...bring belief in…

Stage 20 / Saturday 16 May / From Decazeville to Figeac / 24 km

 

Was it seeing the blackness that still subsists behind the façades of the former miners’ lodgings in Decazeville that caused me to finish yesterday with a rather acerbic critique of religion, all religions? Then I was catty about the cassocks too black and too masculine for my tastes. But it will serve no purpose to make them rediscover the white purity of intention that one would like to give them in practicing what they preach? Okay, lets forget this getting carried away, and … let’s purr sweetly again! Today I’ll be changing departments again in entering the Lot after crossing the river of the same name.

 

But this mood swing makes me ask the question: “Exactly what do I really believe in?” Leaving for Santiago, was it an act of faith, was it more than a sporting challenge? I remember the story of James, St James, “Sant Iago” whose bones are venerated over there in Compostela. Jesus asked him and his brother John to leave everything in order to follow him. And they, the two sons of Zebedee, did so immediately (Mark 1:19-20). It must be said that when one only owns a fishing net, and even the boat you use belongs to your father, it’s easier to accept the invitation: “Leave everything and follow me!” The invitation came from an appealing man on the move, even if he had few resources to show.

 

We know that later, Jesus would not get the same reaction from the rich young man who had wealth (Luke 18:18-23). My problem? Since I have trouble accepting certain aspects of a certain “holy Church”, do I have faith in Her founder? My life demonstrates that I have not left all in order to follow one of His representatives on earth.

 

Do I have faith in God? A little? A lot? … Not at all? And does this faith mean believing in His existence, or will I go further and accept the truth of His revelation? My religious education and the study of holy history are far behind me. I’ve had time since then to taste science. The latter seeming to succeed with no trouble in doing without God, is it not healthy to reconsider questioning my faith, as one questions every contestable theory?

 

I think all that is part my reasons for setting out on a pilgrimage: to find the time to verify if the concept of God holds up or not, if there is a statue or a pile of stones. I will not be the first to want to confront the problem in a radical way: look at Saul of Tarsus, who became Paul; look at Charles de Foucauld, who became a “Little Brother of Jesus.” One persecuted those who doubted the Pharisees thought system, the other led a senseless and scandalous life, until an abrupt self questioning period made both of them take another path. And then, how they wanted to understand before believing! They then took a long period of solitude in the desert and found in eremitism the means to consolidate their conviction to witness in the most distant places.

 

But I can also see well, in Paul as in Charles, that it took a triggering shock for them to strongly desire a new understanding of life: the Damascus road for one, the encounter with Islam in Morocco for the other. Paul was thrown from his horse by the vision of the One who motivated the followers of Jesus to accept martyrdom for their beliefs. Charles, during a clandestine trip to survey the geography of Morocco, was overcome by the sincerity of the local Muslims to live their lives in the continual presence of God.

 

We envy those with blind faith, as it isn’t constraining. But some who are fortunate (unfortunate?) enough to have it, exhort others to renounce reflection. Their pretext: it would be injurious to God to doubt or question his existence or revelation. They take the road of an irrational commitment, capable of leading to fanaticism. Between “believe in order to understand” and “understand in order to believe”, I prefer the second alternative.

 

Better than “having faith”, I want to enter into the process of “being in the faith.” This is what I hope for myself while entering the town of Figeac. Jean François Champollion (1790-1832) was born here. The Egyptian hieroglyphics revealed themselves to him as less impenetrable than the paths of the Lord. If only I too could decipher just one character, my own! And to better understand what it believes and doesn’t believe, this odd character!