Monday, June 13, 2005
LUKE 17:5-10
Late one afternoon, archeologist Gene Savoy and a companion became lost in a jungle in Peru. A feeling of panic came over them. They knew that if they did not reach camp by sundown, they would never reach it alive. They began to run about feverishly, searching for the trail that brought them into the jungle. Suddenly they realized that this feverish running was only making matters worse. Then they stopped and stood perfectly still. As they did, a thought flashed through Savoy's mind.
God is in the jungle. It is God's house. Gene had been introduced to the beauties of nature when he was a boy. His parents had taught him that God created the universe, sustains it, and dwells in it. Why had he closed his eyes to God's presence in the jungles of Peru? Did not God create them, also? Does God not sustain them also? Does God not dwell in them also?
Immediately, Gene relaxed and put all his faith in God, in whose house he was. He said later, "I looked up into the beautiful emerald world of wild orchids, the fragrant blossoms, where hummingbirds hovered. Yes, God was there too. My heart quieted." Then something within Gene seemed to say, "Walk a few paces to the left." He did. And there was a tiny trail!
Gene said later, "I am proud of my archeological discoveries. But my greatest discovery, I believe, was in recognizing God's presence everywhere."
That story fits in with today's Scripture readings. First, it illustrates Habakkuk's words in the first reading, when he says, "The just man, because of his faith, shall live."
And second, it illustrates Jesus' words in the Gospel reading, when he says, "If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to [this] mulberry tree, `Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you,"
This brings us to an important point about faith. It's a point we tend to forget – Even the strongest faith in Jesus and God tends to go in and out of focus. What is clear to us one day becomes cloudy the next day. Like the sun, our faith sometimes goes behind a cloud and disappears for a while. We have all experienced this in our lives. How do we explain it?
These times of darkness are usually caused by one of the three things: human nature, ourselves, or God.
First, they may be caused by our human nature, which has "highs" and lows." – "ups" and "downs." In other words, our faith simply reflects the natural highs and lows, or the changing mood of everyday human life. Commenting on these mood changes, one writer says: "On one day, life is beautiful …. We appreciate everything and everyone. On such a day it is difficult imagine why we ever thought life was difficult. On another day, however, nothing is right. It is a time, when we number more enemies than we have, and find fault with every friend. On such a day, it is difficult to know why we ever thought life was easy."
Our faith is like that. It is subject to mood swings. These mood changes are simply part of being human.
Second, the periods of faith darkness may be caused by ourselves. We can bring them on by neglecting our faith. That is, we can let our faith grow weak from sin or from lack of spiritual nourishment. In other words, just as our body grows weak from abuse or lack of physical nourishment, so our soul grows weak from sin and lack of spiritual nourishment.
Third and finally, these periods of darkness may be caused by God. God allows them to happen in order to strengthen and deepen our faith. In other words, God uses them to help us mature in our faith, just as God helped Abraham mature in his faith. Abraham was thrown into darkness when God asked him to sacrifice his son Isaac.
Regardless of the cause of these periods of darkness, the agony they can produce is great. Our response to these periods of darkness, therefore, should be to accept them and use them in whatever way God seems to be indicating to us.
In our Gospel reading, the twelve apostles beg their Master, "Increase our faith." Jesus does not respond directly to their request. What he does, as so often, is to put the apostles on the spot. The important thing, he says, is not how much faith you have, its size, and amount. What is important is the kind of faith you have: It has to be authentic and genuine. If it were no bigger than a mustard seed, but were genuine, real, its power would be enormous. With such faith "you would say to this mulberry tree, `Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it will obey you." With genuine faith you can do things utterly unexpected, things impossible to naked nature. "Nothing will be impossible to you."
The problem is, what is authentic faith? Building on Scripture and tradition, Catholicism put together in compact form the Act of Faith with which we grew up, "O my God, I firmly believe that you are one God in three divine Persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I believe that your divine Son became man and died for our sins. I believe these and all the truths, which the holy Catholic Church teaches, because You have revealed them, Who can neither deceive nor be deceived."
This is indeed genuine faith. I submit my intellect to a revealing God. With my mind I accept as true certain propositions that come from the word the Church speaks in Christ's name. This is genuine faith, but it is not the whole of genuine faith. By itself, it is not the faith that saves.
The Letter of James puts it bluntly: "You believe that God is one. You do well. [But] even the demons believe – and shudder."
The faith that saves, the faith that moves mountain and mulberry trees, is not simply a matter of propositions – precious as propositions are within a faith that is Catholic. My act of faith must be love-bringing, a yes in the first instance not to some specific proposition, not to a determinate set of truths, but to a person: to our Lord himself, to God in Christ.
More than that, it is a yes that engages my whole person – not only understanding but heart and will as well. It is a total self- giving: "I myself, I in my entirety, surrender myself to you." The peak of saving faith is the sort of selfless love that once inspired a famous piece of poetry long attributed to St. Francis Xavier:
It is not your promised heaven
That moves me, Lord, to love you.
It is not the fear of hell
That forces me to fear you.
What moves me, Lord, is you, Lord,
Fixed to a cross and mocked.
What moves me is your wounded body,
The insults and your death.
What moves me really is your love, so that
Were there no heaven, I would love you still.
Were there no hell, I would fear you still.
For me to love you, you need nothing to give,
For even if I did not hope as indeed I hope,
Even so I would love you as indeed I love.
Such is the loving faith a loving God holds out to us. It is a gift of God, and it is expected to grow, from small beginning to the height of Xavier's faith, from intellectual acceptance of truths to surrender of the complete person to God in Christ.
