Chapter 3 - Journey to Christendom (Third Edition)
“It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (Hebrews 10:31)
St. Joan of Arc is the conduit for my fearless spirit and love for God.
St. Joan of Arc, pray for us.
As I write this, I am moved to reflect on my personal experiences and the reasons behind my hesitation to discuss these profound gifts from God. The essence of my reluctance lies in fear—a fear of misunderstanding and isolation. I am often paralyzed by the thought of being judged or ostracized when I consider speaking out about the truths I hold dear.
There is a vivid memory that comes to mind, akin to being at a dinner party where I alone believe the square root of nine is three. Despite knowing this to be true, I hesitate to voice it, not wanting to offend or alienate my friends. The tension builds until it feels necessary to speak up, only to face disapproval and discomfort. This fear of social exclusion has often led me to silence myself, choosing instead to write away from the potential backlash. Yet, I recognize a pressing need to overcome this fear, especially in a time where clear, courageous expression is crucial.
In this reflection, I see a world ensnared in a collective anxiety, driven by a loss of spiritual orientation. There is a pervasive belief that all viewpoints are valid, which undermines genuine belief. This environment makes it difficult to live one’s faith without fear of offending others. The pressure to conform and the risk of being perceived as intolerant or judgmental stifle genuine expression. This struggle is something I have felt.
Observing a world in turmoil where intolerance and violence seem to grow compounds my fear. This turmoil is not just external but also internal, affecting how I perceive and engage with my faith. The secular ideologies that have emerged over centuries seem to challenge the foundations of my beliefs, creating a disorienting landscape where spiritual truths feel marginalized.
Reflecting on these experiences, I realize that my fear has often kept me from being a faithful steward of the treasures of my faith. These treasures, gifts from a tradition that has brought me immense healing and joy, compel me to share them despite the risk. The inner pain I feel when I withhold these gifts is a testament to the love that drives me to speak. This love, a profound and uncontainable force, urges me to express it, to let it burst forth into the world.
The parable of the talents resonates with me.
Matthew 25: 14-30 (Douay-Rheims)
“For it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted to them his property. To one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. He who had received the five talents went at once and traded with them, and he made five talents more. So also he who had the two talents made two talents more. But he who had received the one talent went and dug in the ground and hid his master’s money.
Now after a long time the master of those servants came and settled accounts with them. And he who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five talents more, saying, ‘Master, you delivered to me five talents; here, I have made five talents more.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’
And he also who had the two talents came forward, saying, ‘Master, you delivered to me two talents; here, I have made two talents more.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’
He also who had received the one talent came forward, saying, ‘Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you scattered no seed, so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here, you have what is yours.’ But his master answered him, ‘You wicked and slothful servant! You knew that I reap where I have not sown and gather where I scattered no seed? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and at my coming I should have received what was my own with interest. So take the talent from him and give it to him who has the ten talents. For to everyone who has will more be given, and he will have an abundance. But from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. And cast the worthless servant into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’
The fear of the third servant, who buried his talent, mirrors my hesitation. This parable brings to light my responsibility to use the gifts I have received, to bring them into the light rather than hide them out of fear. The pain of holding back and the fear of being the third servant constantly remind me to share love.
In summary, this reflection is driven by love—a love that demands expression and action. Just as creation bursts forth in vibrant color and the sun rises to dispel the darkness, so too must this love shine forth from within me. It is this imperative that finally moves me to write, to share, and to act.