Sermon:  Phoenix Affirmation 10:  Faith, Truth, and Whole Hearts

Text:       Mark 12:28-34; I Corinthians 14:13-20

Date:      March 11, 2007

By:         Steve Hjerilld and Stephen Soderland

Part A (Steve Hjerrild):

I suppose the one thing we have in common—those of us who are speaking on these Phoenix Affirmations—is that something in the affirmation we choose resonates with us, is in harmony with something that we hold very true and very dear.  For me, the part of this affirmation that did it was the assertion that “faith and science…serve the pursuit of truth.”  It was so encouraging to read this, because it meant that others had come to the same conclusion that I had in this regard.  I have always found it unfortunate and quite unnecessary that religion and science should be at odds.  I used to want to make up my own bumper sticker that had the Christian fish symbol and the little Darwin fish-with-feet symbol facing one another, with a caption underneath saying “They’re not incompatible!”  But with my luck, that would probably just irritate both sides.  I’d get red-faced fundamentalists and snarling atheists pulling up next to me, shaking their fists, and yelling, “They are too!”  So maybe I’ll save that idea for a more enlightened era.

My point is that religion and science really are not out to answer the same questions, and it is only because some people, on both sides, insist that they are, that we have all the controversy over evolution, say, or the age of the universe. 

And, of course, this is such a modern phenomenon, by which I mean it’s only 500 years old or so.  The gospels are full of instances where Jesus is challenged on legal or moral or theological grounds, but I could find none where anyone from that era’s “scientific community” raised any objections to his teachings.  I’d like to think that if they did, he would respond with something along the lines of “Render unto Darwin the things which are Darwin’s, and unto God the things that are God’s.”  Or, whoever was the scientific lightning rod back then—you get the idea.

To argue—as some people do—that either religion or science has all the answers to life’s questions is as ridiculous as setting up schools where students spend all their time studying just one subject.  So in the School of English a student asks, “How can I figure out how big this circle is?” and the instructor says, “Well, if we look to Coleridge, we see,     

                            Weave the circle round him thrice,

                            And close your eyes with holy dread,

                            For he on honey-dew hath fed,

                            And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Yes…And the student walks away thinking he must really be dumb because he still doesn’t know how big the circle is, but it must be his fault because he asked a question and the teacher gave him an answer.  Of course, we can see that the problem is not with the student’s understanding; it is that he was asking a math question in an English class.  So it is with a lot of the science-religion conflicts.  The scientific literalists criticize the Bible for being scientifically inaccurate, and the religious literalists criticize science for being spiritually bereft.  And round and round the mulberry bush.

But if a lot of the conflict comes from trying to apply knowledge of one kind to questions of another, much of the remaining conflict comes down to a definition of terms. In that short phrase I cited previously, “faith and science…serve the pursuit of truth,” there are two vital words that I would like to examine in the remainder of my talk.  The second of these, but the first I’m going to talk about, is truth.

Specifically I want to comment on the common notion that truth is the same thing as fact.  Today it may seem strange, but this was simply a non-issue to the writers of the Bible, as well as to the readers of the Bible till the 1500s or so.  It’s not that these societies did not value accuracy and precision—when it came to matters of engineering or commerce, you bet they did.  But to them the Bible was more about understanding their relationship to God, and it never would have occurred to demand footnotes, appendices, and a bibliography, as would happen if the Bible were published for the first time today.  And there’s not a single instance of anyone interrupting Jesus, as he relates a parable, to say, “Whoa whoa whoa.  Back up there a second.  What are the names of these people?  What are your sources for this?”  They simply didn’t care if the parables were factually correct.  They recognized that these stories Jesus related were useful tools for illustrating important truths about the human condition.  And that was good enough for them.  In a lecture I recently attended, Marcus Borg quoted a Catholic priest, who put it succinctly.  He said, “The Bible is true, and some of the things in it actually happened.”

