We Presbyterians like to think of
ourselves as intellectual Christians. We place a high value on our doctrine, often
making reference to what Calvin had to say about this or that. We insist that
our pastors be well-educated because we enjoy a good challenging sermon. In
fact, the common criticism that you hear of Presbyterians is that we love the
Lord our God with our whole mind – and we stop there. Never mind the heart,
soul, and body. Hence our nickname, the “frozen chosen.”
And perhaps because of the way we
embrace the intellectual things, we often find ourselves in an uncomfortable
position with the scriptures. For instance, what in the world do we do with
these words Jesus said in this chapter of John?
Would you like my honest opinion? At
the risk of offending you, I will say I think we sometimes are a little bit
embarrassed for Jesus. When he says, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood
abide in me.” That’s embarrassing. We don’t do that. We are modern people,
educated, well-read. We know science is real, and we don’t believe Welch’s
Grape Juice somehow turns into Jesus’ blood. It sounds too much to us like
magical thinking. Juice is juice, bread is bread. That is that.
I know there are a lot of Christians
who do believe that in some mysterious way the bread becomes Christ’s body and
the juice, or wine, becomes his blood. And they would object to the suggestion
that this is magical thinking. I think they would tell us what they are doing
is embracing the mystery of this holy and ancient tradition. I can accept that.
I am simply saying this is not who we are, as Presbyterians.
So what we do with these words is a
problem. We might say, “This teaching is difficult. Who can accept it?”
Just like the disciples said.
And many of them left, John writes,
because it was just too difficult. Which was a pity. And, I dare say, many
still do leave because it is too difficult.
I once had a nice conversation with a
philosophy professor about Christianity and he talked about his inability to
believe. He seemed wistful. He wanted to believe but regretfully walked away
from it because he could not accept much of it. It seemed irrational, illogical.
Much to his sorrow, he couldn’t help but think his way out of faith. And,
actually, I could sympathize with his position. Thinking people know that some
church teachings are difficult to accept.
Last Sunday in the New York Times
there was an article
by Ross Douthat titled “How to Think Your Way into Religious Belief.” Normally,
that is the kind of invitation that I would scoff at. I take an immediate
dislike to books that claim to offer “proof” of Christianity or proof that God
exists. Because so often the authors are taking what I feel to be an
oversimplified approach to faith. The assumptions they work from require you to
narrow your vision and shut out many questions you would like to ask. They
demand that you close your eyes to scientific reality and honest observations
of the world around you and it doesn’t work for me. I find their logic
illogical, their assumptions ludicrous. Too often the way to “proof” of faith
is to close your eyes to any evidence that challenges your faith.
In spite of all that, I read the
Douthat article, and I was amazed. He doesn’t dumb it down. He doesn’t insist
that his readers close their eyes to reality and submit to a kind of
make-belief. He doesn’t present a black and white, literal interpretation of
the scriptures – nor does he twist them into something they are not in order to
make “proof.” He suggests, without actually saying it, that maybe the real
problem thinking people might have with belief is the same one we often
criticize fundamentalism of – taking everything too literally, too concretely,
and ignoring everything else. Ignoring the pieces that don’t fit.
Ignoring the fact that people still,
in the 21st century, experience the world as orderly, beautiful, and
awesome. And that people still have mystical and numinous experiences. And,
when we think about it, it still feels extraordinary to be human, with our
human consciousness; we are like other creatures and yet so different…almost as
though we were created in the image of our creator.
Douthat sort of shifted the lens a little,
so we might look out at the world a bit differently. If we are willing.
And for those of us who sit here every
Sunday; those of us who enjoy a challenging and educational sermon; even those
of us who might call ourselves thoughtful Christians; I wonder if we are
willing.
Are we willing to stay with Jesus
right through the difficult teachings? Are we willing to put aside our sense of
being offended? Are we willing to accept that any faith we have is purely a
gift we have received – not any great thing we have done? Are we willing to say
that Jesus sustains life, a life that we very much need? That we need whatever
nourishment he has to offer? Are we willing to open ourselves and let Jesus
meet all our needs – all of them?
Are we willing to acknowledge our
enormous need? the gaping emptiness within us that we have no way to fill
except to turn to him?
Are we willing to accept the hard
teachings? Are we?
Many have not. Some have turned away.
Jesus turned to Peter and asked, “Are
you going to leave me too?” But Peter responded, “Lord, to whom shall we go?
You have the words of eternal life.”
The way to belief? It is to know what is true. We don’t dismiss the weird, hard stuff. But neither do we make it a deal-breaker. Because what it all comes down to is this: I don’t put my faith in doctrine or scripture. I put my faith in Christ, the one who leads me to life. All thanks be to God.
Photo by Kenrick Mills on Unsplash
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