Every so often, I find myself allowing skepticism to take the lead in my life. Particularly when it comes to the religious stuff. I allow the inner-voices of skepticism and the voices of skepticism that I've imbibed from students and from my culture drive the bus in terms of my engagement with God.
The culture, of course, celebrates this: "way to think critically about this religious stuff!" To be dubious is to somehow be empowered.
But the actual result is boringly predictable: skepticism unbridled does not bring any satisfaction or resolution. To allow the voice of skepticism to hijack any part of my life is a fruitless exercise. I can simply and ridiculously talk myself out of trusting or believing anything. When skepticism takes the lead, it's not a huge mystery where I'll end up.
In fact, skepticism has proved to be the least helpful tool in the toolbox for discovering anything remotely resembling truth, purpose, or reality. To be fixed in a posture of permanent skepticism is anything but empowering. It's boringly predictable. Nothing productive actually ever comes out of it.
Augustine argued that faith was the proper instrument for seeing and apprehending God. You need a microscope to see inside a cell. You need a telescope to see the moon. And you need faith to see God.
Trying to reason or "skeptic" your way into seeing God is like trying to use a microscope to see the moon. The results are predictably fruitless.
It's not that reason doesn't have a place in the life of faith. Augustine argued that Christianity is "faith seeking understanding." We lead with faith. We bring our questions with us. Some get answered. Others don't.
But as long as we allow anything other than faith to lead the way, we will end up in very predictable dead-ends when it comes to our spiritual life.
Showing posts with label worldview. Show all posts
Showing posts with label worldview. Show all posts
Monday, March 01, 2010
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Why All Religions Are Not The Same (Even if We Hit the Same Pot Holes)
I regularly meet with the question of the similarity of religious traditions. Given how much overlap there is, how can we say that any of them is all the distinct?
Below is a modified (okay, mostly recycled) version of a post that I put together a couple of years ago. Realizing that most of you have not been hanging on every word for the past two years, I thought it might be worth re-working and sharing. Enjoy!
A couple days ago I was talking with a guy that I'm just starting to get to know. He expressed that his impression of the various faith and religious traditions was that there was a tremendous amount of convergence and overlap--enough to conclude that they probably weren't all that different. I've been ruminating on a response, should I get a chance to offer one as our relationship develops, here it is:
When I lived in Richmond two major interstates ran right through the middle of town: I-95 and I-64. For several miles in Richmond, 95 and 64 were the same roads.
So I could be driving from St. Louis to Williamsburg, you could be driving from D.C. to Miami, your mom could be driving from Virginia Beach to Charlottesville and my Aunt Margaret could be driving from Pooler, Georgia to Philadelphia and for that stretch of road we'd all have the same experience. We'd see the same buildings, share the same traffic, and hit the same pot holes.
But what makes the journey significant is not just the roads we take to get where we're going but where we came from and most importantly where we end up. Miami is emphatically NOT St. Louis.
It is not surprising, then, that many religions share common stretches of road, particularly behaviorally and moralistically. Indeed, if we are all 'image bearers' of God, it would be surprising if we did not.
But the points of commonality and convergence are not fundamentally defining to any of the world's major religions. All religions start with some sort of deity/origin and offer some sort of paradigm or story about how the world works, what's wrong with it, how the gods/God intervenes to make it better, and how people (who have a fatal tendency to take wrong turns or just get tired along the way) participate in this better-making.
And at these points of supreme importance, the most central aspects of each religion, the road diverges sharply. The answers to the most important questions of "Who/What is God?" and "What is the purpose of humanity?" and "How are we to share in/participate in the benefits of the working of God?" are so deeply disputed that the only way to create convergence in these most serious places is to do serious violence to the historical assertions of each faith tradition.
The Trinity is a deep offense to the Allah of Islam; re-incarnation is not Muslim, nor is it 'the new heaven and the new earth' of the Christian Scriptures. It sounds rather like hell to me, actually.
History is so full of violence over religious disputes that the post-modern, 21st century world is weary of disagreement and wary of where difference might take us. I am glad to embrace the places of convergence and partner with people of other faith traditions in issues where we wholeheartedly agree.
We must not, however, facilitate the illusion that points of convergence means that the whole thing is essentially a convergence.
Below is a modified (okay, mostly recycled) version of a post that I put together a couple of years ago. Realizing that most of you have not been hanging on every word for the past two years, I thought it might be worth re-working and sharing. Enjoy!
A couple days ago I was talking with a guy that I'm just starting to get to know. He expressed that his impression of the various faith and religious traditions was that there was a tremendous amount of convergence and overlap--enough to conclude that they probably weren't all that different. I've been ruminating on a response, should I get a chance to offer one as our relationship develops, here it is:
When I lived in Richmond two major interstates ran right through the middle of town: I-95 and I-64. For several miles in Richmond, 95 and 64 were the same roads.
