Faith, Doubt and Mystery
In the Gospel of Mark, chapter 9, there is a story with an unusual twist. A father whose son has been sick from birth comes to Jesus' disciples, and he asks the followers of Jesus to heal his son. The disciples try but fail. Not surprising! In Mark, the disciples can't heal, they don't understand Jesus' teaching and when Jesus talks about his death and resurrection, their concern is whether they can sit close to Jesus when he comes into his glory.
Talk about a lack of sensitivity and empathy. Jesus is going to die. The disciples don't feel the pain. All they do is relish the power that may come to them after Jesus suffers and dies. Do you recognize the Church of St. Mark? Tending to others' wounds - out! Caring for folks who are suffering - out! Power and control - now we're talking church! Secrecy and transparency are serious problems in Mark. On the way to Capernaum (Mk 9:33-37), Jesus asks his disciples why they are arguing. The issue was, "Who is the greatest?" Secrecy in any system, including the church, will destroy trust. Lack of transparency will turn any church into the group "in the know", and those who feel excluded from what is happening. This is deadly to the spirit of any group.
After the disciples fail to heal the man's son, the father comes to Jesus. In one of the most extraordinary professions of faith, the father says, "I believe; help my unbelief." After what sounds like a tenuous profession, Jesus heals the child.
I've often thought about how I would handle a profession of faith like this. In my faith tradition, we sing a hymn of invitation. The minister invites people to come forward. What if somebody came one Sunday and said to me, "I believe; help my unbelief."
Do I send the person back to her pew until she can say only, "I believe"? Would I have the compassion to accept ambiguity? Would I be honest enough to recognize my own doubts about who God is and the mystery of how God works? Would I recognize that it takes a lot of energy to doubt, and that I'm only dubious about the things that matter most?
The father in Mark's gospel probably had spent his life trying to find someone to heal his son. Disappointment after disappointment - - getting his hopes up that maybe the next so-called faith-healer can mend his broken son and the father's broken heart. Then he meets Jesus. "I believe; help my unbelief." I want to applaud the father. With all of the pain and dashed hopes, he still could muster, "I believe."
When our 10 year old son, David, was diagnosed with a brain tumor, I remember my doubts, my questions and the combination of fatigue and uncertainty that made me entertain thoughts that I thought I would never have. Why my child? Why any child? Was God punishing me? Of course I wasn't perfect, but if this were punishment, let me have the tumor.
Our son survived, but I watched him go through incredible suffering. In my preaching, I sought to be honest and authentic. There is great mystery to the way God works. If I ever thought I could explain suffering and fix all the brokenness of people, that illusion was gone. I believe in God, but I question God and have to trust that this God is big enough to accept both my answers as well as my questions.
I also have questions when I read the Bible and try to determine what it means and what it means to me. When I was a boy, visiting evangelists used to say, "God says it; I believe it; and that settles it." While almost everybody in the congregation said, "Amen", what we forgot was that the Bible had to be interpreted.
For me a large part of my faith journey has been a new and, I pray, deeper faith in the truth of scripture. I have friends who take the Bible as literally true. I try to understand their rational. If they doubt, for example, the historicity of the creation stories in Genesis 1 and 2, it calls into question for them the historical accuracy of the whole Bible.
But what if we looked at the Bible not as a book of just historical facts, but also as a compendium of documents with a multitude of literary forms including history but not limited to history. Can we then read the first chapters of Genesis not as historical truths but as truthful in their deeper message? Can we believe that behind all of creation is God, and this is a God, who despite our rebellion, is always seeking to reconcile us to Godself.
These types of interpretation make you wonder if this is not sexism and misogyny, and the Bible is brought kicking and screaming to justify an agenda.
Taking seriously what we have learned about such things as historical, literary and other forms of biblical analyses can shake us because it can take us away from those moorings where almost everything is considered historically true. But for me, it has opened up the richness of a Bible that speaks not only in historical facts, but also in evocative and transformative ways.
Taking the Genesis account literally has led to some strange interpretive backflips. Because man was created before the woman, some contend that only men should serve as preachers. I must have been absent in my Old Testament class when that rationale was discussed. Proponents of this view call it "complementarianism". Interestingly, this word and other words such as "infallible" and "inerrancy" can be found in the dictionary but not in the Bible. It really makes no sense that God would have preaching based on what gender was created first. Or as some literalists contend, because Eve ate the forbidden fruit first and then offered it to Adam, the woman bears the responsibility for their disobedience. Therefore, women should be submissive to men. I'm sorry, but couldn't Adam have said, "No"?
Do I understand everything the Bible says? If I did it wouldn't be a library of books that both challenge and comfort. It certainly wouldn't be centered around a God who could never be captured in our minds or in our vocabularies. Most of all, if I claimed that I understood all of the ways of God, it would clear the mystery that humbles us as we open the Bible.
