I was asked the other day what was I afraid of.
Now, I hate this sort of question partly because it is usually asked with a serious, pondering tone and partly because it is a matter of degrees.
I might be afraid that the coffee won’t be strong enough; I might be afraid of walking down an ill-lit street; I might be afraid of illness, abandonment and death.
It might also be about the deep, nameless fear that every human being will touch on at some stage of his or her life.
Of course, the other thing that annoys me about this question is that once I have named some fears (these days I usually lie) the questioner will set about either pitying me or trying to fix me up.
There is a human perfectionism around that sees fear and anxiety as ‘faults’, or as something to be brought to analysis. There is an unspoken sense that to be afraid is to be less than perfect. I am not talking about phobias or illness, I am talking about the normal fears that every human being experiences. The shape of one’s fear changes over time. I can remember being afraid on my first day at school and that paled into insignificance as I launched into my first job interview.
Jesus knew better. We know he experienced fear as he entered into his passion – fear so terrible he sweated blood. The reality is, fear and anxiety are normal human emotions. In fact without fear we may have no sense of danger to ourselves or others, whether that danger be physical, emotional or spiritual. Our fears may be founded or unfounded but whatever their source, fear should be respected as a warning and accepted as part of life.
Fear in fact, is a gateway to trust.
Whatever the cause of our fearfulness, when turned inward to ourselves it becomes paralysing and destructive. However, in taking the fear into the heart of God we find a way to listen to it, transform it, allow God to give us understanding, perspective and peace. To see as God sees.
When Jesus suffered fear in Gethsemane, God sent an angel to comfort him. I wonder what the angel said. Was it, “There, there, it will be all right”? Was it an offer of psychoanalysis? Was it, “Be a man!”? Perhaps the ‘comfort’ was the reminder that God is within every moment bringing forth life whether we feel God’s presence or not.
In our fears, no matter how small or how paralysing and terrifying, the angel of comfort is present strengthening us, leading us to abandon ourselves into the arms of God in blind, loving trust. And when we take our fear and fearfulness into God we grow in maturity and strength. Strength is not about having no fear, rather the strength of faith is to look at the fear while trustingly holding God’s hand.
The great greeting of Jesus and the early church is “Do not be afraid”. It is echoed in the Eucharistic liturgy – “…free from fear and safe from all anxiety we await with joyful hope the coming of our saviour Jesus Christ”.
It is the greeting of life and active hope. It asks for trust. It is a greeting weighted with the Resurrection. It is not trivial. It is the great cry of trust and hope in the God of the Risen Jesus. It is also an affirmation that our human weaknesses, fears and follies can be taken into the heart of God and washed is tenderness and hope.
When I was a small child I played a game with my father. He would stand me on the edge of the table and then step away. He would say, “Jump and I’ll catch you.” Amid much giggling, hesitancy and fear (Will he catch me this time?) I would leap off the table and into his arms. He would always catch me and amid much laughter, I would throw my arms around his neck.
Why should God be any different?
