Paintings of the faiths through my eyes

These are like small paintings – miniature thumbnail sketches – of how I think of the faiths of Abraham.

I think of Muslims as being like the younger brother who burns with admiration and protectiveness of his father, Allah. While the older siblings may be direct heirs of material goods, the younger brother guards the treasure of the knowledge of the oneness of God through belief, word, and prayer. The younger brother is the one who is outraged at hearing offense toward the Lord and is quick to smite (sometimes a bit too hasty when they believe rumor or misunderstand those of the other Abrahamic faiths). The younger brother hears the word of Allah and believes, treasuring that gift given to him. Even when he studies and questions meaning, it is only to better understand and to serve, and not to find shortcuts in his obedience and piety. He thinks frequently of his father, Allah, as he observes prayer during the day, and always says, “God willing” when he ponders what may be. He never places himself above God in thought or deed; even when mistaken, he is trying to follow God’s will.

I think of the Jewish people as the grandfather who first heard the word of the Lord and who carefully preserved the genealogy of that word. The word of God became inextricably wound together with the genealogy of Israel, of families. This Jewish grandfather made no effort to sugarcoat the past, recording in the family album both the mighty successes of the Israelites, and the failures. He took an increasingly intellectual stance toward bringing this genealogy and understanding of the word into the modern day. While waiting for the Messiah, a greater bureaucracy of rules emerged, out of the desire to remain obedient to God, yet being faced with circumstances that challenged the faith. Soon the grandfather could not discern the social challenges from those sent by God to bring them closer to him, and so the grandfather becomes political. The grandfather becomes political and defensive, and when the Messiah does not come, he adjusts to the modern world with a vengeance. Grandfather fights for land and his rights, while not noticing his grandchildren marching for gay rights, bringing Hooters to Israel, using cluster bombs against civilians (yes, even if they “started it first”), and finding reasons to be angry at Christians. I think of them as the sad, angry, political dusty grandfather who changed with the times.

When I think of the Eastern Rite Christian Church, the Orthodox Churches, I think of them with the love I have for my stepfather, who died Easter week a year and a half ago. The Orthodox Church is the family homestead, preserving the lands, words, and rites of the best of the family. They more than anyone else retain the union between the Christian faith and the physical place, culture, community and current time. Their ethnicities are like jewels in the crown of the Lord. Through their presence they point straight back to the land and the roots where the Word of Jesus Christ first was preached to them. They are humble and hard working, like my stepfather and his parents, and they do not need or relish intellectual debate. Their virtue and their existence speak for themselves. I was honored when white roses I provided for my stepfather’s funeral mass were placed near the sanctuary.

When I think of the Protestant and non-denominational churches I think of the pain of discovering that a sister you had long loved and accompanied has been spreading vicious, personal gossip about you behind your back. When you look at the wonderful grace and deeds of her love for Jesus Christ, and the evangelizing she has done, it is like having dual vision because those deeds have been ruined by her spite and meanness toward you. You wonder how she can preach the Word of Jesus and then say the things that she says about you behind your back, causing calumnity and polluting one’s reputation. You think of all the years that have gone by where you did not know she was doing this, and how you worked side by side with her, loving the Lord, while meanwhile she laughs behind her hand and calls you stupid, the whore of Babylon, and worse. You remind yourself that not everyone of that faith is like her, but oddly, no one else steps forward to tell you what has transpired and to chastise the mean sister. Do they not know, or do they not care? You are left to wonder why, but there is no wonder about the spite of her gossip and poison directed at you. And so even when I look at the great charities and deeds, and profound love of Jesus that is something to marvel about in this increasingly secular society, you wonder why there is room in that inn for so much personal venom.

When I think of my church, the Catholic Church, I think of the Pope and of the righteous Bishops who still walk the way of St. Peter, the one, true apostolic faith. I think of the lineage that runs straight and true, the lineage of the sacraments, the truth, the faith, that is uninterrupted from the lips of Jesus Christ to those with ears to hear today. It is that what matters. Yes, the Church has been gravely infiltrated by sin, and that cannot be avoided (although it must be condemned and stopped where it exists), because the Church is comprised of humans, all of whom are broken vessels. Those who fall along the way and those who tempt off the path do not make the path any less holy or righteous. It only goes to show that the tempters know to walk along the path of the righteous in order to find victims for their dirty thoughts and deeds. I hope and pray that those who have returned to the Catholic Church will be part of the solution and help to clear up the trash that has been thrown on the path. So when I think of the Catholic Church today, I think of the Pope, as I love and watch him work to bring comprehension back to the faithful. So many Catholics do not understand the gem that they have. It is like having the small plot of fertile land, but it does not have an ocean view and a swimming pool, and it is not convenient to your commute to work, and it requires getting up early in the morning in order to tend to it, so you abandon it and let it go to weeds. And then there is a famine and where do you go for food to live?