Matters of faith and fate

"This, too, shall pass."

If at the start of this year we already knew the disasters, calamities and crises that were to happen in 2020, I wonder: Would we have greeted each other “Happy New Year”?

It is already August – and I have both good and bad news for everyone. The good news is we are already past half the year, four more months to go, and then 2020 will be over. The bad news is – it is already past half the year, and in four months, 2020 will be over.

In January, we all hoped for the best. We never expected any of the problems and pandemic that later on happened.

The Letter to the Hebrews, chapter 11, verse 1 puts it beautifully – “Faith is being sure of what we hope for. It is being certain of what we do not see.” This is faith. The confidence in what we hope for. The certainty of things unknown.

Fast forward to August 2020, this realization is even more powerful as it did at the beginning of the year.

Seeing the pandemic and the poverty, the destruction and the depression around us, perhaps many of us have asked ourselves again and again, “Why is this happening?”

Perhaps many of us believe life will never be the same again. Maybe they are right: After this pandemic, we will never be the same again.

The question is – will we remain strong in our faith, or will we resign ourselves to our fate? What difference will keeping the faith, or mindlessly accepting our fate, even make?

Ignatius of Loyola taught us about the two forces in our lives: The one that brings us closer to God, and the one that turns us away from him. One that brings out the better in us, or the one that makes us the worse version of ourselves.

That is exactly what makes keeping the faith different from mindlessly accepting our fate.

Faith is to believe things will be better. Fate is to let things be as they are. Faith is trusting that the good will endure, and this crisis, like all things, will come to pass. Fate is worrying what would be left of us, when all these things come to pass.

These uncertain days, it is difficult not to be afraid or scared of what is happening, much more of what is bound to happen. It is easy to be paranoid, or worried about getting sick or infected. It is easy to doubt others, ourselves, even God.

In the height of the pandemic in Italy, Pope Francis invited the whole world to prayer. He stood alone in the middle of an empty St Peter’s Square. The familiar crowds of pilgrims were nowhere to be found.

That was a very powerful image of faith. The darkness spoke of the uncertainty that has overtaken our lives. The rain, our pain. The silence, our grief.

But the Pope stood there unperturbed, and the world prayed with him. It was a strong reminder that no matter how rich or poor you are, or what language you spoke or the color of your skin – we are all part of a human family united in prayer – and in faith.

The same things may be said about our lives now. There is uncertainty, pain and grief.

We have become so used to living secure lives, being certain about what is going to happen tomorrow, having these comforts in our homes, taking away from us every inconvenience. We are used to being in a rush, thinking of how to succeed – to earn more, to win more, to gain more. All of a sudden, the winning, the rushing, the certainty and convenience are no more.

The opening of classes, supposedly scheduled to happen this month, has been moved to October. But even then we will not be meeting friends and teachers in our schools. We will be learning from our homes.

Teachers know all too well, what it means to have faith in others. For every child who comes to school, a teacher sees only possibilities of what he or she can do, potentials of what he or she can be. All a teacher thinks about is what a child can achieve, despite knowing that out there, there will be life-changing challenges, difficulties, and influences. Teachers choose to put faith, to place their faith in us – instead of leaving us to whatever fate life would bring us.

But we ask ourselves, what does it really mean to face the reality of our fate, or be comforted by the certainty of our faith? Faith is to see better. To know better. What matters more. What matters most.

Pope Francis called this crisis, “not a time of God’s judgment, but a time of our own judgment, a time of our own choosing.”

It is time to choose to be and do good – to help and uplift others – the weak, the sick and those who suffer. Even when others do not. Even when others will not.

Faith is not simply letting God be in control. It is allowing God to work through our choices. This crisis is an opportunity to share by our words, thoughts and actions the goodness that we see in faith, inspiring us to move from crisis to growth, bringing us away from fear and into hope.

Faith is not like sitting at the passenger seat, and making life one pathetic excursion. Faith is taking the driver’s seat and holding on to the steering wheel of life.

So we keep going in faith. We keep the faith.

In sickness, and in health. In good times and in bad, even when we have lost everything, faith is the one thing that can never ever be taken away from us.

How do we live this faith in a time of crisis?

Our capacity to give the best of us, because we can never be too poor to have nothing to give – be it an affirming word, a gentle gesture, or a cheerful smile.

Our capacity to believe, because even if we do not know what the future holds for us, we know with the family who loves us, with the friends around us, we will never be alone.

Our capacity to live, because the misery and pain that we have to contend with, are the reminders of how our personal gains and successes are truly worth, and how our lives are made more richer and meaningful because of them.

So faith is to give, to believe, to live.

That exactly is what I think is happening during this pandemic. Despite their limitations, many have learned to give. Even when uncertain, they have held on, and believed. Even in the face of the death of a family member or a friend, despite the difficult struggle, every day, they make the conscious choice to live.

Faith is to continue to give. This we know is what inspires our medical frontliners to risk their health and safety so that the sick may be cared for. That generosity never goes out of style, and that the goodness we share is itself its own reward.

Faith is to continue to believe. This is what encourages those upon whose shoulders the burdens of community leadership are entrusted. That despite the odds, service retains its enduring value even in these difficult times.

Faith is to continue to live. This is what comforts a parent who has lost a child; a spouse, a husband or a wife; a child, his or her parent or brother or sister; or a friend or co-worker, that we who are left behind in this world have to continue on with life, and yet live even more meaningfully.

For Christians, faith is the certainty that two thousand years ago, Jesus embraced pain and death, understood our suffering and accompanied his friends in the most intimate of ways. In other words, Jesus knew the world of illness and pain. He, then, understands all the fears and worries that we have. Jesus understands us, because he himself experienced all these things.

Now never as before have we learned what it means to give without counting, to believe without doubting and to live through this crisis together, with God’s help. This, too, shall pass.