Saturday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time
I recently discovered a beautifully powerful a cappella choral piece, “Even When He is Silent,” by Norwegian composer Kim André Arnesen (recordings can be found on YouTube). It is based on words found scratched on the wall of a concentration camp after World War II. The brief poem (now lyrics) by an unknown prisoner resonated with me and came to mind as I reflected on today’s readings:
I believe in the sun, even when it’s not shining.
I believe in love, even when I feel it not.
I believe in God, even when He is silent.
How does a suffering prisoner of war, treated inhumanely and destined to die, find hope, keep the faith, believe in love, believe in God?
Do we believe in the sun, even when it’s not shining through these dark winter months? Do we believe in the bulbs lying dormant beneath the ground, the ones that somehow produce a new shoot and flower each spring? Do we believe in the tiny mustard seed, “smallest of all the seeds on the earth. But once it is sown, it springs up and becomes the largest of plants and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade” (Mark 4:31b, 32)? Do we believe in love, even when we feel it not? Do we believe in God, even when God seems to be silent amidst the suffering all around?
The author of the Letter to the Hebrews (10:32-39) exhorts those early Christians (and us) even through great suffering, “do not throw away your confidence….We are not among those who draw back and perish, but among those who have faith and will possess life.” Even if it first means bodily death.
Lord, I do believe in the sun, even when it’s not shining. I do believe in love, even when I feel it not. I do believe in You, even when You are silent. Help my unbelief.
~Eileen Miller