It’s difficult to talk about various ways of faith without the risk of offending someone. And it’s probably not worth bothering to say the calculatedly inoffensive remarks that would be left over after you filter out all the possibly offensive ones. Is it more important to make quite sure not to offend anyone (I know I haven’t attained that anyway), or to add a different perspective when an important, possibly offense-giving, topic is being bandied about? I’ll take the risk.
In the past few days, Joi and Jonathon and Shelley have expounded their views on religions in general, more than once with remarks specifically directed toward Christians; add in the active comments threads on these entries, and you’ll see a roiling welter of discussion about what religions are, and should be, and what’s wrong with them. Christian faith comes off rather badly in these conversations, compared to more civilized religions, or to non-religion, or to ad hoc spirituality. Observers have some good reasons to knock Christian faith, and some less coherent or creditable reasons, and some arguments seem to rest on misguided claims grounded in ignorance.
First, let me note that I am who you’re talking about. I may not agree with everyone to whom you’re referring — surely, surely, surely not with Roy Moore — but I want to make the discussion personal, so that people don’t feel as though they’re deriding an abstract, absent buffoonish blob. In that blob, you’ll find me, doing what I can, standing up as best I can for that which is true.
Among the things I stand for is the premise that the God about whom Scripture and the saints have taught me is God, not in a perspectival or contingent way, but in a thorough, undeniable, absolute way. Not “among other gods,” though I see the interest and functionality of a polytheistic world. I just don’t inhabit a world like that, and it would be false politeness for me to pretend otherwise. That doesn’t mean I want to stamp out other people’s ways of believing, or legislate against them, or get into condescending arguments with them; it just means that so far as it’s given me to know things, I know the God of Abraham to be God in a unique way. This may mean I’m just plain wrong, a possibility that I do grapple with more or less constantly. Or perhaps (as on some of the accounts I’ve seen) it makes me insecure, or a fundamentalist, or some other opprobrious characterization — or an exception, an intriguing oddity among otherwise-misguided Christian believers.
The prevalent attitude — that one’s relation to God, or gods, or the stars, or self-help books, is a matter of personal choice — entails a tacit claim to be able to assess and judge religious traditions, determining what’s really good about this or that way. That’s a claim I try not to make. I’m not a Christian because I’ve understood all there is to know about other ways, and have weighed and balanced their strengths and weaknesses, and gave Christianity the Good Spirituality Seal of Approval (“brightens teeth, cleans floors, edifies children and opposes nastiness”). I exemplify more the way that St. Perpetua seems to have had in mind, when her father visted her in her prison:
“Father,” said I, “Do you see this vessel lying, a pitcher or whatsoever it may be?” And he said, “I see it.” And I said to him, “Can it be called by any other name than that which it is?” And he answered, “No.” “So can I call myself nought other than that which I am, a Christian.”Christianity may not be the best pragmatic option in the world; I regret disappointing anyone who deems my faith to fail to meet the requisite criteria. But it’s what I am.
I confess the truth as the Truth has unfolded itself to me, and I hope that my cultural, philosophical, social, sexual, racial, and national ideologies haven’t eclipsed too much of what I ought to have learned. But there’s no coherent way, so far as I can tell, to experience and live out stuff one doesn’t actually believe; one’s ways of acting and speaking and pondering and responding can’t help constituting a compendium of one’s understanding of what is true — and mine is not a Hindu, or Sikh, or Sufi life. It’s a Christian life, for better or worse.
I respect, admire, and learn from much that some non-Christian traditions manifest and teach. I have no interest in making other people accede to my faith if they don’t acknowledge its truth. That’d amount to more of the haranguing, bullying, arm-twisting, behavior of which the world has seen more than enough. Nor do I write this in order to extract apologies from people who may think they’ve offended me (anyone who’d care enough to worry is someone I already like enough to expect they meant no offense, so there’s no need, honest). I write this because sometimes it seems as though anyone who holds a position such as mine can safely be dismissed as an arrogant, intolerant imperialist; and I hoped to make sure that someone who wanted to hold to that assessment knew to include me therein.
