Over the holidays, I watched the new film Conclave, a suspenseful look at the secretive world of Vatican traditions and the political maneuvering of cardinals as they gather to elect a new pope. The film is based on a novel I read last year, by Robert Harris.
This isn’t the place to delve into the cinematography, performances, or score (all good), nor to unpack the story’s over-the-top plot twist. Set aside the palace intrigue; what stood out to me was the thread running through the narrative—an ongoing battle between “progressives” and “traditionalists” in the Catholic Church.
Certainty vs. Doubt: The Central Debate
The story sets up factions of cardinals, some more aligned with a liberalizing vision for the Church and others who believe the faithful need something solid. Cardinal Tedesco represents the traditionalist vision, at one point offering a speech that echoes both Pope Benedict XVI’s “dictatorship of relativism” and G. K. Chesterton’s quote about the Church moving the world.
Your task, cardinal-electors, is to choose a new captain who will ignore the doubters among us and hold the rudder fast. Every day, some new “ism” arises. But not all ideas are of equal value. Not every opinion can be given due weight. Once we succumb to “the dictatorship of relativism,” as it has been properly called, and attempt to survive by accommodating ourselves to every passing sect and fad of modernism, our ship is lost. We do not need a Church that will move with the world but a Church that will move the world.
Tedesco stands as the foil to Cardinal Thomas Lawrence, the overseer of the conclave, played by Ralph Fiennes. Lawrence, representing the progressive vision, delivers a pivotal speech, nearly word-for-word from Harris’s novel:
My brothers and sisters, in the course of a long life in the service of our Mother the Church, let me tell you that the one sin I have come to fear more than any other is certainty. Certainty is the great enemy of unity. Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance. Even Christ was not certain at the end. He cried out in His agony at the ninth hour on the cross. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand in hand with doubt. If there was only certainty, and if there was no doubt, there would be no mystery, and therefore no need for faith. . . . Let us pray that the Lord will grant us a Pope who doubts, and by his doubts continues to make the Catholic faith a living thing that may inspire the whole world. Let Him grant us a Pope who sins, and asks forgiveness, and carries on.
Notice the assumptions here. Certainty isn’t only a sin but one of the most fearful. Unity is good, tolerance is indispensable, and certainty threatens both. We’re most like Christ when we’re uncertain, as he seemed to be on the cross, and our faith is made more real the more we doubt, because certainty is a dead thing that resolves all mystery and makes faith unnecessary. In the life of faith, certainty is a vice, and doubt is a virtue.
To this, a simple response is in order: Hogwash!
Power of Doubt?
Look first at the Gospels. Jesus nowhere commends doubt. Instead, we see him chastising his disciples for their lack of faith, or asking in frustration, “Why did you doubt?” When he praises people, it’s for their faith—faith that amazes him, no matter the person’s background. “Don’t be afraid,” he says. “Just believe.”
Look also at church history. It’s not doubt that brings unity to the church but confidence. It’s certainty in the truth of God’s Word. It’s confidence in the great creeds of the faith. Unity flows from confession of truth, not from a posture of perpetual uncertainty.
What’s more, we see throughout history inspiring examples of faith—especially those who endured the dark night of the soul or the relentless whispers of the Evil One. It isn’t doubt that inspires the world but faith overcoming doubt. We don’t remember Perpetua and Felicity for cowering before the wild beasts in the amphitheater but for their courage and conviction. We read works today not from men and women in the past whose muddled ponderings betrayed their uncertainties but from those who strenuously sought the truth and made clear affirmations, no matter the cost.
Of course, the life of faith isn’t easy. Thomas doubted the reality of the resurrection. A number of disciples doubted the truth even after they’d seen the risen Lord. Struggle is to be expected. That’s why Jude tells us to “have mercy on those who doubt.” Honesty about our doubt is a virtue, but it’s the honesty that’s commendable, not the doubt itself.
You’d be hard-pressed to find anything before the past century that would cast certainty and confidence as a sin; something opposed to unity; or to tolerance; or, heaven forbid, to faith. The great Dutch theologian Herman Bavinck titled one of his books The Certainty of Faith. “Certainty” in itself isn’t responsible for the persecution of enemies. It all depends on what we’re certain about. Someone certain of the truth of Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount will be more inclined to withstand persecution than to spread it.
Doubt and Confidence
To be clear, we’re not talking about Enlightenment-style certainty that presumes exhaustive knowledge of God’s mysteries. What we need is a deep and abiding confidence in God’s love and grace—a knowing in our bones that God is real, that Jesus is alive, that we’re loved, that all will be well in the end. “I know whom I have believed . . .” we sing. Lesslie Newbigin put it this way: “[It isn’t] the confidence of one who claims possession of demonstrable and indubitable knowledge. It is the confidence of one who had heard and answered the call that comes from the God through whom and for whom all things were made: ‘Follow Me.’”
I realize one reason some want to recast doubt as virtue and make certainty a vice—it’s in response to churches that squelch hard questions, that act in craven and self-focused ways, or that suppress any expression of doubt or uncertainty, thereby forcing tender consciences into hiding. In these communities, shame accompanies struggle. No wonder some might react negatively to a certain faith that leaves no room for doubt.
But the problem in these faith communities is dishonesty, not certainty. The problem is hypocrisy, not a settled faith.
Doubt is a normal part of the Christian life. As Philip Ryken says,
Faith and doubt are not like the on and off alternatives of a toggle switch but are more like settings on a dimmer switch. Sometimes our faith burns bright. Sometimes it grows dim. . . . Where do we stand at this moment in the dynamic between faith and doubt? And what would it take for the Holy Spirit to brighten our belief?
That’s the right posture. We swing between faith and doubt at times, but the goal isn’t to celebrate doubt—it’s for our faith to shine brighter. If doubts are winning and our faith is dim, we want to alter that situation, not remain in it. “Help my unbelief!” we cry.
The Christian life will sometimes involve dark nights of the soul, seasons of spiritual dryness, unexpected bouts of sickness and suffering, and intellectual hang-ups with some of Christianity’s most audacious truth claims. Struggle doesn’t mean you’re a bad Christian, just a normal one. Still, we’re never told to celebrate our doubts but to press through them toward a fortified faith on the other side.
Brad East makes this point in Letters to a Future Saint:
Doubt is not a landing spot. It’s a way station. It’s an obstacle on the path. It’s real, it’s hard, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. But neither is it something to desire or seek. What we’re after is Christ. The mark of following him well is faithfulness. . . . The martyrs don’t die for a question mark. They die for the living Christ. He will absolutely accompany me in my doubts and anxieties. His full desire, though, is to free me of them.
Amen! So, enough with the valorization of doubt! There’s nothing compelling about a person who says, “Come to Jesus, so you can be as unsettled as I am!” It’s perseverance that draws, confidence that convicts, and faith that moves mountains.
If you would like my future articles sent to your email, as well as a curated list of books, podcasts, and helpful links I find online, enter your address.
