In the final analysis, the Catholic Church exists in a place of mystery in between two worlds: one that we live in now and one that lies beyond earth and awaits us after death, where God resides, and that we, periodically, sacredly touch. Some people, because of their heritage, age, preconceived condition, spiritual proclivity, empathic connections, or other factors, are comfortable existing in that in-between space. Others, because of contrary circumstances, are very uncomfortable there and prefer clear lines of demarcation.

In-between places are difficult for some of us to conceptualize. It might help to think of common atmospheric conditions like mist or fog that are not quite rain and not quite air, not clear but also not invisible, or a stage in life as common as teenage years when we’re not really kids and, at the same time, not adults, or a common state of existence like dreams that are not unconscious occurrences but un-awakened conscious encounters, or even common non-primary colors: green, purple, orange, and gray that is somewhere between black and white. Some cultures—the Irish come to mind—are more apt to accept these veiled places, thin spaces, or in-between realities because of their historical openness to the comingling of things seen and unseen; they are not rattled by obscure actualities that lack elucidation. 

In religion, many of us seek structure, clarity, rules, and parameters, while in spirituality, we desire a peaceful existence in what is unclear or unclarified. Jesus seemed to be content with in-between realities and encouraged others be at peace there, even discover a deeper truth in those thinly veiled realities. He was often pulled into arguments with church leaders who were sticklers of law because they were tied to a narrow understanding or strict enactment of things. When the Pharisees or Sanhedrin wanted everything defined as legal or illegal, black or white, right or wrong, relative or absolute, sinful or acceptable, He saw another truth that was in between, that rose above them, or that existed in mystery. The church, in imitation of Christ, teaches us to use our well-informed conscience to apply objective standards, like doctrine and laws, to situations before us while inculcating religious social principles, like human dignity, common good, solidarity, and subsidiarity. But many of us don’t want to do the work; we’d rather be told what to do and complain about it. As numerous popes and other church leaders have stated in various words, those who cling to a rigid mindset are far from the heart of Jesus.

We know there is a place somewhere between stringency and blowing in the wind. As a society, we contend with many profound issues, like war, and, as citizens we argue meaningful guidelines, like the church’s Just War Theory. In doing so, we realize that, though all wars are a defeat for humanity, nations have the right to defend themselves and weaker targets against unjust aggression. Such defense or response constitutes a just war action. The world also deals with deadly threats to annihilate civilization from crazed nations and groups. This unease suggests that there is also an actuality somewhere between a just and unjust war, though it is a foggy, misty place to be. It is challenging to abide in such in-between spaces. But by doing so, we can discover much more about the mystery of living our faith in worldly complexities.

We need solid anchors in our lives to ground us; we need an interior compass to direct us; we need to live in the moment so we can encounter what is before us; and we need to dwell in mystery knowing that God resides there with us. I suggest that we will have healthier and holier lives closer to God and one another if we can move from places of rigidity, relativity, polarity, and certainty, and become more comfortable in those mysterious in-between places.