Saturday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 322

Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen. Because of it the ancients were well attested. By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; he went out, not knowing where he was to go.

I often refer back to Hebrews 11 and its recollection of God's presence and Jewish fidelity since ancient times. We might even call Abraham prehistoric since we know so little of his time, and have so few documents of that age. 

As I think of those two mysteries -- God's presence and our fidelity -- I recall a citation I've often used from Rabbi Abraham Joseph Heschel:

Not the individual man nor a single generation by its own power can erect the bridge that leads to God. Faith is the achievement of ages, an effort accumulated over centuries. Many of its ideas are as the light of a star that left its source centuries ago. Many songs, unfathomable today, are the resonance of voices of bygone times. There is a collective memory of God in the human spirit, and it is this memory of which we partake in our faith.

Each day I recite the Lorica of Saint Patrick, including its prayer for protection against "witches, smiths, and wizards." I can't say the fear of sorcery keeps me awake at night but I like to hear and feel "the resonance of voices of bygone times" in the words. In God's presence there is neither past nor future, there is only the one worshiping Church. I feel the proximity of my Irish ancestors in this fifth century invocation. 

I also remember fondly an older priest -- God rest his soul -- who chewed me out roundly and thoroughly for rearranging parts of the Mass in a private setting with a small congregation to fit my beliefs. I had neither right nor authority to alter the Mass to my specifications, he told me. And I have never done it again. 

As sojourners live in this world but are not part of this world, we travel to our distant home and treasure our ancestors known and unknown. We must keep the faith they kept with its precious memories, both familiar and peculiar. Their images, songs, and stories reassure us as we keep the same faith and practice the same religion.

But there are also ancient artifacts that jar our twenty-first century sensibilities. They may be reliquaries with bones and mummified flesh. Or ghastly paintings and sculptures. 

Their histories also may be disturbing. Some of the martyrs intentionally antagonized their killers in ways we could not support. Some saints demonstrate an embarrassing contempt for women and a shameful attitude toward Jews. We can be impatient especially with attitudes like Antisemitism, male chauvinism, and white superiority, and aggressively challenge them today without disavowing our past or dispossessing our ancestors. The uncle at the Thanksgiving table may have embarrassed the whole family for his attitudes toward Germans or Japanese, but he still has an honored place at the table. He fought bravely during World War II.

We might think they should have known better as we know better; aren't certain attitudes always sinful regardless of time and place? But we are not appalled by customs and mores of the twenty-first century that they could not abide. 

Keeping the faith of our ancestors -- or, as we used to sing, the "faith of our fathers" -- requires an openhearted welcome to the sisters and brothers whom God has gathered at the table. Like us, they obeyed when they were called to go out to a place that they were to receive as an inheritance. They went out, not knowing where they were to go. We walk with them in faith.