Sunday morning: some thoughts on faith

So what is faith anyway? Today on a Sunday morning, David has brushed off the car and headed into Portland through thickly-falling snow in order to be at the Cathedral for the Eucharist. As often, I thought about going with him, kind of liked the idea of going with him, but in the end, he was leaving so early due to the weather, I just didn't feel ready to go, to give up so much time. I am slipping on my "due celebration of Sundays" thing. But I'm not worried; I trust I will go again soon. And I've put in my time, after all. Besides, I don't think it's something God loses any sleep over. If there is an objective reality called God, she/he/it probably doesn't sleep anyway. And clearly there are way, way, way more important matters of concern than whether or not I (or anyone else for that matter) go to church.

I ask the question about faith because when I look back, especially over the past year, or two years or three, I see so many perfectly-times gifts, arrivals and departures, threads and images, stories handed to me as if on a platter. As if someone were saying to me, you want to recover your voice?  Here. Here's another story. You want to tell you story, to sing you own "song of yourself"? Here. Here's another good one almost too amazing to be true! One could almost be forgiven for imaging a force-for-good at work behind it all. And yet it's equally clear that we're not simply passive recipients of such things, but active participants, however unconsciously or even "passively active," collaborators in it all.

Here's a partial list of perfectly-timed gifts, just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. I suppose it's my hope that this list will pique your curiosity for more. There was the "inspired" last-minute trip to Ireland in which David and I ended up in a B & B affording us the literal keys to the Oughtmama churches and even to Corcomroe Abbey (though that one wasn't needed); the walk with John Connolly and his questions at the well; and nearly being run into by David Whyte driving a van full of "new age-ish" pilgrims! There was much that was magical about that trip. More than anything it gave David and me some space, some breathing space, geographical and psychological distance from home, and some good questions to ponder. And it gave us a chance to talk more freely and to imagine more clearly our eventual leave-taking from the parish where we had lived and worked and loved many for almost fifteen years.

To be continued...