Walking on Water: The Reality of Faith (Part 2)

‘It is a ghost!’

Not every sign is true, not every true sign is a miracle, and not every miracle is from God. The unbeliever asserts that what seems like providence is simply coincidence, and what seems miraculous is simply the presently unexplainable. The serious believer must deal not only with those possibilities, but also with a third; that a sudden inspiration or sign may be misleading. That healthy skepticism is not a compromise we make with our faith – secular reason breaking through, if you will -, but a commandment of faith found in our scriptures:

Beloved, do not trust every spirit but test the spirits to see whether they belong to god, because many false prophets have gone out into the world. This is how you can know the Spirit of God: every spirit that acknowledges Jesus Christ come in the flesh belongs to God, and every spirit that does not acknowledge Jesus does not belong to God. (1 John 4:1-3)

This maelstrom of doubt and skeptical reaction is normal and common for most people when God beckons in some way. The disciples in this passage initially react with fear and suspicion to the sight of a strange figure walking towards them across the sea, and their first conclusion is that it is a ghost.

God may not always come to us so theatrically, but when He does, it is usually with the same fundamental effect; breaking the structure, routine, and expectations we have in a way that demands a response. Maybe it is a person in need whom we cannot easily dismiss for some reason. Maybe it is a word of fraternal correction that sticks in our conscience. Maybe it is an event that shatters our security or completely changes our perspectives. To any of those, and other possible signs, we can respond that they are random and meaningless, that their significance can be adequately grasped without changing our present mindsets, or that they are ‘ghosts’ – simply random evils that we cannot get a handle on or explain.

I have written about how the believer faces this doubt, but the experience of doubt for the unbeliever is no less profound. Again, Introduction to Christianity lays out simply and compassionately the dilemma of the unbeliever:

If, on the other hand, the believer can perfect his faith only on the ocean of nihilism, temptation, and doubt, if he has been assigned the ocean of uncertainty as the only possible site for his faith, on the other, the unbeliever is not to be understood undialectically as a mere man without faith. Just as we have recognized that the believer does not live immune to doubt but is always threatened by the plunge into the void, so now we can discern the entangled nature of human destinies and say that the nonbeliever does not lead a sealed-off, self-sufficient life, either. However vigorously he may assert that he is a pure positivist, who has long left behind him supernatural temptations and weaknesses and now accepts only what is immediately certain, he will never be free of the secret uncertainty about whether positivism really has the last word. (p.45)

At this point, Cardinal Ratzinger cites a story from the works of Jewish philosopher Martin Buber that demonstrates a simple and devastating vocalization of this uncertainty:

An adherent of the Enlightenment [writes Buber], a very learned man, who had heard of the Rabbi of Berditchev, paid a visit to him in order to argue, as was his custom, with him too, and shatter his old-fasioned proofs of the truth of his faith. When he entered the Rabbi’s room, he found him walking up and down with a book in his hand, rapt in thought. The Rabbi paid no attention to the new arrival. Suddenly he stopped, looked at him fleetingly and said, “But perhaps it is true after all.” The scholar tried in vain to collect himself – his knees trembled, so terrible was the Rabbi to behold and so terrible his simple utterance to hear. But Rabbi Levi Yetschak now turned to face him and spoke quite calmly: “My son, the great scholars of the Torah with whom you have argued wasted their words on you; as you departed you laughed at them. They were unable to lay God and his Kingdom on the table before you, and neither can I. But think, my son, perhaps it is true.” The exponent of the Enlightenment opposed him with all his strength; but this terrible “perhaps” that echoed back at him time after time broke his resistance. (p.46)

Up until about three years ago, I was quite content that no organized religion rose above simple superstition and medieval moralizing. I was quite proficient in laying out sharp rhetoric and strong arguments against adhering to any one of them, particularly the most dogmatic and structured ones. Since then, I have realized that many of those arguments were misguided and immature, but the initial step towards where I am now was taken in being confronted with a series of small events and moments that stated, “perhaps it is true.”

I believe that when faced with doubt in the face of a sign, both the believer and unbeliever have recourse to the same divine assistance. Both can ask, with as much openness as they are sincerely capable at the time, for God – if it is Him, if He exists, if He loves us – to guide us through doubt. Both of us, when we have seen what could be a sign, or a ghost, can ask with Peter, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” (Matthew 14:28)

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Oscar Gilroy

In whatever you do, remember your last days, and you will never sin. – Book of Sirach