Karen Armstrong has authored several
bestsellers on comparative religion. Raised a Roman Catholic, in 1960 she
became a nun at eighteen and remained in a convent seven years. She left her
order and the Roman Catholic Church convinced she was an agnostic if not an
atheist. Over the next several decades, she felt lost, unsure of what to do
with her life. She tried broadcasting and teaching, but neither was a good fit.
Then she decided to write a book about God and religion. The decision seemed
ill timed and ill advised. Secularism was elbowing faith of all flavors aside. And
who was she, an ex-nun and unbeliever, to write about God? Yet the decision
felt right, so she persevered. Her first bestseller, A History of God,
led to more bestsellers. With each book, Armstrong moved toward a deeper and
more mystical understanding of God. Her autobiography, The Spiral Staircase,
is appropriately subtitled, My Climb Out of Darkness.[1] Her
struggles taught her three great spiritual principles that are also form the
heart of today's scripture readings.
First, life is a journey. Armstrong
describes her journey toward God as climbing a spiral staircase. The metaphorical
staircase is spiral because as we move toward God we repeatedly experience
situations that push, move, or lure us in a helpful direction. Only in
retrospect did she realize that her decisions to become a nun, broadcaster, and
university professor were wrong for her because she had been following another
person's path instead of having the wisdom, courage, and strength to follow her
own unique path. Faith is not so much a set of propositional truths, but a
journey toward God.
The epistle to the Hebrews identifies
Abraham as a paragon of faith.[2] Too often,
we misunderstand the epistle's definition of faith, “Now faith is the assurance
of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” We interpret those
words out of context, equating faith with theological tenets in our creeds
and catechisms. Instead, Abraham's faith connotes his firm belief that
God has promised him an inheritance of valuable land. With no map, no GPS, and not
even knowing his final destination, he embarks on a journey to claim his
inheritance, confident that God will lead him to it and then give him
possession.
Furthermore, Abraham believes that God has also
promised him that he will be the father of many nations. Now Abraham is both a
realist and possibility thinker. He and his wife, Sarah, are old and childless.
She’s well past childbearing age. He scoffs at God for this absurd promise. So,
he follows local custom, taking Sarah's slave, Hagar, as a concubine,
impregnates her, and then designates her son, Ishmael, as his heir.[3] Ishmael,
in fact, becomes the father of the Arabs. But God's plan was for
post-menopausal Sarah to give birth to Isaac, through whom Jews trace their
lineage to Abraham. Sadly, the Abraham narrative fuels centuries of territorial
conflict between Abraham’s Arab and Jewish descendants who both claim title to
the Promised Land. In sum, Abraham so fully trusted his relationship with God
that his faith took his life’s journey in a God-ward direction.
Second, compassion invariably characterizes
any journey that leads toward God. Armstrong learned from her study of religion
that the closer a person moved toward God, the more the person practiced an
ethic of compassion. Her own experience of moving in a God-ward direction
echoed her observation.
Today's reading from the prophet Isaiah
teaches the same lesson. Isaiah insists that God "is more concerned with
[humans'] behavior in their social relationships than with the formal worship
offered to [God]."[4] The
reading is probably a sermon Isaiah preached during worship in the Jerusalem
temple, a setting evocative of our worship.[5]
Isaiah boldly reprimands the congregation for the injustices he had witnessed,
presumably shocking his hearers who believed that their ritual cleanliness
(equivalent to Holy Baptism and church membership), regular prayers, and
generous giving assured them of God's favor. Isaiah boldly and insultingly
compares his hearers to Sodom and Gomorrah's rulers.
He concludes, "Come now, let us reason
together. … If you are willing and obedient, you shall eat the good of the
land." That is, be a person who does
good things (loves God and other people in situationally appropriate ways),
seeks justice (strives to be fair
with others), rescues the oppressed, defends the orphan, and pleads for the widow (protectively care
for the most vulnerable). In sum, God's priority is who we are, how we live,
not our religious activities.
Third, journeying toward God and practicing
compassion changes the person from a nomad into a pilgrim, and from floundering
in darkness to savoring life abundant. As Jesus said, "For where your
treasure is, there your heart will be also."[6]
Karen Armstrong experienced this transformation. Once she began to follow her
own path, she imperceptibly, especially at first, moved toward God. The
continuing growth of compassion toward others and all creation reinforced and
accelerated that growth until she was living a rich, fulfilling life.
For those of us who seek to journey toward
God following Jesus' teachings yet remaining faithful to our individual
calling, the sacraments of Holy Baptism and Holy Communion are steps on our spiral
staircases, moving us inexorably closer to God while nurturing in us an ethic
of compassion.
One of the most memorable baptisms I have
performed was that of a mentally challenged young adult when "Happy
Days" was a popular sitcom. Immediately following his baptism, this young
man, deeply devoted to the Church and overflowing with joy, emulated his other
role model, the Fonz, and spontaneously gave the thumbs up signal accompanied
by the Fonz' distinctive grunt.
A woman brought “her little daughter to
Saint Patrick’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue while on her regular shopping trip to
Manhattan. When her daughter asked her why there were homeless huddling by the
doors, her mother explained that not only did the church welcome all people,
but it also felt a particular responsibility for the poor. Because of this
loving inclusion, she explained, the cold and hungry were offered a place of
rest in the church, a sanctuary from the harsh world outside. The young
daughter pondered her mother’s words.
“After receiving communion, her mother
hurried back to her pew, afraid for her daughter who was talking to a homeless
man. As she approached the two, she heard her little daughter say to the man,
‘Are you hungry? If you are, there is enough at the altar for everybody.’ Joy
filled the mother’s heart.”[7]
Jesus exhorts his disciples to exercise
constant vigilance because loving God and our neighbors, just like other
relationships, can be fragile. May we faithfully journey as pilgrims, cherishing
moments in which we experience the intensity and depth of God's love; may those
moments inspire us to live compassionately.
[1] Karen
Armstrong, The
Spiral Staircase: My Climb Out of Darkness (New York: Anchor, 2004).
[2] Hebrews
11:1-3, 8-16.
[3] E. A.
Speiser, Genesis (Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1964), pp. 111-112,
119-121.
[4] R.B.Y. Scott, Exegesis of Isaiah, Vol. 5, in The Interpreter's
Bible, edited by G.A. Buttrick (Nashville: Abingdon, 1956), 170.
[5] Isaiah
1:1, 10-20.
[6] Luke
12:32-40.
[7] Donald
B. Harris, That’s How the Light Gets In (Williamsburg, VA: Credo
Institute, 1994), pp. 204-205.
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