The other important word is faith, which is kind of a squishy word; it’s thrown around a lot when people talk on religious subjects, but almost no one takes the time to define it.  For my ideas in this portion of my talk I am most indebted to another lecture by Marcus Borg, in which he presents several definitions of faith.  The lecture is entitled “The Meanings of Faith”—that’s meanings with an S—and in it he explores historical definitions that have been applied to the word “faith” through the centuries, with the purpose of enriching our understanding of the word.  The sub-title of his lecture gives away the real theme, however.  It is “Faith is not Belief.” 

Actually, one of the meanings he provides for faith is belief, but he immediately shows why this is probably the least helpful and least satisfying definition for thinking Christians.  Faith as belief makes it a kind of last resort; it’s what you turn to when the facts, the science, and the reasoned argument are not going your way.  Even common expressions in our language conspire to reinforce this notion.  “You have to take it on faith,” is essentially the same as saying, “I know it doesn’t sound plausible, but you must believe X.”  You fill in the blank.

Marcus Borg cites the Random House dictionary, saying that its “first definition of ‘faith’ is ‘believing something to be true in spite of doubts.’”  The example the dictionary provides is, “’the belief that the world is flat.’”  As he says, “That’s the first definition of ‘faith’ in the Random House Dictionary—believing something that no thinking person would believe!”  So do you see what I mean about this definition of faith being unsatisfying to an intelligent Christian?  Perhaps it doesn’t strike you the same way, but I simply cannot conceive that God would give us these wonderful, curious brains, that absolutely revel in puzzles, and art, and metaphor, and clever wordplay, and then require us to switch them off at the church house door.

So that’s the first definition of faith—the more or less unhelpful one, if I may put it that way.  Marcus Borg gives three others, of which I must unfortunately give only a brief outline here, because time is short.  But I would be happy to lend the tape of the lecture to anyone who would like to hear it.

Fidelitas

The second definition of faith in the lecture is in the sense of faithfulness, fidelity, or loyalty.  Under this definition, I am a faithful Christian insofar as I am faithful and obedient to the teachings of Christ.  Well, that sounds like something we could all agree on, right?  How well do I carry out the plain and simple instructions He gave me?  Kind of hit and miss, truth be told, but that’s for another talk.

Fiducia

The third definition has the sense of trust, as in trust in God.  The idea here is that once we have done our utmost to be faithful to the teachings of Jesus, the only rational thing to do is leave the rest to God.  There is no point in worrying about matters utterly outside of our control, so this definition of faith—fiducia in Latin—emphasizes the loss of anxiety that results when we let such things go.  I must admit, for me this is the hardest of these definitions to really apply, but I can certainly see the benefits of doing so.

Visio

The last definition of faith is what we would today probably call “worldview”—that is, what do you think of this old universe?  Do you see it as a welcoming place that is glad you stopped by, or do you view it as hostile territory, full of people and things that are out to get you?  Not surprisingly, the Christian message and this definition of faith emphasize a positive, optimistic worldview.  This practice, too, has the benefit of decreasing anxiety.  And if you are positive and optimistic as a rule, you probably will also experience the incidental benefit of being invited as a dinner guest more often.

I’d like to make two final points about these definitions.  The first is that they are all historical understandings of faith—let me emphasize that Marcus Borg didn’t make them up, nor did I.  The second is that all except the first one—faith as belief—are perfectly compatible with science just as they stand.  Indeed, the last two seem to be supported by current psychological research regarding stress and anxiety.  And even faith as belief could probably be squeezed in if only we could teach people to recognize metaphorical and symbolic writing when they see it.

