Palabras preliminares
4.3 Eje 3 - Educación, diversidad y diversificación
Our eyes were designed to possess, that is, to search for reality. When they end up mastering the world of perspec tive, figure, color, and dimension, the eyes are satisfied. They have fulfilled their purpose; they have arrived at reality.
Our ears, by their internal structure, are meant to apprehend the world of sound, harmony, and voices. When they achieve their objective, they are stilled and satisfied.
And so on, with all of the different powers that make up the human structure: intellectual, intuitive, visual, audi tory, sexual, affective, neurological powers, and so on. Each power has its own functioning mechanisms and objective. Once its objective is achieved, the power rests. Otherwise, it remains restless. In summary, all our powers and our entire being are structured for possession.
But therein lies the
mystery:
we put all the mechanisms into action and, one by one, they reach their goals; they are satisfied, and yet we ourselves are left unsatisfied.What does this mean? It means that we are something
more,
more than the sum of all these powers. The specifically constitutive element of human beings is some other power, that is, a superpower that exists and supports the others.
Let me explain. Because we are an image of the Invis ible and an echo of the Silent One, we possess restless and uneasy strengths that emerge, long for, and aspire toward their center of gravity, where they will adjust themselves and rest, waiting to get within sight of the "finish lines."
Every act of faith and deep prayer is an attempt at possession. Those inner forces are put to work by the mechanisms of faith. The believer, lifted by a powerful force, approaches the Universal, to possess it and thus find rest. And, at any given moment of prayer, reaching the threshold of God, just when the believer has the impression that the Object is in sight, God vanishes, as in a dream. God becomes absence and silence.
And the believer is always left with a feeling of frustra tion. This subtle disappointment that results from the "close ness" of God is intrinsically inherent to the act of faith. From the combination of human nature and God's nature comes the
silence of God:
we have been born to possess an infinite object and, because it is beyond time, our traveling in time must necessarily be insilence
andabsence.
The life of faith is at once an adventure and a misfor tune. We know that the word
God
has a "meaning." But, as long as we remain on the way, we will never possess Him physically or control Him intellectually. The "meaning" will always be silent, covered with the veil of time. Eternity will be the lifting of this veil. Meanwhile, we are pilgrims who are always searchil":g for Him and never "finding" Him.John of the Cross admirably expresses the silence of God with these verses:
Where have You hidden, Beloved, and left me moaning? You fled like a stag,
after wounding me;
I went out calling You, and You were gone.
The experience of faith, the life with God is this: an exodus, a constant "going out calling Him." And here is where the eternal odyssey of the seekers of God begins: the long monotonous history, capable of overcoming all resis tance. In every moment, in every attempt to pray, when it seems that the figure of God is within sight, "You were gone": the Lord wraps Himself in the mantle of silence and remains hidden. It seems like a perpetually unsteady and inaccessible Face, as It appears and then disappears, gets closer and then far distant, or as It forms and then vanishes.
Henri de Lubac is quoted as saying:
Why is it that the soul, when it has already found God, keeps feeling as if it had not found him? Why the feeling of a profound absence even in the most intimate presence? Why that invincible darkness of him who is all light? Why that immeasurable distance before him who penetrates everything? Why is it that all things betray us: they have hardly shown us God and, then, they keep him away from our sight?
The universe around us is filled with enigma and questions. Each day, our ears are assaulted by the sounds of pain and human desperation. We see death, mutilation, unemployment, injustice, and war. What is God doing? Isn't He a Father? Isn't He Almighty? Why is He silent?
It is a stubborn and intolerable silence that slowly undermines even the strongest resistance. Confusion enters the picture. And you begin hearing voices from every where asking, "Where is your God?" (Ps 42). This is not sarcasm or the formal argumentation of an intellectual atheist.
disturbing silence of God; and, little by little, a vague feeling of insecurity leads the individual to question every thing: Is this real? Am I creating it? Is it all true? And the believer remains in the midst of the churning waters, disturbed by the silence of God. And what is said in Psalm
30
comes true: "You turned away your face and I was terrified."The prophet Jeremiah experienced, with terrible sharp ness, this silence of God. The prophet says to the Lord, "Realize that I suffer insult for your sake ... Why is my suffering continual, my wound incurable, refusing to be healed? Truly, for me you are a deceptive stream with uncertain waters?" Oer