Faith, A Beautiful Truth

Once upon a time, there was one little downtown boy, riding in a downtown taxi. And he wanted to observe God's mercy, God's love. But something encouraged him to reflect upon forgiveness and sacrifice. And then he began a great dialogue.

He was a little anxious. He had a complicated post-modern uneasiness, small town tranquility which could be mistaken for serenity or calm. He was alert, listening to classical music, occasionally glancing at the other riders, occasionally checking the stations. And alternating between jumpy cursive and bumpy printing he began:

vocation, service, Sunday, sacrifice, fun, people, communion, help, sharing, salvation, love, serving the people, helping others, believing, believing and building, faith building, heaven, hard work, sinning is easy, salvation requires determination, forgiveness, Lord's Prayer, Twenty-Third Psalm, Follow Me, Body of Christ, Blood of Christ, eucharist, liturgy of the eucharist, liturgy of the word, sign of peace, kiss of peace, Lamb of God, prayer, blessings, welcome

Life can be different when faith is present. There is a constant dialogue in my mind reminding me of the Sacraments and encouraging me to seek goodness. Observing, praying, and working (doing God's work) can lead to wisdom.

Wisdom helps to deepen our faith, deepen our beliefs. Wisdom is impartial, judicious. Wisdom is understanding.

Certain times of the year, expressions of faith are everywhere, clearly visible. Faith can appear festive, playful. Faith can be an interruption of the normal routines and habits of our lives in this chaotic world.

True faith takes us further, takes us beyond the clearly visible, through lesser and greater moments. Faith helps to reorganize different moments like chapters in a book in a way that allows truth to become visible. Faith is friends with the past, the present, and the future and asks them the same questions. There is an urgency, immediacy in faith.

Being prostrate in body, mind, and soul is utterly acceptable and encouraged.

Everywhere the eye can see, if you look close enough, there are little hints of faith, hints of goodness, hints of belief in God.

A Road Trip

Life is a collection of accidents and almost accidents. Life is a conversation overheard. Life is a dream repeated and remembered.

For me one of the things which holds my life together is my faith, my belief in God.

Each day I acknowledge my flaws, my weaknesses and ask for God’s grace and help. At least once a day I pray for a “clean heart” for myself and others. And I remember other prayers, other voices asking God for guidance.

My plan was for the first blog entry appear sometime on Wednesday. But on Wednesday I took an impromptu road trip to West Virginia. That morning I decided to use road signs as a clever way to discuss faith and religion. I was happy with the plan.

Since I was the passenger, I debated bringing my laptop but decided that was a little silly. Instead I brought a steno pad, an ink pen, two cameras and a copy of the Magnificat. I did not have a plan on how I was going to use any of these items but I knew that I would.

I used the pen and steno pad within the first five minutes. I was going to write down every road sign that I passed. I was surprised by the purple ink which appeared on the paper as I wrote my first words. Only ten words were written before the pen and steno pad were put away.

And then I explained my plan. The car drove through North West Washington, past many two story houses with impressive stone and brick facades, past many trees, graceful and protective, with green leaves more vibrant against the overcast sky, past women pushing perambulators on the sidewalks. I saw this and more. There was too much to write down, too much to try to capture with words.

Here was life. Here was hope. I could see it.

Since we were leaving the Washington metropolitan area, I asked if we could stop at a bank because I needed additional money. While I was at the automatic teller machine, the Magnificat was skimmed by my friend Natalie. When I returned to the car, she flipped a couple pages and asked me to read a passage.

It was the Twenty-Third Psalm. It was a responsorial. I glanced at it once. Then, as we drove on the freeway, I began to read the Twenty-Third Psalm.

In my heart there was an instant of pure joy and hope as the words were repeated and loved ones remembered.