I remember Fr. Webner kindly. He was the priest in our very rural parish back in the 1950’s when I was growing up (still a work in progress for me!). He was an admirable man, and in retrospect I can see how dedicated he and his wife were to his priestly vocation. They accepted what was provided for them by the church, and it wasn’t much. The Rectory was old, cold and small, the stipend was a pittance, and in those days there were no pensions or Benefits packages for clergy. Now I don’t like to indulge in conspiracy theories, but back then it was difficult not to suspect that parishes had a secret pact with the Bishop: “You keep him humble, and we’ll keep him poor.” Yet the Webner’s faith was such that they accepted adversities with equanimity and were able to say, “Praise the Lord anyway”.
It was during one of my Confirmation Classes that I realised how serene Fr. Webner’s faith really was. He was telling us that once we were Confirmed and were eligible to receive Holy Communion, the Grace of God would be imparted to us in the Sacramental species of Bread and Wine.
I found that statement more mystifying than edifying. I was a farm kid, and even at thirteen years of age I was an enthusiastic fan of farm machinery. I knew that the wonderful labour-saving blessings of machines were imparted to us by a complex but nonetheless comprehensible system of fuel pumps, spark plugs, cam shafts, gears, bearings and so forth, so in my naivety I pressed Fr. Webner to explain precisely how the Sacrament accomplishes what it purports to do. “How does it work?”
He didn’t even flinch because he had an unruffled answer for all such questions, and even after all these years I still remember the substance of his reply. He said, “It’s a mystery. You don’t need to understand it. It’s just one of those things we have to accept on faith”. And there was a note of finality in his voice that prevented me from pressing the matter any further, so I just dutifully accepted his response and let my question go unanswered. After all, at thirteen I had more important things on my mind anyway.
Years of growing up passed, and I suppose my question still came back to mind from time to time as I was in the act of receiving Holy Communion. But by that time I was more interested in trying to emulate Elvis Presley’s gyrations while plunking my dad’s old guitar. Yet still the question never completely receded from my mind, and by the time I had completed a degree in university, I had accumulated a pile of other ‘mystery’ questions that also rebelled at being dismissed with the simple “It’s a mystery” answer. The combined weight of them led me to the serious study of Theology … and eventually to Ordination where the gift of God’s Grace to be a Priest was imparted to me by the Laying-On of a Bishop’s hands. Gee, I wonder how that works, precisely!
And finally, shortly after ordination, I got my comeuppance. I had become the parish priest who was faced with the challenge of teaching a Confirmation Class, and the young people of that new generation were far more intolerant of evasive answers like “It’s a mystery” than I had been. Finally, I was compelled to face my demons and answer my own “How does it work?” question.
I don’t presume to claim that my answer is THE correct one. I very much doubt there is a single, pat, one-size-fits-all answer. But it’s what I have to share, and I think there is some merit in it at least.
To achieve a comfort level with elusive mysteries, first it helps to recognise that there are two very distinct kinds of mystery, and then to focus on the right kind.
The first kind of mystery lends itself to being solved. This is the kind of ‘whodunit’ mystery that is the stock in trade of detective novels, television crime dramas, and real-life forensic experts. It is the sort of mystery that scientists delve into when they work to expand the cutting edges of our human understanding. It is the kind that can be solved by searching for clues, gathering evidence, following hunches, formulating theories, subjecting those theories to rigorous tests, and defending one’s theories before a panel of peers or before a court of law.
The objective of all that searching for clues, theorizing, and proving is to ‘solve’ the mystery, explain it, dispense with it, make it disappear as completely as a soap bubble that pops, make it dwindle into nothing. When a mystery of this sort is solved, there is no mystery left. It is considered solved when the ‘guilty’ verdict is read, or when the elusive elemental quantum particle of matter runs out of places to hide and is finally officially discovered.
The second kind of mystery is fundamentally different. It does not lend itself to being solved at all.
This is the kind of mystery we encounter when we look deeply into the heavens on a dark, cloudless night when we are far from any source of light pollution. We know that many cosmic secrets have been opened to us in recent years. And yet, by now, we also know that every successive astronomical discovery only discloses whole new and deeper and even more astonishing vistas of wonder.
Then, to achieve a comfort level with the spiritual mysteries in particular, if also helps to remember what we mean when we speak of divine ‘Grace’, and of the ‘pouring out’ thereof.
The Grace of God is not like a bottle of a Snake Oil Salesman’s miracle liniment, to be poured on and rubbed in. It is simply another way of speaking about a bestowal of God’s empowering Love.
And I have found that the most profound unsolvable mysteries of all are those that put us in touch, in some way, with this greatest of all possible gifts.
I encountered this kind of mystery when I gazed at my daughter just moments after she was born. I saw in her a miracle packaged in a whole new human life, a whole new and utterly unique person, an offspring of my own body. And it was wonderfully inexplicable.
I encounter this kind of mystery when Doreen tells me she loves me. But how can that be? When there were so many taller, better looking, more intelligent, more prosperous and more accomplished men she might have loved, how could she have settled for me? I mean, in all honesty I know myself, and even I know I am not that loveable. There is no explaining it, but I know her love is a gift of God to me.
And, yes, I do still encounter this kind of mystery when I receive Holy Communion.
It turns out that Fr. Webner was right all along. I am eighty years old now, and I still don’t even begin to understand it. But, Praise the Lord anyway!