Faith Without Certainty A sermon delivered at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation (Blacksburg, VA), April 16, 2006, by the Reverend Christine Brownlie. I couldn’t help but smile on Friday morning when the sound of thunder rolled over the hills and rattled the windows of my house I’d planned to cut my grass that morning, and now I had a good reason to postpone that chore. But that wasn’t the reason for my smile — my unresponsive lawn mower had already changed those plans. I didn’t smile because we needed rain and the thunder was a hopeful sign. I smiled in memory of my mother, who always appreciated a gloomy “Good Friday.” For her, a darkened sky and stormy weather seemed an appropriate backdrop for the annual remembrance of the drama of Jesus’ trial, crucifixion, death, and resurrection. It was as though nature remembered and mourned the death of her Savior. And even as a child, I understood that for my mother, the symbolic harmony of cloudy sky, the rain or snow — we lived in Minnesota after all — with the story that she treasured was in some way an affirmation that the Biblical account was true. That’s not to say that my mother never entertained doubts about the stories and doctrines of Christianity. There were ideas and teachings that troubled her, and she would pursue answers for her questions in her reading and her conversations with the minister. But even in the face of evidence that some of the stories in the Bible are fabrications, she held fast to the basic concepts of Christianity all her life, and nothing could shake her faith in the teaching that Jesus died and rose from the dead for the sake of human salvation. Today, on Easter Sunday, Christians all around the world will celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. They will hear sermons and sing hymns that affirm the claim that they are “saved” by Jesus’ act of atonement for the sins of all who believe in him. They will rejoice that their own faith is certain and secure. Most of you didn’t come here this morning to rejoice in a risen Savior. We might revere Jesus, we might find his teachings compelling; some of use might accept as true some parts of the story of his life as told in the gospels. But we — the Unitarian Universalists — are the questioners, the unsatisfied doubters. We just can’t make the “leap of faith” that’s necessary for us to simply believe in something that seems irrational and improbable. If we are people of faith, that faith is always tinged with uncertainly. Some of us have been uncertain about the theological teachings handed down to us from church and family since we were children. We could never quiet our inquisitive minds. Our questions annoyed and worried Sunday school teachers, pastors, and relatives. Some of us were punished for questions that challenged what our teacYou are as a mouse wanting to impregnate hers and ministers told us. We were kicked out of Sunday school — and maybe we were kicked out of the Church. Our parents and grandparents worried that we were headed for Hell, and they pleaded with us to set our doubts aside. “Why can’t you just believe?,” they’d ask Some of began to challenge our childhood faith as we prepared for confirmation: a time we had to affirm our belief in the creeds and doctrines of our particular faith. Or maybe we began to ask hard questions when we went off to college and met people whose religious upbringing was very different from our own. Still others of us found that our beliefs couldn’t comfort us in a time of crisis. For whatever reason, doubt took hold of us and never let go. Some of us might wish we could claim the certainty that others find so comforting, but no matter how hard we try, we just can’t. Why can’t we simply believe? What is it about the way we see the world and the place of faith in our lives that makes it impossible for us to have the unshakable faith that others find so comforting? What’s different about us? I’ve come across many answers to this puzzle. Today I’ll share some ideas I found in a book Faith Without Certainty by the Rev. Paul Rasor, a Unitarian Universalist minister who is the director of the Center for the Study of Religious Freedom and a professor at Virginia Wesleyan College in Norfolk. Rasor notes that the people who are inclined to ask the pesky questions are also likely to be attracted to liberal religion. Liberal views are found in all faiths — not just ours — and this liberalism will be expressed differently in different faiths. But at the heart of the liberal view is a distinctive set of assumptions and values that sets the liberal branch of any given faith apart from the conservative branch of that same faith. These differing sets of assumptions are so fundamental and important that liberals or conservatives in different faiths will have more in common with one another than they will with the liberals or conservatives within their own tradition. In other words, liberal Jews, Moslems, Protestants, or Catholics will have more in common with each other than they will with their conservative brothers and sisters in the same faith. These core assumptions can be described as four themes that run through liberal theologies: mediation, flow, autonomy, and ethics. Mediation, or cultural adaptation, is at the center of all liberal theologies. Religious liberals are committed to the claim that religion must reflect the knowledge and cultural values of their society and time. Liberals refuse to be bound to the claims of the past when those claims fly in the face of modern science and progressive values. If you consider the liberal stance on such issues as the push to teach creationism in public schools or on controversies such as stem cell research and same-sex marriage, you’ll see that these are examples of mediation between religious beliefs and modern developments in the arenas of science and culture. At the same time, liberal religion attempts to mediate between unbelief and the traditional commitment to doctrines or claims based on scriptures. This means that liberal religion can be an alternative or third way between an orthodoxy that ignores or refutes modern views and rationalistic atheism that denies the validity of religious claims to truth. Another characteristic of religious liberalism is the idea of flow as a positive force. Rasor offers us three descriptions of flow: On one level, flow is simply a term for change; the endless dynamic process that affects everyone and everything. Here too, we can see a difference between those who are liberal in their religious views, and those who are more inclined to a traditional stance. Liberals are more likely to accept changes that encourage personal growth, respect for differences, and the expression of human potential, They