Which brings me back at last to keeping our brains engaged when dwelling on religious subjects.  If the Bible is indeed the Word of God, or inspired by God, or a response to God, it is surely disrespectful to read it with the same kind of reading that we would give to a news magazine, or an appliance warranty, or a restaurant review.  Henry David Thoreau speaks of works like the Bible as things that “we have to stand tiptoe to read and devote our most alert and wakeful hours to.”  I love that image—standing tiptoe to read something because it is a mental stretch to capture it.  Science does that more and more, with almost daily discoveries in so many directions—from the unimaginably small to the inconceivably vast.  If, as we often say around here, God is still speaking, it seems dreadfully premature to say that a thoughtful study of scripture cannot do the same thing.

Part B (by Stephen Soderland):

Steve focused mostly on the second half of the Phoenix affirmation, “recognizing that faith and science, doubt and belief serve the pursuit of truth”.  I will spend my portion of this sermon exploring the first half of the Phoenix affirmation, “claiming the sacredness of both our minds and our hearts”.  The scripture from Luke that we heard today has the verse, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.”  This has been an important Bible verse for me since I was a teen, although my understanding of it has changed over the years.  When I was a teenager the part that attracted me was the bit about Loving God with all your mind.  I have always put a premium on approaching the world through analytic thinking.  The only thing that saved me from being a nerd as a child was that the word hadn’t been invented yet.

Jesus is giving us permission to use all of our mind, all of our critical thinking, in how we approach our religious beliefs.  It’s okay to apply all the evidence at hand: science as well as scripture, our own experience as well as the traditions of our belief.  It’s not just okay to do so – it’s a commandment.  I found that quite liberating as a teen when I was grappling with what it means to call myself a Christian in the modern world.

This verse continues to be an essential cornerstone to my understanding of God, but now I look more at the balance of all the ways that we are called on to love God.  Love God with all our heart as well as with all our mind; Love God with all our soul and all our strength.  The operative word is “all” – to be whole-hearted in our love of God.  We are not to compartmentalize our lives and keep God neatly separated from our dealings with the world.  Above all we are not to be lukewarm in our faith.  In the beginning of John’s vision in the book of Revelation, an angel gives him messages to seven churches in Asia Minor.  To the church in Laodicea, the angel says, “You are neither hot nor cold.  I wish that you were either hot or cold. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”  Phew!  I certainly hope that the angel is not saying that about our church … or about me.  This is one of the things worth pondering during Lent, am I being lukewarm towards God, am I holding back my best self.

What I want to explore with you today is how we can be passionate in our faith, what our Charismatic brothers and sisters call being “on fire for God”, and at the same time bring our best thinking to bear.  We want to be born again without it being such a difficult birth that we suffer brain damage.  I will explore how we can bring all our mind and all our heart to studying the Bible, to prayer, and to how we deal with the big issues that face us in life. 

There are two fundamentally different approaches to Bible study that I have found to be useful.  The first approach is mind-oriented. It examines the text to find out what the writer meant two or three thousand years ago, and what message was conveyed to the original audience in their cultural context.  It acknowledges that each Biblical writer has their own point of view, and that the writer is grappling with fundamental truth from a limited perspective. After being true to the original intent, the essence of this style of Bible study is to adapt the original message to our lives in today’s context. 

Take today’s reading from I Corinthians as an example.  What is Paul saying and what message does he convey to the original readers? Those in the early church who spoke in tongues were boasting that they were spiritually superior to the others. Paul acknowledges the importance of praying and praising God in an impassioned way.  Such non-verbal prayer builds up the person who is praying, but does little to build up those who hear the prayer that they cannot understand. Paul says to pray with the spirit but also pray with the mind, to sing praise with the spirit but also with the mind.  He says here and elsewhere in the letter to the Corinthians, that we should never think that our spiritual gifts are superior to those of others.  It’s not a contest.

How can we adapt this into the letter of Paul to the church at Eagle Harbor, or the letter of Paul to [fill in your name here]?  Paul’s message to the Holy Rollers in Corinth is not the same message he would give to the overly rational folks here. We often shy away from emotion in our worship.  We even manage to sing songs of praise without moving our bodies, a feat which always baffles me.  Paul might say to us, “I will pray with my mind, but I will lift up wordless prayers of my deepest heart also.  I will sing praises to God with my mind, but I will proclaim God’s praises with passion and excitement also”.  We would have a better balance of praising God with our heart and our mind, if we let more our emotions enter into our worship.  Amen? [and the people said, “Amen!”]