So I could be driving from St. Louis to Williamsburg, you could be driving from D.C. to Miami, your mom could be driving from Virginia Beach to Charlottesville and my Aunt Margaret could be driving from Pooler, Georgia to Philadelphia and for that stretch of road we'd all have the same experience. We'd see the same buildings, share the same traffic, and hit the same pot holes.
But what makes the journey significant is not just the roads we take to get where we're going but where we came from and most importantly where we end up. Miami is emphatically NOT St. Louis.
It is not surprising, then, that many religions share common stretches of road, particularly behaviorally and moralistically. Indeed, if we are all 'image bearers' of God, it would be surprising if we did not.
But the points of commonality and convergence are not fundamentally defining to any of the world's major religions. All religions start with some sort of deity/origin and offer some sort of paradigm or story about how the world works, what's wrong with it, how the gods/God intervenes to make it better, and how people (who have a fatal tendency to take wrong turns or just get tired along the way) participate in this better-making.
And at these points of supreme importance, the most central aspects of each religion, the road diverges sharply. The answers to the most important questions of "Who/What is God?" and "What is the purpose of humanity?" and "How are we to share in/participate in the benefits of the working of God?" are so deeply disputed that the only way to create convergence in these most serious places is to do serious violence to the historical assertions of each faith tradition.
The Trinity is a deep offense to the Allah of Islam; re-incarnation is not Muslim, nor is it 'the new heaven and the new earth' of the Christian Scriptures. It sounds rather like hell to me, actually.
History is so full of violence over religious disputes that the post-modern, 21st century world is weary of disagreement and wary of where difference might take us. I am glad to embrace the places of convergence and partner with people of other faith traditions in issues where we wholeheartedly agree.
We must not, however, facilitate the illusion that points of convergence means that the whole thing is essentially a convergence.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
See Comments
I was going to change direction today, but my good friend Macon left a shining example of a stirring and insightful comment (as is his wont), even pre-caffeinated. This sparked my own, distant and faint echo of a lesser thought that I posted in response and I will leave it at that for a while.
Happy New Year, everyone!
Happy New Year, everyone!
Monday, December 29, 2008
No Doubt Part 3: The Great and Terrible Exchange
In the end I want to humbly propose that Shanley has exchanged a greater good (humility) for a lesser good (doubt) in order to achieve a certain set of ends that are admirable and good (community).
And what I want to say is that this is simply a small and specific but very concrete picture of what all of us do just about every day on this side of the great and terrible exchange described in the Scriptures.
Our lives, lived here among the land of the ruins, are a shadow of what they might have been. This comes about as the result of the first great and terrible exchange, and it is perpetuated and exacerbated by the ways that we re-enact that same exchange in our daily lives: doubt in place of humility, revenge in place of forgiveness, lies in place of truth, cheating in place of integrity, cynicism in place of hope, walking in the shadow rather than living in the Light, self-determination rather than submission and trust.
The work of Jesus and the power at work in the gift of his Holy Spirit are the gifts given to us to roll back that exchange "far as the curse is found." To make right choices again, stumbling and fitfully, is the opportunity offered us as we are invited to live our lives following the One who made us.
And what I want to say is that this is simply a small and specific but very concrete picture of what all of us do just about every day on this side of the great and terrible exchange described in the Scriptures.
Our lives, lived here among the land of the ruins, are a shadow of what they might have been. This comes about as the result of the first great and terrible exchange, and it is perpetuated and exacerbated by the ways that we re-enact that same exchange in our daily lives: doubt in place of humility, revenge in place of forgiveness, lies in place of truth, cheating in place of integrity, cynicism in place of hope, walking in the shadow rather than living in the Light, self-determination rather than submission and trust.
The work of Jesus and the power at work in the gift of his Holy Spirit are the gifts given to us to roll back that exchange "far as the curse is found." To make right choices again, stumbling and fitfully, is the opportunity offered us as we are invited to live our lives following the One who made us.
No Doubt Part 2: The Poor Man's Way
So while I disagree with Shanley's means (doubt) I actually thoroughly agree with his ends. Shanley's chief concern seems to be that certainty cuts us off from community. To come to a place of certainty about things means that you are done with dialogue or conversation with fellow human beings.
I think that Shanley's goal is good. Most of us have known people who are so certain that they know everything about everything that it is, indeed, impossible to have genuine discussion or dialogue. Some of us are that person. Hopefully you know who you are.
But the problem is that to become cut-off and smug is a possible but not necessary consequence of certainty. In other words, it is possible to have certainty in a winsome way that does not end discussion but, to the contrary, promotes it in a healthy way.
The Biblical word for this is posture towards certainty: humility.
What Shanley has done, at least in the way that he talks about it, is exchange "humility" for "doubt." Doubt as it functions here is simply a poor-man's humility. Doubt requires none of the self-discipline or character or integrity or patience or wisdom that humility does.
