself in false assurance and becomes, paradoxically, a place of encounter and humility. Doubt is therefore not only a threat; it is also what keeps faith alive, seeking, open — provided it pushes you to seek God and not to flee him.
The trial that purifies and makes you grow
Seen in this light, the trial of doubt bears fruit. It tears faith away from the ease of feeling, strips it of its crutches, and forces it to lean on God alone rather than on the pleasure of believing. A faith never tried would remain a child's faith; faith that goes through the night and perseveres becomes an adult faith, free and disinterested. That is why the saints often received their greatest nights after long years of fidelity: not because God was abandoning them, but because he judged them capable of a purer faith. Doubt faced with trust does not diminish faith: it strengthens it.
What to do when doubt comes
All this would remain theoretical without a practical question: concretely, what should you do when doubt settles in and troubles your peace? Catholic wisdom, nourished by the experience of the saints, offers a few tried-and-tested reflexes.
Distinguish difficulty from doubt, and do not panic
The first reflex is to name what you are living through. Is it an intellectual difficulty — an unanswered objection — or a genuine withdrawal of assent? In the vast majority of cases, it is a difficulty or an involuntary doubt, which is not a sin. Simply recalling Newman's distinction — "ten thousand difficulties do not make a single doubt" — already defuses anxiety. You are not losing your faith because you have questions; you are searching.
Make no grave decision in the night
A golden rule of the spiritual tradition, especially in Saint Ignatius of Loyola: change nothing in desolation. When the soul is in darkness, discouragement or dryness, it is not the time to make decisions about your faith or your life. The thoughts of the night lie; you must hold firmly to the resolutions taken in the light and wait for day to return[32]. Renouncing belief in the trough of a trial would be like quitting a job on an evening of fever. On discerning interior movements, see What is discernment of spirits?.
Nourish the intelligence of faith
Since faith "seeks understanding," doubt often calls for intellectual work. Many doubts are born of ignorance or caricature: we doubt a faith we know poorly. Reading, studying, being formed, seeking serious answers to objections — that is answering doubt with its proper weapon. Catholic apologetics has provided solid answers to almost all the great objections, whether concerning science, evil, history or other religions. On this ground, see notably How to answer the science-against-faith objection? and How to read the Catechism?.
Return to the sacraments and to prayer
Doubt is not only a matter of ideas: it has a spiritual root, and it is also fought by the means of grace. Persevering prayer, even when arid, the Eucharist, confession, familiarity with the Word of God nourish faith at its source. Saint Alphonsus Liguori taught that decisive graces are obtained through prayer: "He who prays is saved."[33] You do not always reason your way out of doubt; often, you pray your way out. The cry of the possessed boy's father — "Help my unbelief" — remains the most effective prayer in the trial.
Make the act of faith and seek accompaniment
Finally, like Thérèse, you can always make the act of faith that the will keeps even when feeling has fled: "singing what you want to believe." Believing is first a free act, not an affective state; and you can will to believe even when you no longer feel anything. In a lasting trial, it is wise not to remain alone: a priest, a confessor, a spiritual companion helps you cross the night without going astray and to distinguish purifying trial from guilty doubt. On choosing a guide, see How to choose a spiritual director?.
In summary
Can a Catholic doubt? Yes — and experiencing doubt is not a sin. Everything depends on the will: involuntary doubt, which you undergo and resist — hesitation, difficulty, anxiety before the obscurity of faith — is not a fault; voluntary doubt, which you choose and cultivate to the point of refusal, is a sin against faith that can slide toward unbelief, heresy and apostasy. Faith itself is certain — more certain than any science by its cause — yet obscure by its object, and therefore normally lived in a measure of half-light. The Gospel stages the doubt of Thomas, of Peter, of the father of the possessed boy, and Christ never condemns it when it seeks: he straightens it and leads it to faith. The greatest saints, from Thérèse of Lisieux to Teresa of Calcutta, went through terrible nights without ceasing to will to believe. If God allows this darkness, it is because it is the price of our freedom and the crucible of an adult faith. Faced with doubt, Catholic wisdom advises distinguishing difficulty from doubt, making no decision in the night, nourishing the intelligence of faith, returning to prayer and the sacraments, making the act of faith and seeking accompaniment. Doubt then ceases to be a threat and becomes a path.
To go further
- Why does God seem silent? — the trial of God's felt absence.
- How to explain the problem of evil? — the objection that most shakes faith.
- What is discernment of spirits? — recognising what comes from God in the night.
- How to know whether an inspiration comes from God?
- Does God hear every prayer? — prayer without wavering according to Saint James.
- How to answer the science-against-faith objection?
- How to choose a spiritual director? — not crossing the night alone.
- How to read the Catechism? — nourishing the intelligence of faith.
Notes and References
Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 2088, Mame/Plon, 1992. Section on the first commandment, "Sins against faith." This is the reference text distinguishing voluntary doubt (sin) from involuntary doubt (not guilty).
1 9 10 14Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 157. The paragraph cites Saint Thomas Aquinas (Summa theologiae, II-II, q. 171, a. 5, obj. 3) and concludes with Newman's formula: "'Ten thousand difficulties do not make a single doubt' (Newman, apol.)."
2 13Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, II-II, q. 4, a. 8. Faith is more certain simpliciter (as to its cause, the infallible divine Truth) than the intellectual virtues, but less certain quoad nos (as to us, because its object exceeds human reason). Latin text: "fides certior est illis tribus [scientia, sapientia, intellectus]… simpliciter quidem fides est certior."
3Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, II-II, q. 2, a. 1, taking up the definition of Saint Augustine (De praedestinatione sanctorum, bk. I, chap. 5): "credere est cum assensione cogitare" ("to believe is to think with assent"). Faith adheres firmly to one side, like science, but without full evidence — hence its proper nature, between opinion and science.
4Saint Paul, First Letter to the Corinthians 13:12 and Second Letter to the Corinthians 5:7. French wording taken from the Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 164, which cites these two verses; the Jerusalem Bible (ed. du Cerf) renders 1 Cor 13:12: "in a mirror, enigmatically".
5Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 164, on the obscurity of faith and its trial through the experience of evil and suffering.
6Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 158, citing Saint Augustine (Sermo 43, 7, 9) and Saint Anselm (Proslogion, prooem.) for the formula fides quaerens intellectum.
7Saint Augustine, Sermo 43, 7, 9 (PL 38). Formula "Crede ut intelligas" ("Believe so that you may understand"), coupled with its counterpart "Intellige ut credas" ("Understand so that you may believe"). To be distinguished from the Anselmian reformulation "Credo ut intelligam."
8Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 1814, on faith as the first of the three theological virtues (faith, hope, charity), "by which we believe in God and believe all that he has said and revealed to us."
11Saint John Henry Newman, Apologia pro Vita Sua (1864), chapter V, "Position of My Mind since 1845." Original English text: "Ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt, as I understand the subject; difficulty and doubt are incommensurate." The formula is taken up by the Catechism of the Catholic Church in § 157.
12Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 2089. The definition of heresy, apostasy and schism reproduces verbatim the Code of Canon Law, canon 751.
15Gospel according to Saint Mark 9:24, Jerusalem Bible, ed. du Cerf. Greek: "Πιστεύω· βοήθει μου τῇ ἀπιστίᾳ" (Pisteuō; boēthei mou tē apistia), literally "I believe; help my unbelief."
16Gospel according to Saint John 20:24-29, Jerusalem Bible. Episode of the apostle Thomas (Didymus). V. 29: "Because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed!" (Greek in the perfect: "ὅτι ἑώρακάς με πεπίστευκας").
17 18Gospel according to Saint Matthew 14:31, Jerusalem Bible. Jesus "stretched out his hand and caught him" before saying: "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" (Greek oligopiste, "you of little faith").
19Letter of Saint James 1:6-8, Jerusalem Bible. The Greek term diakrinomenos (v. 6) denotes the one who "wavers," who is divided; v. 8 speaks of the "double-minded man, unstable in all his ways."
20Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Manuscript C (June 1897), f° 5 v°, in Story of a Soul. Critical edition of the Complete Works, Cerf/DDB. The trial against faith occupied the last eighteen months of her life (from Easter 1896 to her death on 30 September 1897).
21Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Manuscript C, f° 6 v° – 7 r°. Thérèse makes darkness speak: "borrowing the voice of sinners, [they] say to me mockingly: … an even darker night, the night of nothingness."
22Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Manuscript C, f° 6 r°. Thérèse writes that she sits "at the table of sinners" (allusion to the Gospel) to offer her trial on behalf of unbelievers, eating "the bread of sorrow" as long as God wills it.
23Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Manuscript C, f° 7 r°. "I content myself with simply singing what I want to believe." Thérèse herself underlines "I want to believe" in the manuscript.
24Saint Teresa of Calcutta, letter to a confessor, 1959, in Come Be My Light (ed. Brian Kolodiejchuk, Doubleday, 2007; Fr. trans. Viens, sois ma lumière, Parole et Silence, 2008). Original English text: "In my soul I feel just that terrible pain of loss — of God not wanting me — of God not being God — of God not really existing."
25Saint Teresa of Calcutta, Come Be My Light, ed. Brian Kolodiejchuk, Doubleday, 2007. Original English text: "If I ever become a Saint — I will surely be one of 'darkness.'" The postulator of her cause interprets this night as a mystical sharing in Christ's thirst, not as a loss of faith.
26Saint John of the Cross, The Dark Night (Noche oscura), book II, and The Ascent of Mount Carmel, book II. The obscure night of the spirit is a passive purification by which God strips the soul of its sensible and intellectual supports to make it believe with a barer faith.
27Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 165: "the Virgin Mary who, in the 'pilgrimage of faith,' even went into the 'night of faith' in sharing the darkness of her Son's suffering and death." The formula "night of faith" refers to the encyclical Redemptoris Mater (John Paul II, 1987, no. 18).
28Blaise Pascal, Pensées, fragment Lafuma 242 / Sellier 275 (section Foundation), citing Isaiah 45:15: "Vere tu es Deus absconditus" ("Truly, thou art a hidden God"). Pascal: "Any religion which does not say that God is hidden is not true."
29Blaise Pascal, Pensées, fragment Lafuma 149 / Sellier 182. "There is enough light for those who only desire to see, and enough obscurity for those who have a contrary disposition."
30Joseph Ratzinger (Benedict XVI), Introduction to Christianity (1968), part one, chapter I, "Doubt and faith — man's situation before the question of God." Ratzinger shows there that believer and unbeliever both share doubt, which prevents each from shutting himself in false certitude. (Idea reported in paraphrase after the argument of the chapter.)
31Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, "Rules for the discernment of spirits," rule 5 (no. 318): "In time of desolation never to make a change, but to be firm and constant in the resolutions taken the day before such desolation."
32Saint Alphonsus Liguori, The Great Means of Prayer (Del gran mezzo della preghiera, Naples, 1759), chapter I. Saint Alphonsus teaches that perseverance and decisive graces are infallibly obtained through persevering prayer: "He who prays is saved; he who does not pray is damned."
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