Faith, like a child, matures best within a community of love. Like it or not, I am part of you and you are part of me. St. Paul says - No Christian can say to another Christian, "I have no need of you." With any failure to love, I am diminished. We are incredibly one, all of us who receive the same Body of Christ.
God is in the jungle. It is God's house. Gene had been introduced to the beauties of nature when he was a boy. His parents had taught him that God created the universe, sustains it, and dwells in it. Why had he closed his eyes to God's presence in the jungles of Peru? Did not God create them, also? Does God not sustain them also? Does God not dwell in them also?
Immediately, Gene relaxed and put all his faith in God, in whose house he was. He said later, "I looked up into the beautiful emerald world of wild orchids, the fragrant blossoms, where hummingbirds hovered. Yes, God was there too. My heart quieted." Then something within Gene seemed to say, "Walk a few paces to the left." He did. And there was a tiny trail!
Gene said later, "I am proud of my archeological discoveries. But my greatest discovery, I believe, was in recognizing God's presence everywhere."
That story fits in with today's Scripture readings. First, it illustrates Habakkuk's words in the first reading, when he says, "The just man, because of his faith, shall live."
And second, it illustrates Jesus' words in the Gospel reading, when he says, "If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to [this] mulberry tree, `Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you,"
This brings us to an important point about faith. It's a point we tend to forget – Even the strongest faith in Jesus and God tends to go in and out of focus. What is clear to us one day becomes cloudy the next day. Like the sun, our faith sometimes goes behind a cloud and disappears for a while. We have all experienced this in our lives. How do we explain it?
These times of darkness are usually caused by one of the three things: human nature, ourselves, or God.
First, they may be caused by our human nature, which has "highs" and lows." – "ups" and "downs." In other words, our faith simply reflects the natural highs and lows, or the changing mood of everyday human life. Commenting on these mood changes, one writer says: "On one day, life is beautiful …. We appreciate everything and everyone. On such a day it is difficult imagine why we ever thought life was difficult. On another day, however, nothing is right. It is a time, when we number more enemies than we have, and find fault with every friend. On such a day, it is difficult to know why we ever thought life was easy."
Our faith is like that. It is subject to mood swings. These mood changes are simply part of being human.
Second, the periods of faith darkness may be caused by ourselves. We can bring them on by neglecting our faith. That is, we can let our faith grow weak from sin or from lack of spiritual nourishment. In other words, just as our body grows weak from abuse or lack of physical nourishment, so our soul grows weak from sin and lack of spiritual nourishment.
Third and finally, these periods of darkness may be caused by God. God allows them to happen in order to strengthen and deepen our faith. In other words, God uses them to help us mature in our faith, just as God helped Abraham mature in his faith. Abraham was thrown into darkness when God asked him to sacrifice his son Isaac.
Regardless of the cause of these periods of darkness, the agony they can produce is great. Our response to these periods of darkness, therefore, should be to accept them and use them in whatever way God seems to be indicating to us.
In our Gospel reading, the twelve apostles beg their Master, "Increase our faith." Jesus does not respond directly to their request. What he does, as so often, is to put the apostles on the spot. The important thing, he says, is not how much faith you have, its size, and amount. What is important is the kind of faith you have: It has to be authentic and genuine. If it were no bigger than a mustard seed, but were genuine, real, its power would be enormous. With such faith "you would say to this mulberry tree, `Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it will obey you." With genuine faith you can do things utterly unexpected, things impossible to naked nature. "Nothing will be impossible to you."
The problem is, what is authentic faith? Building on Scripture and tradition, Catholicism put together in compact form the Act of Faith with which we grew up, "O my God, I firmly believe that you are one God in three divine Persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I believe that your divine Son became man and died for our sins. I believe these and all the truths, which the holy Catholic Church teaches, because You have revealed them, Who can neither deceive nor be deceived."
This is indeed genuine faith. I submit my intellect to a revealing God. With my mind I accept as true certain propositions that come from the word the Church speaks in Christ's name. This is genuine faith, but it is not the whole of genuine faith. By itself, it is not the faith that saves.
The Letter of James puts it bluntly: "You believe that God is one. You do well. [But] even the demons believe – and shudder."
The faith that saves, the faith that moves mountain and mulberry trees, is not simply a matter of propositions – precious as propositions are within a faith that is Catholic. My act of faith must be love-bringing, a yes in the first instance not to some specific proposition, not to a determinate set of truths, but to a person: to our Lord himself, to God in Christ.
More than that, it is a yes that engages my whole person – not only understanding but heart and will as well. It is a total self- giving: "I myself, I in my entirety, surrender myself to you." The peak of saving faith is the sort of selfless love that once inspired a famous piece of poetry long attributed to St. Francis Xavier:
It is not your promised heaven
That moves me, Lord, to love you.
It is not the fear of hell
That forces me to fear you.
What moves me, Lord, is you, Lord,
Fixed to a cross and mocked.
What moves me is your wounded body,
The insults and your death.
What moves me really is your love, so that
Were there no heaven, I would love you still.
Were there no hell, I would fear you still.
For me to love you, you need nothing to give,
For even if I did not hope as indeed I hope,
Even so I would love you as indeed I love.
Such is the loving faith a loving God holds out to us. It is a gift of God, and it is expected to grow, from small beginning to the height of Xavier's faith, from intellectual acceptance of truths to surrender of the complete person to God in Christ.
Faith, like a child, matures best within a community of love. Like it or not, I am part of you and you are part of me. St. Paul says - No Christian can say to another Christian, "I have no need of you." With any failure to love, I am diminished. We are incredibly one, all of us who receive the same Body of Christ.
# posted by F O O D F O R T H O U G H T @ 4:43 PM 
