Things Not Seen (Christianity from the Outside, 2.0)
Two things before I begin: one, the last week and a half have been great for Steph and I. Since Tahoe. I’ve been relaxing, not obsessing!, and I’ve felt close to her and fortunate to be with her. My gratitude for this is indescribable. Sincere thanks to all who prayed and may continue to pray. My disease isn’t over, but it’s moving. And the other is that I picked up a book by N.T. Wright. It’s a little one, called What St. Paul Really Said, but I knew in the first 50 pages I was onto something. This is the kind of scholarship I need to read. I grew up hearing, and sometimes reading, very irrational discussions of Christian essentials. What I’m finding in Wright is a new level of specificity, of scholarship, far beyond Chesterton and Lewis and the popular apologists. I guess it’s like anything else, if you want your car fixed look up a real mechanic. I’m also finding voices online (mostly via Dave’s website) that are intelligent, humane, and concerned with authentic Christian love. Why I had to hear and experience so many bizarre religious twists as a child and young adult I don’t know. But here I am, preserved as Jesus said I would be. And now for something completely different.
Things Not Seen
Christianity from the Outside, 2.0
I have placed faith in Christ, though I continue to question; I’ve said that before. I figured it would do no harm to draw those questions out here, in the blog, look at them and work at them as I could, knowing I would always need to have faith alongside reason. And this point seems like a good place to begin. Why do I have to have faith at all?
This is really the first objection which could be raised against Christianity, against any religion, ‘from the outside.’ Right now I’m eating a bowl of granola and typing on a Gateway keyboard. While the existence, and ultimate nature, of those external objects is the subject of intense and long-lived philosophical debate, let me assure you that I believe they do exist. In my mind as they appear to me, and outside my perception, as what I believe Kant called the M. Quantum will tell me their ultimate reality is empty space, quivering energy and matter, perhaps string vibration. But whatever their final description, I believe they are real. I can see them, touch them, taste them (though I haven’t yet licked the keyboard). They are.
So where is God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit? Why can’t I see him?
This is a truly troubling issue. The fact that God is invisible to me does not mean he doesn’t exist. To say so would be argument from ignorance. But neither do I see his direct effects, as if he were an x-ray or an emotional state. Yes, there is potential evidence that God intervened historically in Jesus. And some feel God has changed them internally (many from different faiths worldwide feel the same; they know Krishna, the Virgin, the ancestors, Jesus, Allah, Jehovah, St. Jude, have heard them also; this belongs to another essay in this series). But why is it that I can’t simply see direct evidence of God’s plan? Why is faith required? Why do I have to believe in things I can’t see and can only sometimes feel? If this is the creation, where is the creator?
These are powerful dilemmas. The conventional Christian answer is that since the Fall, whatever exactly that entailed, humans and God have been utterly estranged. But this idea is elsewhere: in ancient mythology, the human and divine could not interact directly; to do so would mean death to the mortal. The one girl (whose name I forget) Zeus seduced who demanded he make love to her in his immortal form died from the experience. The Hebrew scriptures say the same: no one can see God and live. Even Plato says this in Symposium: humans and gods cannot interact directly, intermediaries (such as Love and the other spirits) are required. The skeptic could argue that this is all too convenient: of course you can’t see Cupid; if you did you’d be smoldering ash (or as in Psyche’s case, thrown from the palace).
Welcome to the grave, universal tragedy inherent in human intro-speculation. Even Chris Cornell of Audioslave sings about it. It is the lament of Shelley’s Frankenstein. To deny God leads inevitably to the existential crisis. To affirm him leads us back to this problem. And I have no easy answer. In Lewis’ space trilogy he packages things neatly; the earth is the ‘silent planet.’ Silent because it is fallen and under the control of an evil angel (eldil was it?) as opposed to the other planets in our solar system whose creatures still have direct access to angelic beings, even Jesus. Lewis addresses this question much more poignantly in Till We Have Faces. But of course these are fiction. What we have for fact is a beautiful, though dangerous, ordered and disordered world. And God is nowhere to be seen. At least for most of us. According to the ot he directly reached out to a few people; other religions also contain revelations, though not many in first person. I know I have never seen an angel or anything like it.
Russell, Huxley, even Robert Frost in his poem ‘Revelation’ harped on this a century ago when they asked ‘where’s the evidence?’ Skeptics continue to do so, just check the Secular Web. Paul’s brief argument at the beginning of Romans, that we are presented with the splendor of the natural world and that this must lead to knowledge of a creator, is weak in my opinion. What about human suffering, natural disasters, the apparent lack of purpose in most tragic human events? The cosmological argument is not without merit, but it could just as easily be called the cosmological question. And I think it must have had more power in a pre-scientific society such as Paul describes.
While I wish I had a response ready to his problem, I don’t. In short, I’d say my answer is the gospels themselves. In depth, it would have to be the entire Christian apologetic canon. But I will make an effort to respond; this could take one day or one year! I'm sure others have done this in print; perhaps I will find something.
