I'm a Catholic Christian, but probably not the kind you're thinking of.

Too often, Christianity is associated with judgmentalism, magical thinking, moralism, and stale traditions. My spirituality isn't about any of that.

It's not heaven-focused or sin-obsessed. I don't believe in simplistic, Santa-like versions of God, or the idea that anyone had to die for me to be whole.

I’m not about statues, novenas, or incense.

My Christianity is about humility, not superiority. It's a call to love and serve, not judge. It's about compassion, kindness, and human dignity—a path of meaning, not magic.

I follow a Jesus who cared about people flourishing, especially the lowly and the marginalized, and creating a world based on love.

My style of Catholicism prioritizes simplicity. Big-box churches, baroque cathedrals, rosaries, praise bands, cloying Marian devotion, charismatic gifts, and Latin Masses don't resonate. I also find the influence of Evangelical theology on Christian thought deeply troubling. The biblical idolatry, legalism, and fundamentalism it has unleashed are repugnant.

Instead, I strive for spiritual realism, focusing on love and simplicity. My touchstones are silence, meditation, love of neighbor, the Eucharist, and simple rituals.

I attend Mass, but I’m also comfortable in ecumenical settings and believe that we all must imagine new forms of Christian communities that are organic, authentic, and reach beyond the fading institutional arrangements.

I’m a liminal Catholic

The word liminal originates from the Latin word limen, meaning threshold. It refers to doorways and entrances, boundaries and blurred lines, and spaces in between.

The Irish concept of a thin place is similar. Thin places are entries and exits, blended spaces with spiritual meaning, where one reality starts and another ends.

Like a shoreline between sand and sea, a liminal Catholic spiritual path is a space between traditional and nontraditional practices and thinking. It is a space between theologies, interpretations, and standard customs and stances.

This means I find meaning on Catholic shores, but with one foot in the sand of tradition and one foot in the waters of a Catholicism yet to be.

My spirituality and religious thinking are liminal, weaving together Catholic and Celtic Christian elements, ideas, and stances.

I engage from the margins. I don’t pretend to speak for others or the Church.

I affirm a Catholic Christianity shaped by the following convictions:

1. That following the path of Jesus can lead to healing and wholeness, a mystical connection to the Divine, as well as an awareness of the Oneness and Unity of all life.

2. That we should draw from diverse sources of knowledge and wisdom, including science, psychology, social science, and the arts, in our spiritual journey.

3. We have an obligation to create communities that are inclusive of all people of goodwill.

4. That the way we behave towards one another is the fullest expression of what we believe. Particularly, how we treat the lowly, the vulnerable, and those hard to love.

5. Fundamentalism is a spiritual illness. Church teaching and tradition should inform our search for understanding and meaning, but there is also value in questioning with an open mind and open heart.

6. Violence is to be avoided when possible. War, punishment, and authoritarian solutions are never to be celebrated. Work must strive toward peace, justice, and mercy among all people and all life on Earth.

7. We must affirm human dignity and. respect the sanctity of all life at all stages, show kindness to animals, and preserve the integrity of our ecosystem.

8. Christians are called to a path of life-long learning, compassion, and selfless love on this journey toward a personally authentic and meaningful life.

(Adapted from the Center for Progressive Christianity)

Christian maturity requires deeply internalizing church teaching in a way that preserves intellectual integrity. Engaging intellectually and theologically with the church does not permit juvenile shortcuts, like relying on the church to think for you. 

A mature Catholic thoughtfully and respectfully considers and immerses themselves in Church teachings. This is an ongoing responsibility. However, mature participation involves critical evaluation, nuance, and personal internalization of Church teachings. If questions or disagreements arise, one does not need to leave the Church.

When the Code of Canon Law was revised in 1983, significant emphasis was placed on the rights of the laity as full and active members of the Church, including, for example, the right to express their opinions based on their knowledge, expertise, and conscience.

However, with adult rights come adult responsibilities. As members of the Body of Christ, our primary responsibility is maintaining communion with the Church, supporting its growth and well-being, and spreading the Gospel through words and actions. 

Far from being harmful, disagreement can assist the Church in developing its teachings more convincingly or accurately. In other words, disagreement is one thing; the way we disagree is another.

Canon Law and the US Conference of Catholic Bishops have outlined the requirements for respectful disagreement with the church. Let’s explore five fundamental principles contained in those requirements.

First, we must affirm the Church's legitimate teaching role. The Church has the right and duty to teach, and claiming a Catholic identity involves respectful engagement with its teachings. 

Second, authentic disagreement clarifies the levels of authority among different teachings. Not every teaching holds the same level of importance or development. Rejecting a core dogma or doctrine differs from disagreeing with a Church rule regarding liturgical postures or clerical celibacy.

Third, responsible disagreement only occurs when, after careful and ongoing study and reflection, the explanation of a particular teaching remains unconvincing. The need to follow one’s conscience includes the responsibility to form that conscience well over time, considering the best available knowledge and Church teachings themselves.

Fourth, responsible disagreement is concerned with how we express disagreement. Is the disagreement made public? Is it used to portray the Church in a negative light? Is the disagreement based on a correct interpretation of teaching, and do I have the competence and expertise on the topic I am questioning? 

