On the third day of our not-a-vacation pilgrimage, I find myself standing on the elevation of the foot of Mount Hermon, looking down into Syria. In the image at the top of the post, you see what I saw. Syria is to the left, and the border is marked by the complex of white buildings that are roughly center, which is the United Nations Peacekeeping force set up by Henry Kissinger in the mid-seventies. The yellow line represents the Road to Damascus from the region of the Galilee in the west to Damascus in the East; and the x, “by the airport tower,” said Rauf, is where the conversion of St. Paul occurred on the road to Damascus.

Gerry and I are standing there, looking at a Holy place that we faintly see, then Gerry ran off to buy some dates. I remained behind, looking at the border, the road, towards the Holy Place. I remembered standing above St. Paul’s prison in Caesuria on the second day, and of how he was martyred. I imagined him, an unpleasant, homely Roman Pharisee (described as short, bald-headed bow-legged man with a large nose), trotting along on his horse on the road to Damascus, probably thinking of new ways to persecute followers of the new Christian sect sprouting up all over the country like weeds after a rain.

I imagine him coming to that spot then suddenly being blinded by a light so bright that it took his sight, then from the heavens above, The voice, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

I imagine him being led by his traveling companions to Damascus where he was without sight for three days, praying, until Ananias, sent by God, laid his hands on his eyes, restoring his sight. Saul, who later changed his name to Paul, was called by God, and he answered, and he himself was then persecuted all the remaining days of his life, as were all the apostles, save John, who wrote the Book of Revelations.

My time is getting short and I hear Rauf’s voice in my earpiece, “Lets go brothers and sisters. Shake a leg.” I look a final time into Syria and think of the disciples and St. Paul, and I have a thought.

I’ve often wondered why, if God wanted us to believe, why not just write in the sky, between the moon and Mars on the first of every month, I am. Then, at that moment, looking towards that Holy Place, I realize, that would be too easy, that would be rather meaningless, to believe in something so obvious as the sky is blue or fire is hot. What value or worth is there in that?

I think that what God did, through his humanization through Jesus, was reveal himself to a chosen few to bear witness through the ages, and a tremendous burden it was. Such a burden, that to bear it perhaps those so chosen needed to see, for that is what they all seemed to have in common, the disciples, and St. Paul. They all did see, and believed, and suffered tremendously thereafter, their lives (except John) ending in martyrdom: but, they knew. They knew, without doubt, that the Glory of the Lord awaited them.

And then there is all the rest of humanity, then and now, who have not seen and have believed, who must deal and have dealt with doubt. Even Sister Theresa, in her letters describes:

Where is my faith? – even deep down, right in, there is nothing but emptiness & darkness. – My God – how painful is this unknown pain. It pains without ceasing. – I have no faith. – I dare not utter the words & thoughts that crowd in my heart – & make me suffer untold agony. So many unanswered questions live within me – I am afraid to uncover them – because of the blasphemy – If there be God, – please forgive me. – Mother Teresa 

I think that to have not seen and believe is the more difficult course, apart from being persecuted and martyred I should say, and the mark of a true saint, like Sr. Theresa or St. Francis. I understand that many Saints were called by God and likely did have a powerful conversion or experience like Saul of Tarsus; however, it is likely that most of us more common, un-saintly types did not become blinded by The light, and must deal with the intersection of doubt with faith and belief, and that takes effort. It is hard, because it has value and worth. If it were easy, it would not be so.