Skip to main content

Language Blocks Dialogue Between Catholics and Mormons

The primary barrier to fruitful dialogue between Catholics and Latter-day Saints is often a hidden one: the language we share. While both traditions use foundational terms like "God," "Creation," and "Jesus Christ," these words carry radically different theological weights. For Catholics, the doctrine of creatio ex nihilo—creation out of nothing—establishes an infinite chasm between the Creator and the created; we are entirely indebted to an omnipotent God for our very existence. In contrast, the Latter-day Saint perspective views creation as the organization of eternal, pre-existing matter, suggesting that God himself was once a man who progressed to deity. This means that while conversations may initially seem promising, they often stall because we are using the same vocabulary to describe two entirely different realities of who God is and how we relate to Him.

Furthermore, the term "Christian" functions as a significant point of confusion regarding the nature of Christ. To a Catholic, Jesus Christ is the Second Person of the consubstantial Trinity, homoousios with the Father as defined at the Council of Nicaea. We recognize Him as the eternal God who descended to save us. However, the Latter-day Saint view posits Jesus as a distinct being from the Father, one who ascended to godhood after being selected as a savior. While most faithful Mormons live lives marked by a deep love for Jesus and a commitment to Christian virtues, successful evangelization requires us to first bridge this linguistic gap. We must move past surface-level similarities to understand these profound differences in substance and origin if we hope to share the fullness of the Catholic faith.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Woman, Behold Your Son

The spiritual climax of the Gospel of John, as Father John Waiss points out, occurs at the foot of the Cross, where Jesus utters his parting words: “Woman, behold, your son!” and “Behold your mother!” (John 19:26-27). While these words were addressed to the Apostle John, the disciple whom Jesus loved, the Church has long understood this moment as a universal adoption. To truly image Christ, we must share in His parentage; if we embrace God as our spiritual Father but reject Mary as our mother, we treat Christ as a half-brother rather than our "firstborn among many brethren" (Rom. 8:29). As Origen noted as early as the third century, the profound depths of the Gospel are only accessible to those who, like John, rest their heads on Jesus’ breast and receive Mary into their own homes. This maternal role is deeply rooted in biblical typology, positioning Mary as the fulfillment of the great mothers of the Old Covenant. She is the New Eve , the mother of all the living according ...

The Gentle Art of Holy Surrender

In the quiet, dusty corners of our hearts, we often harbor blueprint drafts of how we think our lives should unfold. We carefully map out our timelines, hoping for a smooth path, and it is only natural to feel a bit lost or weary when a sudden storm alters our course or a door we prayed would open remains closed. Yet, our Lord does not stand at a distance during these moments of uncertainty; He is a tender Shepherd who walks beside us, gently whispering, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope" ( Jeremiah 29:11). When our own plans crumble, it is not a sign that He has abandoned us, but rather an invitation to fold our hands, release our grip on the pen, and offer our own quiet fiat—letting Him guide us into green pastures we could never have found on our own. Placing our trust in His loving providence allows us to breathe deeply and find rest, even when the road ahead is shrouded in mist. E...

Praying With The Five Wounds Of Jesus

I am just beginning to dive into the beautiful, ancient devotion to the Five Wounds of Jesus, and I wanted to share a bit of the journey with you. It can feel a little overwhelming at first to look at the Crucifix this closely, but I’ve found such a gentle guide in St. Bernard of Clairvaux . In his Jubilee Rhythm on the Passion, Bernard doesn't treat the wounds of Jesus as distant historical facts or sights to be avoided. Instead, he approaches them with the tenderness of a friend, speaking directly to the feet, hands, side, and face of our Lord. For someone like me who is just starting out, his rhythm teaches that prayer isn't just about reciting words; it’s a holy hide-and-seek. Bernard invites us to literally hide ourselves within these wounds, seeing them as clefts in the rock where we can find shelter when our own lives feel turbulent or heavy. As I start this process, I’ve been practicing what I call gazing and greeting. Following Bernard’s lead, I look at the Crucifix an...