Skeptical Faith

Google Image In her apparently successful search for God, Author Heather King experienced “that stab of joy that hints at a world hidden within this one.” But she didn’t come to that experience quickly or easily. “I was raised Protestant back in New England,” she wrote in her book, Redeemed, “and hadn’t gone to church since I was a child. ...For years I’d been against God in general and all churches on principle.” She was part of that growing group that wants to be “spiritual but not religious.” “I’d always thought of spiritual people as kind, calm, intelligent, open-minded, ‘for’ everyone and everything,” she wrote, “and religious people as deluded, narrow-minded, fanatical haters, and in charge of the Inquisition.” She had an awakening, however. She is now an active member of a church (Catholic) and often writes and speaks about her search for God in speeches, books and a blog. More and More Common Her previous experience is becoming more and more common. As church att

Google Image While he was painting frescoes in St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, the artist James Thornhill became so excited about his fresco that he stepped back to see it better and was unaware he was about to fall over the edge of the scaffolding. A horrified assistant understood that crying out to him would have only hastened the disaster. Without thinking twice, he dipped a brush in paint and hurled it at the middle of the fresco. The master, appalled, sprang forward. His work was damaged, but he was saved. Raniero Cantalamessa, an Italian Franciscan friar, told this story about the 18 th century painter in his homily during Good Friday services at the Vatican. His point: Thornhill’s experience could be similar to ours during the COVID-19 pandemic. I’m writing “could be” because most of us will probably focus on the risks of the disease, which are formidable, or the economic disaster it appears to be causing, and not on the opportunity it provides in the search for God.

Google Image “Whatever,” I said in a recent telephone conversation with my daughter. “Yikes!” I thought afterward. “Did I really use that word?” Fact is, it’s hard to resist the use of words and phrases that are endemic in society. The incredible use and abuse of “like,” mostly by people under 50, is a prime example. But I dislike the word “whatever” for one principal reason: It denotes indifference. It means, “I don’t care one way or another. Whatever you’re concerned about doesn’t concern me.” I’m reminded of a quote from the Book of Revelation in the Christian Bible – one of the most difficult and most-often misinterpreted books of the New Testament: “Would that you were hot or cold! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spew you out of my mouth.” (In my youth I remember that this translation was especially popular with fundamentalist preachers who drew out the “spew” to sound like “speooooo.”) Incompatible Isn’t it obvious that indifference is

Google Image At this writing, there are 1.5 million confirmed cases of COVID-19 worldwide and 89,915 deaths, including 434,861 confirmed U.S. cases and 14,814 U.S. deaths. I won’t go into the economic problems caused by the pandemic or the overall suffering the disease and its fallout has caused. If you follow the news, you get more than your fill of bad news. I wonder how what scientists describe as “ a nucleic acid molecule in a protein coat, too small to be seen by light microscopy and able to multiply only within the living cells of a host,” could cause so much havoc. For many of us, a virus is principally the thing that infects our computers. Aren’t we humans masters of creation? We have tamed the horse and the elephant, domesticated dogs, cats, and even lions and tigers, but not the infinitesimally tiny and invisible creatures that apparently are all around us. Is God a Loving Parent? So where is God in all this? How could he/she let this happen? How can you say God is

Google Image As a seminary student in my 20s, my friend, Gerald Waris, and I used part of the money we earned working in a brewery to take a summer’s-end trip to San Francisco. We picked that city because my aunt could put us up for free and because I, at least, wanted to go deep-sea fishing. We set out on a fishing boat to the Farallon Islands, about 30 miles west of the Golden Gate Bridge. The fishing was great – we caught several large salmon – but the friendship we developed with the boat’s owner was even better. He was intrigued by the fact that we were pursuing the priesthood and willing to be celibate. I’ve never forgotten something he said to me: “You know what I admire about you?” “No,” I replied. “That you are satisfied with your life and what you have.” I wasn’t satisfied with celibacy, it turns out, but otherwise his observation was, to a great extent, accurate. And I’ve become more satisfied, and grateful, the older I get. (Being satisfied can’t be smugness, of c