SAILING NOWHERE
I was placed in my boat of reed,
And placed in a river run smoothed.
I drifted past Moses’ landing place,
Nestled amongst the rushes,
past Peter’s boat and fishing nets,
past reformed basilicas and black minarets,
and factories of manufactured creeds and needs;
all, whose only purpose is to clean the streets,
tattoo feet, and recycle old shoes and dirt.
I sailed, past them all,
into the unknown of the ocean.
I came across this poem I wrote as a sophomore in college. In the grand scheme of Fowler’s stages of faith development I was in stage four, in which I, as a 19 year old person, was questioning everything I had been taught by my parents, my Church, and my government. Every value I had been taught was up for grabs. Every value I had been taught was severely examined for lies and fabrication.
What I discovered was that the values my parents taught me were solid. My dad and mom lived authentically that which they believed. While I might not always hold to their politics, I was even a liberal then, I knew they were trustworthy.
On the other hand, while my Church preached the Good News, I found that my Church didn’t always live authentically the Good News. For a Church in which the Great Commandment of Jesus was central, to love one another as Jesus loved us, had been very poorly followed by many in the Church, including some revered saints. From the Crusades, through the Borgia Popes, the evils of the Spanish Inquisition, the slaughter and enslavement of indigenous people, the slaughter of many Christians, all in the name of God, was as bitter a betrayal of Jesus as that of Judas Iscariot. Could my Church, or for that matter, any institutionalized religion could be trusted? My 19 year old self said emphatically, “No!.”
Then there was the United States government. Like Ron Kovic (Born On the Fourth Of July), I had been taught to never question my government. Right or wrong, the government was never to be questioned. And, as Kovic discovered, the United States government was not to be trusted. It had lied about the Vietnam War. The sins of our politicians and our military descended upon us like a plague. Many men and women had their lives destroyed in this horrific war based on lies. The nation was torn in half. Those who had believed their government and fought honorably were despised by many opposed to the war. Even the American Legion would not accept them because they had not won the war. Those who opposed the war and either went to Canada to avoid the draft, or were imprisoned by refusing to be drafted were equally despised for having shirked their duties. All that followed by Nixon’s criminal behavior and those of his administration utterly shook the faith of the nation in the government. We all came away from this suspicious of all government, never entrusting our faith again in our political system.
It was from all of this that this poem was written. All these broken beliefs and trusts lay around me like shards of broken glass. However, out of this pile of broken debris arose, like a Phoenix, something incredibly wonderful. I began to embrace and welcome the truth of Mystery in my life.
I found that while religious and/or government creeds could not be trusted because much of it was of human construction, the concept of “Mystery” could be trusted. Mystery’s origin lay in the Divine. The one thing I could trust is that I am unable to understand Mystery. I can’t construct or control Mystery. Mystery is something to be experienced, something in which to be immersed. While some insight may be gained in the experience of Mystery, Mystery will never be fully understood. From the time of the burning bush, God can only be addressed as Mystery. The name God gave of God’s self to Moses is the ultimate Mystery, a Divine riddle that puzzles all who hear it. This mystery is aptly reflected in Sister Joan Chittester OSB definition of God as “changing changelessness.”
That 19 year old undergraduate of the College of St. Thomas is now a 65 year old Roman Catholic ordained deacon. How does this poem, written 46 years ago stand with me today? I find it still very spot on. The questioning never stops.
A faith that complacently accepts all that is taught is dead. True faith is life lived in the crucible. Faith is life lived in contradiction struggling to understand Mystery. Mystery is filled with paradox. There is a reorientation in our lives that is in direct opposition to what we have learned in our world. Jesus refers to this reorientation when he states that salvation is obtainable only by denying oneself and carrying one’s cross and following him, especially when this does not seem to make any rational sense. The word salvation is couched in mystery. Exactly what is salvation?
For all the stories of near death survivors, for all the soothsaying of mystics and mediums, no one truly knows with any certainty exactly that which awaits us as we leave this life for the next. In his song/poem, “Visions of Johanna,” (from the album “Blonde On Blonde”), Bob Dylan writes, “Inside the museum, infinity goes up on trial. Voices echo back, ‘This is what salvation must be like after a while.’” The then, agnostic Dylan (this was prior to his ‘religious conversion’) was trying to desperately understand the Mystery of salvation. I have come to think that perhaps his acknowledgement of not knowing was probably more a product of faith, than a lack of faith.
In the Gospels, Jesus uses mysterious metaphors in speaking of salvation. He often references wedding feasts to describe the elusive concept of heaven. During the time of Jesus, wedding feasts were occasions of joy, in which food, drink, warmth, happiness, and acceptance were provided for all who attended. Using this metaphor to describe salvation, Jesus is saying that it is that in which all human senses are sated and fulfilled.
All St. Paul can say on the subject is that what we see and believe to be real in this life is all transitory and empty. That which is truly real lays beyond the comprehension of our senses. In his not knowing, St. Paul was resolute in sacrificing everything, including his life, in order to embrace the Mystery which lay beyond his comprehension and senses. Within the Mystery of salvation lies a glory that is incomprehensible to our human minds. It must be experienced within Mystery.
As one who is beginning his 41st year of ministry in the Church, I am still on that boat of reed floating out into the unknown of the ocean. Being immersed in Mystery for all these years, I have come to know that not all creeds and beliefs, religious or political, may be true. I have come to accept that I will never fully understand that which I say and have promised to believe. In the Kevin Smith religious parody film, “Dogma”, a film that is at times extremely offensive and far off base, and at other times an honest, comedic critique of Catholicism, Rufus, the “13th Apostle”, says to the “last scion” that the words “I believe” means “we have a good idea about what we are saying.” That is a fairly accurate statement.
Living in and with Mystery has taught me that the grace and the goodness that flows out of the Church is of Divine origin. Grace and goodness does not originate in the bewilderment of our confused humanity. My trust in the Christian creedal statements lay not in the words expressed, but in the Mystery that lay beyond the words.
