By Isabella Vale
I was raised in a Catholic household in Germany, where candles flickered during Sunday Mass, and faith was both a ritual and a comfort. I still consider myself deeply Catholic—my faith has shaped my moral compass, my understanding of grace, and my relationship with the divine.
But over the years, I found myself quietly drawn to spiritual tools beyond the boundaries of tradition. Tools like tarot.
At first, I wrestled with it. Could I really shuffle a deck of tarot cards and still be true to my faith? Was I stepping into forbidden territory or was something else happening here?
I now believe the answer is not about choosing between one or the other. It’s about deepening the spiritual conversation.
Tarot as a Prayerful Practice
When I read tarot, I don’t ask the cards to predict my future. I don’t consult them instead of God. What I do is hold a quiet space, a space for reflection, prayer, and emotional honesty.
For me, pulling a card is often like lighting a candle. It’s symbolic. It’s sacred. It invites something higher into the room. The cards don’t replace God, they help me listen more deeply to what God might already be whispering.
The Spiritual World Is Bigger Than We Know
Being Catholic never stopped me from being curious. I love learning about other faiths, other traditions, other ways people try to make sense of the divine. The Bible is filled with symbolism, dreams, and archetypes, and so is the tarot.
When I pull The Hermit, for example, I don’t just see solitude. I see Christ in the desert. I see the soul retreating into stillness to hear a greater voice.
When I pull Temperance, I think of Mary. Her gentle balance, her patience, her grace. So many tarot cards echo the stories I grew up with, they just speak in a different visual language.
Faith Is Not Fragile
One of the most important things I’ve learned is that faith is not fragile. If something makes you feel closer to your soul, more aware of your actions, and more connected to something greater, that’s worth noticing.
Tarot isn’t a threat to my faith. It’s a companion. It helps me process my emotions, make intentional decisions, and reflect on my path with reverence.
A Living, Breathing Spirituality
Some days I go to Mass. Some days I sit quietly with my cards. Sometimes I do both. I’ve stopped feeling guilty for finding God in unexpected places.
Because what is faith, if not a living, breathing relationship with the sacred?
If you’re someone who believes in God but feels drawn to the spiritual world beyond doctrine, know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to explore. It’s okay to ask questions. And it’s okay to find meaning in the symbols that speak to you.
With reverence and open hands,
Isabella Vale