Close the door!

I am somewhat concerned at an attitude that I have been coming across in this strange land and seascape of Argyll and The Isles. There is, of course, a sense in which we are particularly 'on the edge' geographically. In no other part of the country have I felt such a deep and yet strange fragility. The countless aeons that have seen the massive changes in and on the earth's crust are constant reminders of the mere 'click' in time that we are. With a nuclear explosion, most likely from some lazy miscalculation or some insane belief in the righteousness and certainty of a belief, this can only be turned to glass in seconds. And yet, I meet many who feel they have to 'admit' to a fragility in their faith. As if they were getting something out of a plain brown env elope, I receive whispers in my ear: 'But I am not sure what I believe - worse - whether I believe'. For me, I am concerned that Christianity for some still feels like a set of propositions that leads to undisputable certainty. This in turn misleads many to an unnecessary anxiety that they do not have and never will have that certainty. Jesus Christ, God enfleshed, is NOT a proposition leading to certainty, but an experience of the mystery of divine presence in this moment. How can I possibly believe in it in the sense of being comfortable and satisfied? To believe in Jesus Christ as a certainty is to reduce belief to some illusory comfort zone - El Dorado. By its very nature, there is an imperative in the mystery that draws me into a response of love and compassion. Certainty has no place here. Certainty becomes a form of idolatry. In fact, I wonder whether the desire for certainty is primarily about me feeling comfortable and secure. Worse still it easily then slips into a means of wishing consciously or unconsciously control over others spiritual lives. The reality is that proposals of certainty mask a deep and unowned insecurity. Insecurity is a wisdom provided it is honest and open and not a matter of shame or inadequacy. Certainty has no place in Christian wisdom and 'faith'. In fact, faith is not something that I can work up. It is a strange wistful gift that arises from the risk of living the sacrificial life of love.

Towards the end of this month, in the spirit of following Columba, I am planning to follow the Gospel of St Matthew in what may be a fresh way. This will not be a commentary, but using each little section of the Gospel as a way into silent meditation. I hope to work threough the whole Gospel as a pilgrimage.... After all, it was St Matthew's Gospel that inspired Columba to bring 'The Twelve' across from ireland to Iona. I hope there might bbe some interest in this.

+Martin
Argyll and The Isles