I think many of us have a vision of faith as this unassailable fortress. You see a depiction of this in today’s first reading, from the Book of Isaiah: “The Lord GOD is my help, therefore I am not disgraced; I have set my face like flint, knowing that I shall not be put to shame . . . See, the Lord GOD is my help; who will prove me wrong?”
I understand the appeal of that kind of faith. Jesus himself exhorts us to live to that level, noting that if we have the faith of a mustard seed, we can move mountains (Matthew 17:20).
But as I reflected on today’s Gospel selection, I thought about those who were in attendance at the Last Supper.
First, of course, was our Lord Jesus Christ. He had a disturbing statement for those assembled: “Amen, I say to you, one of you will betray me.”
There was also Judas. He had already decided on his course in life. While his free will — and God’s forgiveness — may have guided him back from the path of doom he traveled, he remained true to his damning course.
Then there was Peter, who believed he was so steadfast in his own faith that he balked at the idea of ever turning his back on the Lord, as recounted in Matthew 26:35: “Peter said to [Jesus], ‘Even though I should have to die with you, I will not deny you.'”
But my thoughts turned to the other ten disciples. There’s one line that kept speaking to me from today’s Gospel selection from Matthew: “Deeply distressed at this, they began to say to [Jesus] one after another, ‘Surely it is not I, Lord?'”
Note the lack of certainty there. No one was pounding on the table exclaiming, “There’s no way it could be me!” Their statement is a question: “Surely it is not I, Lord?” You usually phrase statements like that when you’re pretty sure you’re not responsible, but you can’t be certain: “Whew! Who stinks in here?!” “It’s not me, is it?” Or “Wow, someone parked terribly outside.” “It’s not a 2007 Honda Accord, right?”
(I do note that the end of Matthew 26:35, quoted above, does indicate that “the disciples spoke likewise” . . . that is, they agreed with Peter’s steadfast refutation that they would deny Jesus. But the lack of quotes or specific anecdotes here make me think it wasn’t as forceful as Peter’s proclamation — especially given the flavor of the “Surely it is not I, Lord?” question.)
I think our society has a certain distrust of uncertainty. We want our leaders to be unwavering buttresses of certitude. We want our declarations of love to be eternal and unchanging. We want our scientific experts to be steadfast in their declarations of what we should do, even if it completely contradicts what they said we should do a decade ago.
Yet I find myself thinking about those other ten disciples. What was in their hearts and minds in that last evening with Christ? What did they feel at the crucifixion, as likely every vision they had of a glorious king bringing triumph to the world breathed its last gasp and then died on the cross? As the day turned dark and night fell, is the stillness of the air a marked contrast to the jubilant din of their entry into Jerusalem mere days before?
I bet they felt a lot of uncertainty.
Even after the Resurrection, how did they feel? Well, John 20:19 describes how they were hiding, afraid before Jesus appeared to them again. Again, I imagine they were really uncertain.
But what did those ten end up doing?
Oh, they just spread the faith throughout the world. Billions of souls can trace their realization of the truth directly backward to those ten men, all struggling with nervousness and uncertainty.
There’s a fair bit I feel confident about. My marriage to my wonderful wife has been a true blessing to me, and I have a reasonable degree of certainty that nothing would disrupt the God-granted bond between us. But I don’t feel absolute certainty. And there’s power in that uncertainty: I try to love and provide for her to the best of my ability so she doesn’t feel neglected, I make sure my relations with female friends don’t get too intimate, and so on.
I feel pretty confident that my son has a good and happy life in front of him. But I also recognize that tragedies happen every day, and — for reasons I may not fathom — he could face turmoil or despair. I don’t let that possibility cripple me, but I take it as an opportunity to do my utmost to care for and protect him, to give him the tools he needs to be good and happy, and to make sure he knows how much I love and care for him . . . because there’s always the chance I won’t get to say it again in the future.
I feel pretty confident in my faith. But I use my uncertainties to empower it. For example, when I taught religious education, I was really unsure about my ability to do so effectively . . . so I did my utmost to learn the material, prepare my lesson plans, work on my rapport, etc. I overcome any misgivings about my faith by staying true to my discipline: praying, going to Mass, seeking Reconciliation as needed, etc. And I have uncertainties when it comes to writing these blog posts, so I first read the readings at least a week before, and spend at least a day thinking about them before having them edited (by — again — my wonderful wife).
There are elements of the faith that I do feel certainty about. I can have utmost confidence in the infallibility of the Holy Spirit to give me strength when it comes to spreading the Word, even as I have uncertainty in my ability to do that strength justice. I have unwavering faith in God’s plan, even if I may have deep troubles in my ability to understand it at any given moment. And I feel certain about the promises of Christ, even as I struggle with my uncertainty about being worthy of such a gift.
Judas was certain in his beliefs, and it led him to be a terrible, tragic element of the Easter story. Peter was certain in his faith, and found himself weeping bitterly as that certainty was shaken. Peter overcame that moment to serve as the rock upon which the Church was built, and the other disciples overcame their own uncertainty to spread the Good News to the world.
If you feel uncertainty, don’t take it as weakness, but as an opportunity to grow closer to God. A period can end a conversation with unsaid doubts, but a question mark can open the door to the Spirit providing a truer path to the Lord. If you don’t scrutinize your uncertainty now, in these final days of Lent, on the anniversary of apprehension felt by the disciples, then when will be a better time?
Today’s readings: Is 50:4-9A; Ps 69:8-10,21-22,31, and 33-34; Mt 26:14-25