If you’re reluctant to describe me that way, we may just have the grounds for an interesting conversation.
[Moments later: Kurt does a lovely job of pointing to the difficult, complex relation of “organized religion” to the ideological Individual; much of what he says here can probably be replayed, in a different key, harmoniously to what I’m trying to get at.]
Posted by AKMA at August 31, 2003 02:09 PM | TrackBack
God bless!
Thank you for one of the most lucid, gentle, and eloquent descriptions of what religious faith should be about. The world has enough sandbox fights about who is "righter." I think we would have figured out by now that that doesn't get us anywhere. It's so refreshing to have you to point to when I try to explain to people that I believe in Christianity and I can safely say, "Look! Look! We aren't all crazy people televangelists!" And we're not even the same denomination. Go figure. ;-)
Posted by: ARJ at September 1, 2003 12:25 AMAlthough I would describe myself a gent(i)le atheist, I am strongly disgusted by some proponents of organised religions, such as the Buggerers of the One True Church in Boston,MA.
Your posting here seems much more acceptable to me than they do.
Stu
Posted by: Stu Savory at September 1, 2003 01:31 AMAKMA, it's late in the evening and I've read your post a number of times throughout the day since first reading it this morning. I've also read, more than once, the series of posts and comments to which you pointed: William R. Stimson's essay about the difference between religious experience and organized religion (quoted by Mystic Cowboy); Kurt's post about that essay; Beth's and Jim's comments; and Kurt's post in response to Beth's comment.
Although my natural inclination is to apologize for any offence I've given you, I'd rather trust that I fall into the category of those whom you already like enough to realize that no offense was intended. I hope you'll accept that you are the last person I'd dismiss as "an arrogant, intolerant imperialist".
My own post was, as I see it, not directed "against" the Christian faith (nor the Muslim faith nor the Jewish faith nor any other faith). I saw myself as questioning (what I experience as) the totalitarian impulse to state either that "my God is better than your God" or that "even though we acknowledge the same God, my form of worshipping our God is superior to yours". (I was also trying to understand why the Christian message has fallen upon relatively stony ground in Japan.)
For a start I disagree with William R. Stimson's argument that the world religions are museum pieces, "failed attempt[s] to say what cannot be said, understand what cannot be understood". Even as a "non-believer" I agree with Kurt's suggestion that "religion offers... a set of techniques for mastering understanding and a community in which to bring practice to fruition" as well as Beth's argument that "within the great world religions is a vibrancy and a living, sincere path that cannot be distorted or made obsolete by human institutional politicizing or theological argument". Both these ideas seem self-evident to me.
However, Kurt's belief that "each religion contains a core that's beyond dogma, a mystical path toward the truth" and Beth's conviction that "at some point, we simply have to say, all right, this is the path I'm going to choose and I'm going to follow it with all my heart" each imply that there is more than one way to arrive at the truth (whether the truth involve redemption, or enlightenment, or transcendence, or...).
I have no idea which religious tradition either Kurt or Beth follows but it is clear that neither of them is espousing any *particular* religion.
Since I've quoted so much of Beth's comment, I may as well quote the rest:
"Following a path with sincerity doesn't mean buying all the institutional dogma, it means studying one tradition enough to be able to be discerning, so that you can follow its core truth. Shopping and criticizing don't do us much good, in the end, if we really want to progress on the spiritual path; these traits are the ego at work. As in marriage, steadiness and patience are a major requirement. But we also have to surrender to some degree, and I think that's the hardest part for many, especially those of us who rely so much on our intellect and the view that others have of us."
As someone who relies very much on his intellect, the kind of surrender to which Beth refers is incredibly difficult and it is this surrender to which I think you allude in your story of St. Perpetua. I realized today that throughout my Catholic upbringing I always felt that the teachings of the church were imposed upon me from without, that the demand was that I obey rather than surrender (and that this demand for obedience contained within it the seeds of my recalcitrance). Which may go some way towards explaining why I prefer to believe, with Kurt and Beth, that there are a number of paths, each of which contains a "core truth" that points to the same destination.
