My Catechetical Reflections on Paragraphs 27 to 44 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church
When we begin the profession of faith by saying “I believe”, we affirm more than a mere intellectual assent; we make an act of trust and surrender. The Catechism reminds us that, before delving into the details of Christian doctrine—such as the articles of the Creed, the sacraments, the commandments and prayer—it is essential to understand what it means to believe.
Believing is a response to a divine initiative: it is not man who takes the first step, but God who reveals Himself and offers Himself to man.
Faith, therefore, is not our own invention, but a welcoming, a free “yes” to the truth that God communicates to us. This response, however, can only be fully understood in the light of the natural thirst that human beings have for meaning.
Every person, at some point in life, comes up against fundamental questions: “Who am I?”, “Where did I come from?”, “Where am I going?”, “What gives meaning to suffering, death, joy, love?”
Thus, the Catechism begins by recognising this universal search, this restlessness carved into the heart of every person. It is from this thirst that man opens himself to the possibility of encountering Someone who goes beyond reason but who also enlightens it: God.
God, in His goodness, does not remain distant. He comes to meet us through Revelation: He communicates, shows Himself, makes Himself known. This Revelation culminates in the Person of Jesus Christ, the eternal Word made flesh. Christian faith is therefore not based on abstract ideas or fleeting emotions, but on a living relationship with a God who speaks, acts and invites.
This divine initiative is the foundation of our faith. That is why the Catechism organises its exposition beginning with this dynamic: human searching, divine revelation, and the response of faith. And that is why the Creed begins with God. We do not start by speaking of the human being, of the Church, or of ourselves, because God is the origin of everything.
Christian faith is theocentric: it starts from God, walks with God and returns to God. We begin the Creed with “I believe in God” because He is the source of existence, of salvation, of truth and of the fullness we seek. We begin with God because without Him, nothing else makes sense; everything comes from Him and everything must return to Him.
This beginning also reveals the humility proper to faith: we do not place the “I” at the centre, but the divine “You”. To believe is an act of leaving oneself in order to trust in Someone greater. It is to recognise that life is not the work of chance, but a free gift from a loving Father. Beginning with God is an act of reverence, of order and of truth: we place reality as it truly is, with God at the centre.
Thus, from the outset, we see that the Catechism proposes an itinerary that respects the dynamic of the encounter between man and God. It begins with human restlessness, passes through God’s loving manifestation, and culminates in faith as a response. To begin the Creed with God is not merely a liturgical or doctrinal choice, but the natural expression of the truth we profess: God loved us first (1 Jn 4:19), and so we believe in Him first.
I. The Desire for God
Christian faith does not begin with a set of rules or formal adherence to doctrine, but with an essential truth about the human person: we were created with an innate desire for God. This spiritual thirst, inscribed in the very depths of the human heart, is the spark that drives us to seek meaning, truth and fulfilment.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church, when it begins its exposition on faith, starts precisely from this universal reality of the human soul: we are beings who desire God, even when we do not know how to name that desire.
Man was created by God and for God. This simple affirmation carries unfathomable depth. It reveals that we are not the product of chance, nor beings thrown into the world without direction.
Our origin lies in God’s creative love, and our destiny is communion with Him. God, who made us free, never imposes His presence, but draws us with patient love. He offers Himself to the human heart not as an obligation, but as the answer to the deepest yearning of the soul: to find a definitive meaning for existence.
This desire for God is not a religious phenomenon restricted to one group or one era.
Throughout history, in diverse cultures, man has expressed his search for God through rituals, prayers, meditations, sacrifices and varied forms of worship.
Even though some of these expressions may contain errors or ambiguities, they testify to something magnificent: humanity is, by nature, religious. This religiosity is the echo of the soul seeking its Creator—a sign that the human heart was made to rise above itself and seek the transcendent.
Sacred Scripture also confirms this truth. In the Acts of the Apostles, St Paul states that God created all peoples so that they might seek Him and perhaps find Him.
“Though He is not far from each one of us, for in Him we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:26-28)
This passage shows that the search for God is part of God’s plan for man. It is not merely a human initiative but a response to a silent and constant call that comes from a God who allows Himself to be found.
Yet this intimate and vital relationship with God can be denied, forgotten or even fought against. The Catechism recognises that, although the human being thirsts for God, he is also capable of rejecting Him.
This estrangement can have many causes: the scandal of evil, ignorance, indifference, the attraction of riches, distraction with the concerns of the world, the bad example of believers and even the influence of ideologies that ridicule faith.
Each of these causes weakens spiritual sensitivity and leads man to live as if God did not exist.
More profoundly, the distance from God often arises from sin. Like Adam in Eden, sinful man fears the light that exposes his condition. So he hides, flees, tries to suffice himself.
