A Confrontation

 

After the war Britain was in a state of flux. It may have won the war with its allies, but things had changed. People were confused. Many had lost friends and relatives at the front or in the bombings of many towns and cities. Many more had been wounded, injured or disabled for life. Soldiers were returning home to find there was no jobs for them. Some had lost their homes. Others had lost their families. Marriages and relationships were under strain with many couples not having seen each other for three or more years whilst fighting abroad or lingering in prison camps. The order of things as we knew them were not the same any more and people found it difficult to adjust.

One significant change was peoples' spiritual lives. Some continued to believe in whatever deity they felt comfortable with; whilst many more seemed to rebel against a God who allowed all the evil and suffering to happen.

Father Ignatius was in London for a conference. On his way back home, whilst at the railway station, he decided to kill time by going to the corner shop for a cup of tea. His train was not due for an hour or so.

As he sat at his table reading the newspaper a man in his late thirties approached him and asked, "It's crowded here. Do you mind if I share your table?"

The old priest smiled and invited him to sit. Noticing that Father Ignatius was wearing his white clerical collar, the man said, "You're a priest are you?"

"Yes, I am ..." replied Father Ignatius.

"I'm surprised there's still any people like you around," said the man, "after all that's happened these last few years I can't see how you believe in a God that's let it all happen."

Father Ignatius thought it best not to respond. He just smiled feebly.

"I was a soldier you know," continued the man as Father Ignatius nodded to encourage him to go on. It was obvious that the man wanted to vent out and Father Ignatius was to be the recipient of pent up anger.

"I was a soldier," he said, "if I could tell you of the horrors I've seen. But we're not allowed to talk about it. I lost many friends; one of them died in my very arms. He was only 19. 

"How can a loving God not intervene and stop it all? There was a time I believed you know. I was brought up a Catholic, I was an Altar boy. Now I believe it was all a hoax. Either God does not exist or He does not really care."

"I can understand how you feel," Father Ignatius said gently.

"Do you? Do you really? What do you really know?" interrupted the man putting his cup down forcible that it rattled the saucer.

"I was a soldier too ... in the First War," replied Father Ignatius.

"Oh ..." said the man uncomfortably. Father Ignatius chose to continue talking in order to dilute the situation a little. "You are not alone to feel as you do towards God," he said, "several of my parishioners have told me the same as you. 

"Whether you believe in God or not is your own prerogative; a personal matter. But let us assume for a moment that He exists. Which side would you have Him on in this war?"

The man was surprised at this line of questioning and said nothing.

Father Ignatius continued, "Let us assume that in the opposing army there is a devout Christian believer. Should God protect him from our soldiers? Should He take sides on an individual basis protecting only those who believe in Him and love Him? You said you don't believe in Him, so where does that leave you? Should He abandon you in the heat of war? Or does He love all His children as His creations regardless of whether they believe in Him or not?"

The man shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.

"Does God love you?" asked Father Ignatius.

"I don't know ..." replied the man shrugging his shoulders again.

"I am certain that He does," Father Ignatius said smiling a little to ease the tension, "whether you believe in Him or not. He loves you and He understands how you feel. even though I may not, as you said. 

"God has witnessed all the hurt and suffering on all sides of this war. He did not intervene in order to protect our own freedoms to do as we want. Even to the point of not believing in Him. He hurts and He grieves at all the deaths and sufferings that this war has caused. He grieves just as you grieve. The only difference is that He grieves at how evil we have become."

There followed a short period of silence. It was only for a few seconds; but seconds can be an eternity at certain times such as this one.

The man spoke first, "I also had difficulties," he mumbled, "when I believed that is ... I had difficulties in understanding that the host we have at Communion and the wine are really the body and blood of Christ. How can that be?"

Father Ignatius replied in softer tones. "As you may know," he said, "the Catholic Church takes this teaching from the Gospel of John Chapter 6 where Jesus says several times that He is "the Bread of life" and that unless people eat His flesh or drink His blood they will not have eternal life. Look it up in the Bible.

"This is a central belief of our Catholic faith and the Church invites its followers to believe this is so. Of course, there are many, including Catholics, who believe this is all symbolism. Christ did not really mean it as such. 

"Now then ... let us assume, as I said earlier, that God exists. I believe He does. But for the sake of argument, seeing you no longer believe in Him, let us assume He exists ... is that OK?"

The man nodded.

"Let us assume God exists and you believe in Him. But you do not believe that at Communion we receive the real body and blood of Christ. You think it's all symbolism.

"Let us then assume, which I believe to be a certainty, that we will all one day meet God face to face. Who would you rather be? ... ... ... Someone who did not believe Communion is the body and blood of Christ and you find out that it is so, just as Jesus said? Or someone who believed and found out it was symbolism after all? 

"You see the subtle difference?"

The man smiled and said nothing.

"You see my friend," Father Ignatius smiled back, "I take the view that Jesus was not a liar. He said something that we do not understand, and many theologians and learned people have debated over it for years. For me, it is easier to just accept what Jesus said and believe it in good faith; even though I don't understand it. The alternative is not to believe and in so doing imply Jesus was a liar."

"Thank you, Father," said the man, calling the priest by his proper title for the first time, "you have given me a lot to think about. I wish I could talk with you for hours on end. I have to go now and catch my train."

"Go in peace, my friend," replied the kind old priest, "I shall be praying for you!"