Faith Journey

I am in the Star Wars generation. That is to say, I was a boy of 13 when the first Star Wars movie came out, and the larger than life characters and good vs evil storyline burst on to our screens. I was old enough to appreciate what I was watching, and young enough to half hope that it was all real. With the latest instalment of the franchise due to hit our theatres soon, it is on my mind.

So much has been written about this movie, and its connection to a number of the central elements of the human spiritual quest, for it to be impossible for me to do it justice here. I focus instead on one concept that has made its way into the contemporary zeitgeist: ‘may the Force be with you’.

We are almost inevitably the products of our society and our age. As such we are formed in an expectation of how things are best achieved. If we want to do something, get somewhere, or change something, we set about working out how best to bring that about. We make a decision, come up with a plan and off we go.

We tend to approach even spiritual things in this way. While that is alright as far as it goes, we need to learn pretty quickly that God cannot be managed by us in this fashion. The central task of the spiritual life is coming to terms with this fact. Until we do, our spiritual quest can be one of frustration and disappointment. In response to this frustration some simply attempt to try harder. They think of themselves as the problem. Some distance themselves from others (society, family, the Church). They think of others as the problem. Some distance themselves from God, believing that he either doesn’t care or doesn’t exist. They identify God as the problem.

We regularly witness people SHOUTING at one another on social media sites these days. It seems that in an age that prides itself on its tolerance and diversity, tolerance often only extends to those who happen to agree with us. Raise a question about what someone has written on one of these sites and watch the fireworks fly! Our tolerance is often exposed as being but a thin veneer.

The loud and insistent voices try to claim our attention. They seek to drown out the quieter, more considered and reflective voices. And they seek to stifle our own inner voice. This is a problem for, without access to these more thoughtful voices, we end up being buffeted from every side, like kites in a storm.

I was working with a group of school teachers a few months back, trying to find the words to connect with every person in the room. Sometimes it is hard to make yourself understood when talking with just one person, so how can you be sure when talking to a group of fifty? You call on your experience, you try to read the room and intuit what is going on, and you make an act of faith.

At times I can feel like a castaway on a desert island, placing messages in bottles hoping that one day someone somewhere will read one of them and may even be provoked to respond. I write my words, or I speak them out, but is anybody reading…is anybody listening? Should I write nothing? Say nothing? Would it make any difference if I did nothing at all?

Recently I was having a conversation with a young man. He was telling me that, as an atheist, even if God existed he would refuse to believe in him. He said it came down to this: God is not worth his time. He argued that even if he were to meet God face-to-face he would still say, ‘I refuse to believe’. He would not want to give God the satisfaction of having one more person believe in him.

I must admit that I found this confronting. Not for the first time it occurred to me that there is an element of choice when it comes to faith. Two people can encounter the same reality and one choose to say ‘yes’ to it, and the other choose ‘no’.

How many times have you heard a politician or journalist, whilst commenting on a national disaster, complete their commentary by adding, ‘Our prayers and thoughts are with the family and friends at this most difficult time’? Sometimes I think to myself how very nice that is, and then other times I’ll be more cynical and say, “Really, is this guy going to actually pray for the family”?

This thought crossed my mind recently when a close friend rang to say her dad was gravely ill, and the family had been advised he wouldn’t live much longer. This friend, aged in her early 40’s and with three young sons, lost her husband six years ago.

There’s a strange story in the Bible that is a favourite of mine. It concerns Jesus walking on the water and then Peter’s attempt to join him there (see Matthew 14:22-33)*.

At first reading, this story is not immediately relevant to us in our daily lives. The ability to walk on the water may be a miraculous curiosity, perhaps serving to highlight our own lack of faith, but that isn’t telling us anything new. We already know that faith can be hard to come by.

To understand this story we need first to understand that the Scriptures are primarily about who God is and who we are called to be in response to God. Through stories and events, songs and proverbs, letters and parables, God is seeking to teach us about God and about ourselves.

Recently I read a couple of opinion pieces in the newspaper about our Indigenous history. Both mentioned the word ‘Makarrata’, a Yolngu word meaning, ‘a coming together after a struggle’. The word has stayed with me, not only because it is a reminder of the ongoing struggle our Indigenous brothers and sisters grapple with, but also of struggles in our own lives.

How does this resonate with you? Have you ever found yourself in an ongoing struggle of some type? It might have been with your spouse, a child or in the workplace. Maybe you are currently experiencing a long-standing feud or tension. Such disharmony can make life quite miserable. We might wonder how on earth will we ever resolve the tensions. On the other hand, we might believe it is the other person’s fault, and resolutely decide not to make any move towards healing the situation. Unfortunately, the other party might also be thinking the same as you, and thus a ‘coming together’ is unlikely.

Occasionally in these reflections it is useful to reference the Bible. I do that if it is useful to the point I want to make. I hope you don’t mind.

However, there is something you should understand about the approach I take. I am not presenting it as history. The Bible is much more interesting than that. While it does contain history (e.g. King David really existed, as did Jesus, St Paul etc.) providing an account of history is not its primary concern. Instead, it is geared towards presenting us with a truth: the truth of the human being’s relationship with God.

Faith Journey

A few years ago the British actress, Joanna Lumley, spent a week or two alone on a desert island as part of a TV documentary. She was left with a bag of rice and simply expected to make do. Afterwards, when asked whether she enjoyed anything about the experience she said: “not hearing the news.”

For some of us the daily news has become overwhelming. If it’s not terrorism, it’s wars or natural disasters or whatever nonsense a certain president is up to. It can feel as if the world has become a harsh and unfriendly place. The occasional inspiring human interest story at the end of the news report does little to redress the balance.