Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Second Sunday of Easter (or Sunday of Divine Mercy)

Image: Caravaggio at Hermanoleon

April 3, 2016


Our tradition has let the apostle Thomas off easy.
"Doubting" is really a kind of description of this aberrant apostle.
He was out of place, out of step, out of it.
He not only doubted—he denied.

The final fidelity of reluctant Thomas is a good reminder to us that faith is often a matter of doubts overcome.
If we never have any doubts, our own ideas may coincide with God's, or we may not have any personal ideas at all.
In either case, in the absence of doubt, it is difficult to know whether we believe in god or in our own cleverness.

But when there is a difference of opinion between God and us, just when we think we may be losing our faith, then is the opportunity to believe in something beyond us, to plead, "Help my unbelief!"
Doubts are absolutely mandatory to mature faith.
None of us can have a deep faith without doubts.
Theologian Romano Guardini wrote: FAITH IS THE CAPACITY TO BEAR YOUR DOUBTS, TO DEAL WITH YOUR UNCERTAIN­TIES, TO BELIEVE FIRM­LY ENOUGH TO LIVE WITH YOUR QUESTIONS.
WITHOUT SUCH QUESTIONS, THERE IS NO FAITH.

Many people today have no trouble with faith because faith does not bother them.
In the early church, faith meant leaving family, job, perhaps even life itself.
But being a Christian today is an acceptable thing,
so it may be difficult to distinguish between faith and convenience.

I am merely noting that, in the first century, people clearly knew they were marked for death,
whereas in the 20th century it requires special discernment to spot a Christian since most of them do not seem to be marked for anything special.
Many who call ourselves Christian are merely deists.
We do not believe in Christ so much as in a remote God who creates and rewards and punishes and keeps order.
That is, they have a tough time believing in the God of the gospels, but bow most often to the God of the Old Testament who controls and manipulates the forces of nature to God's own end.


Until recently, our reliance of God was based on our dependence on nature.
Our god might thunder and terrify us, but we could appease this god by prayer and sacrifice and going to church
We even talked about God in terms of nature: power and majesty.

But, since we have mastered nature, we have outgrown that god.
They say people become atheists when they become better than their god.
So, having become better than the god of nature, we are forced to either stop believing in god, or return to the gospels and believe in a God of weakness, of humility, of friendship, of tenderness.

Twenty centuries ago, Jesus revealed the true religion for this century: a God who does not manifest in power and glory
A God who is not offended by human progress,
A God who serves his servants
A God who dies so that God's people might live.

Modern faith poses us a critical choice.
We can hand ourselves over to the new, powerful gods of technology
or we can throw our lot with the unnatural God of the gospels.
That would, of course, require a different kind of faith.
It would not be the consoling faith of our fathers and mothers.

Faith can no longer be a sentimental reaction to a cruel world.
God can no longer be a buffer against outrageous fortune.
Prayer can no longer be a consolation prize for coming in last.
Religion can no longer shield us from facing up to a hard world and a crucified God.

Modern faith leaves us with a battered earth to salvage, prisoners to free, starving families to feed, wars to stop.
What we formerly asked God to do for us, a grown-up God now tells us to do for ourselves.

It is not that God no longer cares—God cars in a different way.
This happens every time someone reaches maturity.
When we were children, our parents fed us, clothed us, kept us from harm.
That was the way they expressed their love.
And we responded the only way children can: we called it "love" but it was more like grateful dependency.
It was a wonderful, symbiotic, mutually beneficial relationship.
But it was built for obsolescence.
Parents are not supposed to dominate forever; they are to form children for freedom.
Children are not supposed to receive forever; they are to learn the joy of giving.

Our God is like that.
We are not created to be the pawns of a powerful tyrant or spoiled chil­dren of a pampering parent.
We are images of God.
Therefore, we ought to reflect God's face.
                                                                       
Faith is doing what we believe our God does: COMPASSIONATE, HELPING, FORGIVING, SUFFERING, TRIUMPHANT.
Faith is believing what Jesus told us his God was like,
.........instead of what we think God ought to be like.

Not much difference, then, between us and Thomas.

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