Doubt allows room for discussion without the responsibility to act or respond wisely in light of the experience of the conversation. Indeed, perpetual doubt does not require any action on our part at all except to go on doubting endlessly and pointlessly.
Rather than exist in this perpetual posture of doubt that is exhausting intellectually (it takes a ton of work to doubt everything) and vacuous emotionally (eventually doubt robs us of the ability to enter into any joy seriously) and untenable philosophically (to be certain about doubt as the best way to live is to be certain about something, and so the thing collapses in on itself), it might actually be better to pursue a life of genuine humility, though that road is certainly no easier.
I think that Shanley's goal is good. Most of us have known people who are so certain that they know everything about everything that it is, indeed, impossible to have genuine discussion or dialogue. Some of us are that person. Hopefully you know who you are.
But the problem is that to become cut-off and smug is a possible but not necessary consequence of certainty. In other words, it is possible to have certainty in a winsome way that does not end discussion but, to the contrary, promotes it in a healthy way.
The Biblical word for this is posture towards certainty: humility.
What Shanley has done, at least in the way that he talks about it, is exchange "humility" for "doubt." Doubt as it functions here is simply a poor-man's humility. Doubt requires none of the self-discipline or character or integrity or patience or wisdom that humility does.
Doubt allows room for discussion without the responsibility to act or respond wisely in light of the experience of the conversation. Indeed, perpetual doubt does not require any action on our part at all except to go on doubting endlessly and pointlessly.
Rather than exist in this perpetual posture of doubt that is exhausting intellectually (it takes a ton of work to doubt everything) and vacuous emotionally (eventually doubt robs us of the ability to enter into any joy seriously) and untenable philosophically (to be certain about doubt as the best way to live is to be certain about something, and so the thing collapses in on itself), it might actually be better to pursue a life of genuine humility, though that road is certainly no easier.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
No Doubt Part 1
So the movie Doubt came out recently and I read an interview with writer/director John Patrick Shanley. In the interview, Shanley, of course, celebrates a life philosophy of doubt. "I would endlessly dispute anything" Shanley bluntly states in the interview.
He argues that certainty ends the conversation...or at least that it tends to do so. He exorts us to be in unceasing dialogue with other people. He says that doubt opens us up to genuine dialogue and exchange of ideas.
I think that Shanley is simply reflecting a deepening and growing cultural value. Doubt has become exalted as one of the most authentic and "real" values. To believe or trust or hope blinds us, it's argued. To doubt is the only way to get to the bottom of anything.
I see this cultural value playing out in various Christian communities. Particularly for people who grew up in the church--to continue to believe often feels naive and to doubt seems more intelligent.
Now certainly for many people doubting is a part of owning their faith. But doubt is not and cannot be a permanent posture for a life of any genuine quality. Shanley says that it's not exhausting to doubt everything. But that's clearly not the case for many people. For many, a life of doubt leads them eventually to the shadowland of a life of apathy or cynicism.
And to say that doubt is the best tool to foster conversation is to say something with a strong degree of certainty. So Shanley is fairly certain that doubt is better than certainty. He's not doubting his posture of dubiousness.
And so eventually this whole thing crumbles. Shanley ought to be doubting his doubting-ness--it's impossible to maintain with any real cohesion a philosophy of eternal and permanent doubt. Eventually it all implodes.
He argues that certainty ends the conversation...or at least that it tends to do so. He exorts us to be in unceasing dialogue with other people. He says that doubt opens us up to genuine dialogue and exchange of ideas.
I think that Shanley is simply reflecting a deepening and growing cultural value. Doubt has become exalted as one of the most authentic and "real" values. To believe or trust or hope blinds us, it's argued. To doubt is the only way to get to the bottom of anything.
I see this cultural value playing out in various Christian communities. Particularly for people who grew up in the church--to continue to believe often feels naive and to doubt seems more intelligent.
Now certainly for many people doubting is a part of owning their faith. But doubt is not and cannot be a permanent posture for a life of any genuine quality. Shanley says that it's not exhausting to doubt everything. But that's clearly not the case for many people. For many, a life of doubt leads them eventually to the shadowland of a life of apathy or cynicism.
And to say that doubt is the best tool to foster conversation is to say something with a strong degree of certainty. So Shanley is fairly certain that doubt is better than certainty. He's not doubting his posture of dubiousness.
And so eventually this whole thing crumbles. Shanley ought to be doubting his doubting-ness--it's impossible to maintain with any real cohesion a philosophy of eternal and permanent doubt. Eventually it all implodes.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
What Christmas Ain't
I don't think that we need the secular, commercial world to "keep Christ in Christmas" (see my December 30, 2005 post on that). But I do think that as secularism tries to take control of Christmas that it's important for Christians to be able to recognize and articulate the differences between the Christian message of Christmas and the secular (usually humanisitic) message of Christmas.
