Faith - the Creed

2009-06-03T09:44:00.000-07:00

The following is an excerpt from a talk I gave for Theology on Tap and has been edited for this post. This particular part of the talk is heavily indebted to Joseph Ratzinger's Introduction to Christianity.

Every Sunday Catholics, Orthodox, and some other Christians publicly profess their faith by way of the Nicene Creed. Often times this is done without much thought. It is something we are use to doing; it is routine. Recently, though, I have been becoming more aware of the immense significance that the profession of faith has. It begins by the awareness that our faith is not a set of doctrines or a moral system, but rather it is a living faith. This is because our faith is in a living God. By "living faith" I do not simply mean a faith that is supposed to be manifested by works. It goes much deeper than this. Our faith is the result of an encounter with God; and this encounter effects a profound interior change in us, a change of heart. This is not merely an assent of our mind to a particular belief. No, it is much more active than that. It is an action that happens to us and it elicits from us an action that involves the entirety of our being. Scripture gives a beautiful witness of this when, after the first public profession of faith was given on Pentecost, the people's "consciences were stung... and about three thousand souls were won for the Lord that day" (Acts 2:37,41). In other words, they were baptized. Now let's look at our profession of faith today and see what we can learn, not about the content of the faith, but, rather, about the faith by which we believe, this active faith. To do this we will examine the first and last words of the Creed: "Credo" and "Amen."

On the surface "credo" appears to be a very simple word: it means "I believe." However, to believe something is a very big deal. For example, when I say, "This table is hard," I am engaging reality and making a judgment. I am affirming the real, a fact. By doing this I have firmly positioned myself in front of reality and said, "yes." This is very important, and the alternatives show us just how important this is. There are only three types of people who would deny that this table is hard: 1) the insane; 2) the pathetically confused (I really do mean "pathetically;" it is an exceptionally sad thing if someone cannot decide whether or not the table is hard); and 3) someone who knows the table is hard, but just wants to be a pain in my butt. In all three of these instances there is a failure to truly engage reality. Even in the case of #3 there is this failure because someone who plays the Devil's advocate for something as obvious as a table being hard risks causing serious harm to the person with whom they are arguing. They have failed to recognize and engage the reality of the person in front of them.

This is all well and good, but "I believe" takes on a much greater significance when we profess our faith. That the table is hard is easy to demonstrate. If you don't believe me then please allow me to bash your head with it when we next meet. Our faith, however, is not easy to demonstrate. In fact, it is not possible to demonstrate our faith. Because of the radicalness of this statement, I believe a digression is justified.

First, creation does point to the existence of its Creator, God. Both Scripture and the magisterium of the Church state this quite clearly. However, creation does not demonstrate His existence. In fact, the previous statement is flawed because God is beyond existence. Yes, God gives existence to all that exists; He is the font of existence. It is by virtue of this fact, that He is the font of existence, that He is also beyond existence and, therefore, is not demonstrable. To say otherwise is to reduce God to the level of creation. As a side note, this should really impress upon us how much of a gift faith really is.

Returning to our profession of faith, we do not say, "The Church teaches that God is the Father, Almighty..." but "I believe in God, the Father, Almighty..." Just like with the table, we are engaging reality and making a judgment. We are affirming the real, a fact; and, by doing so, we have firmly positioned ourselves in front of reality and said, "yes." But, unlike the table, when we place ourselves in front of reality and say, "yes," we are also affirming that at the core, penetrating all things, is the Mystery, the Other. Here is what Joseph Ratzinger in his book Introduction to Christianity has to say on the matter: "'Credo'... signifies... a fundamental mode of behaviour toward being, towards existence, towards one's own sector of reality and towards reality as a whole.... In other words, belief signifies the decision that at the very core of human existence there is a point which cannot be nourished and supported on the visible and tangible, which encounters and comes into contact with what cannot be seen and finds that it is a necessity for its own existence (Ratzinger, 24). The final point made here is exceptionally important: a point at the core of being human, that cannot be nourished and supported (it cannot be SATISFIED!) by anything in creation, encounters what cannot be seen (the MYSTERY, GOD) and discovers that this Mystery is necessary for human existence. This is at the root of what we are affirming by saying "I believe." So to say "I believe" is not to simply affirm that the table is hard or that 2+2=4; it is to respond with all our being to the One Who can satisfy that unsatiable point at our core. But it is not enough to simply accept this intellectually. It is not enough to experience a strong emotional response at the awesomeness of this realization. In order for this to mean anything in our lives, there must be an interior change of heart, and that is why our credo (or non-credo) determines our "fundamental mode of behaviour... towards existence."

