Kathleen Basi contributes today to the How Can I Keep from Singing? series of guest posts, reflecting on an acclamation that has been part of her life since childhood. I have come to love Kathleen’s blog for its sacramentality, for her way of finding God in all things. This post explores a spiritual paradox that engages me as much as it has engaged Kathleen: doubt and faith living side by side in our hearts.
I’ve been involved in liturgical music since I was old enough to remember. Music has facilitated countless encounters with God: through concerts attended and concerts performed, pastoral music conventions, music history classes, and weekly Mass.
But as I pondered how to choose one example out of almost forty years of music to reflect upon for a blog post, the one that kept floating to the surface was a one-line assembly response I didn’t even like.
In my preteen years, the music leader at my parish began experimenting with acclamations at various times during the liturgy. (Although I can’t say for certain at this point, I suspect they were grossly liturgically inappropriate.)
Sunday after Sunday, we sang, “We believe, we believe, Lord, help our unbelief.”
I didn’t like this acclamation. I didn’t like the way we used it in the Mass, I didn’t like the melody, and I thought the words were ridiculous. You either believe or you don’t believe. Pick one.
One day I voiced that complaint on the way home from church, only to be roundly dressed down by my father. “It’s one thing if you don’t like the music,” he said, pointing a finger in the air from the driver’s seat. “But those words are Scripture.”
I had never heard such a quote before, but that silenced me.
I’d like to say I went home and looked it up, but let’s be honest: the internet didn’t exist then, and I’d never even heard of a concordance. I don’t know at what point I finally encountered the desperate father in Mark, chapter 9 who uttered these words. But once I did, I was never quite the same.
I do believe, help my unbelief!
Because you see, the longer I live, the more I understand it. In college, I questioned whether God existed at all. When I met my husband, I questioned God’s will for our future. Through three years of infertility, I questioned why God would ask us to endure such suffering when we’d tried so hard to do everything right.
I do believe, help my unbelief!
Doubt is a constant companion along the human journey. It is the only conduit to growth. As the boundaries of the soul expand, things that used to fit in neatly suddenly start shifting. Some understandings grow deeper, more nuanced. Others are outgrown and must be replaced. No longer does everything have its neat and tidy compartment. Things don’t quite fit quite right anymore. Doubt pokes its head up.
I do believe, help my unbelief!
It’s not my favorite Scripture passage. But in many ways it is the one that most defines my spiritual life.
And if it hadn’t been for a small, liturgically inappropriate acclamation I couldn’t stand, I might never have been sensitized to it.
I do believe, help my unbelief!
Kathleen writes liturgical music, nonfiction and fiction from home around the edges of caring for three busy boys and a chromosomally-gifted daughter. She is also a choir director, natural family planning teacher, scrapbooker, sometime-chef and budding disability rights activist. Kathleen puts her juggling skills on display at www.kathleenbasi.com/blog.
