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THE FAITH OF
FOOLS
... and the
Painted Tunnel
Faith
is much like a painted
tunnel set upon the face of a granite wall, and we are
invited to run into it --- full speed --- not
knowing whether the dark opening is an illusion, or if a
tunnel, how deep it is, and whether it bends immediately to
the right or turns sharply to the left. We do not know if it
falls precipitously down or steeply curves up ... if it is
not an illusion at all. We have no idea how wide it is.
Some have
told us that it is a real tunnel. Others have told us that
it is just black paint artfully brushed on a solid wall. We
only really see the wall around it. This we believe to be
real. We have approached the wall and knocked our knuckles
against the granite face on all the sides surrounding what
appears to be a black opening, and after a few vigorous
attempts we find our knuckles sore and because the surface
is uneven, bleeding.
Someone
comes along and asks us to instantly run at the black
opening. We are told that depending on the speed at which we
run, we will enter the more deeply into the tunnel ... which
for all appearances and in all probability is just a painted
surface. We can walk carefully toward it and very, very
slowly approach what appears to be a dark opening. This way,
if it is an illusion, the injury to ourselves will be
minimal. If we rush at it full speed and the apparent
opening is just that --- “apparent”--- we will be seriously
injured, and what is more, look like fools in the effort.
After all, we had been warned by others, in fact, by many
others, that it is an illusion created by a clever artist,
much like the three dimensional drawings we have seen on the
sidewalks of large cities, skillfully drawn by enterprising
artists. There “appears" to be depth, and we are amazed at
the skill, and may even, for all our realization that it is
a carefully crafted illusion, blench before stepping over
the outer periphery of the drawing.
This is a
most apposite metaphor for Faith, and Christ is either a
clever artist or we are simply credulous fools. It may be
both. Perhaps the skill of the Artist depends heavily on the
gullibility of the fool. Moreover, most of the fools are not
the literati, the well-educated, the scholars, those who
know the real state of affairs in the world, and hold
multiples degrees to attest to this. They clearly are not
willing to be fools.
So what of
the rest of us? What of those who, like us, stand in
perplexity, hesitation, and even doubt before the “painted”
tunnel? All of them, all of us, have inadvertently walked
into brick walls and know the penalty of our inattentiveness
… and we walk away, ashamed that we have shown ourselves
fools.
Let us
further suppose that it is widely rumored that many have
actually run into the painted tunnel --- and are never heard
from again! What are we to make of this? What has become of
them? Is it good or bad? We have no way of knowing --- even
if such rumors have some apparent substance to them.
What is
more, we have known some people who have in fact run into
the wall and immediately recoiled off it, suffering greatly,
and coming away “the wiser”, knowing from experience that
the tunnel is an illusion, and who can even show you the
scars of that regrettable encounter.
Even if the
“painted” tunnel is not an illusion as some maintain,
although they themselves only believe it without actually
having run into it head on and at full speed --- it appears
to be of an unpredictable nature. Sometimes it proves to be
an opening, and sometimes not. In fact, some have claimed to
enter it --- and to have returned! While we cannot verify
that they have in fact entered it, it certainly appears to
be the case that, in a different way, their lives, too, have
been changed as a result … much like those who bounced off
the wall.
Why would
this “opening” be of such a nature that for some it proves
to be, in fact, a real opening, while for others it turns
out to be an illusion? Why do they return from their
encounter with the painted tunnel with such strikingly
different --- even totally conflicting --- accounts?
We --- who
are merely spectators of this drama --- really have no idea,
still less assurance, of the likelihood of our own
experience with the painted tunnel, which all of us at least
see, and will never know, cannot know, until we ourselves
participate in the drama. We behold alike the wounded and
the healed as a result of their encounter with the “tunnel”.
We stand on the sidelines, observing this bizarre spectacle,
hoping to attain to some certainty, one way or another,
through the experience of others. Again and again we
fluctuate between believing that the tunnel is real and that
it is painted. We watch one limp away, and we disbelieve.
The next moment we watch another return, made whole, and we
believe. The one thing we do not doubt is that the painted
tunnel will change us, one way or another, and that we can
only find out which way if we run into it.
There is
another unique characteristic of the tunnel: as we grow
older the opening looms larger. It is not more real or less
real, more apparent or less apparent; it is just … more
obtrusive.
This, in
turn, reveals something uniquely characteristic of us: a
growing reluctance to run into the wall. It is not so much
that we fear being injured as a consequence, as we fear
discovering that it is only an illusion after all, a mere
painting, very old, but nevertheless very vivid.
Why is
this? Because even our doubt contains within itself at least
the latency of belief. We do not doubt what we do not
believe, or what we know is not the case. We only doubt
what, for all its improbability, is yet the possibility
of being real. And this is to say that doubt itself contains
an implicit acknowledgement of the very thing doubted. Even
if belief is suspended, it is not entirely abandoned. It is
a comfortable position. While we forfeit any possible
benefit of belief, we incur no penalty that would result
from a validated disbelief. In other words, we are more
comfortable without the consolation of finding that our
belief corresponds to a reality, than we are in possibly
finding that our disbelief corresponds to a reality --- that
there is nothing, that the tunnel is a painting on an opaque
and impenetrable wall, that it is an illusion only, beyond
which there is nothing. Better to implicitly hope there is
something and find oneself pleasantly surprised that it is
indeed the case despite all improbability … than to
relinquish hope altogether in finding that there is nothing.
The problem
with this approach is Jesus Christ. He does not ask you to
take a stand. He requires you to take a stand. Not on the
issue, but on Him. The issue after all, at least if you are
a Catholic, is inseparable from Him. You cannot stand on the
sidelines. One way or another you will be forced to come to
terms with the tunnel. And the way you approach it is very
likely the measure you enter into the life of Christ.
You can
pass it by altogether, fearful of what it will require of
you if you enter the tunnel, or of finding there is nothing
if you merely collide with it, with what was the
possibility that there was nothing and finding out that
there really is nothing, and living with that realization.
You can
also approach it tentatively, cautiously, carefully, seeking
at every step to verify something of the reality of the
tunnel before moving a step closer until, sufficiently
assured, and with great apprehension, you make the final “actus
fidei”, or “act of faith”, and fall forward against the
black opening that may yet still be a solid wall --- and
breathe a sigh of relief that your modicum of faith, yet
imbued with doubt, did not fail you.
Or you can
run into the tunnel full speed in the face of all
improbability and against all the palpable evidence that it
is just a painted tunnel on an unyielding surface --- and
enter the depths of the Heart of Christ Himself.
Ah, yes,
you ask … nevertheless, what of those who ran and recoiled
off the wall? We would be dishonest if we cannot answer
this. This, ultimately, is at the heart of the mystery of
Faith itself which, were it possessed of certainty, would
not be faith. God alone knows the depths and the motives of
the human heart. There is no “methodology” to Heaven.
Indeed, none of us are assured of our own salvation which,
St. Paul tells us, “we work out with fear and trembling.”
One thing is certain: you will know nothing
of it --- and very likely suffer greatly because you wish to know
nothing definitive of it --- whether it is real or an illusion --- until
you throw yourself against the wall.
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