The second most frequently heard comment? "Look! His beard is back!"
Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time C
“Would
you do it again?”
That’s
the question I’m getting asked most often
about
my 120 mile hike
“Would
you do it again?”
And
I keep giving the very same answer:
“Not right now!”
I
don’t regret for a moment going on the trek.
It
was a truly incredible—
dare I say life-changing?—experience.
But
there were more than a few moments
on our ten-day journey
when
I wasn’t sure if I’d make it
all the way through this first time.
Now,
I really wanted to complete the trip,
but
the growing number of blisters on my feet,
my
knees aching from the terrain
and shoulders from the pack,
often
had me wondering—
especially after the first couple of days—
if
I actually could finish…or even should.
The
Apostles this Sunday seem to be experiencing
a
little discouragement themselves.
“Increase
our faith!” they beg the Lord.
Turn
back a few pages in the gospel,
and
you begin to see why they’re having doubts.
Jesus
has been presenting them
with
some rather challenging teachings:
how
they ought to use their money—
not
for selfish gain, but in the service of the poor;
the
binding nature of marriage,
excluding
both adultery and divorce;
the
call to continual forgiveness—
no
matter how often a brother or sister should wrong them;
and
the need to put absolutely nothing—
not
worldly success, not family relationships,
not
even their own lives—
ahead
of the call to follow him.
A
full twenty centuries later,
and
these are many of the very same teachings
that
still test and confound us.
We
can understand all-too-well
why
the Apostles’ faith doesn’t seem up to the task.
You
no doubt have heard by now
that
Pope Francis has been giving a lot of interviews lately.
In the
longest and most famous of the bunch,
the
Pope had this to say about those times
when
our faith seems inadequate:
there is still an area of
uncertainty.
There must be.
If a person says that he met
God
with total certainty
and is not touched by a
margin of uncertainty,
then this is not good.
For me, this is an important
key.
If one has the answers to
all the questions—
that is the proof that God
is not with him.
It means that he is a false
prophet
using religion for himself.
The great leaders of the
people of God,
like Moses,
have always left room for
doubt.
You must leave room for the
Lord,
not for our certainties;
we must be humble.…
The risk…is the willingness
to explain too much,
to say with human certainty
and arrogance: ‘God is here.’
We will find only a god that
fits our measure.…
Our life is not given to us
like an opera libretto,
in which all is written
down;
but it means going, walking,
doing, searching, seeing....
We must enter into the
adventure
of the quest for meeting
God;
we must let God search and
encounter us.…
God is encountered walking,
along the path.…
God is always a surprise,
so you never know where and
how you will find him.
You are not setting the time
and place
of the encounter with him.…
If the Christian…wants
everything clear and safe,
then he will find nothing.…
In this way, faith becomes an ideology among other ideologies.
In this way, faith becomes an ideology among other ideologies.
I have a dogmatic certainty:
God is in every person’s
life.
God is in everyone’s life.
Even if the life of a person
has been a disaster,
even if it is destroyed by
vices, drugs or anything else—
God is in this person’s
life.
You can, you must try to
seek God in every human life.
Although the life of a person is a land full of thorns and weeds,
Although the life of a person is a land full of thorns and weeds,
there is always a space in
which the good seed can grow.
You have to trust God.
According
to the Pope—and that’s on pretty good authority—
if
we’re still wrestling with questions,
if
we haven’t given up looking for the answers,
then
we’re OK.
Living
with uncertainly,
being
open to the God of surprises,
means
being humble enough to accept
that
mustard seed faith is actually all we need.
The
sin-driven human desire to be in control—even of God—
spills over into how we relate to others, and to life itself.
spills over into how we relate to others, and to life itself.
On
this Respect Life Sunday,
we
do well to heed these words
of
contemporary French philosopher Fabrice Hadjadj:
Think, for example, of the
fear of life.
Life is no longer accepted
as it is given;
people try to transform it
starting from an idea.
Then, instead of welcoming a
child, we make a product.
Starting from a design of
perfection,
we reduce the being to its
functions.
Instead of perfection, we
get a degradation…
How
we believe—if we believe—
has
real life consequences.
Grasp
too tightly our notions of God—
limit
God to our narrow conceptions of him—
and
we soon do the same to one another.
People
become not mysteries to be welcomed and loved,
but
objects to be used—or eliminated:
whether
it’s a human embryo destroyed for purposes of research,
a
sweatshop worker making my clothes for cheap,
or
a pornographic performance playing on my computer screen.
We
ought to share Pope Francis’ “dogmatic certainty”:
God is in every person’s
life.
We
can, we must try to seek God in every human life—
from
its earliest moments of conception until its last natural breath.
If
we need a model of how to live with a mustard seed faith,
we
have only to look to the Virgin Mary.
Mary
didn’t have a degree in theology,
but
she knew—from the experience of her parents,
from
the experience of her people,
from
the experience of her own young life—
that
God could be trusted.
Mary
believed that the safest course of action—
even
if marked by great uncertainty,
even
if she couldn’t see where it might be headed—
is
always to cooperate with God’s plan,
always
to say yes to his will.
It
means following a way of humility:
of
recognizing the servant’s place before the Master;
of
dutifully obeying the divine command;
of
simply doing what any of us are obliged to do.
Mary
knew that it would stretch and challenge her.
And
it would downright hurt sometimes to walk that path.
By
faith, she continued on.
And
so must we.
Ten
days and 120 miles in the woods
stretched
and challenged me in ways
I
am still only beginning to understand.
Now
that I’m off the trail I
realize
that, in those moments when I was gripped
by discouragement and uncertainty,
that, in those moments when I was gripped
by discouragement and uncertainty,
it wasn’t that my faith was too small;
it’s that my sights were set too far ahead.
Rather than fretting about the next 50 miles,
I needed to give my full attention to just the next few steps
because God
was already providing me in that moment
with
everything I could need—and more.
This
little anonymous poem I came across on Friday
sums
it up so well:
The road of life was bright
and stretched before my
sight.
The Lord was at my side
to be my friend and guide.
And so I started out.
But then the sky grew dark,
the road grew stark and
steep.
Rocks and ruts cut my feet,
my legs grew sore and weak.
I turned and cried, “My
Lord!
Why this pain, why this
plight?
Why this darkness, where’s
the light?
I cannot carry on.”
And then the Lord replied,
“My child!
Why this fear, why this
fright?
I’m your companion still.
Just trust in Me and travel
on,
For Heaven lies beyond the
hill.”
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