Two Wings for the Soul: Faith and Reason Beyond Concordism

Baroque painting depicting two Catholic scholars in dialogue, surrounded by books and instruments — a visual embodiment of the encounter between faith, knowledge, and reason.

Introduction

One of the most recurring criticisms addressed to Catholics in contemporary debates is the accusation of “concordism”—the notion that believers awkwardly try to align the revealed truths of faith with modern scientific discoveries, as if to ward off the fear of a world without God. This reproach, often voiced with veiled or overt condescension, betrays less a serious engagement with Christian thought than an ideological reflex, nourished by a reductive view of what “religion” supposedly is. Under the vague and oversimplified label of “believers,” traditions are lumped together whose cosmologies, epistemologies, and scriptural hermeneutics are profoundly different. A generalization that critical minds would reject in almost any other context becomes strangely acceptable when applied to Christians.

This is not to deny that some Catholics have, at times, given in to concordist temptations—often out of an apologetic desire to defend their faith in hostile environments, or a well-meaning attempt to reconcile faith and reason. But to reduce the Catholic tradition to these incidental reflexes, stripped of history and nuance, is to erase over two thousand years of patient, and often creative, dialogue between faith and reason.

The purpose of biblical Revelation is not to compete with natural science, but to illuminate meaning. From its earliest centuries, the Church has understood that the Scriptures are not manuals of mechanics but texts to be read in the depth of their symbolic, theological, and existential language. Patristic, medieval, and modern traditions offer countless examples of plural, allegorical, and non-literal readings of Scripture—especially of Genesis. At a deeper level still, the entire history of Catholicism bears witness to a continuous, though often unrecognized, effort to articulate the light of faith with the insights of human knowledge—not out of submission, but through an inner harmony.

It is for this reason that a response is needed—not a reactionary one, but a precise and intellectually rigorous clarification: No, Catholicism is not driven by an obsessive need to reconcile faith with science. Yes, within the Church lives a fertile tradition of dialogue between mystery and reason. This refutation of blanket concordism will unfold in three movements: first, by clarifying the semantic and hermeneutic misunderstandings that fuel the accusation; second, through a historical reassessment of the Church’s relationship to science; and finally, by defending the right—and the duty—of Catholics to think their faith in conversation with the modern world, even in the face of derision from those who, while claiming to be open-minded, would deny believers that very openness.

Axis I – Against the Myth of Universal Concordism: The Non-Scientific Purpose of Revelation and the Patristic Tradition of Plural Readings

The accusation of concordism aimed at Catholics rests on a methodological mistake: it applies modern scientific criteria to biblical texts, as if their value were based on their ability to describe measurable facts or observable natural phenomena. The intention of Scripture—especially the Genesis narratives—is not to satisfy positivist expectations. It does not aim to offer a cosmological model, but to reveal the profound meaning of existence, the radical dependence of humanity on its Creator, and the entrance of evil into history. What the Bible proposes is not mechanical causality, but metaphysical causality.

The Church Fathers understood this early on. Origen, in his De principiis, wrote clearly:

“It is impossible to take the creation story in Genesis literally: otherwise, God would be depicted as a gardener planting a garden in Eden, and man as being formed from clay like a pot.”(De principiis, IV, 1, 16)

And he adds:

“Who would be so foolish as to believe that God, like a farmer, planted a garden in Eden, to the east, and placed in it a visible tree of life, whose fruit gives immortality?”

Saint Augustine, in The Literal Meaning of Genesis, showed a similar prudence:

“It is not Scripture that must bend to every new scientific theory, but rather, Christians must avoid making absurd statements that would make unbelievers laugh and block their way to the Gospel.”(De Genesi ad litteram, I, 19, 39)

He further remarks in The Confessions:

“Let each person see in your servant’s words what they are able to see; for there is more than one way to understand them.”(Confessions, XII, 31)

This symbolic or anagogical approach is not marginal: it lies at the very heart of Christian hermeneutics. Thomas Aquinas made it a foundational principle in his Summa Theologica, distinguishing between the literal and spiritual senses (allegorical, moral, and anagogical):

“The spiritual sense is founded on the literal sense, which is intended by the human author; but the spiritual sense is that which God intends through the things signified.”(Summa Theologiae, I, q. 1, a. 10)

This reading has been carried into the Magisterium. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (published under John Paul II) teaches:

“The account of creation, written in the symbolic language of the Bible, expresses profound truths about God, creation, humanity, and sin.”(CCC §337)

And also:

“The use of historical-critical methods and other scientific approaches to Scripture is legitimate, provided they respect the inspired character of the texts.”(CCC §110)

Even in ancient Judaism, thinkers such as Philo of Alexandria rejected a materialistic reading of Genesis:

“One must not believe that God created the world in six days. This would introduce the notion of time into a moment where it did not yet exist. The six days are an ordered presentation of creation.”(De opificio mundi, §13)

The rule of plural interpretation was foundational to the patristic exegesis. Any reading of Scripture that seeks to confine the text to a single, especially scientific, level of meaning betrays both the text and the God who speaks through it. The Catholic tradition has preserved this richness. The Catechism (§337–338) affirms that the Genesis narratives express timeless truths in symbolic language—a position fundamentally incompatible with crude concordism.

