Disturbing Lack of Faith

“You will be hated by all because of my name.”-Matthew 10:22

Today, the Church celebrates the martyrdom of Saint Stephen, who according to tradition is the first Christian martyr.  The Collect for Mass for the Feast of Saint Stephen says this, “Grant, Lord, we pray, that we may imitate what we worship and so learn to love even our enemies, for we celebrate the heavenly birthday of a man who knew how to pray even for his persecutors…”  In the Gospel passage from Matthew, Jesus tells that the simple choice to follow him will bring enemies, but that the Spirit will give us what we need in the moment of need. 

Jesus gives us a clear and definitive teaching that essentially says to have faith.  But what does it mean to have faith?  For me, there is a real cerebral difference between belief and faith.  I believe in God.  I believe in Jesus.  I believe in the Church and her teachings.  But faith is a little different.  I know what faith is.  I want to have faith in God and trust that I need “will be given at that moment” (Matthew 10:19). 

But I don’t have that kind of faith.  I live a faith life that makes me the animus of whatever happens.  A good friend once asked me if the young people I worked with lived my life would they get to heaven?  I mention this often now because it is so profound.  At the end of every day, I am disappointed to examine my day and question where in my day is there a single moment that is redeemed by all the others. 

The opening prayer for the Feast of Saint Stephen renews my hope.  The prayer invokes that we may be given the ability to imitate the Lord and to learn to love.  These are processes that take time.  I should rightly feel disappointment in my sin but not necessarily feel shame.  I should be contrite and seek forgiveness for the wrongs I have done and what I have failed to do. 

Jesus tells us that if we had faith the size of a tiny mustard seed, we’d be able to work wonders.  I have not seen anyone move a mountain recently so I presume I am in good company in Church.  But I don’t base my faith life on others’ faith.  I do, however, base my need for community on the faith life of others. 

I consider John (in Alaska) to be one of my best friends because he has been relentless and fearless in challenging me in my faith life.  He is always asking me how is my prayer life.  How is my relationship with God.  What is going on in my life.  I finally admitted in confession about a month ago that I was either near or starting a crisis of faith.  I no longer feel that I have a crisis of faith, but rather, I do have the problem of a lack of faith. 

Last night, it was really late but I still pulled out my guitar and ran through a few songs before bed.  One song in particular was “Enough” by Chris Tomlin.  My friends would not be surprised to hear Chris Tomlin as a selection for my sets, but his music has not been in my mix lately.  One line in particular that struck me was “…all I have in You is more than enough.” 

So what am I really doing?  Can I faithfully answer the call to love the people who will hate me?  I don’t know if I can do it faithfully but I try.  I do want to be a saint in heaven when I complete this earthly life.  Some days, I feel like the only way will be to do so like Saint Stephen.  The reality is that I will die and it does not matter how I die so long as I die faithfully in Christ.

Christmas Hope

O God, who wonderfully created the dignity of human nature

And still more wonderfully restored it, grant, we pray,

That we may share in the divinity of Christ,

Who humbled himself to share in our humanity…

-Collect, December 25, 2016, Mass during the Day

When I was young in my Catholic faith, I often ignored the opening prayer of the Mass when it was prayed by the priest.  It was not intentional or meant in any disrespectful manner; it was the result of my lack of familiarity with all that takes place in the opening rites of the Mass.  But the collect is essential to the Mass.  *(I would argue that every word, rite, prayer of the Mass is essential)* 

I consider my father in faith to be Archbishop Charles Chaput, Archbishop of Philadelphia.  While in Colorado, he made time to see me whenever he could.  He would often preach that if you wanted to understand the readings for the Catholic Mass, just go to the opening prayer and read it. 

Being Catholic is a struggle.  Being Christian is a struggle.  The struggle is trying to live virtuously.  Webster tells us that virtue is conformity to a standard of right or a commendable quality or trait.  For me, the discipline I try to adopt is to think of others more and myself less.  This sounds like a good practice but the reality is often more difficult.  Every day, I wake up and my body reminds me that it must be attended to.  I’m hungry.  I’m dirty.  I’m hot.  I’m cold.  I’m late.  I’m tired.  Virtue is undermined by human frailty (and, for me, some Oreos). 

Virtue, for me, is also undermined by desire.  Desire, by itself, is not a bad thing.  Desire is a deep attraction.  I speak often from the position of desire.  I desire good things for every person that I meet.  Because I desire good things for people, I often will say things that are true in the moment and very reflective of how I feel, but very difficult to follow through with.  I have friends (Jonah, Louis, Robert, Adam, and many more) that I explicitly tell them that I wish I could sit and have a beer and give but an hour with them.  More discernment would give me a better statement that reflects reality.  Moving to Alaska has made it difficult to make good on time commitments or at least expressions of commitment. 

Being Catholic is also my choice.  I choose it because hope is a virtue that I value.  Hope is the promise that there is something greater than me and that my life, despite my mistakes, eternity is a possibility because I am forgiven by God through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.  Catholicism is a faith tradition that is difficult because it has a book with stories that are thousands of years old.  Catholicism also has a book that a couple thousand paragraphs of the Church’s teaching.  There is a hierarchy and structure that reflects the wisdom of millennia.  These characteristics run counterculture it is neither vintage or new.  It appears to be restrictive of freedom.  Its ways are not “our” ways. 

Jesus is God.  God is love.  This teaching of the Church specifically gives me hope.  Jesus taught about the dignity of the person without regard to race, creed, or sexuality.  And thus, it is so that Christmas is sacred to me. 

I was speaking via Facebook Messenger with a friend who recently lost his father and I was lamenting on the loss of my sister many years ago.  He noted that time probably makes it easier.  I appreciated his words of comfort but I spoke of my grief differently.  I noted that my grief did not get easier with time but rather changes with time from sadness to heartfelt longing.  Because my hope subsists in the divinity of Jesus, the celebration of the nativity of Jesus marks the beginning of the manifestation of God’s precious promise that He will come to his people. 

I will fail in my Christian walk.  But Christmas is a time to renew our commitment to virtue.  For Catholics, it is a time to remember that God came to save us.  There is hope.