Should Catholics Practice Yoga? This Instructor Says “Yes”

Last month, Dasha Nekrasova, the controversy-laden co-host of the popular cultural commentary podcast Red Scare, posted the following to her Instagram story:

“Obviously yoga is sinful bc [sic] its [sic] a spiritual practice based in [sic] Hindu principles sorry I don’t make the rules.”

It’s not surprising that Nekrasova, a self-proclaimed sedevacantist (a believer that all popes post-Vatican II have been illegitimate) Catholic revert, holds such views, given a revert’s likely propensity for zeal and fundamentalism. A certain segment of Catholics seem to agree with her stance: a simple Google search of “Catholic yoga” reveals a smorgasbord of warnings about the “Satanic” dangers of yoga, evoking memories of the Satanic panic and the advent of the “Parental Advisory: Explicit Content” stickers in the 1980s. However, as someone who spent a year in yoga teacher training myself—specifically within the traditionalist Jivamukti school—I find the reasoning behind these anti-yoga positions flawed and inconsistent with core Catholic teachings.

The top result in my search led to an article on Catholic Answers, a prominent apologetics site. Written by Alexander Frank—a former Kashmiri Shaivist yogi turned Catholic convert—“Should Catholics Practice Yoga?” represents one of the most cogent defenses of the anti-yoga position. Frank begins by unmasking yoga for what it “truly” is, claiming it’s more spiritually dangerous than merely “a series of bodily poses.” He asserts that the word “yoga” means “to yoke” in Sanskrit and that the practice ultimately aims to unite individual consciousness with a “Universal Consciousness.” This, Frank argues, leads to a dissolution of personal identity and an integration into a sort of “hive mind.”

However, Frank’s rhetoric relies heavily on Orientalist buzzwords and mystification of what is, at its core, a spiritual practice focused on self-discipline and devotion. Frank inadvertently highlights its potential compatibility with Christian beliefs. Sharon Gannon and David Life, founders of the Jivamukti Yoga School, elaborate on this concept of “yoke” in their book Jivamukti Yoga. They explain: “When oxen are yoked, they are still separated, held slightly apart, but they walk in the same direction, on the same path. The various yoga practices are like the yoking mechanism: they put you on the path, and direct you as you walk toward God … this is what we request when we say this prayer: ‘Not my will, but Thy will, be done.’”

The yoga tradition of Bhakti (devotion) can be directed toward any higher power or god that a practitioner believes in, provided it is above one’s own ego. This openness facilitates explicit inter-religious understanding (most yoga teachers encourage setting devotional intentions towards any religion a practitioner chooses) and, in many ways, complements Catholic practice. The dissolution of “individual identity” that Frank decries is arguably a goal shared by Christianity, whether expressed in Galatians 3:28—“There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus”—or through the concept of kenosis, the self-emptying nature of Jesus Christ.

Frank’s attempt to frame yoga as fundamentally incompatible with Catholicism further unravels when he cites a supposed Hindu mantra that translates to “I am what I say I am.” Frank implies that this mantra positions humans as God, which is blasphemous in Christian terms. Yet, no such mantra exists in Hinduism. The closest equivalent might be so’hum, which translates to “I am that”—a phrase signifying the recognition of one’s connection to the universe or God. This notion is not an assertion of human divinity but rather an expression of humility and unity with a greater reality, a sentiment not entirely alien to Christian mysticism.

Frank also misinterprets Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae (ST I-II, q. 20, a. 1) and the Catechism of the Catholic Church (no. 1753) to argue that actions have intrinsic moral value independent of intent and, by extension, that yoga counts as being intrinsically morally wrong. While it is true that certain actions (such as lying) are considered intrinsically disordered, both the Summa and the Catechism emphasize the importance of intention and context in moral evaluation. Both sources emphasize how almsgiving, for example, is considered good, but if done for vainglory, it is morally compromised. Or, in the catechism that Frank quotes, that if “helping one’s neighbor” is achieved through intrinsic moral evils, such as “lying and calumny,” it is similarly compromised. Catholics practicing yoga without the intention of engaging in idolatry or denying their faith are not necessarily committing sinful acts. Instead, Frank uses a circular argument to grasp at straws to find irrelevant Catholic texts to discredit yoga.

Frank’s argument takes a bizarre turn when he suggests that yoga poses can summon the occult powers of murderous Hindu gods and gurus, invoking idolatry. He cites a fringe article claiming that a particular yoga pose honors a Hindu goddess linked to a cult’s child sacrifice in India. Such a claim hinges on the assumption that merely adopting the physical form of a pose without intent, invokes spiritual powers. However, the concept of idolatry involves an active intention to worship something that is not God in the place of God. A practitioner who does not intend to honor another deity through the pose cannot be considered idolatrous. Furthermore, the fearmongering surrounding holding these poses conflicts with the teachings of Jeremiah 10:5 (“Do not be afraid of [idols], for they cannot do evil”) as he mistakenly credits the legitimacy of occult powers. 

Frank’s arguments represent a dualistic mindset that Richard Rohr, a Catholic priest and author, criticizes in his book The Naked Now. Rohr argues that Western religion has become “preoccupied with telling people what to know more than how to know, telling people what to see more than how to see.” This thinking leads to a reductive dismissal of anything that falls outside one’s insular worldview. Rather than promoting true devotion and communion—the core of the Great Commandment in Matthew 22:34-40 (loving God and neighbor with the entirety of one’s being)—such a mindset creates division and alienation.

This anti-yoga zeal might even be seen as anti-Catholic, considering the Church’s history of integrating elements from different cultures into its practice. In Fides et Ratio, Pope John Paul II stated: “In India particularly, it is the duty of Christians now to draw from this rich heritage the elements compatible with their faith, in order to enrich Christian thought.” In Redemptoris Missio, he said: “Through inculturation the Church makes the Gospel incarnate in different cultures and at the same time introduces peoples, together with their cultures, into her own community. She transmits to them her own values, at the same time taking the good elements that already exist in them and renewing them from within.” This approach fosters a more inclusive, nuanced understanding of spirituality.

It is simply unsatisfactory to push for Catholic culture to supersede all others, as this is detrimental to both the faith’s development and its relationship with multicultural parishioners. At Fordham University, Fr. Bobby Karle, S.J., founded the first Ignatian Yoga class, using yogic practices for Catholic devotion. This is an example of effective Catholic inculturation: the osmosis between non-Christian spirituality and truthful worship.

Although I am currently studying abroad in London, one of my cherished traditions back home was attending the Jivamukti Yoga Collective in the Lower East Side every Sunday with my close friend, Claire. The ninety-five-minute classes were foundational to my spiritual formation. The practice of breathwork and moving meditation reminded me of the silence of monasticism, mindfulness of the labyrinths, and kenotic self-emptying that characterizes many Christian traditions—just under a different name. In the sound of radical presence in the breath, we find the aspirated name YHWH, the “I am who I am.” In the “thin silence” described in 1 Kings 19:11-12, God’s presence is revealed—not in the wind, the earthquake, or the fire.

At the end of each class, Claire and I would share a sense of communion that deepened our understanding of each other—a communion one must experience to understand fully. This devotion to presence and self-emptying can be seen as an expression of the Great Commandment. Catholics who turn their nose up at any notion of spirituality are unnecessarily missing out on this vehicle to greater spiritual fulfillment.

Contrary to what Nekrasova and other anti-yoga Catholics may claim, yoga can enrich the Catholic faith—not because it is “just stretching,” but because it has legitimate spiritual qualities. By integrating Hindu practices’ best qualities into Catholic worship, Catholics can engage in a correctly syncretized form of worship that remains true to the faith’s principles.