To claim that Catholics seek to "make science fit the Bible" is to misunderstand the very essence of Christian faith. When some believers have fallen into such efforts—often as a reaction to scorn or ridicule—it was not from theological necessity, but from human fragility. Faith, at its core, is not validated or invalidated by scientific theory: it moves freely within its own realm, while receiving science not as a rival but as a dialogue partner.

Axis II – Catholicism and Science: Between Knowledge Transmission, Crisis, and Maturing Dialogue

The image of a Church at war with science is based on a simplified narrative, built on a handful of isolated episodes raised to the status of myth. Yet from its beginnings, Christianity—and Catholicism in particular—has engaged with the knowledge of its time, not by rejection but by integration and discernment.

The Church Fathers sought to understand the world through reason and faith. Clement of Alexandria stated:

“Greek philosophy is a gift from God to the Greeks, as the Law was to the Hebrews.”(Stromata, I, 5)

Augustine, profoundly shaped by Neoplatonism, affirmed the deep interdependence of reason and faith: Intellige ut credas, crede ut intelligas — Understand so that you may believe, believe so that you may understand.

From the early Middle Ages, the Church became the guardian and transmitter of ancient knowledge. Monasteries preserved classical texts; cathedrals and universities—Paris, Bologna, Oxford—were born under ecclesial authority. The scholastic method developed in this milieu, with Thomas Aquinas at its height, declaring:

“Truth cannot contradict truth. What is known by reason can never oppose what God reveals.”(Summa contra Gentiles, I, 7)

Far from opposing science, many Catholic scholars pioneered it: Albert the Great, Roger Bacon, Gregor Mendel (founder of genetics), and Georges Lemaître (originator of the Big Bang theory) were all clerics. Lemaître refused to use his discovery as an apologetic tool:

“It is not desirable to mix scientific problems too closely with religious questions.”

The 20th century saw this harmony reaffirmed:– Pius XII (1950) opened the Church to the theory of evolution.– John Paul II (1996) acknowledged evolution as “more than a hypothesis.”– Fides et Ratio (1998) offered this luminous phrase:

“Faith and reason are like two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth.”

Even today, the Vatican maintains its own astronomical observatory and numerous pontifical academies. The Church does not reject science—it situates it, within a vision of the human person that science alone cannot encompass.

Axis III – Faith and Reason: A Necessary Union Some Would Deny to Believers

It is paradoxical, and yet telling, that whenever a Catholic attempts to articulate faith and reason, they are swiftly accused of manipulation or naïveté. If the believer speaks the language of logic, he is mocked; if he remains in the mystical register, he is dismissed as irrational. As if the true scandal were not ignorance, but the simple fact of believing.

Yet Catholicism has always claimed the right—and the duty—to think. Not to prove the faith, but to understand it more deeply. Saint Anselm's motto remains true: Fides quaerens intellectum — Faith seeking understanding. Denying believers this right is to deny them the very instrument modernity holds dear: thought itself.

And when Catholics dare this dialogue, they are often caricatured or silenced. Their reflections on cosmology are deemed dishonest. Their efforts to engage psychology or anthropology are treated as betrayal. There is a double standard at play: what is accepted from secular thinkers is refused to believers.

But the Church remains faithful to its vision. As Vatican I stated:

“Faith and reason do not contradict, for the same God who reveals mysteries has given reason to man.”(Dei Filius, ch. 4)

And again in the Catechism:

“There can never be a true contradiction between faith and science.”(CCC §159)

Reason can explain the how, but faith dares to ask why. And in a world increasingly reluctant to pose that question, the believer who does becomes subversive.

Conclusion

To accuse the Church of universal concordism is to misunderstand its intellectual history and spiritual depth. From the Fathers to modern scientists, from Augustine to Lemaître, the Catholic tradition never sought to replace science—but to walk with it.

At times, echoes emerge between ancient intuition and modern discovery. This is not manipulation. It is the fruit of a worldview attuned to meaning, not mechanics. The Bible is not dictated word-for-word by God, but inspired—God speaking through human authors, cultures, and languages, to convey truths that transcend time.

Catholics do not claim the Bible is a science book. They claim it is a revelation of meaning, a mirror of the soul, a compass for the heart. To think, to articulate, to explore faith with rigor is not to betray it—it is to honor it.

And as John Paul II wrote:

“Faith and reason are like two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth.”(Fides et Ratio, n°1)