Sermon: Affirmation of Doubt
Text: John 20:19-31
Date: April 19, 2009 (Confirmation Sunday)
Rev. Dee Eisenhauer, Eagle Harbor Congregational Church
You might still have “Alleluias” echoing in your ears if you were here last Sunday. Our wonderful musicians had our hearts soaring as they sang a fancy, embroidered version of “Soar we now where Christ has led / Alleluia / Following our exalted Head / Alleluia / Made like Christ, like Christ we rise / Alleluia / Ours the cross, the grave, the skies / Alleluia!” I have belted out that hymn annually for almost 50 years, near as I can recollect, and it just gets better and better. Is that true for those of you who have been singing it for 80 years or more? It does your heart good, doesn’t it? It does your faith good, to celebrate Easter, and I don’t mean just “observe” Easter but celebrate it.
The lectionary takes us on a roller-coaster ride when we go from the pinnacle of celebration Easter Sunday morning to the annual re-telling of the story of Thomas the next Sunday, without fail. From the empty tomb to the locked room; from “God has raised him from the dead” to “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my hand in his side, I will not believe.” From the peak of faith to the pit of doubt in one easy step.
It’s a little weird, but the rhythm of it really works somehow. The proximity of these two Sundays in the liturgical calendar is a reminder that faith and doubt go together for most of us mortals. You might have a little time go by between an episode of faith and an episode of doubt but if you’re normal you’ll probably experience some of each.
I don’t have to tell my confirmation class that because they all have a jumbly mixture of faith and doubt in their approach to Christianity. I could have as easily written an affirmation of doubt from their end-of-class faith statements as an affirmation of faith, and in truth, it would have probably have been easier for most of them to write a statement of doubt than it was for them to write a statement of faith. I’m not tattling by sharing this with you—I’m pretty sure none of you are overly surprised by this revelation. I presume none of you are sitting there thinking “I’m shocked, simply shocked, that these young people who have just been confirmed still have doubts!”
I’m bringing up the subject of their doubts because I don’t want them to ever feel like they have got to have it all figured out to participate in our faith community. And I want them to know that it highly unlikely than anyone else worshipping here today has attained a doubt-free faith. Let’s see a show of hands from people who still have some doubts about some aspect of Christian theology or biblical teaching. There you go.
All of us doubters are in good company. Even the great leaders of the Christian movement have had their doubts. One Christian leader at the turn of the century wrote in his autobiography: "My religious faith remains in possession of the field only after prolonged civil war with my naturally skeptical mind." The Scottish reformer, John Knox, wrote of a time when his soul knew "anger, wrath and indignation, which is conceived against God, calling all his promises in doubt." Read the diary of Increase Mather, one of the great Puritan leaders, and find this entry: "Greatly molested with temptations to atheism." We sing Martin Luther's great hymn, "A mighty fortress is our God," and we might suppose he never questioned his faith, but he once wrote, "For more than a week, Christ was wholly lost. I was shaken by desperation and blasphemy against God."
A week—is that all? Luther was a lightweight compared to the Christian leader who wrote these words: “Lord, my God, who am I that You should forsake me? The Child of your Love — and now become as the most hated one — the one — You have thrown away as unwanted — unloved. I call, I cling, I want — and there is no One to answer — no One on Whom I can cling — no, No One. — Alone ... Where is my Faith — even deep down right in there is nothing, but emptiness & darkness — My God — how painful is this unknown pain — I have no Faith — I dare not utter the words & thoughts that crowd in my heart — & make me suffer untold agony.” The individual that wrote that tortured paragraph apparently felt that agony of doubting the presence of God for more than 40 years. Do you know who it was? Mother Theresa.
Mother Theresa never intended for these private reflections written in journals and letters to become public. She would probably be horrified to know that her doubts became public after her death. I know lots of people were shocked by them. But I’m glad they came out because it is a reminder to me that feelings of faith or feelings of doubt don’t necessarily determine the way we behave. It is remarkable to me that Mother Theresa carried on her grueling ministry to the poorest of the poor for decades while privately harboring painful theological doubts. I feel sorry for her that she had to endure such anguish, but my respect for her is not diminished; if anything it has grown. She was living proof that a core commitment can survive storms of doubt and even despair.
