Yesterday, while hiking into the high country of the Sangre de Cristo mountains of Colorado, I lost the trail. Admittedly, I had gotten a bit of "trail daze," which is what I call it when one is plugging along a clear path and simply taking for granted that the path is there, not paying attention to other important indicators that one is headed in the desired direction.
Rather than notice the trail crossing a log over a nearby stream, I assumed it went up an adjacent drainage which looked well-worn (it was, by water and not by human feet). I didn't go far before all signs indicated that I was no longer on the trail--the path grew treacherously steep and overgrown, then eventually ran into a sheer granite wall! A couple who had been hiking close behind me on the trail actually followed me up the drainage for a brief time, believing I knew the way. Nope! Surprise!
We backtracked down the slope (finding a bee's nest under a patch of willows en route), and with little trouble observed the stream crossing and the main trail clearly continuing on the other side. The signs were there, we just hadn't noticed them.
During this time of retreat I've thought about "signs" and the things I sometimes hope to encounter in the silence and solitude. I hope for indicators along the way that I'm on the right track, confirmations that I'm doing my time of retreat well, that God is present and pleased. Again and again, I am invited to remember that sometimes it is a gift when such desired signs fail to appear. Sometimes it is in the absence that we encounter true Presence.
It isn't that confirming signs along the journey are "bad" or unhelpful. We hope and pray that there will be markers along the way to help us know whether our path is leading in a life-giving and faithful direction. If we've committed to a spiritual community we certainly hope that the relationship brings nourishment and joys along with the inevitable challenges. If we commit ourselves to a meditation and prayer practice we hope that such practice will bear fruit through our lives and that there will be some noticeable signs of this fruit. If we join others in acts of service or working for justice it is natural to hope for signs that our labors are not in vain.
However, it is also true that we sometimes look for signs that will confirm our way of seeing the world, ourselves, and other people. We want to see things that affirm the viewpoints we hold, and perhaps disavow the perspectives we do not agree with. It is the natural inclination of our ego-self to seek such confirmation and consolation. It is tempting to see things the way we want to see them, and to craft the world, and others, and even God in our own image. Consequently, we miss much that is right there in front of us.
I think of the phrase that appears more than once in the first chapter of John's gospel: "Come and see." When the first disciples encounter Jesus and their curiosity is peaked they ask him where he's headed and he replies, "Come and see." When some of the disciples are talking with their friends who voice their doubt as to whether anything good can come from Nazareth, Philip replies, "Come and see."
Remain open, stay curious. Come and see.
Those who decided to "come and see" encountered quite a spectrum of signs along the way that indicated who Jesus was and what he was about. Most of those signs were unexpected and many were unwelcome. There were also those confirming moments of wonder and rapture, like Peter, James and John witnessing the transfiguration of Jesus on the mountaintop (Matthew 17:1-13). In that spectacular moment Jesus had to remind them that they needed to go further still, to go back down the mountain and see even more.
Consider, too, the utter vacuum of loss experienced by the disciples immediately following Jesus' death. There were no signs of confirmation whatsoever in that moment, and if anything the experience called into question everything they had experienced or thought they had understood up until that moment. It was a sign-less time. It was only through that terrible absence that they then came to encounter the fullness of Presence and the gift of the Spirit that was soon given.
There were others who met Jesus along the way who demanded signs, signs that would confirm how they had already labeled him: heretic, king, prophet, healer, wonder-worker. Jesus had little patience for this. To a group of demanding Pharisees he said:
When it is evening, you say, "It will be fair weather for the sky is red."
And in the morning, "It will be stormy today, for the sky is red and threateniing."
You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky,
but you cannot interpret the signs of the times.
An evil and adulterous generation asks for a sign,
but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah.*
Gospel of Matthew 16:1-4
In another story we hear of Jesus' return to his hometown of Nazareth. The people there have heard about his exploits but cannot believe that "the carpenter, the son of Mary," this man who grew up in their midst, could be capable of such powerful things. The story concludes with these words:
And he could do no deed of power there,
except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them.
And he was amazed at their unbelief.
Gospel of Mark 6:5-6
Sometimes we can see only the signs of what we expect to see. And sometimes, we are blind to the signs that are staring us directly in the face. The practice of maintaining a stance of openness of heart and mind, curiosity, and a listening spirit is vital.
Jesus did not leave his friends with a set of pat answers, and concrete signs that could be planted in the ground like some sort of claim-staking flag. Jesus did not form a new religion, nor did he leave behind any dogma or doctrine as signs to describe the path of faith. He wrote no scriptures. He did not leave a rule or creed. Jesus left his friends with the gift of the Spirit of God, the same Spirit that had animated his every word and action. He left his friends with a Way to live in that Spirit as we make our way through life.
For those who seek to follow Christ's Way, there will be signs helping find the path--many of them surprising and unexpected. There will also be sign-less times, desolating in their experience of absence. These we can be grateful for, too, because they connect us with our deepest longing for life and love. There, too, is God.
* The "sign of Jonah" is thought to be a reference to the three days that Jonah spent in the belly of the great fish and a signifier of Jesus' death, entombment, and resurrection.