Blessings to all,
t
Things Not Seen
Christianity from the Outside, 2.0
I have placed faith in Christ, though I continue to question; I’ve said that before. I figured it would do no harm to draw those questions out here, in the blog, look at them and work at them as I could, knowing I would always need to have faith alongside reason. And this point seems like a good place to begin. Why do I have to have faith at all?
This is really the first objection which could be raised against Christianity, against any religion, ‘from the outside.’ Right now I’m eating a bowl of granola and typing on a Gateway keyboard. While the existence, and ultimate nature, of those external objects is the subject of intense and long-lived philosophical debate, let me assure you that I believe they do exist. In my mind as they appear to me, and outside my perception, as what I believe Kant called the M. Quantum will tell me their ultimate reality is empty space, quivering energy and matter, perhaps string vibration. But whatever their final description, I believe they are real. I can see them, touch them, taste them (though I haven’t yet licked the keyboard). They are.
So where is God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit? Why can’t I see him?
This is a truly troubling issue. The fact that God is invisible to me does not mean he doesn’t exist. To say so would be argument from ignorance. But neither do I see his direct effects, as if he were an x-ray or an emotional state. Yes, there is potential evidence that God intervened historically in Jesus. And some feel God has changed them internally (many from different faiths worldwide feel the same; they know Krishna, the Virgin, the ancestors, Jesus, Allah, Jehovah, St. Jude, have heard them also; this belongs to another essay in this series). But why is it that I can’t simply see direct evidence of God’s plan? Why is faith required? Why do I have to believe in things I can’t see and can only sometimes feel? If this is the creation, where is the creator?
These are powerful dilemmas. The conventional Christian answer is that since the Fall, whatever exactly that entailed, humans and God have been utterly estranged. But this idea is elsewhere: in ancient mythology, the human and divine could not interact directly; to do so would mean death to the mortal. The one girl (whose name I forget) Zeus seduced who demanded he make love to her in his immortal form died from the experience. The Hebrew scriptures say the same: no one can see God and live. Even Plato says this in Symposium: humans and gods cannot interact directly, intermediaries (such as Love and the other spirits) are required. The skeptic could argue that this is all too convenient: of course you can’t see Cupid; if you did you’d be smoldering ash (or as in Psyche’s case, thrown from the palace).
Welcome to the grave, universal tragedy inherent in human intro-speculation. Even Chris Cornell of Audioslave sings about it. It is the lament of Shelley’s Frankenstein. To deny God leads inevitably to the existential crisis. To affirm him leads us back to this problem. And I have no easy answer. In Lewis’ space trilogy he packages things neatly; the earth is the ‘silent planet.’ Silent because it is fallen and under the control of an evil angel (eldil was it?) as opposed to the other planets in our solar system whose creatures still have direct access to angelic beings, even Jesus. Lewis addresses this question much more poignantly in Till We Have Faces. But of course these are fiction. What we have for fact is a beautiful, though dangerous, ordered and disordered world. And God is nowhere to be seen. At least for most of us. According to the ot he directly reached out to a few people; other religions also contain revelations, though not many in first person. I know I have never seen an angel or anything like it.
Russell, Huxley, even Robert Frost in his poem ‘Revelation’ harped on this a century ago when they asked ‘where’s the evidence?’ Skeptics continue to do so, just check the Secular Web. Paul’s brief argument at the beginning of Romans, that we are presented with the splendor of the natural world and that this must lead to knowledge of a creator, is weak in my opinion. What about human suffering, natural disasters, the apparent lack of purpose in most tragic human events? The cosmological argument is not without merit, but it could just as easily be called the cosmological question. And I think it must have had more power in a pre-scientific society such as Paul describes.
While I wish I had a response ready to his problem, I don’t. In short, I’d say my answer is the gospels themselves. In depth, it would have to be the entire Christian apologetic canon. But I will make an effort to respond; this could take one day or one year! I'm sure others have done this in print; perhaps I will find something.
Blessings to all,
t
Comments
I really appreciated this post. The idea of the cosmological question (vs argument) is so very valid. I have seen different people deal with the same issue (in their own respective lives) and come to vastly different conclusions.
E.g. tragic or accidental death of a loved one. For one family, the situation may clearly show them the love of God; for the other, it may shatter whatever believe in a loving God they had. Same basic premise, totally different outcome. So, to Paul, God is evident in His creation. Many others have also looked at the natural world and not embraced God as Paul knows Him.
Bring that to a global level - different religions, different governments/historical origins, different cultural values, etc. and my ability to comprehend any "one-size fits all" answer - or even multiple, complex answers - completely breaks down...
I particularly see this in the situation of 'personal testimony.' It is difficult for someone else to invalidate my personal experience of a situation. They can disagree or not believe me, but that doesn't empirically make my experience untrue or unfounded. On the other hand, it doesn't make it true either. And, I can't invalidate someone else's very different personal experience of the same basic situation.