Faith is really more about commitment than certainty. I think you confirmation students kind of get that because you have made commitments today even though you have doubts and questions. We respect that as a congregation. We appreciate it. We hope your commitment proves to be a powerful and enduring commitment. We hope your faith grows in the context of the commitment you made today.
Our book group has been reading Rev. Tom Sorenson’s Liberating Christianity for discussion this month. (I shared some of his ideas about myth and symbol a few weeks ago.) I really like the way he wrote about faith as a commitment. He says faith is much more than a decision one makes to identify with a particular religion. If you made the decision but did nothing to follow up on it, the decision would not constitute faith. Faith is a decision “to commit oneself to a religion, to enter into it, to practice it. Practicing has a double meaning. It means participating in the religion’s rituals, but it also means practicing the religion as one practices any art or skill that one wishes to master. It means being diligent in one’s use of the religion. It means learning about the religion through study and guidance of an experienced practitioner. The decision of faith is a commitment of one’s whole self to enter into a religious tradition and let it do its saving work of connecting the whole self to God, or at least give it a chance to do so…The decision of faith is a commitment to let a religion’s myths and symbols work their magic in our souls.” [1]
Well put! And I can testify as a somewhat “experienced practitioner” of Christian faith that our religion’s stories, truths, myths, symbols, and prayers do, over time, work their magic in the soul. I am aware that you (students) think that some of the Bible is confusing, irrelevant, boring, and incomprehensible. Well, to that I say a lot of it is none of those things. Read it some more (preferably with other people because it really helps to talk with other people about what it means) and give it some time to soak in. I think I speak for other “experienced practitioners” of faith when I say that much of the Bible and other traditions of our faith give us strength in hard times, conviction in sinful times, motivation in lethargic times, peace in frightening times, hope in all times.
Christianity is a great religion. It’s not a perfect religion. Sorenson is quick to point out that commitment to faith is not an uncritical commitment. As he puts it, “A decision to enter into a particular religious tradition does not require us to abandon our critical facilities and merely accept the religious tradition we are entering as we find it. Commitment is not blindness…We examine the tradition critically to see if it is true to its own professed ideals. We examine it to see where it is in need of reformation and renewal, for all religious traditions are in need of reformation and renewal.” [2] Teens are naturally adept at examining the tradition critically. We like that about you, even when we find it irritating. Keep up the good goading. Just try to be kind, and patient.
Speaking of patient, I should point out that Christianity doesn’t (yet) have any perfect practitioners, experienced or not. You confirmation students seem to look kindly upon Eagle Harbor Church at this time, and we are glad about that. I’m sorry to say that we are bound to let you down sometime. You’re going to catch someone being petty, or mean, or rude, or disrespectful, or bull-headed, or short-tempered, or close-minded, or tight-fisted. Right here at Eagle Harbor Church. Even experienced practitioners of Christianity keep needing more practice. When we do let you down, we sincerely hope that you will not let our failures poison the whole Christian enterprise in your mind. One of the bumper-stickerish sayings about us is that “Christians aren’t perfect, just forgiven.” We’re counting on God’s forgiveness and hoping for yours.
There are some people in different times and places who have felt so let down by practitioners of Christian faith that they have abandoned their faith commitments altogether or decided to go it alone, without a faith community. It can be done (so I’ve heard) but it’s difficult. God’s promise of salvation is always offered to the whole community; individualism plays a very little part in our historic faith tradition. Preacher Ralph Milton mused in one of his books on a trip to California where he saw a number of giant redwood trees. Some of them stand as much as 300 feet tall and are hundreds of years old. How do they survive that long? How come the strong winds blowing off the Pacific Ocean don’t topple them? The reason is that giant redwoods seldom grow alone. Their shallow root systems spread out and intertwine with the roots of other giant redwoods, and in that way they support each other. They need each other for mutual support. And so do practitioners of Christian faith.
