The North Star Catholic / Miracles, doubt and building up faith

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When my friend Bob died, his wife offered a good part of his voluminous collection of spiritual and theological books, and some mementos, to his friends.

I chose a piece of wood with the reproduction of an icon of Christ. I vaguely knew the icon had special significance, but it was only when I was rereading Thomas Cahill’s “Desire of the Everlasting Hills” that I saw a picture of my icon and recalled its history.

This image of Jesus is from Saint Catherine’s Monastery in Sinai, and dates to the sixth century. It’s the oldest surviving icon of Jesus, but Cahill asserts that icon artists relied heavily on previous works to make their own work authentic, and that ultimately the Saint Catherine’s icon might possibly harken back to the descriptions of eye-witnesses of Jesus.

Why no earlier surviving icons of Jesus? In the eighth century, Christianity had a big argument called “the iconoclast controversy.” Google it if you’re intrigued, but basically a segment of Christianity felt that images of people — even Christ — were a form of idolatry, worshipping an image. Regrettably, much remarkable artwork was destroyed during this controversy.

Fortunately, the icon at Saint Catherine’s escaped destruction.

Bob’s icon sits in the room where I pray in the morning. According to Cahill, the real icon is remarkable in that the dark eyes of Jesus seem to follow you. Even in my reproduction, the eyes are mesmerizing.

Easter renews for us our belief that Jesus conquered death once and for all. The confluence of Easter with the return of daylight, robins and daffodils pushing through the hard earth, fills us with hope of renewal, regeneration, rebirth.

In the midst of this great hope, I have a soft spot in my heart for Thomas. I, too, have been Thomas, a doubter. Who hasn’t? Who hasn’t woken in the deepest hours of the night and wondered, what is there beyond this darkness?

That’s why the icon intrigues me. I like history, I’m fascinated by the historical Jesus, and, let’s face it, cynic that I am sometimes, I want a miracle now and then. Again, who doesn’t?

Cahill’s book juxtaposes the image of the Shroud of Turin next to Saint Catherine’s icon. Remarkably similar pictures. Now, I know that no one has ever proven that the Shroud is authentic. How can you prove something like that? But none of the naysayers has come close to explaining how this image could possibly have been made if it’s not the real deal.

In similar fashion, Our Lady of Guadalupe’s image is an incredible story. Skeptics work hard to debunk this miracle, but it defies explanation. No one can explain how the image appeared on Juan Diego’s tilma, a rough peasant garment, and has survived so long. Most remarkable are the eyes, scientifically enlarged by modern technology to show inscribed there the images of thirteen people, apparently the bishop’s court to whom Diego brought the tilma, gaping in amazement. The list goes on, defying the skeptics.

Do we build our faith on miracles? Of course not, and we’re wise to be skeptical. We build our faith on a relationship with Jesus, on Scripture, on the sacraments. And on Christian witness, like that of my friend Bob, the icon’s owner, who became a quadriplegic as a young man and went on to graduate from law school and become a deeply spiritual contemplative Catholic.

Bob’s life was a miracle. But if the Shroud or Our Lady’s tilma helps opens our eyes to the miracles around us, even in the darkest night, then I say embrace them.