February 17, 2005
This is a reading from Mark chapter 9, 14-24.
"When they came to the other disciples, they saw a large crowd around them and the teachers of the law arguing with them. As soon as all the people saw Jesus, they were overwhelmed with wonder, and ran to greet him. "What are you arguing with them about?" he asked. A man in the crowd answered, "Teacher, I brought you my son, who is possessed by a spirit that has robbed him of speech. Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, gnashes his teeth and becomes rigid. I asked your disciples to drive out the spirit, but they could not." "O unbelieving generation," Jesus replied, "how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy to me." So they brought him. When the spirit saw Jesus it immediately threw the boy into a convulsion. He fell to the ground, rolled around, foaming at the mouth. Jesus asked the boy's father, "how long has he been like this?" "From childhood," he answered. "It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him. But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us." " 'If you can?'" said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes." Immediately the boy's father exclaimed "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"
"I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief." In my NIV Bible the father seeks to overcome his unbelief. I'm not sure how other translations interpret that plea but unbelief to me has come to mean something different. Rather than a malady or obstacle to overcome or conquer, doubts for me have served as a useful tool in the development of my faith although this has never been easy to embrace. Perhaps more importantly, they serve as a tool, only on the condition that I have some anchor in place that allows some drift but not too much
The theme of this term's chapel series, Faith & Skepticism, is a daunting topic in its breadth and complexity, and the intensity with which it is experienced. Frankly I find myself most unqualified to expose any deep truths within this topic. I am no scholar of religion, and lack any significant theological background or understanding. But it's a topic concerning confusion, which is the state I most often find myself in. And more importantly, I can speak to what I have experienced. I know what it is to be a thinking person at Dartmouth. I have lived through almost five years of continually questioning, considering, reconsidering, adjusting and shaping my faith in response to doubts that arrive at my doorstep in all shapes and forms and colors and costumes. So all I can offer is some small nuggets of what I have learned here at Dartmouth.
With great faith comes great doubt. There exists a significant dialectic between faith and doubt. If the opposite of faith is certainty instead of doubt, then there is room for doubt within one's faith. And as I'm beginning to learn, it is necessarily so-necessary for deepening one's faith and growing in wisdom. Skepticism is of value and, I believe, comes straight from God as blessings in disguise. It is like the complicated 5-lane traffic circle with no signal lights and many yield signs at odd angles, which causes us to travel down some fascinating unexpected side street. Doubts and questions are to be loved like the answers themselves. They are the precious journey, without which the destination is worthless.
There are many forms of doubt, many ways in which doubt has played a roll in my experience at Dartmouth. They most often arise in attempting to reconcile my faith with another, seemingly disparate, part of my life. For example, being a committed Christian and being an environmentalist, a liberal, a rugby player, a drinker, an adherent of secular wisdom and teaching. Perceived inconsistencies in reconciling both identities cause me to doubt the validity of this ancient tradition that I've been raised in.
Conversations with my mother reinforce these doubts. To this day she has difficulty perceiving a spectrum in Christianity, or to distinguish between the Church institution with its long sordid history and the separate theology. She perceives those who self-identify as Christians to be cookie cutter clones of certain high-profile fundamentalist fanatics or our current President, and cannot distinguish these figures from her daughter. She experiences grave discomfort with my Christianity in any form, and in turn causes me to doubt my faith, and consider whether or not I am part of a massive deceit.
Academics had and still have great potential to be a stumbling block to my faith but quickly became an enhancement instead. Dartmouth attracts students with such depth of thought that one rarely encounters one who hasn't seriously questioned their faith in light of intellectual objections, curve balls, etc. One of the most challenging and exhilarating and worthwhile pursuits for me has been the slow, steady and fascinating reconciliation between my faith and my academics.
Doubts and uncertainties run the gamut, from the most trivial menial questioning of some obscure doctrine up to this very day when I've begun the journey of reassessing and reinterpreting the ultimate divinity of Christ. And even as these great, large complex tenants of my theology are thrown into the realm of doubt, certain truths become even more deeply anchored into the bedrock of my soul. For example, that I am loved. That I am inherently love-able. That there is a God, that God and creation and I are intricately connected. That I need not fear what's in store, what lies ahead in my murky future because I am certain that I am being cared for and looked after. I am certain that God will walk by my side each step of the way. I'm learning what it means to relinquish control of my future-where I will be, what I'll be doing, who I'll be with - to God. I know that God has not ever, is not right now, and will not ever leave me as I struggle with these doubts. I know that the Gospel message is strongest in its most simplified form: love others and love God, and that there is no such thing as other. And I know that when plagued by doubts, sometimes all there is to do is sit and be still and silent in the presence of God.
So I look at the boy's father and wonder once again what he means by his plea for help in overcoming his unbelief. Perhaps striving to overcome our skepticism makes sense. Or perhaps doubts simply need to be channeled toward productive questioning and growth. Ultimately, something must be chiseled into the cornerstone of your heart. In the midst of these doubts, I've come to accept, and occasionally cherish the uncertainties. My doubts have led me a long a path of exploration that today results in what I believe is a more mature faith, although hardly one that I can remain satisfied with, without further growth. And all along the agent for change has been of course, God.
Hebrews 6:19: "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf. What's your anchor? What is true and unchanging in your beliefs? The rest can be perceived as fuel for an adventurous exploration.
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