I’m sitting in a parking lot waiting for my daughter to come out of her catechism class and my sons to finish their Altar Boy training session. It’s only Wednesday, but it’s already been a long week. World-weariness troubles my soul.
I can almost hear your sigh.
It seems that fresh scandals break every week: religious, political, and culture wars lash out at every level of society.
With the disheartening reality of broken humanity and the faithful losing their faith, it seems odd to be joining more church-related activities these days. According to current trends, I should be pulling away, disgusted. Isolated. Disillusioned.
But I have the ridiculous habit of reading history books. And if you pay attention to the past, certain things stand out as trends throughout the ever-lengthening ages. Broken humanity is one of them. Apparently, it’s not a new trend at all.
I don’t teach my children religion to save them from grief or to give them all the right answers. I teach them the Catholic faith because it is a healing hope in a world full of grieving hearts.
Jesus certainly knew a thing or two about sin-laden people, confused mindsets, weak wills, and pierced hearts. His mom must have known it too. After the religious authorities of her day murdered her innocent Son using the laws of the established church to do so, she still followed the traditions of her faith and waited until after the Sabbath to anoint His body. The body that wasn’t there. The body that rose beyond all reason and grief.
Faith is a lot like hope. It isn’t reasonable. It doesn’t protect itself at all costs. Love embraces both the faithful and the despairing, strengthens the will, holds up exhausted arms, and heals even the most mortally pierced heart.
The evening bells are ringing … a haunting sound on a late autumn evening. The bells toll for us all. Time passes and each of us is called. Every day. To the voice of grief and desperation. To the clarion call of change. To the herald of a new day. To the whisper of a spirit that has been — is now — and always will be.
I can’t define or even defend God. That’s His job.
I just love Him. Passionately. Faithfully. And with a renewed soul.
Copyright 2018 Ann K. Frailey