So I open the Bible to history, poetry, songs, stories, prophecy, letters, gospels and so much more. Then I say, "I want to be transformed." And then... I leave the rest to God.
Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly,
Pray daily,
And then... leave the rest to God.
Talk about a lack of sensitivity and empathy. Jesus is going to die. The disciples don't feel the pain. All they do is relish the power that may come to them after Jesus suffers and dies. Do you recognize the Church of St. Mark? Tending to others' wounds - out! Caring for folks who are suffering - out! Power and control - now we're talking church! Secrecy and transparency are serious problems in Mark. On the way to Capernaum (Mk 9:33-37), Jesus asks his disciples why they are arguing. The issue was, "Who is the greatest?" Secrecy in any system, including the church, will destroy trust. Lack of transparency will turn any church into the group "in the know", and those who feel excluded from what is happening. This is deadly to the spirit of any group.
After the disciples fail to heal the man's son, the father comes to Jesus. In one of the most extraordinary professions of faith, the father says, "I believe; help my unbelief." After what sounds like a tenuous profession, Jesus heals the child.
I've often thought about how I would handle a profession of faith like this. In my faith tradition, we sing a hymn of invitation. The minister invites people to come forward. What if somebody came one Sunday and said to me, "I believe; help my unbelief."
Do I send the person back to her pew until she can say only, "I believe"? Would I have the compassion to accept ambiguity? Would I be honest enough to recognize my own doubts about who God is and the mystery of how God works? Would I recognize that it takes a lot of energy to doubt, and that I'm only dubious about the things that matter most?
The father in Mark's gospel probably had spent his life trying to find someone to heal his son. Disappointment after disappointment - - getting his hopes up that maybe the next so-called faith-healer can mend his broken son and the father's broken heart. Then he meets Jesus. "I believe; help my unbelief." I want to applaud the father. With all of the pain and dashed hopes, he still could muster, "I believe."
When our 10 year old son, David, was diagnosed with a brain tumor, I remember my doubts, my questions and the combination of fatigue and uncertainty that made me entertain thoughts that I thought I would never have. Why my child? Why any child? Was God punishing me? Of course I wasn't perfect, but if this were punishment, let me have the tumor.
Our son survived, but I watched him go through incredible suffering. In my preaching, I sought to be honest and authentic. There is great mystery to the way God works. If I ever thought I could explain suffering and fix all the brokenness of people, that illusion was gone. I believe in God, but I question God and have to trust that this God is big enough to accept both my answers as well as my questions.
I also have questions when I read the Bible and try to determine what it means and what it means to me. When I was a boy, visiting evangelists used to say, "God says it; I believe it; and that settles it." While almost everybody in the congregation said, "Amen", what we forgot was that the Bible had to be interpreted.
For me a large part of my faith journey has been a new and, I pray, deeper faith in the truth of scripture. I have friends who take the Bible as literally true. I try to understand their rational. If they doubt, for example, the historicity of the creation stories in Genesis 1 and 2, it calls into question for them the historical accuracy of the whole Bible.
But what if we looked at the Bible not as a book of just historical facts, but also as a compendium of documents with a multitude of literary forms including history but not limited to history. Can we then read the first chapters of Genesis not as historical truths but as truthful in their deeper message? Can we believe that behind all of creation is God, and this is a God, who despite our rebellion, is always seeking to reconcile us to Godself.
These types of interpretation make you wonder if this is not sexism and misogyny, and the Bible is brought kicking and screaming to justify an agenda.
Taking seriously what we have learned about such things as historical, literary and other forms of biblical analyses can shake us because it can take us away from those moorings where almost everything is considered historically true. But for me, it has opened up the richness of a Bible that speaks not only in historical facts, but also in evocative and transformative ways.
Taking the Genesis account literally has led to some strange interpretive backflips. Because man was created before the woman, some contend that only men should serve as preachers. I must have been absent in my Old Testament class when that rationale was discussed. Proponents of this view call it "complementarianism". Interestingly, this word and other words such as "infallible" and "inerrancy" can be found in the dictionary but not in the Bible. It really makes no sense that God would have preaching based on what gender was created first. Or as some literalists contend, because Eve ate the forbidden fruit first and then offered it to Adam, the woman bears the responsibility for their disobedience. Therefore, women should be submissive to men. I'm sorry, but couldn't Adam have said, "No"?
Do I understand everything the Bible says? If I did it wouldn't be a library of books that both challenge and comfort. It certainly wouldn't be centered around a God who could never be captured in our minds or in our vocabularies. Most of all, if I claimed that I understood all of the ways of God, it would clear the mystery that humbles us as we open the Bible.
So I open the Bible to history, poetry, songs, stories, prophecy, letters, gospels and so much more. Then I say, "I want to be transformed." And then... I leave the rest to God.
Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly,
Pray daily,
And then... leave the rest to God.
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