I enjoy getting a new book and diving into the ideas
contained in it. Sometimes I have a
fairly good idea of what I will get; other times I have little to no clue what
I will read. A recent read is a book
suggested by one of my favorite columnists, David Brooks. I read Brooks in the New York Times
online. One of his columns mentioned a
book by an editor of a poetry journal.
It was a book that was intriguingly religious in Brooks’
estimation. I became intrigued, too, and
jumped into My Bright Abyss by Christian
Wiman.
I had never heard of Wiman, so I had no idea what to
expect. The book is very engaging, but
not an easy read. The are ample examples
of poetry, which is fun for me, since I don’t know that much about poetry and
probably don’t understand and appreciate it like I could. I feel like I am growing. I feel like I am learning and being
challenged.
As I work my way through the book, numerous lines jump out
and grab me. I just hit one of those
lines, which I will share and upon which I will make some comments. Wiman says, “Sometimes God calls a person to
unbelief in order that faith may take new forms.” When I read that sentence, my immediate
response was to agree with Wiman. It
seems right to me, but I was not sure why or how it sounded right. That is what I want to explore.
We could give a great deal of attention to Wiman’s claim
that sometimes “God calls” us to unbelief.
Intrigued as I am by that claim, it is not what I want to examine. I am more intrigued that God might call you
or me to unbelief. I would agree with
that statement. But I also know I
probably would not have agreed with it when I was at the beginning of my
spiritual journey. And I am confident
there are a number of religious traditions that would hold the contrary position
and, in fact, likely warn their follower not to go the route of unbelief. I suspect many traditions feel that unbelief
is dangerous!
When I look at Wiman’s sentence, I realize it would be a
mistake to stop the sentence at unbelief.
While I recognize it might be scary to some folks to go to unbelief and,
perhaps, get stuck or lost, Wiman calls us to go forward in the sentence. Wiman says we are called to unbelief in order that… The unbelief actually commences a
process. Unbelief is not the goal; it is
the means to some other end. What is the
end Wiman envisions?
The end is “that faith may take new forms.” I confess I like this idea. However, it is a novel way for me to think
about faith. I stopped to realize I
don’t usually describe “forms” of faith.
If someone asked me, “what is the form of your faith?” would I be able
to answer that question? Then it hit
me. I began to think I understood what
Wiman meant. It would be fun to call him
on the phone and have a conversation to see if my understanding matches his
intended meaning. But I don’t have his
number, so my commentary will have to suffice.
In the first place, I do not equate “belief” and
“faith.” Clearly, they are related, but
not the same for me. Belief is more
cognitive---intellectual. For Christians,
belief often is associated with doctrine---the things one believes, i.e.
believe in God, believe Jesus is the Son of God, etc. There is nothing wrong with this, but in my
estimation it is not faith.
Faith is more a matter of the heart than the head. My favorite synonym for faith is
“trust.” To have faith in God or in some
other person, I say I “trust” them.
Faith is not the same thing as doctrine.
And this is what leads me to ponder what Wiman means by “new forms” of
faith. My form of faith always depends
on the other one in whom I have faith. I
realize that faith has multiple levels.
If I am talking about faith in my best friend, that form of faith may be
utter, unqualified faith. That is a
faith that has virtually no questioning in it.
If it is faith in a relatively new person I have met, that faith is
likely more qualified, more conditional.
Faith and belief are related. I can tell you what I believe about God. As a kid, I may have believed God was
actually “up in the sky somewhere and looked like an old guy!” My childlike form of faith might have been a
kind of trust in a grandfatherly person.
But as I came to unbelief in that view of God, my faith literally had to
take on a new form.
Today I envision God to be much more like a Spirit or
Energy. I might use personal terms, like
God the Mother, but I really don’t think God is a person. That calls for a new form of faith. How do you have faith in Spirit or trust
Energy? That is my contemporary
question. That is what my unbelief in
the “old God” has brought me to ponder.
I literally feel like a work in progress. I am learning to trust the Spirit of
Life. I trust that Spirit of God is
creative and re-creative. That Spirit is
present everywhere at all times. My spiritual
journey is to recognize it, embrace it and live in the fullness of that
Presence. This is where unbelief has
delivered me.
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