This always sets me off-balance. People are so different in their approaches to sharing their faith and beliefs. But people are also so different in their responses and reactions to this. I admit that it really makes me think hard before I say anything at all if I'm not somewhat clear on the type of reaction I might get - a chameleonic defense, I think. (It doesn't always matter if I think I'll get a positive rather than negative response, but whether with my words or approach to a topic will enflame or wound someone.)
I had one of these conversations with my dad back in February. He was up visiting, and he and I went to breakfast one morning. We wound up (like we usually do) in a heavy conversation that led around to religion, religious beliefs and foundations for faith. My dad took a very philosophical approach to how he views 'god.' I was looking for some way to share what I believe without outright invalidating his perspective, or necessarily watering down my own. It was a painful experience for a number of reasons. In my head as I was listening and talking, I kept praying for God to give me the right words, the right heart, the right approach to faithfully share what God has done in my life and in the lives of so many others.
On the one hand, my dad was describing his religious philosophy as a kind of "all world religions have parts of it right and so it is a mixture of it all." The strangest thing from my perspective was that he kept saying, "We believe the same thing" and kept talking about his faith in the Judeo-Christian God.
It was like hearing him describe a friend of mine in a way that was completely different than my own my experience of that person. Now whether his description of are based on his own actual experiences with God or his preferred idea, I don't know. It just made my heart sad, and made me feel that God, as I knew Him - as I (kinda, somewhat) clearly see Him described in the Bible - was being distorted.
Okay, I think I digressed long enough. Anyway, your post made me think... and this was what it made me think about. Man, I was deeply depressed over this conversation for about 3-4 weeks after my dad left. I still haven't sorted through all of it (and am not even sure if it's "sortable" anyway).
So, please keep writing. I need to hear and think and always remember that the very vast majority of the world has very dissimilar experiences than my own. Listen to you later.
I'm not a huge fan of Pascal myself, but reading your latest post brought this quote to mind. I don't have any easy answers either. I'm glad I don't. How boring would the journey on this rock be if I had all the difficult questions answered? God loves the inquisitive, active mind.
I'm with you, I'll keep reading, keep searching God. Thanks for this post. I'm really benefitting from every word you write.
P.S. I'm going to pick up that N.T. Wright book you mentioned. He is a good man. Peace.
I'm so appreciative for the comments. Like Aristotle argues in the Politics, the more minds together the better. And you guys have made poignant responses, which is really what it's all about. The personal nature of Karen's share, especially. It's one thing to sit at my keyboard and play philosophy; something else to hear a story like that. Many thanks for reading and sharing. You guys are great.
And to respond to what Karen said: I remember when I was handed a book by A.W. Pink years ago; gosh, nearly 20 years ago now! He's a strict predestinarian, if that's the term. Every event in history, including the diet Dr. Pepper I just chose to drink, is really decreed by God. God is 'sovereign' in everything; free will is an illusion since Adam, if then.
Anyway, I don't like Pink. But I can't say he wasn't a Christian. And his view of God was very different from mine, as Marc A. said years ago about Pink 'this is another religion.' Anyway, at the end of all things, it's Jesus who will make the call for each of us, or so he says (somehow in conjunction with the Father).
The fact that your dad recognizes any kind of spiritual world is impressive; his desire to be syncretistic, to draw on many religions, I also respect. It's the intelligent choice. But there is no doubt, something happened in Palestine two thousand years ago which has never happened since.
Not all 'revelations' can be pure and genuine even if the person involved means well. Does that mean one has to be a Christian, as we would understand it, to go to heaven? I don't know. Looking at sacramental baptism, the worldwide church doesn't even know.
Although I know I'm stepping out of line, I'm going there anyway, as I can't see how anything will be hurt: I would encourage anyone in your dad's shoes to look closer. Don't hold a mere surface view of all these different religions you say you respect. If you're a reader, read the gospels, the Gita, the mormon stuff, the epistles of Paul, parts of the ot and the q'ran and whatever else. They are different. That's a long road and one I guess I'm still on, but it's important stuff. Perhaps even more importantly, I'd stress love. Love as the universal ethical imperative, and point to Jesus' vision. Not all the parables makes sense to me (Luke 16 anyone?) but some of those we do have: the good samaritan, the lost sheep/coin, the prodigal son. Those are heavy, heavy, heavy with forgiveness and love. And that's the spirit of our faith. As my brother said once, 'Christianity is the most humane thing out there.' I have to agree.
But I am blogboxing, and about a man I don't know! Fact is I care about your feelings Karen, and I hope God gives you the right words to help you show your dad who Jesus is. I haven't learned to do that with strangers, let alone someone that close to me.
Be well gang,
t
And you're right about my dad. The fact that he has thought about it at all and it somewhat open to discussion and learning is a lot more than some people. I really understand the term bittersweet, when it comes to my family. :)