tend to be comfortable with change — even when it challenges social mores and values. Conservatives are more likely to protect traditional values and mores — especially if those values and mores are based on a religious authority. While liberals are drawn to the new, those with more orthodox beliefs cherish traditional ways and beliefs and want them to continue into future generations Rasor offers a second way to think of flow, and that is as the intertwining of many forces that work together over time to create something new. What he’s speaking to here is the complexity of cause and effect in history. We know that the past influences the present, and we also know that in general, no single event, process, or force determines the future. Let me give you an example. There are experts who say that a combination of several processes is causing global warming. Some of these processes appear to be natural, while others are the results of human actions. No single process is the sole cause of the climate changes we are now experiencing. The same logic can be applied on a much smaller scale in our own lives. Imagine the many events — small and large — that resulted in your conception and birth. Your ancestors had to survive wars, famines, and epidemics. They had to be in the right place at the right time to meet their partners. You are here because of a long unforeseeable chain of events through centuries. As Rasor writes, “The world is an organic whole; nothing can be fully understood or experienced in isolation.” This organic and interdependent understanding of history and human progress is part of a shift in thinking that gives credence to the totality of human experience as tools for theological reflection and the exploration of theological truths. These were radical ideas when first introduced by the thinkers and artists of the Romantic era. They rejected the claims of earlier philosophers, who claimed that the rational approach was the only reliable way to discover truth in any field of intellectual inquiry. In the view of some philosophers — Ralph Waldo Emerson among them, reason and rational thought were useless in the quest for theological truth. Instead we must rely on what Frederick Schleiermacher, the German theologian, called our indwelling “sense and taste for the infinite.” Our intuition, emotions, and intimations of the divine were our best guides for our theological quest.” Liberal religion emphasizes the closeness and commonness of the divine — or God. The sacred is not found in some realm beyond our everyday life. Revelation of religious truths continues to the present. The sources of this revelation may be personal insights, philosophy, the sciences, art, literature, nature, political, and social movements — as well as the sacred texts of many faiths. The list is long and it continues to grow. For those who are drawn to the liberal perspective, this claim to on-going revelation from many sources leads to the conclusion that the truth is never settled, never complete. As culture, society, science, and politics changes, our grasp of truth changes and evolves through experience, reflection, and relationships. What we call true today will change in time, as new ideas and discoveries arise. This process continues through time and history, from generation to generation. While liberal religion makes the claim that there are many sources of authority, the autonomous individual is considered to be the final judge. External sources — such as scripture, doctrine, and tradition — are to be viewed through the filter of the individual mind and experience, and each person must make up his or her own mind about the claims of truth offered by every source. This is not a “new age” or “postmodern” idea. Martin Luther, one of the most important leaders of the Protestant Reformation, declared that even the lowly milkmaid who followed the cow could understand and interpret scripture for herself. Today many of us would say that to accept the teachings of the past without question and reflection is impossible and even irresponsible. We must understand that beliefs and ideas are expressed in our relationships and actions. This brings us to the final set of assumptions that Rasor attributes to the liberal worldview: the commitment to ethics over doctrines. We must acknowledge that those of a more orthodox faith also value moral development and a concern for the well-being of others. But ethics has always been a particular emphasis for liberals. This emphasis is grounded in the liberal view of human nature as intrinsically good and inclined to seek goodness. As Unitarian minister William Ellery Channing proclaimed in one of his sermons, human beings possess a moral nature that is the foundation of virtue. These virtues, in turn, are the grounds for responsibility to self and to society. The liberal commitment to ethics leads to a prophetic sensibility that examines the use of power in the context of social, political, and economic issues. This concern for the needs and well-being of others is an important counter balance to the danger of too much of a focus on the individual, a criticism that is often leveled against liberal religion. For those religious liberals who come out of a theistic faith, the commitment to social justice and personal ethics is an expression of God’s love and Jesus’ vision of the Kingdom of Heaven; a society in which all people are treated as equals and wealth is shared. Liberals who come from a secular humanist position find the source of their commitment to social justice in the words of the great philosophers and reformers throughout the ages. These men and women proclaimed the value of every person, the freedom of the mind, and the commitment to a just society. Why are we the people who hold a faith that is coupled with uncertainty? Because we know that truth is always unfolding and reforming; that revelation continues through many sources. We may consider ourselves to be our own final source of authority, but we still need the wisdom and insights of other seekers. This need for one another binds us together as a religious community, as we gather each Sunday. So cherish your doubts. They are an impetus to continue the search for truth. Challenge your own assumptions, knowing that our own best understandings are not the final answer. Be bold and fearless, knowing that doubt is not an obstacle to the development of a true and worthy faith. It is a light that leads forward, a shield from the dangers of a self-satisfied faith that can become rigid and lifeless. And in the words of my colleague, Wayne Arnason,
Take courage
friends,
May it be so. Copyright 2006, Helen Christine Brownlie; Commercial duplication prohibited without permission of the author ![]() ![]() |