What Does Faith Offer?
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My beloved paternal grandmother, Julia, who died in 1957, had what I’ve heard identified as “late-onset Alzheimer’s.” In other words, she had a kind of dementia that happens late in life.
My parents decided to take her out of a nursing home, and my
mother vowed to care for her in our home. At first, it was relatively easy.
Julia was able to do much for herself. But her dementia progressed rapidly, and
she was soon bedridden.
My mother - with my father still working and none of us five children able to provide much help - struggled to bathe her, get her to the bathroom, feed her and make her comfortable. In just a few months, Julia was unable to think rationally, and she began a sort of mantra, shouting over and over from her bed, “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”
A metaphor?
It was heart-breaking, and irritating, but thinking about it now, I see it as a sort of metaphor for the constant mental state in which many of us live. We’re always thinking about what comes next, what tomorrow will bring, whether we can keep our jobs, whether we will get a raise, keep our health, manage our finances. And whatever “it” is, we want to get on with it now.
That’s why I’m fascinated, but dubious, about what spiritual writers call ‘the Sacrament of the Present Moment.” Oddly, there’s really no such thing as the present moment because as soon as you become conscious of it, it’s gone.
But the idea is that you try to focus on what’s happening now, that you become more aware of God’s presence in the here and now and that you trust that God is in charge. It also implies acceptance of what happens as God’s will. And all of that is extremely hard, at least for me.
As wonderful as life can be, it is also full of losses. Some can be anticipated – such as the losses that happen as you age – but many come out of the blue and those are, perhaps, the most difficult to accept. I’ve tried to develop a “bring it on” attitude, but I’m frequently annoyed, usually at my own limitations, and complain to myself and others.
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Last weekend’s Catholic liturgy included a reading from the gospel scene in which the apostle, Thomas, expressed doubt about the resurrection of Jesus. Replying to other disciples who said they had “seen the risen Lord,” who had been crucified, Thomas said, “Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
Jesus doesn’t castigate Thomas for his doubt. He simply shows him his wounds from the crucifixion and invites him to touch them. He helps Thomas believe by providing physical evidence, then refers to all the rest of us, saying, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.”
But faith is more than belief. It’s a loving relationship with our Father and the determination to be God-like by loving and caring for others. And it’s an anchor for our lives.
Provide Stability
Anchors, as you know, affix themselves to the seabed as they’re dragged by a boat. They keep the boat from floating around and being blown around from one wave to another. They provide a stability that is just as important in life as it is on the sea.
The anchor that is faith includes the conviction, even in the midst of doubt, that whatever happens – even terrible diseases like my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s – God is with us
That benefit of faith is what I wish for you, dear readers, remembering Paul’s prayer at the start of his letter to the Philippians: “I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion....”
Wonderful reflection. Thank you. Tom. Gerald
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