The saddest moment in the story about Thomas from the gospel of John is the one in which he hears how he missed Jesus’ appearance and makes his strong statement about how he would have to see for himself if he were to believe it. For three years Thomas has followed Jesus in the company of the other disciples. He has eaten and slept with them, walked from town to town with them, puzzled over Jesus’ teachings with them. He has shared experiences and memories with them. He has been amazed and discouraged with them; they have washed each other’s dusty feet and scratched each other’s backs and dried each other’s tears. And yet after all that time, at a critical moment, Thomas refuses to take their word for this wondrous event. He won’t let their faith boost his own. It’s heartbreaking.
It’s not that groups can’t ever be wrong. They can be. But a community of people is so much more likely to be wise and courageous and insightful together than as single individuals. And the faith of a community can carry us when we are in a season of doubt, or a season of pain. I’m pretty sure it was Mother Theresa’s spiritual advisors, her community of nuns, and the people to whom she ministered that gave her strength through her long season of spiritual pain. My community has frequently gotten me through my tough times.
A story: A woman’s happiness was shattered by the loss of her brother, a good man, dearly loved. Torn by anguish, she kept asking God, “Why?” But hearing only silence, she set out in search of an answer. She had not gone far when she came upon an old man sitting on a park bench, weeping. He said, “I have suffered a great loss. I am a painter, and I have lost my eyesight.” He, too, was seeking an answer to the question, “Why?” The woman invited him to join her and they went down the road together. Soon they overtook a young man walking aimlessly. He had lost his wife, the source of his joy, to another man. H joined in the search of an answer to the “Why” question. Shortly they came upon a young woman crying on her front doorstep. She had lost her child. She, too, joined them. Nowhere could they find an answer.
Suddenly they came upon Jesus Christ. Each confronted him with their question. Jesus did not immediately give an answer, as they hoped. Instead, he began to cry and said, “I am bearing the burden of a woman who has lost her brother, a girl whose baby has died, a painter who has lost his eyesight, and a young man who lost a love in which he delighted.” As he spoke, the four moved closer, and they embraced each other, and they grasped Jesus’ hands.
Jesus spoke again saying, “My dominion is the dominion of the heart. I cannot prevent pain. I can only heal it.” “How?” asked the woman. “By sharing it,” Jesus answered. And then he was gone. And the four? They were left standing, holding each other.
I believe that Christ does come to us. And more often than not, it’s when we’re together, holding each other, listening to each other, sharing our ideas, our questions, our answers, our commitments. Christ appears in the rainbow of our togetherness. Doubt can be dangerous to solitary individuals, but when we are in community it can actually breathe life into the assembly as we explore the frontiers of the faith together and help each other through the rough patches.
Dear confirmands, we affirm your faith today. And we affirm your doubt as well, and welcome your questions. Henri Poincare, French mathematician and philosopher of science once wrote: “To doubt everything or to believe everything are two equally convenient solutions; both dispense with the necessity of reflection.” [3] We’re pleased that you neither believe everything nor doubt everything. We’re delighted that you have chosen the path of faith, reflective faith. And we’re so thankful that you have chosen, at least for the time being, to walk this way with us. We will try hard to be the faith companions you need on this portion of your journey.
This is a poem called “Homecoming” by Wendell Berry:
One faith is bondage. Two
are free. In the trust
of old love, cultivation shows
a dark graceful wilderness
at its heart. Wild
in that wilderness, we roam
the distances of our faith,
safe beyond the bounds
of what we know. O love,
open. Show me
my country. Take me home. [4]
[1] Sorenson, Thomas C. Liberating Christianity: Overcoming Obstacles to Faith in the New Millennium Eugene, OR: WIPF & Stock, 2008, p. 63
[2] Ibid
[3] Poincare, Thomas quoted in Aha! April 30, 2000, p. 25
[4] Berry, Wendell “A Homecoming” Collected Poems 1957-1982 New York: North Point Press, 2001, p. 162