St.Paul tells us in his second letter to the Christian
community in Corinth that we who follow Jesus “walk by faith and not by
sight.” In doing so we become “a new
creation.” He writes, “So if anyone is
in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away, see
everything has become new.” And in that
state of being “a new creation,” we must live in the way God wants us to
live—“. . . we make it our aim to please [the Lord].”
My goodness, it sounds so straightforward, doesn't it? Yet we may not be exactly sure what walking
in faith looks like. Does it mean coming to church for worship every Sunday
we’re able? Does it mean contrasting what we believe against what others
believe and standing firm for what we believe? Does it mean praying in a
certain way? Does it mean never having a doubt about who God is or how God acts?
Walking in faith may well be something slightly different
than answering ‘yes’ to any of these questions.
It may be acting with confidence that God will be who God is, and, yes,
we’ll finally understand and “see” in God’s good time.
Walking in faith may look like rappelling down a cliff or
a tall building—especially if you’re doing it for the very first time. Bob Gilley—some of you know him—went (in a
harness) over the edge and down the side of a 17 story building. He did this to
raise money for Special Olympics and attached a video camera to himself to
document his descent. Posted on Facebook, the video also contains voices. Although all I could locate now were still
photos, I think I remember hearing someone say, “Don’t look down.”
Parker Palmer, the theologian, recounts a similar
experience of going down a 110 foot cliff in Outward Bound. He describes the rope attached to his safety
harness as a “gossamer strand.” After Palmer couldn't seem to get the hang of
how he could control his descent, his instructor told him, “You are leaning to
close to the rock face. You need to lean much farther back so your feet will
grip the wall.” Leaning back, further
out over “the void” seemed foolhardy to Palmer, but finally he was able to lean
back far enough so he could move slowly down the rock wall. “Walking” by faith that the “gossamer strand”
would hold him meant not looking into the void nor trying to look to the rock
face for security.
So how does our “walking by faith” look from God’s point
of view? God sees us trusting that God’s
work in us and in the world will be completed, unfolding slowly as it should. Jesus’
parables, recounted in the passage from Mark’s gospel that we heard today,
depict such an unfolding.
There are two aspects of these parables that are important:
the seed and the flourishing. The seed
begins the process by which God’s reign comes into being. Tiny, spread upon the ground, beginning to
sprout, the seed appears to be so insignificant. Without having faith that the seed contains
all that’s needed for the grain or the shrub to appear, we might not stay
around for the flourishing.
Mysterious and abundant growth of the reign of God
happens in the same way as the grain grows from stalk to head to full head
ready for God’s gathering in. Mysterious and abundant growth of the reign of
God happens so God’s creatures—as the birds of the air do—may find safety
there. Some call this God’s economy: the unmerited and mysterious reign of God
comes to us not only as individuals, but also as members of a community. God’s reign promises a time in which, like
the field of grain, we will become ready for a harvest. God’s reign promises a
time when we, like the birds of the air nesting in the shade of the mustard
shrub, can rest in God’s generous love where we will find shaded protection.
We, just as the disciples did, may not be able to “walk
in faith,”questioning in our sometimes frightening, frequently discouraging
lives, whether God’s reign has been planted through Jesus and will indeed
flourish and prosper for our well-being and that of the whole world.
In Carmelite spirituality God’s hiddenness seems to
obscure God from us. But in the
darkness, if we keep silence, we can experience God’s reign as God reaches out
to us in all the circumstances of our lives. This holy silence we keep will
assist us when we are “walking in faith.” It can also illuminate this darkness
in which God appears to hide.
I want end with some lyrics from a song written by Dan Schutte,
a Roman Catholic and former Jesuit, to illustrate what it means to walk in
faith even when your troubles seem overwhelming—as if you were going off the
edge of a building or cliff into the void:
Refrain:
“Holy
darkness, blessed night,
heaven's
answer hidden from our sight.
As we
await you, O God of silence,
we
embrace your holy night.”
[God
speaks]“I have tried you in fires of affliction;
I have
taught your soul to grieve.
In the
barren soil of your loneliness,
there I
will plant my seed.”
Refrain
“I have
taught you the price of compassion;
you have
stood before the grave.
Though
my love can seem
like a
raging storm,
this is
the love that saves.”
Refrain
“In your
deepest hour of darkness
I will
give you wealth untold.
When the
silence stills your spirit,
will my
riches fill your soul.”
Refrain
So how
then shall we walk?
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