Tuesday in the Fifth Week of Lent: The Feast of St Joseph

The Feast of St Joseph

Lessons: Psalm 132; 2 Samuel 7:4,8-16; Luke 2:41-52

I think about how we need the freshness of faith.  How we need those new or young believers whose wonder and questions prompt us to look beneath our taken for granted belief. Whether it is David being reminded he was taken as a shepherd to king because in his youthful faith he was so pure; or whether it is Jesus at twelve after his bar mitzvah, there is the gift of youth challenging age.  Usually it is not a challenge of authority but a wonder at possibility.

David slays Goliath not because of his superior strength but because he believes God will protect.  And that protection is in the humor of a small stone, an artful arm, over against arrogance and mere human perspective.

I suspect when Jesus was finally found by his parents in the Temple among the elders he was having a childishly wonderful time asking those questions that make age think.  Questions that come from a not yet compromised and jaded faith.  Questions carried by a faith that emanates from a natural trust in God.  The how does this happen and the why don’t people believe or why they believe as they do.  They come from our wonder still open to possibility.

I suspect we all have a story when we gave way to wonder.  Those youthful touchstones when mystery over-reached reason and we were oddly open to God.  Mine is at eighteen, newly returned to the church after my family had departed when I was 13 or so.  Sheepishly but hopefully I presented myself at the altar in Holy Trinity Episcopal Church to receive communion.  My friends had told me that because I was not yet confirmed in this church I should not.  But in their absence I took my Presbyterian confirmed self to the altar rail.  As the sacrament was placed in my hands and the words spoken, “This is my body given for you, take, eat this in remembrance of me,” a shot of electric current ran down my spine.  Waiting for the cup stabilized me.  I was home at last it seemed and loved beyond my memory…”for you.”  It took me some time to share what had happened and when I finally could, the priest listened and thanked me for sharing with him this moment.  I was relieved not to be called crazy, but be held in respect.

I wonder if that was one of those desired for moments when the freshness of faith feeds the aging of faith.  One of those moments when youth touches age and ancient hope is born deep and again.

I think the thing I most love about church are those moments when someone’s freshness of belief disturbs my steadiness and I hope again, maybe a little jaded but still anew.  When has that most powerfully or gently happened for you?