Scripture:
Reflection:
Recently, my son Carl and I got into a late-night conversation about faith. Several years ago, their parish priest was charged with abusing boys. Carl had the horrific task of asking their 7-year-old son whether he was a victim. He wasn’t, but others were. Carl was so incensed over the cover-ups facilitating this behavior that he swore off Catholicism. Then, seeing rampant hypocrisy in religions that exclude people, shun the poor, tolerate and even facilitate injustice, yet proclaim they do it in the name of God, he swore off all organized religion. In fact, he now wonders whether God even exists.
I shared that, for me, God is not a set of doctrines or dogmas, but a real lived experience of presence, for me personally, but also permeating creation. I know with all my being that God not only exists but is here with me and for me, the source of my life, the font of love, and the sustaining power of all that is. Could I believe otherwise? No. Like the disciples, my heart says, “Lord, to whom would I go?”
Carl couldn’t comprehend my certainty without concrete, tangible proof he could touch or see, asserting that believing in something you can’t prove is worthless because anybody could invent any belief they want. He perceives institutional religions doing just that, deciding who and what God is, then controlling adherents by requiring them to believe their version. He wanted proof that my experience of God is not a figment of my imagination, and he doesn’t care that the same experience has been described from the time of antiquity. It could all be dust in the wind.
I hear this same attitude among so many younger people. Like Carl, they’re sincerely searching, and something deep within them wants to believe, to know, to connect with something greater and deeper than themselves. But their trust has been shaken, and surrender to God becomes a very risky proposition. (Actually, surrender to God is indeed a vulnerable and risky proposition; it could even lead to the Cross. But that’s another column!)
Our conversation that night ended without resolution for now. We’ll revisit it, and in the meantime, I pray that God use and expand the opening cracks in Carl’s shielded heart, and those in the many others desperate for the Good News. Perhaps part of our mandate this Easter season is to facilitate that crack-opening. I know I can’t make Carl, or anyone believe, even by my best explanations. All I can do is be a continuous witness, faithful source of encouragement, and facilitator of God’s loving power and grace. Then I trust the rest to the Spirit, who works on a divine timeline, not my own.
There are so many hungry hearts in our world. May our prayers, our words, and the example of our lives help God to feed them.
Amy Florian is a teacher and consultant working in Chicago. For many years she has partnered with the Passionists. Visit Amy’s website: http://www.corgenius.com/.