Jim, however, in Kurt's comments, will have none of that: "A great piece of writing at the Cowboy, Kurt, but without trying to take away what such meditation might accomplish, I yet maintain that his "religious realization" falls short of contacting the Creator. There is another "step", a "tube" at the bottom of that well, plumbing re-connected by Christ that ties us to the Author and Finisher of all that we are........"
What Jim seems to be saying -- and I admit I may be projecting or misunderstanding -- is that all religions (apart from Christianity) fall short in one way or another, that they are paths leading nowhere, that Christ (and therefore Christianity) provides the missing element, without which there is no possiblity of establishing an authentic relationship with God.
In other words, my (Christian) God is superior to your (Muslim/Jewish/Hindu/Buddhist/Shinto...) God.
So, when you write that
"Among the things I stand for is the premise that the God about whom Scripture and the saints have taught me is God, not in a perspectival or contingent way, but in a thorough, undeniable, absolute way. Not "among other gods," though I see the interest and functionality of a polytheistic world. I just don’t inhabit a world like that, and it would be false politeness for me to pretend otherwise. That doesn't mean I want to stamp out other people's ways of believing, or legislate against them, or get into condescending arguments with them; it just means that so far as it’s given me to know things, I know the God of Abraham to be God in a unique way."
I'm uncertain as to what space that leaves for other Gods and other religious traditions.
If the God of Abraham is God in a unique way, how are we to regard the other Gods that are worshipped by billions of non-Christians? If the Christian God is God in "a thorough, undeniable, absolute way", does it follow that these other Gods are partial, questionable, and relative?
Clearly this cannot be resolved by suggesting that all religions share an underlying belief in the same God (or all paths lead to the same destination) since I suspect this propostion would please hardly anyone -- apart from myself and a few others.
Nor does it solve the problem for those of us who cannot find our way into an authentic Christian belief -- whether that failure is due to an inability or an unwillingness to surrender, a principled intellectual or emotional conviction, or even the circumstances of our individual upbringing.
I'm not sure that I've done anything more in this comment than respectfully articulate my own uncertainty but perhaps the questions I've asked might provide at least some grounds for an interesting conversation.
Posted by: Jonathon Delacour at September 1, 2003 09:09 AM"the difficult, complex relation of “organized religion” to the ideological Individual."
That's an interesting neologism, "ideological Individual." I'm curious to learn what an "ideological Individual" is, especially in the context of this discussion. Care to elablorate?
Posted by: Dave Rogers at September 1, 2003 01:22 PMWonderful post. A confession, as you say, and a living testament. Witnessing to a lived truth that passes understanding. St. Perpetua and her pitcher. Was the vessel full? With postmodernism, I lost my arrogant faith in reason, and seeing how instrumental reason is used strategically for dehumanizing ends, I don't see how we have a divining rod, or measuring rod, to lay against faith, to measure its rightness. How can we lay it against our own crooked selves to measure its rectitude? If we can see the pitcher full, in the life of a person of faith, and admire the life they lead, and want to be like them, is that, or could it be, the beginning of faith? As the martyrs themselves bore witness, in the land of many gods, and converted many? My pitcher is empty and I feel the lack. Your's is full, so full you could never empty it, no matter how much, or how often, you pour it. Maybe that is what it is to have a calling, to bear witness. You acknowledge often the predecessors and antecedents, from whom your vessel was filled. I have experienced that in teaching, getting and giving. I appreciate your teaching us here.
We can love different poetry from different eras, no doubt, but the best poets are singularly part of a tradition, one among many, but without that tradition they are not poets at all. Could the same be said of prophets and priests? When the holy spirit wakens, and you go outside yourself, you just don't ask, "Holy Spirit, are you as good as Buddha, or should I keep shopping?" For to go out of yourself at all is to leave shopping behind. We don't pick the muse, she picks us, and the experience when sublime is shattering. We are her instrument, not the other way around. That is a close as I came by lived experience to the higher truth you have lived everday.
Thanks for the post. When you write like that you open possibilities for prayer, however inarticulate. "Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldst enter under my roof, but...."
Posted by: The Happy Tutor at September 1, 2003 04:37 PM