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PAGE 10—The Georgia Bulletin, September 1,1983
Does God Ride The No.
37 Bus?
BY FATHER DAVID K. O’ROURKE, OP
(In the series that begins here today we intend to talk
about many ways God is present in our lives. We start
with some of the most basic and common, the ordinary
aspects of daily living - even on rattling buses and at
crowded lunch counters.)
Doug sat across from me, rumpled and paunchy in a
sweat-stained suit. A middle-aged man running low on
hope, he was on the verge of giving up on himself.
As we talked, he put some questions to me.
FOR 17 YEARS he had followed the same
daily route on the same bus line. His life had
developed a sameness he found terrible: a
paycheck that never was enough; plans for
vacations he knew he never could afford; falling
— Does it make sense to think about the presence of
God in our own lives, except perhaps on some
extraordinary, once-in-a-lifetime occasion?
— Is God really present in the lives of ordinary persons?
Or does he show himself only to people of unusual
dedication, people like Mother Teresa and mystics in
monasteries?
Doug described the boredom of his commute to the
accounting office of a printing plant. For 17 years he had
followed the same daily route on the same bus line.
Closed-in, stale air in winter, steamy in the summer,
asleep nightly in front of the television on a
threadbare couch he couldn’t afford to
reupholster. “If there is a God,” he said, “he sure
doesn’t seem to be in my life.” (NC Photo by B
and W. Wilson)
rattling over potholes and lurching from stop to stop.
His life had developed a sameness he found terrible: a
paycheck that was never enough; plans for vacations he
knew he could never afford; falling asleep each night in
front of the television on a threadbare couch he couldn’t
afford to reupholster.
“Where did I go wrong?” he asked me. “Mary and I had
so much going for us. And I still love her. In fact, without
her I wouldn’t make it.” His voice choked up.
“Our priests talk about how great life is. And I see the
pope on television. They’re all so confident. They talk
about God as though they know him.
“Well,” he said, starting to laugh at the very thought of
it, “God doesn’t ride the No. 37 bus. And he doesn’t eat
pot roast specials at a lunch counter.”
Then he became more serious, more thoughtful. “If
there is a God, I don’t know where he is, because he sure
doesn’t seem to be in my life.”
How do you answer questions like those? What do you
say to a weary man whose pain is so real and who won’t
accept platitudes?
“I know of only one way to look at your questions that
might make sense to you,” I said after a few moments’
reflection. “At least, it helps me when I’ve got questions.
And that’s to draw on the church’s theological tradition.”
I went on then to talk about a basic theological
concept, the idea of purpose: why we do the things we
do.
“You ride that broken-down bus, day in and day out,”
I said, “not because you love the bus or your job, but
because you love Mary and the kids. And you’ve both
been scrimping in order to give them a good education.”
He agreed that was true. “But what does that have to
do with God in my life?” he asked.
“Theologians maintain,” I went on, “that directing our
lives to a good goal, a good purpose, is a sign of God’s
presence. The ability to do the kind of things you’re doing
for your family, to want to do them in the first place, to
have the courage and strength to carry on all these years —
these are all gifts of God.
“Furthermore, being a good husband and father is
something you really believe in; they’re the most
important goals in your life. And the way you take care of
your family, that’s not just human kindness. That
certainly looks to me like the grace of God. Anyone can
be generous for a few weeks for purely human reasons.
But for 17 years? That’s the grace of God.
“St. Paul described the way a husband should love his
wife as he loves his own body. And Christ talked about
care for the least as being truly care for him. That’s how
you love your family and that care is at the heart of your
life,” I added. “For me that’s a sign of God’s presence in
your life.”
My conversation with Doug took about an hour and a
half. But it hit on a basic truth of our faith. God is present
in us in the most ordinary aspects of human living —
encouraging us, helping us hang in there even when the
hanging-in seems either impossible or meaningless.
The Times When You Feel God Is Gone
BY NEIL PARENT
In Shusaku Endo’s masterful novel, “Silence,” Father
Sebastian Rodrigues is a 17th century Portuguese priest
sent to Japan to minister to the small, persecuted
Christian community there. The priest eventually is
captured and imprisoned.
One day, he witnesses through his cell window the
martyrdom of a Christian. The prisoner, a one-eyed man,
is led to the center of the courtyard where he is felled
with one swift blow of the sword. His body is dragged
through the dirt and thrown into a grave he and other
Christian prisoners dug the previous day.
Endo describes Father Rodrigues’ thoughts of God
following the incident: “So it has come to this ...” He
shivered as he clutched the bars.
“Yet his perplexity did not come from the event that
had happened so suddenly. What he could not understand
was the stillness of the courtyard, the voice of the cicada,
the whirling wings of the flies. A man had died. Yet the
outside world went on as if nothing had happened.
“Could anything be more crazy? Was this martyrdom?
Why are you silent? Here, the one-eyed man has died —
and for you. You ought to know. Why does this stillness
continue? This noonday stillness. The sound of the flies —
the crazy thing, this cruel business.”
Endo’s portrayal is powerful, I think, because the
priest’s sense that God is silent is one that many of us
have felt at one time or another. Just when we wanted
God’s presence most, we felt a terrible stillness.
Fortunately, such painful periods generally do not last.
In time, they give way to other experiences in which God
makes himself known to us — whether we were looking
for him or not.
Such was the case with Pete, a former convict. In a
recent interview, he told of an incident which occurred in
prison when two of his friends got into a raging argument
and vowed to settle the score in the morning. That meant
KNOW YOUR
FAITH
(All Articles On These Pages Copyrighted
1983 by N.C. News Service)
one could die. Though he never prayed before, Pete spent
the night praying to God, saying, “Hey, I’m not asking
you to prove yourself; I’m asking you to save two lives.”
Pete said that the next morning the two men “came out
with their hands extended to one another and shook
hands.”
Knowing the two men as he did, Pete couldn’t believe
what happened. “It was mind boggling . . .So that day I
had nothing but thanks in my heart to God.”
For Father Rodrigues, there was God’s silence. For
Pete, God made his presence abundantly clear. Yet
Christians believe God is fully present in both situations.
Trappist Father Thomas Keating describes God as “the
source of all reality.. .who penetrates it with his
unbounded presence.” Even bleak, unbroken silence
carries God’s presence.
It’s natural that we want to experience God’s presence,
to be reassured that he is indeed with us, caring for us.
When God seems distant and silent, we feel alone and
afraid, like orphans.
In point of fact, it is not whether God is present to us,
but how he chooses to be present. We look for God in the
wide spaces as well as the nooks and crannies of our lives.
But while we do the seeking, God does the finding.
— For one person, God reveals himself in joy; for
another, in pain and sorrow.
— Some encounter God in giving; others in receiving.
— For some it is the awe of a limitless, starry sky that
sparks a divine encounter; for others, the encounter
occurs in the inward journey of quiet meditation.
Many experience God in music, art or poetry.
Painter-poet Carlo Carra writes that when he is working,
he senses that “his true immutable essence comes from
that invisible realm that offers him an image of eternal
reality.”
Jesus’ words, “Seek and you shall find,” encourage us to
keep searching for God and to never doubt that he is with
us, even in dark, silent and troubled moments.