How Rebuilding Trust Will Foster Belonging In Catholicism

Falling in love with mountaineering has altered my life in so many ways, but it hasn’t changed the fact that I’m still scared of heights. I was reminded of this truth during one of my first climbs. Excited, I scrambled up the rock face until I reached not quite halfway, and there I caught my first glimpse of the ground below. Several stories up, I realized a fall meant an ER trip, and I immediately froze. But I was roped in, secure in a harness, with my belayer standing steadfast, encouraging me to keep going. It wasn’t enough to tell me I could reach the top; I had to trust my belayer to finish the route.  

Belonging is like rock climbing. It’s tough; we have to trust those supporting us, and we have to earn and maintain that trust. We are drawn to community more than ever because, as Saint Mother Teresa identified decades ago, the great poverty in this country is one of loneliness. But when it comes to fostering community, it’s not enough to tell people they belong. They have to feel safe enough to risk showing up.

The Catholic Church is uniquely positioned to continue its tradition of helping those in need to find a place of deep spiritual belonging. But after decades of falling short, many people don’t trust the Church enough to continue the arduous climb toward community. If its people hope to become the antidote to loneliness and foster the kind of connections our world needs, we will need to prove it is worthy of our trust again. From where I sit, there are at least three ways to get started.

Learn

After a minute or two of me not moving, I’m sure my belayer had a sense of what was going on. This wasn’t his first time taking people rock climbing. He’d learned from experience and was likely running through ideas to help me keep climbing up or get down safely. The burden wasn’t just on me to get myself out of the conundrum.

It can be easy to unknowingly put the weight of explaining on another person whose history we don’t share. We rely on them to explain their experiences, pain, and struggles and what we can do to support them. Imagine if the belayer had just kept asking me what he should do? Talk with people, but also take time to learn and listen to stories on your own, and you’ll discover the contours of common hardship, perhaps questions to avoid, or what subjects foster connection. It’s an act of service when we learn about people’s backgrounds that are different from our own, and we can love people better when we’ve heard stories like theirs before.

Language

Can you imagine what would have gone through my mind if I heard my fellow climbers shouting encouragement while whispering What’s wrong? Why can’t he just keep climbing? Which do you think would have had a bigger impact on my psyche?

Language matters. The words we use can bring us together or drive us apart. And the words we use to describe the “other” side open a window into how we view them. If we only speak about a topic with compassion when we’re around the group that topic impacts, do we truly have compassion toward this group? We can disagree, but not in a way that negates someone’s experience or belittles their humanity. It’s not recognizing their inherent dignity.

Listen

Stuck on that wall, with my arms and legs starting to shake, it took my belayer lobbing questions at me to uncover that I didn’t trust he’d catch me if I fell. He couldn’t help me move forward without understanding what was holding me back. We can’t speak into someone’s life if we don’t know the journey they’re on, and that takes listening.

Numerous times, I’ve shared about the unique challenges of experiencing same-sex attractions when well-meaning individuals will respond with, We’re all sinners; we’re all called to chastity. That’s like if my belayer had just kept shouting at me, you’re fine; keep climbing. Listening is a profound act of mercy where we show people that their lives and stories matter.  Even Jesus, who knew the needs of the people he was healing, gave them the dignity of asking What do you want me to do for you?

We’re on this journey toward heaven together, each on our own route, but that doesn’t mean we’re going at it alone. A good climbing partner and a good community foster connection. Trust isn’t demanded; it’s earned, and we are the antidote to the poverty of loneliness when we foster belonging, and we foster belonging when we build trust.

If you need help figuring out where to start, check out my resource page.