As we begin the Creed, positioning ourselves before God and saying "I believe" with our minds and hearts, so, too, do we end the Creed. The Hebrew word "Amen" is a very rich word. "[It] embraces a variety of meanings... truth, firmness, firm ground, ground... loyalty, to trust, entrust oneself, take one's stand on something, believe in something" (Ratzinger, 39). It also "expresses solidity, trustworthiness, faithfulness" (CCC 1062). So when we say "Amen" at the end of the Creed we are once again saying, "I believe." However, given the richness of "Amen," we are not simply reiterating that we believe. We must never forget that this is much more than a mental exercise. By saying "Amen," we are saying, "This is the meaning of my life; this is how I will live and not just think; I entrust myself entirely to God's good will and will not succumb to the harships of life."

All of this makes it clear that by saying "I believe - Amen" there has been an engagement with life, that we have confronted what is before us - Christ in everything - and, rather than running away, we have experienced a profound interior change that has given a decisive re-direction to our lives. This is what it means to have faith.

Philemon

2009-05-19T14:39:00.000-07:00

The "Letter of Paul to Philemon" is quite extraordinary. With only 25 verses, it is the shortest of Paul's letters and one of the shortest writings in the New Testament. However, despite its length and simplicity, it is a great gem and I have had more pleasure reading it than any of Paul's other writings.

What first struck me about the "Letter to Philemon" was the great love and tenderness shown by St. Paul. Paul finds himself in the middle of a very delicate situation, between a run-away slave and his master, in which he finds himself in a position to work towards a reconciliation. It is in his action of interceding for one he loves (Onesimus) to another, whom he also loves (Philemon), that his love and tenderness is manifested. Today, I would like to examine two aspects of this: Paul's appeal to charity (v 9) and to obedience (v 21).

When Paul begins to address the matter at hand (Onesimus's return) he reminds Philemon of his authority - "And now, though I might well make bold in Christ to prescribe a duty to thee..." (v 8). Instead of using his authority, Paul, having already recognized and given thanks for Philemon's charity (vv 4-7), appeals to that charity - "I prefer to appeal to this charity of thine" (v 9). By doing this Paul gives honour to Philemon; he acknowledges that he is a mature and well-respected Christian, who neither needs correction nor needs to be fed only milk. It is only by taking this higher road that reconciliation between Onesimus and Philemon can take place in their hearts, as Paul acknowledges when he tells Philemon that "thy generosity should be exercised freely, not from lack of choice" (v 14).

This brings us to the next expression of Paul's love and tenderness: his appeal to obedience. This may puzzle us at first. Paul has appealed to Philemon's charity, told him that his generosity should be given freely and not from lack of choice, but now, at the end, Paul says, "I write to thee counting on they obedience..." (v 21). This confusion and seeming contradiction comes from a widespread misunderstanding of what obedience is.

Often when we think of obedience we think of one submitted in a compulsory manner to another. For example, when a child does something like a robot because Mom and Dad said so. Freedom is not engaged. Or the child who does something out of fear of being punished. Again, freedom is not engaged. This is not obedience.

Obedience is a virtue, and like all virtues it must be free; our freedom must be engaged. So how is one obedient in a free, non-compulsory way? Let us return to the example of the child, a young child. When a child recognizes the love, care, and support that someone like a parent or a teacher gives there should be a response of both trust and gratitude. From this stems the desire to please. For example, a man is working on his car. His kid comes out and the man says, "Get me that wrench." The child, with their freedom completely engaged, happily obeys because an opportunity has been given to help Dad, to work with him, and be with him. At a young age this may not be conscious, but it is lived.

What about a situation when one does not feel like doing what is asked of them? I will use a more personal example. My wife and I are relaxing in the living room, and we are both quite comfortable. She gets thirsty and, instead of getting up to get her own drink, she says, "Honey, can you get me a drink?" Now, I'm comfortable; I don't want to get up, but this is the woman I love, the woman who has dealt with all of my crap, and I must recognize that it is far greater to get her a glass of water than it is for me to say, "Get it yourself." This small gesture of obedience becomes a manifestation of my love and a testimonry to the depth of our relationship.

Paul's counting on Philemon's obedience is a testimony to the depth of their relationship, of the love, trust, and gratitude that has been established between them. Philemon was, of course, angered by Onesimus's action. Welcoming him as he would welcome Paul is probably not what he feels like doing (v 12) and certainly not freeing him (v 21). But he loves and trusts Paul, who has vouched for Onesimus. Not only has Paul never steered him wrong, but Philemon owes his very life to him (v 19). With his freedom fully engaged, Philemon obeys. Through his obedience, Philemon returns the honour Paul gave him by appealing to his charity, his relationship with Paul is deepened, and he has a true reconciliation of the heart with Onesimus, which is not just of benefit to them, but "to all the church that is in his household" (v 2).

il raggio

Faith - the Creed

Philemon