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Author: Amy Thompson Sevimli
I meet a lot of people who are put off by the supposed certainty of churchgoers, and I have to say that I can’t really blame them. They usually have reasons for their frustration. Many of them have felt belittled for asking questions about another’s faith or for challenging what a Christian otherwise says is a sure and certain belief. In the end, I think these skeptics rightly wonder what such belligerent reactions say about a faith that appears so certain from the outside but can hardly endure a few questions when someone finally breaks through to the inside.
Though it may not always look like it from the outside, Christians worship Jesus before they worship any doctrine or belief system. Sometimes, however, I fear that we Christians fail to take a page out of Jesus’ play book of humility and instead so doggedly stand our ground that our ego pretends like it knows sure and certain truth perfectly, especially when it does not. And, sometimes, in the moment we are arguing most vehemently for something about which we feel the need to be right (even if we aren’t) we end up coming across as a People who will only associate with those who are in agreement and compliance with what we claim to know is right —right now.
In contrast, Jesus, the one Christians believe knows perfectly, was often calm and humble in response to his critics and mockers. He rarely derided others for their questions, even when they were aimed at killing him. Instead, he was often patient and humble in return, asking questions back to the questioner, and never demanding that others agree with him. He had no need to posture or to pretend like he knew better than the other—even when he did.
Father Richard Rohr says that, “Unhealthy religion often feels like posturing; it feels like ego, it doesn’t feel too much like Jesus.” He goes on to say, “You see, when we really know, we always know that we don’t know. When we do not see that humility or patience in religion or religious people, we know they are not on the right course.” (From Bias from the Bottom)
One of the things about which I wish we could have a more open and honest discussion in the Church is what we do and don’t know…or when we might be right, or God help us, when we might be wrong. Because I am convinced that there are a lot of Christians out there—some who go to church and others who have given up on it—who feel like they don’t always really know everything about God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and the Christian faith. Yet they still believe, even if they don’t always know why. Often, what they do know is that they find a certain calmness in simply knowing that the Unknowable One is beyond their firm comprehension, and that can be a real gift. It’s like Father Rohr says, “It is a strange paradox, but knowing and not knowing can coexist and balance one another. In fact, it is called faith.” (From Bias from the Bottom).
I have to admit that the idea of faith with a bit of tension and paradox built in feels more faithful to me. But I worry that in both our culture and our churches faith has taken on a connotation of absolute certainty in a certain kind of intellectual or doctrinal comprehension about God without room for tension or paradox. Most all of us are guilty of such sweeping intellectual suppositions at one time or another, even though nearly none of us believe them all the time. Instead, we know that sometimes we know and sometimes we don’t. We all walk around with tension and paradox in our heads and our hearts.
Yet, we rarely address this. But I wish we would.
So, I wonder how we could have a more open and honest discussion about what we do and don’t know…what we hold in tension and in paradox? Because I think if we were to take an honest stab at it, it might strengthen our faith.
image by .michael.newman. (rights)
