How do we know that Christianity is true? St. John Paul II says we can only do so by trusting the testimony of another. None of us have encountered Christ walking the streets of Nazareth.

Rather, we rely upon the witnesses of those who, through the Church and through the ages, pass on that point of original contact. “Although you have not seen him you love him,” says St. Peter. This love, this belief, is credible only because it is reasonable to rely on the testimony of others.

Perhaps it can seem scary that the verification of Christianity’s truth, unlike the truth of something like a mathematical principle, requires me to trust someone else. But rather than a fault of belief, St. John Paul teaches in “Fides et Ratio” that this is a feature of belief. “Belief is often humanly richer than mere evidence, because it involves an interpersonal relationship.” If human beings are relational by nature, if the deepest truth about who we are is our dependence upon God and upon one another, then this reliance upon the testimony of others — not in an unreasonable or gullible way, but always in an atmosphere of personal trust — is actually a more human way of knowing than something like learning facts in an encyclopedia.

It also speaks to the reality that, because of personal experiences I have or have not had, I might not have a full grasp of the truth. I might need others, because of the unique experiences and encounters they’ve had, to help fill in the gaps. It is not a matter of “your truth” and “my truth”; it is a matter of “The Truth,” and the humble acknowledgment that, left to my own devices, I will have only a partial apprehension of the truth in many circumstances, not only regarding truths of the faith.

After the death of George Floyd, I’ve grown in my conviction that the experience of living as a black person in America is one of these “circumstances.” I, as a non-black person, cannot know on my own what it is like to be and to be perceived as black — in interactions with law enforcement, in the workplace, or in places of commerce. If I only look at the legal system as it is today, noting that there are no laws that, at least explicitly, discriminate against black people, or rely only on my own limited firsthand knowledge of the effects of racism, I won’t be able to see the whole picture. My appreciation for what it’s like to live as a black person, and the challenges of racism today, will be severely limited if I never listen to the lived experience of black people.

This can be a challenge for me, and for other, non-black, Minnesota Catholics. Our state is fairly segregated and racially homogenous. I don’t have any black friends in my immediate circle here in the Twin Cities. This, in and of itself, is obviously not inherently wrong, but it makes it harder for me fill in my blind spots, blind spots I need to address if I am going to be a faithful citizen and accurately assess the demands of justice in my community.

On top of this, the leadership of some of the most prominent groups currently calling our attention to racism promote ideological causes unrelated to race that I believe are contrary to the common good and true respect for life and human dignity. This poses a challenge for me in cultivating the personal trust that St. John Paul says is needed.

But clearly none of this can be used to excuse non-black Catholics from seeking points of connection that can be the grounds for interpersonal trust with members of the black community. I recommend starting with our brothers and sisters in faith. Even beyond our shared humanity, the greatest point of connection any of us can have with someone else is our shared baptism and belief in Jesus Christ, for in him “there is neither Jew nor Greek” (Gal 3:28).

Listening to my black Catholic brothers and sisters sharing their personal experiences of race-based discrimination (for instance, “A black seminarian shares an experience with racism, and we should listen,” by David Mills, Our Sunday Visitor, May 29, or Ryan Hamilton’s recent testimonial on page 6) has given me insight into the reality of racism in America that I otherwise would not have had.

In particular, I have been greatly impacted by the witness of Gloria Purvis, the chairperson of Black Catholics United for Life and host of EWTN’s Morning Glory radio program. I got to know Gloria when she hosted the Minnesota Catholic Conference’s Catholics at the Capitol event in 2016 and 2018, and have followed her work ever since. She is a woman of profound faith, ardent pro-life zeal — and is gentle, but unapologetic in her commitment to drawing the attention of her fellow Catholics to the existence and evil of racism. As she’s said on Twitter, “When I talk about racism, it isn’t because I’m ‘woke.’ It’s because racism is a sin and people go to hell for it.”

Here’s the question: If non-black Catholics are happy to listen to Gloria — our sister in Christ and a tried-and-true witness of the Gospel — when it comes to matters of pro-life advocacy or living spiritually rich lives as lay people, but we hesitate to hear her out when she shares her own experiences of racism and the experience of other black people in America, what does this say? Are we prioritizing the hard search for truth — or our own comfort and preconceptions?

Depending upon others to help us have a fuller appreciation of reality is not a weakness. It is a feature of being part of the Body of Christ. And so is taking up the causes and concerns of our brothers and sisters.

“If (one) part suffers, all the parts suffer with it” (1 Cor 12:26). Our black brothers and sisters are suffering, and they are asking us to hear their experiences of pain. Will we listen?

Liedl is a seminarian in formation for the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis.