For most of May I was on locum duty at the Cathedral in Gibraltar, where we were made very welcome and had, apart from the daily services, time to explore. Our flat overlooked the harbour and we could see three countries (Gibraltar, Spain and Morocco), two continents and two seas (the Atlantic and the Mediterranean). The numerous ships passing up and down, or across, the Straits added to the sense of being in an in-between place, neither Spanish nor British, Christian yet with Moorish and Jewish influences.
All this got me reflecting on how our faith takes us on a journey. Much of the Old Testament is the account of a journey, not only of a nomadic people but also of a people whose wanderings led them to a fuller discovery of God. In the Gospels, Jesus observed that “the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head”, while the stories of the disciples in a boat from early on became a metaphor for the Church. Even though we may live in houses and have buildings to worship in, we Christians are, like the Israelites in the desert, people on a journey. As the Pentecost story tells us, our faith came into being in a place where different countries and cultures met. For ourselves, our faith will have developed and matured under the influence of the people and events we have encountered on our life’s journey.
So far I have not mentioned the one obvious thing about Gibraltar – the Rock. Strangely enough, when you are in the town you can’t really see it. But even that has something to tell us about the life of faith. For us Christians our faith is founded upon a rock, the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Even when we can’t see him, he is there, the defining presence amongst all the changes and chances of this mortal life.
Peter
