Sunday, June 05, 2011

 

Sunday Reflection: Humbled, raw, and quiet



I recently heard a radio preacher explain how it was ok to be rich— that, in fact, it was a mark of being blessed by God. It was a rational argument. That makes sense, after all: If God likes us, we will be rewarded with money and the other things we want, and should enjoy that. The callers to this preacher affirmed his view and told wonderful stories of how God had favored them. One woman, in tears, talked about the inheritance that had come to her after a period of prayer, letting her provide herself and her children with everything that they desired.

It made sense to me. The catch, of course, is that Christ taught the exact opposite. Unambiguously and irrationally (to our minds) he said plainly that it is the meek who are blessed by God, that people should not “not lay up for yourselves treasure on earth,” and that “you cannot serve God and mammon.” He insisted on poverty for his own followers, to the point of not even allowing the 70 followers he sent out to spread the good news to take even a change of clothes with them. Over and over, he taught that worldly riches detract from the riches of the spirit. Christ, on this point, was not rational.

So… my rationality says one thing. Christ says another. This occurs over and over on a wide variety of issues: Loving my enemies, keeping the Sabbath, taking oaths. Which should I choose to believe—the irrational Christ, or the rational views of myself and my society?

In facing this conundrum, there are basically three answers, only two of which are honest (and the third of which is popular).

First, I can decide that my rational thoughts and those of others should guide me rather than the teachings of Christ, and I can stop calling myself Christian. Many people I like and respect have made this choice, and it is an honest one. They call themselves Atheists, or Agnostic, or Ethical Humanists, or Unitarian Universalists.

Second, I could decide that I will set aside my own conclusions (and those of mainstream society) and follow the seemingly irrational Christ. This is an honest answer, but a very difficult one. It is profoundly humbling, is hard to explain to others, and may even seem anti-intellectual.

The third (dishonest) route is to somehow convince myself that Christ agrees with me, even when he taught the opposite in plain language. Under this model, I call myself Christian while putting my own reasoning above the clear teaching of Jesus. Sure, Christ said that we are not to make a public display of prayer, but surely he did not mean that, right? There are good reasons to sit at the head table at the prayer breakfast, after all, and everyone I know (besides Christ) agrees with me. On that one, he just doesn’t make sense.

Too much of our own faith (including my own) takes this third path. Too often, it is our leaders who have led us down that path.

Much of American theology, high and low, seems devoted to making Christianity unthreatening to our base desires, our culture, and our economy. This project is nothing less than a denial of God. If put our reasoning above the teachings of Christ, then who is on the throne of God? We are there, alone, with a flag of false allegiance over our head.

My friend and mentor Susan Stabile once summed up the root of her faith in two short sentences: "There is a God. I am not God." So much flows from that, including something very hard-- allowing mystery to fill the void between our reason and the far greater knowledge of God as revealed through Christ. That chasm of mystery and humility is a sacred space, and like all sacred spaces our instinct is to conquer it in our own names, to pave it over to fit the contours of our own understanding.

As a professor, this truth is constantly humbling. My work is my intellect, yet I must constantly humble that intellect beneath a greater truth. Yes, Christ’s truths seem irrational to me, many times, but should I expect anything different? If God is God, and I am his creation, then of course his ways surpass my understanding and reason. Against every instinct, I must lay down my will and come to him like a child, as a student: humbled, raw, and quiet.

Comments:
Ah, the irrational Christ. 'Nuff said.

Where was that photo taken?
 
Well put, Mark. Anyone who doesn't think being a Christian is very challenging didn't listen very clearly to Jesus.
 
Thanks, very thoughtful. Just one comment: I know and respect many people who would call themselves agnostic or ethical humanists or such, whose values and decisions are deeply affected by the teachings of Christ ...
 
Megan-- The top photo is in the Boundary waters, where I will be shortly... an area we call "Moose Bay," since we have sighted moose there. It is a river through reeds.

Susan-- This line of thought started, I think, with hearing you summarize faith with "There is a God. I am not God." It really all flows from that.

Anon.-- Absolutely true... But that is different than accepting Christ's teachings where they conflict with our own sense of reason.
 
Oops, Megan-- I forgot to describe the second photo, which is titled "Jesus wept," and is across the city from the memorial in Oklahoma City.
 
Brilliant,and moving.Excellent sermon,Professor...and I mean that sincerely. The pull of rationality is strong,but the pull of Christ,his beckoning is even stronger for you. If this lawyer gig doesn't work out,seminary seems quite promising.The one sticky wicket might be creeds. I like how you struggle with trying to honor your faith and follow Christ. This struggle is so essential,or we can put ourselves at the center,become the god of our lives. Idi s bogom.
 
I love how so much of what Jesus said turns our conventional wisdom on its head: "For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it." (Luke 9-24)
 
Now that you are humbled and quiet listen to this truth; "While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.”
Matthew 26:26 Take a look at Scott Hahn's The Lambs Supper. If you're going to teach at a Catholic University, you should listen to some of the truths of the tradition. :)
 
Thank you for sharing this, Mark. Even after all of these years in my faith walk with Christ, I sometimes find it difficult to reconcile my "needs" in prayer when I consider the far greater needs in the world.
 
Anon.-- I'm a little confused by your point. I take the eucharist every week, and see it as an important tradition. Does that have something to do with what I said in the post, though?
 
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