Incidentally, I think that it's important to see that as we discuss moving from a Christian view of Christmas to a secular view of Christmas, we are not moving from a 'biased' world view to an 'un-biased' or neutral world view. Every world view has bias, every world view has certain suppositions that may or may not be founded in the Truth and Reality that has made us and redeemed us. Our culture would have us to believe that Christianity is a certain spin on the world while secularism has no spin whatsoever. This is a total lie.
The biggest difference that I have perceived over the past several years as I've thought about the difference between the secular humanist Christmas and Christian Christmas is that secularism would have Christmas to be about the triumph of the hope of humanity. With secular Christmas we look for peace on earth, good will to everyone, maybe this year we can all finally get along. It is about warm-fuzzies and the celebration of our one, shared humanity. And the hope is that as we recognize this one humanity, we can all forge ahead together for a better future for everyone.
Now, I'm all for peace on earth. I'm all for everyone getting along. I'm all for warm fuzzies about our shared humanity. But this is a total gutting of the Christian story of Christmas. The Christian story is emphatically NOT about the hope that we can all get along in our humanity. It is both radically contrary to our humanity and at the same time it is radically more affirming of our humanity than the secular story.
It is contrary to the warm-fuzzy secular Christmas story in that it in God coming to rescue us, we are exposed as a human race as utter failures. There is no sign of any hope that in and of ourselves we can ever come to the place of shared peace. God has to intervene because left to our own devices, we are stuck in hatred for one another and towards God. If God does not come to get us, we are forever and always dead--dead humanity walking. All of this in spite of (and indeed, often because of) our best efforts.
And at the same time the Christian Christmas story is infinitely more affirming of our humanity than the secular Christmas story because of the power and wonder of incarnation. God has seen fit to take on human flesh. He comes to get us not as disembodied spirit but as a person. A man. A baby. Born in a particular po-dunk town, to particular poor parents, to change the world forever. God takes on flesh to redeem all flesh. God becomes human to roll back the curse on our humanity that makes it impossible for us to save ourselves.
Perhaps the most disturbing part of the whole secular Christmas story (at least to me) is that it will be preached in more than one "Christian" Christmas service this weekend. We must be vigilant in understanding the difference between these two stories of Christmas. To lose the actual Christmas story for a bastardized version of it would be to lose all the wonder of the brokenness and the redeemed-ness of our humanity.
Incidentally, I think that it's important to see that as we discuss moving from a Christian view of Christmas to a secular view of Christmas, we are not moving from a 'biased' world view to an 'un-biased' or neutral world view. Every world view has bias, every world view has certain suppositions that may or may not be founded in the Truth and Reality that has made us and redeemed us. Our culture would have us to believe that Christianity is a certain spin on the world while secularism has no spin whatsoever. This is a total lie.
The biggest difference that I have perceived over the past several years as I've thought about the difference between the secular humanist Christmas and Christian Christmas is that secularism would have Christmas to be about the triumph of the hope of humanity. With secular Christmas we look for peace on earth, good will to everyone, maybe this year we can all finally get along. It is about warm-fuzzies and the celebration of our one, shared humanity. And the hope is that as we recognize this one humanity, we can all forge ahead together for a better future for everyone.
Now, I'm all for peace on earth. I'm all for everyone getting along. I'm all for warm fuzzies about our shared humanity. But this is a total gutting of the Christian story of Christmas. The Christian story is emphatically NOT about the hope that we can all get along in our humanity. It is both radically contrary to our humanity and at the same time it is radically more affirming of our humanity than the secular story.
It is contrary to the warm-fuzzy secular Christmas story in that it in God coming to rescue us, we are exposed as a human race as utter failures. There is no sign of any hope that in and of ourselves we can ever come to the place of shared peace. God has to intervene because left to our own devices, we are stuck in hatred for one another and towards God. If God does not come to get us, we are forever and always dead--dead humanity walking. All of this in spite of (and indeed, often because of) our best efforts.
And at the same time the Christian Christmas story is infinitely more affirming of our humanity than the secular Christmas story because of the power and wonder of incarnation. God has seen fit to take on human flesh. He comes to get us not as disembodied spirit but as a person. A man. A baby. Born in a particular po-dunk town, to particular poor parents, to change the world forever. God takes on flesh to redeem all flesh. God becomes human to roll back the curse on our humanity that makes it impossible for us to save ourselves.
Perhaps the most disturbing part of the whole secular Christmas story (at least to me) is that it will be preached in more than one "Christian" Christmas service this weekend. We must be vigilant in understanding the difference between these two stories of Christmas. To lose the actual Christmas story for a bastardized version of it would be to lose all the wonder of the brokenness and the redeemed-ness of our humanity.
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