How I learned to talk about my religion as a scientist

From ScienceMag:

When I asked a colleague whether he’d like to accompany me to a Mass organized by university students, I didn’t know what to expect. Like most people in my country, he wasn’t a believer himself—but he seemed curious about my faith and eager to join. To my surprise, he said yes—and before I knew it, the rest of the research group was coming along, too. But I began to feel nervous. What if they laughed or said something inappropriate during the service? What if they made fun of me afterward? Or, worst of all, what if they started to doubt me as a scientist?

I was raised Catholic and have practiced my faith since childhood. But like many religious people in the Czech Republic, for most of my life I’ve avoided talking much about it. Under communism, believers were often banned from teaching and scientific positions, and to this day, many people still see faith as a purely private matter. Sometimes it comes with a sense of shame, especially among young people.

I never experienced bullying or humiliation because of my faith. But it was never easy for me to discuss it. At elementary school, kids challenged me by saying that if God existed, there would be no wars. Later, at my high school, which specialized in mechanical engineering, classmates questioned how I could believe in something no one can see or measure. I had no easy answers, and wasn’t confident in speaking or defending myself, so I decided it was better to keep my beliefs to myself. When I left to go to university, I kept my faith hidden. I didn’t see a conflict between faith and science, but I knew many people did.

Things changed when I began my Ph.D. in applied mechanics. I finally started to feel I was doing what I wanted to do with my life, and this gave me more confidence and a sense of belonging. As a result, I felt increasingly comfortable sharing more of my religious life. Still, I worried my colleagues, who were mostly atheists, would judge me or think less of me as a scientist because of my beliefs.

After I took my colleagues to Mass, though, those fears dissolved. The service went smoothly that evening, and afterward we all went out for beers. My lab mates didn’t confront or mock me—instead, they began to ask questions with genuine interest. They were respectful, even though I sometimes did not have the answers to their questions, or responded that it wasn’t possible to fully understand something infinite and eternal.

I also noticed other fellow students at that particular Mass, including some I had no idea were practicing Catholics. Seeing others like me out there, and knowing I could be myself without the fear of judgment from my colleagues, helped me build the confidence to talk more openly about my faith. My colleagues now know, for example, that I pray regularly, including when facing difficult or stressful situations at work, such as when I defended my Ph.D. thesis, or when I give a major lecture for hundreds of students or travel abroad to prestigious conferences to deliver a talk.

My faith helps me navigate academia in other ways, too. The humility I have learned helps me accept rejection, which is all too common in science. My beliefs have also fostered my fascination with the beauty of nature, and have given me a sense of responsibility for how scientific knowledge is pursued and used. I don’t work during religious holidays and on Sundays, which helps me find a better work-life balance in a culture that often incentivizes long hours and weekend work.

Academia sometimes treats religious beliefs of all kinds as incompatible with scientific rigor, as if believers are more prone to blind trust or unable to challenge ideas. That attitude discourages open and constructive conversation within research communities. I hope that by discussing my faith, I can help others who might still hesitate or fear being open about their spirituality. Each individual is free to choose whether to disclose their religion, of course. But when I am open about my own experiences, I’ve found others tend to open up themselves. I’m lucky to have found a supportive community—I hope others can, too.

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