Shame, pride or pain can cause man to withdraw from God’s invitation. Instead of opening himself to the love that saves, he shuts himself up in his own selfishness or in the false security that the world promises.
This distancing does not extinguish the desire for God but obscures it, making the soul restless and unsatisfied.
Despite all this, God never abandons man. He continues to call, to stir the heart, to awaken the conscience. Even when man does not seek, God is seeking him.
Even when man is silent, God speaks. This divine fidelity is the great hope of Christianity: we are sought, loved and awaited by our Creator. God is like a Father who never tires of looking towards the road, waiting for the return of the prodigal son.
Scripture exhorts us:
“Let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice.” (Ps 105:3)
There is a beatitude reserved for those who sincerely seek.
True joy is not found in easy answers or quick solutions, but in knowing that we are on the journey, in harmony with the ultimate meaning of life. To seek God is, in itself, an act of faith and trust—a surrender that ennobles the soul.
But this search is not superficial. It requires all the effort of the intellect, the uprightness of the will, and a sincere heart.
The encounter with God is not the fruit of passing emotion, but of a journey of openness, listening and perseverance. Desires must be purified, affections ordered, illusions overcome. It is a search that requires inner conversion and steadfastness.
Moreover, no one finds God alone. We need one another. The testimony of authentic believers can light in us the flame of search.
A father, a mother, a teacher, a friend, a saint—any person who lives faith coherently can be God’s instrument to awaken us. Faith is passed on through words but above all through transformed lives.
God acts through history and people. He reveals Himself in Scripture, but also in the small signs of daily life.
CCC 44 states: “Man is by nature and vocation a religious being. Coming from God and going towards God, man does not live a fully human life unless he freely lives by his bond with God.”
Divine pedagogy respects the time and freedom of each person, but it also makes use of mediations: a homily, a reading, a conversation, a pain, a moment of silence. Everything can become an occasion for an encounter with Him who is the origin and end of all things.
This dynamic between human search and divine initiative finds its most beautiful expression in prayer.
Prayer is, par excellence, the place where man’s desire for God and God’s love for man meet. When we pray, even imperfectly, we are responding to the call that God Himself planted within us.
St Augustine, with his profound wisdom and life experience, sums up this entire reality in a phrase that echoes through the centuries:
“You have made us for Yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.”
This restlessness is not a defect but a gift. It prevents us from settling for the illusions of the world and drives us to seek the true rest that only God can give.
The praise Augustine offers to God does not arise from perfection, but from his limited and sinful human condition. He acknowledges his smallness, his weakness, yet still desires to praise God. And he recognises that this very desire is provoked by God Himself, who draws us to Himself not by force, but by the sweetness of His truth.
It is in this praise, born of a soul that acknowledges its dependence on God, that man finds true freedom. When we stop fleeing, stop fighting against the truth, and simply surrender to God’s love, peace begins to blossom within us.
To live without recognising this love is to live beneath the truth. Human fulfilment is only realised when man freely gives himself to his Creator.
Outside of this surrender, all searches become empty, because they fail to reach their ultimate goal.
Faith, therefore, is not a set of empty rituals or moral obligations. It is, above all, the meeting of man’s desire with God’s love. It is the point of union between the thirst that moves us and the fountain that satisfies us.
Therefore, catechesis that begins by recognising this deep desire is more effective and true. When we help people to listen to this inner restlessness and to understand that it is a sign of God’s presence, we open the way to a more living, conscious and mature faith.
Evangelising, then, means awakening hearts. It is touching that dormant thirst and pointing to the fountain. It is showing that happiness is not in accumulating wealth, gaining status or escaping suffering, but in resting in the love of God who created us out of love and sustains us out of love.
This rest, this end, this peace we seek in so many places has already been promised to us. It suffices that, with humility, we let ourselves be found by Him who never tires of seeking us. For the human heart will only find its final dwelling when it is united, in love, to the heart of God.
II. The Ways of Access to the Knowledge of God
The human being, created in the image and likeness of God, carries within himself a calling: to know and love the One who created him. This vocation drives him to seek, and in this search, he finds signs, paths, marks left by God in creation.
The Church calls these paths “proofs of the existence of God,” not in the empirical sense as in the natural sciences, but as deeply rational, convincing, convergent arguments that lead to the certainty that God exists.
These ways of access to God are possible because human reason, illuminated and guided by the thirst for truth, is capable of perceiving order, meaning, origin, and destiny in created things.
They are starting points accessible to all: the world around us and man himself. Both, when contemplated with humility and intelligence, lead to the Creator.
Contemplation of the material world reveals to the attentive heart a harmony that transcends chance.
Order, movement, beauty, and the contingency of things do not point to themselves but to a higher cause. Everything that moves, everything that changes, has an origin, a reason for being. Nothing is absolute in itself.
St Paul, in his Letter to the Romans, affirms that the invisible perfections of God become visible through His works. In other words, creation is a reflection of divine majesty.
God reveals Himself in what He has created, so that no one can claim complete ignorance: the world speaks, and its silent language points to God.
St Augustine, with his profound spiritual sensitivity, invites us to question the beauty of creation. Every element of the universe responds with praise to its Creator.
The beauty we see is a reflection of eternal Beauty. And if creatures are beautiful, changing and passing away, how much more beautiful must He be who does not change, who is eternal, who is Beauty itself?
But it is not only the external world that bears witness to the existence of God. Man himself, in his interior, carries marks of his divine origin.
The ability to know truth, to appreciate beauty, to distinguish good from evil, to choose freely, and to listen to the voice of conscience are signs of a reality that transcends matter.
The human soul is open to the infinite. It desires more than the world can offer. There is in the human heart a thirst that no conquest, material good, or fleeting pleasure can satisfy.
This openness to the transcendent is a sign that man is not merely matter: he is spirit. And this spirit, irreducible to matter, points to a higher origin.
This spiritual soul is described by the Catechism as a “seed of eternity.” Even though the body ages and decays, the soul continues to search, to long, to hope. This restlessness points towards God.
The origin of such yearning cannot be something inferior; it can only come from Him who is eternal, pure spirit, the origin of all life.
Thus, the world and man do not possess in themselves either their beginning or their end. They participate in being but are not Being itself.
Therefore, there exists a necessary reality, without beginning or end, the cause of everything that exists. And this reality has been recognised throughout the ages by great philosophers and theologians as God.
These arguments, also called “paths” or “proofs” of the existence of God, were clearly formulated by thinkers such as Aristotle, Boethius, Thomas Aquinas, and many others.
They demonstrate that it is possible, through reason, to arrive at the knowledge of a personal, creating and provident God.
However, these proofs are not faith itself; they prepare the ground for faith. They are like signs pointing the way. Faith goes further because it does not merely recognise God’s existence but welcomes His revelation with love and enters into communion with Him.
Reason leads to the door; faith, guided by grace, crosses the threshold and enters into the mystery.
It is important to understand that these proofs are not impositions but invitations to dialogue. They do not force the intellect but offer reason solid grounds to perceive that believing is not irrational. On the contrary: faith is profoundly coherent with the structure of human thought.
In truth, faith and reason are like two wings that lift the human spirit towards the truth. When separated, reason becomes dry, and faith blind.
But when united, they lead man to the full knowledge of himself and of God. For this reason, Christianity has never rejected the use of reason but has always considered it an ally on the journey upwards.
God, who created us with intelligence, does not ask us to abandon it. On the contrary, He respects it and uses it as a bridge to encounter Him. And although these proofs do not replace faith, they show that believing is deeply reasonable, and that reason, when sincerely seeking truth, will always find the traces of the Creator.
Indeed, we can say that the universe and man himself are like two books written by God. The first reveals His majesty in the cosmos; the second, in the depths of the soul.
Whoever learns to read these books with humility and wisdom begins to perceive that we are not here by chance, but that we came from God and journey towards Him.
III. The Knowledge of God According to the Church
Holy Church firmly recognises and teaches that God can be known by human reason.
Even before speaking of faith or revelation, the Church affirms that the very nature of man, endowed with intelligence, is capable of arriving at knowledge of God by observing the created world.
Visible things are signs that point to a Creator. This is an ancient teaching, rooted in philosophical tradition and confirmed by Sacred Scripture.
This natural capacity that man has to know God is not accidental but arises from his very dignity: he was created in the image and likeness of the Creator.
This means that, just as God is rational, free, and relational, human beings share these characteristics in their spiritual soul.
We are made in such a way that we can recognise truth and open ourselves to communion with Him who is Truth itself.
The existence of God, therefore, is not something entirely inaccessible to human thought. With sincere effort, man can, through reflection on nature, moral experience and reason, arrive at certainty of the existence of a personal, provident and good God. This is the foundation of what the Church calls natural theology—a rational path, without yet resorting to faith, which leads man to acknowledge the presence of God.
However, the reality of the human condition shows us that this path is not easy. Although we have this capacity, we face enormous difficulties in putting reason fully and truthfully into practice.
The limitations of our wounded nature make the use of reason something tense, laborious, sometimes even discouraging.
The Catechism acknowledges these difficulties with great realism. Man, though endowed with reason, lives in historical and personal conditions that affect his capacity to know the transcendent.
The sensible order itself—the things we see, touch, and feel—can become a distraction or even an obstacle when absolutised, hindering access to truths that are not visible to the eyes.
Moreover, imagination can deceive us, disordered desires drag us away from truth, and original sin has left wounds that compromise the clarity of our judgement.
For this reason, men often resist the truth of God not out of a true rational objection but because accepting the existence of God would require a change of life.
This is an ancient wound: since Eden, man tries to distance himself from God when confronted. Today, this manifests itself in how easily people convince themselves that God does not exist, or that it is impossible to know Him.
Not due to a genuine rational objection, but because acknowledging God’s existence would demand a conversion of life.
In view of this, it becomes evident that the use of reason, though a precious gift, needs assistance.
Here is where Revelation becomes necessary, not as a replacement for reason, but as its light and guide. God, who created man with intelligence, also knows that he needs to be enlightened, instructed, and patiently guided.
Therefore, He revealed Himself to humanity so that all, even the simplest, could know the truth with certainty and without error.
God’s Revelation is thus not a privilege for a few, but a gift offered to all.
Even those religious and moral truths which could, in theory, be accessible to human reason become, in the current context of humanity, difficult to reach without the help of God’s Word. Revelation comes as a response to human weakness: it confirms, clarifies, and perfects what reason alone struggles to attain.
Christian faith, therefore, is not irrational. On the contrary: it welcomes and elevates reason. Faith does not annul intelligence but frees it from its limits and fears.
In accepting Revelation, man does not become a slave to dogma but a disciple of Truth. He enters a path of knowledge that unites mind and heart, reason and love.
This is why the Church teaches that there is no opposition between faith and reason. When properly understood, they complete each other. Reason prepares the ground for faith, and faith, in turn, enlightens and purifies reason.
When human intelligence opens itself to the light of God, it becomes more truly itself: more truthful, freer, and more capable of understanding the world and the meaning of life.
Many saints and thinkers of the Church, like St Augustine and St Thomas Aquinas, dedicated their lives to showing this harmony between believing and understanding.
They did not see faith as a leap into darkness, but as a step forward, illuminated by reason trusting in Someone greater. Believing, they said, is an act that lifts reason to its fullness.
Even so, it is important to acknowledge that many still today resist this light.
We live in a culture that idolises the sensory, the immediate and the measurable. Anything that cannot be seen or proven by scientific methods is dismissed as irrelevant. In this context, the truth about God is often treated with indifference or suspicion.
It falls to Christians, therefore, to bear witness with joy and clarity that faith is rational, and that reason finds peace when it lets itself be led by revealed truth. Evangelising is also helping people to regain confidence in their own capacity to know and love the truth.
Finally, recognising the need for Revelation is an act of humility. It is admitting that we need to be taught, that we are not self-sufficient. It is welcoming with gratitude the gift that God has given us: His Word, His presence, His truth that saves. And, in doing so, we place ourselves on the path of true knowledge—the knowledge that liberates, transforms, and leads to eternal life.
IV. How to Speak About God?
When the Church affirms that man can know God through reason, she is not merely defending a theological truth but expressing her confidence in the dignity of human intelligence.
Reason, even wounded by sin, retains the capacity to reflect on the meaning of existence, to perceive the order of the world, and, from there, to arrive at knowledge of the Creator.
This conviction underpins the Church’s desire to dialogue with all people: believers or not, scientists, philosophers, or members of other religions.
Such dialogue is possible because, although faith goes beyond reason, it does not contradict it. On the contrary, faith elevates and enlightens reason.
Therefore, the Church does not fear the questions of philosophy, the discoveries of science, or even the arguments of atheists: she welcomes them seriously, seeking paths of encounter starting from the common ground of human reason, created and sustained by God.
However, even while recognising man’s capacity to know God, the Church is aware of its limits. Our knowledge of God is real but incomplete.
We are finite creatures, and our language, our ways of thinking, our categories cannot contain the fullness of the divine mystery.
This does not mean that we cannot speak of God—on the contrary, we can and must speak of Him, but with humility. We speak of Him from what we know here in the created world, in an analogous way, never exhaustively.
This does not mean our language about God is useless—it truly reaches God Himself, though without ever exhausting Him.
The Christian tradition, echoing great thinkers such as Dionysius the Areopagite and St Thomas Aquinas, teaches that “between the Creator and the creature, every similarity entails an even greater dissimilarity.”
In other words, we can speak of God from creation, but always remembering that He is infinitely more than anything we can conceive.
This tension between what we can say and what we must keep silent about is at the heart of true theology. It protects the heart of faith from two temptations: that of turning God into an object manipulable by thought, and that of reducing the mystery to simplistic language.
Speaking about God is possible and necessary but requires faith, reason, reverence, and silence. It is an exercise of intellectual humility and adoration.