
By: Jim Taylor
Two
kinds of beliefs
During a slow news week, when Foreign Minister
Peter MacKay can grab front-page headlines by travelling
to Afghanistan to have Christmas dinner with Canadian troops, my thoughts
turned to our own travels.
Over the last month, my wife
and I took three trips by car over high mountain passes.
At the end of November, we
drove to
The next weekend we drove to
You might think someone up
there was looking after us.
Not on the third trip. We set
out for the day-long drive to
“Two hours,” said the highway
worker in his fluorescent vest. “For avalanche control.”
In the parking area, snow lay
knee deep. Cars got stuck. Strangers pushed each either in or out.
Semi-trailers lined up for five kilometres along the
highway.
When traffic moved again, we
struggled through blizzards for five more hours before we got a motel for the
night.
Yet I had no doubt that we
would get through safely. Does anyone set out on a trip believing they won’t
survive it?
Legacy of The Enlightenment
This kind of trip throws into sharp focus the difference between
what we say we believe, and what we really believe.
Most often, when people state,
“I believe…” they mean giving intellectual assent to a proposition of some
kind. For example, that Jesus is the Son of God, that he died for sins we
hadn’t committed yet, that God comes in three flavours,
etc.
This kind of doctrinal belief
gained dominance during what historians call The Enlightenment – a period of
philosophical ferment in
The Enlightenment gave the
The emphasis on reason, coupled
with Gutenberg’s typesetting revolution, made it possible to refine religious
faith into a series of logical assertions. Theology – which really means
“thinking about God”—became a set of teachings which one either endorsed or
rejected.
Difference in perspective
Now, if someone had asked me to endorse a statement that I
believed the roads would be clear for 1000 km all the way to
Nevertheless, I set out with
sublime confidence. Or foolhardiness. Because deep
down, I believed that all would be well.
Don’t we all? Somehow, we are
convinced that even if there’s an accident, a fire, a crisis, we will emerge
from it unscathed.
There are, you see, two
distinctly different kinds of beliefs.
One kind involves intellectual
assent. The other is more like a perspective on life. Typically, it can’t be rationalized.
It just is.
A couple of friends have had
cataract operations recently. Both noted how it changed the way they saw. Not
just what they saw – the way they saw.
Dave de Bourcier,
a retired pharmacist, put it this way: “With one eye the world is still clouded
and yellow, and print is difficult to read. With the other even the small print
on the TV screen is clear and readable, and colours
are … wow! ... I can’t remember them that vivid!”
The core of our being
Our deepest beliefs have little or nothing to do with
religious doctrines. We believe we can trust each other. I believe that I can
trust the mechanic who services the car I drive to Edmonton, the bank who honours my credit card, the meteorologists who forecast the
weather en route…
At the very deepest level, we
all share a belief in our own immortality – regardless of whatever we affirm in
official statements of faith.
The soldiers Peter MacKay
visited in
For the victims of a Taliban
ambush in
Most of us don’t start
re-assessing our underlying beliefs until increasing age makes our mortality
all too evident.
Irrelevant haggling
The Christmas season provides an example of the two
kinds of belief.
Intellectual beliefs haggle
over the Virgin Birth and whether Jesus was really the direct offspring of God.
If so, from whom did he get his male Y-chromosome; or was he the only human to
have only half a set of chromosomes?
At a different level – I think
of it as a deeper level, but others might not agree – these questions are
irrelevant. Whether Mary was a biological virgin or not, the birth of a baby is
always a profound experience for everyone involved.
The birth of a baby is a sign
of hope, a non-verbal expression of faith.
We have babies because we
believe in the future. We believe in a certain essential goodness in humans. We
believe that the world will be friendly – if not to me, then to this child. For
this infant, things will be different.
Write that down and it looks
ridiculous. Turn it into a series of assertions and it looks pompous.
But it is what most of us
believe, deep in our hearts.
And it is what Christmas is
really all about.
*****************************************
Copyright © 2007 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study
groups permitted; all other rights reserved.
*****************************************