I find that we tend to overuse the word “faith,” in such a way that it becomes unclear what specific meaning it may have for us. Sometimes we think of “faith” as something that we are given and that which we must develop and do something with. Other times we tell ourselves or others that we must simply have “faith” in situations that we may find incomprehensible, perhaps unavoidable and insurmountable in suffering and pain. Oftentimes, I must admit that when I hear the word “faith” I tend to “glaze over” as the word slips into mental oblivion.
I think that we want to objectify faith so that we consider it “something” that we have or receive. This makes it more palatable for our minds. We feel that we must do something with faith, as if it were something that we store somewhere and only take out every once in a while when a situation warrants its application. With that being said, it seems that many of the attempts within the Scriptures to describe faith themselves become poetic in surrender to the ultimately mysterious yet all-engaging subjectivity of faith. In the Letter to the Hebrews (HEB 11: 1-2, 8-12) today, we hear these words with reference to faith…
Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.
In that reading, we hear how Abraham and Sarah trusted in God to lead them into an undiscovered and indeed alien country where they are promised to have innumerable descendants despite everything presenting in their lives showing the exact opposite. This sojourn of faith here is like a “stance” or posturing that is not static but requires constant engagement, i.e., a way of leaning into life, characterized by hope, and paradoxically this hope is actually in things unseen! Well that just sounds like another conundrum that defies the mind’s ability to grasp.
If we look then into Luke’s Gospel today (LK 12: 35-40), although we don’t have the word “faith,” the theme of engagement in the unknown or the mysterious seems to definitely be present. Jesus instructs the disciples…
“…be like servants who await their master’s return from a wedding, ready to open immediately when the door knocks.”
This is almost a requirement to be always prepared, not knowing when the master will come, as if we were waiting for a thief to “break in” to our lives, although we don’t know when it will occur. I wonder though, if it is occurring all the time, and what Jesus is trying to tell us is something like the “sojourn” into the unknown yet promised land that Abraham and Sarah felt so compelled to follow. How can we remain prepared to listen and discern the ways in which God is acting and coming into our lives, not so much in the future, or even the past, but right here in this moment?
It is a grace to be able to look back on our recent or perhaps distant past and “see” how God was operating or present in our lives and relationships in ways that we could not discern at that time. This could be in the wake of some very painful experiences; the death of a loved one, a divorce, the loss of a job, or perhaps an injury or protracted illness. But, how do we “sojourn” or engage in the present moment of our lives in a way that we can begin to “see” God returning now, right here –“breaking into” our lives in this very moment?
The Danish Philosopher, Kierkegaard, spoke about this sense of faith as the constant attempt to grasp, not with our minds, but with our hearts – our very “self” – the always present yet somewhat mysterious engagement with God that sustains us. Kierkegaard went so far as to say that we cannot really be authentic about who we are unless we allow ourselves to be led into the “alien” worlds that disrupt what we would consider our everyday routines in life. This type of engagement becomes an awareness, which is at the same time an inward and intense engagement with SOMEONE who loves us and only asks that we receive that love in a transforming way. It’s as if we are asked to hold on with all our heart’s might to that which we cannot explain, and yet we “know” in the most intimate depths of our souls that this is True… Hope.
In the C.J. Cox 2003 movie entitled “Latter Days,” a character, who is struggling with not only the loss of a relationship, but a loss which this character was in part responsible, is speaking with the matriarchal character in the film, played by Jacqueline Bisset. The wise woman character listening to tragic story first tells the pained character that guilt can sometimes distract us from a greater truth, which is our inherent ability to heal. Then, when asked about how to do this, she simply says…practice. In a discussion with a friend of mine in the Baton Rouge Arts community recently, when I asked how we can address the pain in our community in a way that expresses and engages in accountability and healing, she said the exact same thing to me – “practice.” Could it be that faith is an “art” of practice?
Waiting is not the same thing as being prepared, in the same way that impatience is not the same thing as engagement. Are we waiting for God’s return with impatience that holds us in a suffocating space of guilt that only reinforces patterns of ignorance, or are we trying to prepare ourselves in a way that opens us up to fresh though sometimes uncertain and unforeseen new possibilities that could really change everything? Ultimately can we move from “sterility” to overwhelming abundance by practicing on a daily, even moment by moment, basis engaging in life and relationships with eyes and hearts open as Abraham and Sarah did? Can we really believe in the stars in the sky and the sand on the beach, the exciting infinite possibilities for the art of faith, which for us as humans is always a practice in healing?
There is nothing glamorous about “faith” and living in an engaging manner, especially when there is so much uncertainty in our world. I really wonder how Abraham and Sarah must have felt. I do believe that they lived as best they could, by always trying to “practice their faith” by trusting the call to leave comfort and moving into the unfamiliar, always within the context of Abiding Love – God!
This is the practice of prayer in all of its “art” forms – meditation, action, liturgy, community, personal, etc. It is I believe, as Kierkegaard says, not something we do but a way of being authentically who we already are, just not yet fully in tune with!
God’s “return” is here… in this moment, and it can only “break into” our lives if we unlock our hearts to heal by being by practicing Who we are created to be!
Peace
Thomas