In addition to the scholarly, mind-oriented method for Bible study is a heart-oriented approach.  This is a form of meditating on scripture that we practiced at our Spiritual Quest group.  We quiet our minds and listen as someone reads the scripture aloud, listening for the Word of God to speak to us through the text.  Often it is on the second or third reading of a passage that someone discover a meaning that speaks directly to that person’s heart.  Each person may receive a different message from the same scripture, a message tailored to what their heart needs to hear. 

As well as using both our mind and our heart to study the word of God, we can apply both mind and heart to prayer.  My critical thinking tells me that prayer is not about petitioning God or telling God what to do.  Prayer is about tuning our hearts to God, or I should say tuning all our hearts, all our soul, all our mind, and all our strength to God.  The primary effect of prayer is a transformation in the person who prays.  We pray for someone who is facing an illness or a difficult situation.  This prayer transforms our hearts.  It pulls us up out of our self-absorbed life, where we are too caught up in the hustle and bustle to remember compassion.  We become one with that other person’s sorrow and struggle.  In some way that I don’t understand, our prayers support that person even if they don’t know that we are praying.

I’m sure that each of us has our own way of praying.  For me, prayer soon lapses into a wordless prayer.  I pray with my feelings and imagination more than my rational mind.  God is like a mother or father to us, so I quietly sit on God’s lap with God’s arms around me.  No words are needed – I just experience the peace of knowing that God is taking care of me.  Feeding me, keeping me warm, and I suppose changing my diapers even though I don’t visualize that.  Jesus teaches us to enter the Kingdom of God as a tiny child with the complete trust of a tiny child.

There is another powerful prayer image.  Christian mystics often refer to God as our Divine Lover.  Can you remember the time you were newly in love?  Just being with the one you love is enough to make your life feel complete, to know your own worth because you are fully loved.  Words aren’t needed, just being together.  We can hang out with God silently, and bask in the experience of complete trust and support.  Or we can talk about whatever is on our minds without hiding anything.  The words are not as important as the feeling.

When I was starting to prepare this sermon, I told Noyuri my ideas about how we approach God with all our mind and heart through Bible study, and through prayer.  She said, “What about the important issues in your life?  What about facing cancer?”   I often follow my wife’s suggestions, and besides I’ve been to church enough to know that sermons are supposed to have three examples.  So what does my heart and my mind tell me about facing my own death?  I am feeling healthy now, but I know that this will not last more than a few years.

What does my analytical mind inform me about heaven? Actually, not much.  Jesus never described heaven.  When He talked about the Kingdom of God, he always ended up telling stories about mustard seeds, lost coins, or wedding feasts.  Once a teacher of Jewish law posed a question to Jesus about life after death.  If a woman had been married to seven different men who each died, who is she married to in heaven?  Jesus answer was that questions like that don’t even make sense.  Heaven is so different from this life that there is no point even speculating on what it is like.  “We are not of this world … we are like the angels”.  What I come away with is that I have no way of knowing what will happen after I die to this earthly life. Even Jesus is telling us not to try to understand that.  I find this reassuring.

So all my mind can help me with here is to let me know that I don’t know.  I have to deal with this primarily with my heart and soul.  Remember the loving God whose lap I was sitting on a few moments ago?  My understanding about eternal life is at the level of a new born child’s understanding.  I’ll take Jesus’ hint that we need to enter the Kingdom of God as a tiny child.  As an infant all I need to know is that the God who controls my universe loves me and will take care of me, even when I have no understanding of what is happening.  The world is sometimes scary, but I am being held by someone who will keep me safe.  Now and forever, amen.