Polly-animated

Today's readings: Psalms 48; 147:1-11; Genesis 12:1-7; Hebrews 11:1-12; John 6:35-42, 48-51

In the decades since the book Pollyanna was first published and popular, references to the title character have devolved from implying a spirit of tireless optimism into a perjorative with connotations of naivete or even simple-mindedness. In some circles, the word "faith" has similarly fallen out of favor. Anti-religious social critics have used the description of faith in Hebrews 11:1 as "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" to characterize Christians as weak-minded and even willfully ignorant. Some of these critics go so far as to say faith brings out the worst in people and that without it our better nature is free to shine through. To the contrary, history demonstrates both the faithful and the faithless are capable of goodness and horror in equal measure. Could anything be more naive than an insistence that people left to their own devices are basically decent?

The story of Abraham and Sarah's faith, as told in Genesis and recounted in Hebrews, is not one of denial of life's harsh realities. Nor is it one of the shoddy philosophy of Voltaire's Candide who declared this creation the best of all possible worlds (and was more of a "Pollyanna" than Pollyanna ever was). It is a story of faith as a call to anchor ourselves to God's presence in the brokenness of the real world, and to allow that presence to work through us to heal the brokenness. Such faith is not a simple, mindless optimism; it demands hard work and a willingness to face the challenges of life head on. Faith did not simplify life for Abraham and Sarah. It did not provide easy answers. It did use them to transform the world. Faith is not something we posess. Rather, faith posesses us, in every sense of the word.

In a world of increasing cynicism and materialism, faith like that of Abraham and the Disciples may be ridiculed but it is not a sign of naivete or intellectual surrender. It is bold. It is revolutionary. It gives us courage to shed the armor of ego which has done nothing but conceal the light. It is a call not to arms, but to loving action.

Evening readings: Psalms 9; 29