When Pride Replaces Reverence: A Call to Catholic Fidelity

Faith Hakesley
Jul 13
4 min read

+JMJ+ Not too long ago, I watched an interview with Fr. Dan Rehill, a Catholic priest, exorcist, and fellow survivor of clerical abuse. He covered many important topics in his conversation with Matt Fradd, but a few moments particularly stayed with me. One is when he spoke about the authority survivors of abuse carry—not because we sought it out, but because we lived through something soul-crushing. That lived experience gives us a certain credibility when we speak on matters of faith, pain, perseverance, and healing.

This struck a chord with me. I’ve always hesitated to see myself as an authority on anything, especially in matters so deeply personal and painful. I never want to tell someone how they should react to trauma, particularly trauma as devastating as sexual abuse by a priest. However, I’ve also seen something over the years that compels me to speak.

I’ve seen too many Catholics walk away from the Church, not because they have been sexually abused, but over hard truths. Some leave out of anger at the abuse crisis. Others leave because a priest said something in a homily that made them uncomfortable or that they disagreed with. Still others leave over personal disagreement with Church teaching whether on sexuality, marriage, contraception, gender, or other moral issues.

Let’s be honest: leaving over a disagreement over church teaching is not always about trauma. It’s often about pride.

I have witnessed it firsthand (as I am sure many of you have)—people standing up and walking out of Mass because the priest dared to preach the truth. I’m talking about the actual teachings of the Catholic Church: on the dignity of human life, the sanctity of marriage, the destructive nature of contraception, the truth about the human person, including sexuality and gender, etc.

Even if you disagreed with a priest about something he preached regarding his personal opinions or political talking points, leaving is not the right course of action. To walk away from the altar of Christ because the truth unsettles you is not bravery. It’s not prophetic witness. It’s a spiritual tantrum.

On a side note, I am in no way suggesting we don't speak up. We absolutely should speak up when necessary!

However, walking away is placing personal comfort and opinion above 2,000 years of Church teaching, Sacred Tradition, and ultimately, above the will of God. It says, “I know better than the Church. I know better than God.”

That isn’t faithfulness. That’s idolatry of self.

I say this not in judgment, but as someone who has every earthly reason to leave the Church. Yet, I haven’t.

I was abused by a Catholic priest. I have sat through Mass with my rapist on the altar, looking directly at me. It's an experience I can't quite put into words. I have felt nauseous in the pew. I have experienced spiritual desolation, physical brokenness, and emotional devastation. And yet, I stayed. I didn’t stay for the priest, for good homilies, or because everything felt good or easy. I stayed because Jesus is there.

If I can sit through that kind of torment and remain—if I can return to the very parish where my abuse took place and still kneel before the Eucharist—then surely others can endure a homily they don’t like. Surely, they can remain when challenged.

To hear people say they’ll leave the Church because of a single statement or sermon is disheartening and disturbing.

Yes, irreverence at Mass can be painful. Yes, liturgical abuses wound. Yes, sometimes a priest might say something poorly or even something that goes against church teaching. Sometimes switching to another parish is the prudent thing to do for our own sanity and growth. But none of that changes the truth: the Eucharist is still the Eucharist. Christ is still present—Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity.

If we truly believe that, how can we walk away so lightly?

Catholicism is not about comfort. It’s not about affirmation. It’s about transformation. The Church doesn’t exist to echo our opinions (at least, it shouldn’t). It exists to sanctify us, to challenge us, and to call us to holiness.

So the next time you’re tempted to walk away because of a hard teaching, an uncomfortable truth, or a homily that feels more political than pastoral, pause. Look at the crucifix. Remember why you’re really there.

You are not at Mass for a priest. You are not at Mass for a cause, a choir, or a social group.

You are at Mass for Jesus.

Jesus does not conform Himself to us. Rather, He invites us to conform ourselves to Him.

If survivors like me can stay—if we can kneel through memories and triggers and wounds that cut to the soul—then you, too, can remain. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

To remain faithful when we least want to is the narrow road. That is fidelity. That is love.