Leaps of Faith
Let’s pick up where we left off. With life’s seemingly-required leaps of faith.
You can picture it, right? Standing on the edge of a cliff face, looking across to the other side and wondering/hoping/praying that your two feet can lift your body off the ground and somehow carry you all of the way across this crevasse.
Of course, it’s metaphorical. We aren’t at a literal ravine. Though I know people who actually cross real ravines in preparation for the metaphorical ones. The actual ravines that we face are more like committing to a partner, fessing up that a relationship is not working, changing your ingrained behavior, sticking to your budget, deciding to get a new job, signing the paperwork on your college application, expressing your anger/hurt/disappointment with people you love for the first time, standing up for yourself at work, not having a drink. I could go on and on.
What are some of the ravines you have faced in your life?
At one point in my professional career, I could go no further without leaping. I feared that I wasn’t enough. That’s when my supervisor took me out to lunch.
We walked down the street to a favorite lunch spot on the grayest, rainiest day in New Jersey. This lunch spot was known for their tomato bisque with a side grilled cheese sandwich. That decision was a no-brainer.
The harder question came a moment after ordering from my supervisor, “How are you feeling about this transition?”
“Scared,” I replied, looking him squarely in the eye. “Do you think I am up to the task?”
He paused as he put down his fork and knife.
“emilie,” he replied, “I can’t answer that question for you. Only you can. Sure, I could reassure you today, but what happens tomorrow when someone else tells you that you aren’t up for the job. Who are you going to believe? Me or them? That will never work. You will falter until you believe in yourself. Once you believe you are ready, you will be. No one will be able to take that away from you. Then, you’ll soar.”
It was sage wisdom.
At the time, however, I couldn’t hear it. I was too other-focused. It was far easier to allow others to measure my worth. Just tell me that I’ve got this, dammit!
For years I lived with the question: Can I trust myself to believe that I matter?
The answer remained illusive until my dad started to seriously decline from vascular dementia. Entering the floor of his memory-care unit, I witnessed his simple existence. So much of what made him who he was had been stripped away. Did he matter?
Now, be honest. How many of us turn away from folx, even loved ones, because we can’t see their life’s purpose anymore? That’s why my father always said, “If I get senile and demented, just take me out and shoot me.” From a young age, my father taught me that that - senile and demented - was the point when he would no longer matter.
Yet, here he was. Senile and demented. Yet, he mattered. My dad was wrong.
That’s when a seed was planted within my heart. A still, small voice wondered, “Maybe mattering is not something you earn. Maybe you matter simply by being. What if that were true?”
That was the first moment when I comprehended the wisdom of my supervisor.
Did you ever see the Indiana Jones trilogy? What about the final movie: The Lost Crusade? Indiana Jones is working with his dad to discover the Holy Grail, the cup Jesus used at the last supper, before the Nazis. There, in a temple carved into a desert rock face, his father is shot, and Indiana must undergo three challenges to reach the Grail and bring the waters of immortal life back to save his father’s life.
By this point in the trilogy, we’ve witnessed Indiana endure some pretty difficult challenges. We’re not worried. That is, until Indiana reaches his own ravine. Too far to jump, Indiana must find his faith. Except Indiana is not a man of faith. He’s never done this before.
Sound familiar?
Indiana Jones loses faith in himself. He doesn’t believe that his faith is strong enough to make it across. His wit. Yes. His intellect. Sure. His good looks. Of course. His strength. Proven. But his faith. Uh, no.
That’s when he hears his father cry out in pain. That’s when he hears his friend call out to him, “Indi, hurry.” It’s Love that gives him the courage to make the leap.
He places his hand on his heart, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and takes a faithful step into the void.
It’s not unlike the story of Moses in the Hebrew Bible. A former teacher of mine once said that the waters would not part until Moses took the first step. The waters don’t part first, and Moses is reassured. No. Moses’s faith falters, but his love for his people causes him to step out into the water.
Wade in the water, sings the old Gospel tune.
Choosing Love gives us the courage to wade into the water, to take the first step, to leap and to soar. It teaches us that our Love matters.
Humberto Materana, a biologist of cognition, says, “Love is the only emotion that expands intelligence.” It makes seemingly impossible things possible: Parting a Sea on the path to liberation. Making an invisible bridge visible. Teaching us how to have faith in our own mattering.
Since that seed was planted on my Dad’s memory care unit floor, it has rooted within my heart. At the end of each day, I draw a blossom next to a description of how I mattered that day. Not to other people. Not to society’s expectations. This isn’t a report card. No. I write down how I mattered to me. How I chose love.
How did you matter today, friend?