By the glorious Qur’an – they wonder why one of their own has come to warn them; the unbelievers say, “How strange, when we die and turn to dust shall we rise up again? Such a return is a remote prospect.” We know well how the earth decomposes them. We have a Book that preserves everything. But they denied the truth when it came to them, and now they are confused. Surah 50:1-5
Many of my friends and neighbors, even acquaintances, say to me, “I wish I had your faith.” Or, “I wish I could believe in a loving God, but there is just too much hate in the world.” Or, “This is what I see: all will turn to dust and the earth will consume all things; a hope in resurrection is just too much to ask.” Or, “Maybe I can make the world a little better before I leave; maybe that’s my faith.”
These concerns are heartfelt, and so honest, as a journey into faith is demanding and often defies ‘making sense.’ To honor the power of these wishes and these worries, and the longing for hope, we first need to listen to those who are willing to share their stories, and listen deeply, caring about the simple, even small details of their telling. Ask the next question. Desire to know and understand. Pursues what makes for peace and mutual upbuilding.
Do not become a stumbling block to others. Listen to St. Paul as he warns members of his community that a rigid compliance to a belief structure as “absolute truth” can lead to idolatry. Those who rely on the exacting details of dogma reflect a weak conscience. (In the Christian Testament, I Corinthians 8:7-12; See also Surah 2:67-74 with a similar warning against religious leaders who want to make simple commands a burden as a way to serve their own importance).
As I listen carefully, I need to be aware of my own tendency to want to fix things, to find solutions, to clarify ambiguity, and to resolve confusion.
Sometimes, those tendencies can be helpful, yet when translated by religious institutions, they often become instruments in presenting a faith that becomes transactional:
“Accept Jesus Christ as Lord as Savior if you want to be saved… Pray five times a day if you expect God’s fidelity… Faith will protect you from bad things happening to you… Certainty is a sign of strength; doubt is of the devil… God punishes as a way to make the crooked straight.”
Is fear really the way to invite people into a journey of faith? In the short run, it can be effective, but in the end a faith motivated by fear becomes a practice in protecting, fixing, and dominating, especially if you hear words like this:
“If you are experiencing hardships, pain, or loss, you’re just not praying hard enough… Get your act together… Fix yourself, so you can be worthy of God’s fix.”
All this causes a state of confusion and a dismissal, often, unfortunately, authored by the religious.
Simply put, it’s a way to control that by which we have no control, whether religious or not: our living, our suffering, and our dying. Many have rejected this controlling approach to faith, rightly so.
Together we can see our living, our suffering, and our dying through the light of our souls, through the power of each other’s breath. We need companions, no matter their ‘outlook’ on life, especially when we enter into “the valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23).
To be a companion in another’s journey is a blessing.
~ ~ ~ ~
As a chaplain at New York Hospital in Manhattan, I witnessed a young man being rolled into the Emergency Room on a gurney, shot on the street, dead on arrival. His mother arrived just as the surgeon, who was going to “harvest” his organs, rushed into the bleak crowded room. As the mother heard words no mother ever wants to hear, she slumped into a chair, in shock.
The surgeon, recognizing the woman as the boy’s mother, set aside his urgency, knelt beside her, wrapped his arms around her legs, put his head into her lap, and said, “I’m so sorry for what I am about to do to your son.”
The mother put her head down on the surgeon’s back and wept. The rest of us stood as witnesses to her lament and to the surgeon’s kindness.
After a few minutes, the mother sat up, and said to the surgeon, “Go, go. Help my son save lives. Go.”
Day 26: Reflection
My friend Gideon who experienced far too many unspeakable atrocities during South African apartheid, would say over and over again, “the only way a wound heals is to let it bleed. If it scabs over too soon, it will be filled with puss. You begin on the outer edges of the wound and keep circling around and around till you get to its core.”
“Can a wound bleed too much?” I asked.
“Never, even if it bleeds right down to the very first drop of blood at creation. That’s where God is, in the beginning – in that first drop of blood. Let the wound bleed right to the core of its existence. It’s the only way to heal. Heaven and Earth cannot contain pain, but bleeding hearts always contain God. We are close to God when we are close to each other.”
Reflect today on how your soft, humble, sometimes bleeding heart has contained the gift of the Divine.
