Saturday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time
Stories like the one we encounter in the passage from Matthew today sure make faith seem simple. All you have to do is believe the right thing and say the right thing. If you can do those two things, then you’ve got faith, and Jesus is singing your praises. Right?
Somehow it doesn’t seem as easy as that.
It appears that St. Augustine would agree. In his Confessions, Augustine talks about his frustration with “the will” which, for Augustine, acts nothing like the centurion’s subordinates. In the passage from Matthew for today, the centurion reports that his subordinates are completely obedient. They do exactly what he wills them to do when he wills them to do it. By contrast, Augustine says that his will is often disobedient, despite his very earnest efforts. Augustine is frustrated and mystified. So, he spends some time thinking this through.
He notes, for instance, that when he tells his arm to raise, it does so immediately. And, he continues, this seems to be the case for his foot too and for all of his appendages. So, why isn’t it just as simple for his will, he wonders. The question is pressing for Augustine because he wants very badly to be a Christian. Unfortunately, when it comes to curbing his sexual appetite, his will refuses to be obedient. As you may know, St. Augustine had a lot of enthusiasm for relations with women. Indeed, though he tried so very hard to be a Christian, he just couldn’t pull it off.
What he figured out was that his will was much more complicated than he thought. Indeed, he did not even have just one will. Instead, he had two. One will wanted to be Christian; the other wanted to continue enjoying women. This being so, it’s not surprising that he finally just gave up on the whole idea of trying to will himself to be a good Christian. It was, simply put, a losing proposition.
Losing the struggle to bring his one will under the authority of the other, he finally gave up. And he cried. Just sat there in a garden and cried.
And then it happened. Out of nowhere. No will involved. Not even a convincing argument of the benefits of giving up certain pleasures for faith. Suddenly, faith just arrived.
Not surprisingly, St. Augustine one of the early Church fathers and a powerful theologian (and rhetorician, by the way) has much to teach us about faith. It’s not, he wants us to know, a matter of will. It’s a matter of surrender. And it’s not a matter of ascribing to the right belief. It’s a matter of humility.
Wait! He is about to enter under our roof. And, of course, we are not worthy. But only say the word, Lord, and we shall, quite despite ourselves, be healed. Amen.
—Susan Trollinger