If we disagree with the church, we must accept the duty to contribute to new understandings and reformulate its teaching. In other words, our disagreement should be constructive, not destructive. Above all, it requires respect and charity toward those we disagree with.

We must never forget that there is a fine line between intellectual and spiritual integrity and intellectual and spiritual arrogance. Catholicism can only transform and improve us if we willingly allow it and cultivate a critical awareness of its wisdom. 

Who hasn’t encountered Catholics and other Christians who presume to tell others exactly what true Christianity teaches and then require obedience to and conformity with such?

Such attitudes tend to be accompanied by efforts to exclude and harass those who don’t align with the perceived correct theology or set of practices.

The problem with those who make up the theology police is that they are often fixated on limited explanations of mysteries. There is a fetishization of certain teachings, thinkers, particular periods of church history, styles of worship, and manners of explication.

Reading a few magazine articles, watching EWTN, and occasionally picking up the Bible or the Catechism do not make one a theologian.

Exclusion, rejection, and a lack of charity are not a Christian response to those with whom we disagree.

I don’t begrudge anyone expressing their style of Catholicism, Christianity, or spirituality, but I resist anyone claiming their style to be required and attempting to thrust it onto others.

Those who position themselves as the enforcers of religious and spiritual purity would do well to revisit the gospels. In the narratives, their counterparts are not the beloved disciples but the Pharisees.

Catholicism has substantially shaped my Christianity. My understanding of human dignity, much of my social philosophy, and my appreciation of philosophical theology are all deeply rooted in Catholic tradition.

Another central influence is Celtic culture and spirituality. Living in Ireland for several years prompted extensive study and immersion into Celtic values and practices.

Given the above, the following academic areas have also been significant influences on my spirituality and theological thinking:

Catholic Personalism, particularly through the lens of Gabriel Marcel, Pope John Paul II, John F. Crosby, and Christian Smith, emphasizes the dignity and inherent value of each person, calling for this dignity to be consistently affirmed.

Historical Jesus Scholarship enriches my understanding of Jesus’ life and teachings. Scholars such as John Dominic Crossan, John P. Meier, and Stephen Patterson provide historical context, grounding my theology in the real, human Jesus, whose ministry informs my commitment to compassion, mercy, and justice.

Celtic Christianity has profoundly shaped my spirituality, and I share the Celtic sense of sacramentality in nature, as well as the value of simple rituals. I also value hospitality and availability, two strong Celtic values. Simplicity and silence are core aspects of Celtic spirituality.

The Nouvelle Théologie has enriched my thinking, particularly through the works of De Lubac, Von Balthasar, Schillebeeckx, Congar, Dulles, John Paul II, and the documents of the Second Vatican Council.

Catholic Social Thought informs my social and political views, relying on the modern social encyclicals and social documents of Vatican II. In this same area, the contributions of Radical Orthodoxy also play a significant role.

Ecumenical, Post-Denominational Ecclesiology broadens my vision of Christian community beyond denominational and institutional boundaries. As institutional forms of Christianity decline and fade, new forms of organic spiritual community must arise.

Fundamentally influenced by Celtic Christianity, my spiritual practice is intentionally simple and revolves around the following.

• Mindfulness & Contemplation - I seek to be fully present in the moment, focused on the now, and not scattered in thought, intention, and actions. My prayer life is a blend of silence, contemplation, and reflection.

• Simplicity - I practice voluntary simplicity and seek to maintain an uncluttered home, schedule, emotional, and spiritual life. In a culture of excess, speed, and needless complexity, less is more.

• Simple Rituals - lighting a candle to welcome the sabbath, daily reading of the Gospels, and attending weekly Mass.

• Celebrating the Seasons - my Celtic influences have instilled an appreciation of the sacramentality of nature and the unfolding of the seasons. I find meaning in nature’s rhythms and cycles. I celebrate the Celtic festivals as well as observing the Christian liturgical calendar.

• Hospitality & Availability - I strive to keep an open mind, heart, door, table, and hand. We need others to thrive and live meaningful lives. Authentic connections require a soil rich in hospitality and availability, intentionally carving out space for others in our lives.

• Ideas and Discussions - I enjoy gathering people together to discuss ideas, theology, culture, and spirituality. I find benefits in reading and writing it.

Moral legalism, often mistaken for fidelity to truth, distorts truth and love.

Legalism is defined as overemphasizing conformity to rules at the expense of context or compassion. It reduces moral truth to a sterile code and love to mere compliance.

Legalism is neither truth’s fullness nor love’s transformative power—it’s simply a hollow rigor. Mercy, by contrast, holds truth and love together, neither relativistically lax nor legalistically cruel. It judges sin but redeems sinners —a balance that legalism cannot strike.

Truth and love, thus inseparable, frame mercy as their synthesis. Truth without love ossifies; love without truth drifts. Together, they ensure that mercy upholds reality while extending grace —a balance that relativism cannot claim.

Mercy, then, is an aspect of truth’s telos—its end and perfection. It neither bends reality nor bows to whim but crowns truth with grace, fulfilling its promise of life (John 10:10).

I invite you to explore the theology presented in the other navigation sections of this site.

These ideas are still evolving, and I don’t claim to have all the answers.

You don’t need to agree with me; I hope we can find common ground, engage in dialogue with one another, and learn from each other.

Join me in this ongoing conversation, and let’s see where these evolving ideas take us together.