On a cold December morning in Russia in 1849, twenty political prisoners were lined up in front of a firing squad. Just before the order to fire was to be given, an officer rode up shouting for the soldiers to stop. Czar Nicholas had just commuted their sentence to ten years of hard labor in Siberia.
One of the prisoners was a young man named Feodor Dostoevsky. When he arrived in Siberia, he found a copy of the New Testament and began reading it. By the time he finished reading it, he had become a strong believer in Jesus Christ.
After his release from the Siberian work prison, Dostoevsky turned to writing novels. Very quickly, he wrote such classics as Crime and Punishment and The Brothers Karamazov. The success he earned from his writing, however, seemed to turn his head. He began to gamble and drink heavily. Worst of all, he set aside his newfound faith.
Shortly before his death, Dostoevsky returned to the faith. This fact was a source of great irritation to his atheistic friends. They ridiculed him and regarded his return to faith as the act of a sick man in desperation. Commenting on their ridicule, Dostoevsky wrote in his diary: “These fools could not even conceive so strong a denial of God as the one to which I gave expression. It is not like a child that I believe in Christ... My hosanna has come forth from the crucible of doubt.”
Dostoevsky’s story is not unlike the story of Thomas in our Gospel reading today. Like Thomas, he once placed all his faith in Jesus, only to abandon it. And, like Thomas, he returned to his faith in Jesus. We can all relate to the stories of Thomas and Dostoevsky. Perhaps we didn’t completely abandon our faith in Jesus, but perhaps we didn’t follow Jesus as closely as we should have. Anyone who has traveled the road of faith knows it is not a wide, paved highway. Instead, it is a narrow path, difficult to follow. Jesus Himself said of the road to faith, “How narrow the gate and constricted the road that leads to life. And those who find it are few.”
As we look at the road of faith, we see that it involves three things:
First, our faith involves trust in God. This means we are not dealing with something purely intellectual, like solving a math problem. It is something deeper, something more personal and profound. It’s trusting God even when the intellect is confused. We recall the story of Abraham when God asked him to sacrifice his son, Isaac. Abraham’s intellect was confused. It didn’t make sense for him to sacrifice his son. Had Abraham relied solely on his reasoning abilities, he would have set aside his trust in God. However, Abraham put all his trust in God, who blessed him with many more years with Isaac and with so many other great blessings.
Second, our faith involves a constant struggle on our part. This is something that never ends in our quest to be one with God. Again, if we look at the story of Abraham, we see that his faith did not rely on a one-time commitment to God. He struggled with his faith; he struggled to understand God. When his understanding failed him, he had to put his trust in God once again, blindly. There is no such thing as getting the faith and never struggling with it again. It is a constant struggle, a constant journey, but one that brings us ever closer to God.
Third, our faith sometimes involves moments of darkness. By this, we mean there are times when our faith seems to go behind a cloud, when we find it hard to believe. Our faith seems to disappear like the sun on a cloudy day.
When these times of testing or darkness come, we might recall the words of a fugitive running from his captors during World War II. He wrote on the wall of a basement in which he was hiding: “I believe in the sun even when it is not shining. I believe in love even when I do not feel it. I believe in God even when God is silent.”
Jesus says to us, today, what he said to Thomas, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me?
Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”