News flash: My dog,
Hobbes, was mentioned in yesterday’s New York Times!
Kierkegaard
echoed the apostle Paul’s spiritual counsel to work out our own salvation “in
fear and trembling,” and many if not most of us know exactly what that means.
“The fear of the Lord” is so entrenched in many of us that we have dearly
struggled to ‘fess up to what we do and don’t believe, for fear of angering a
jealous deity, or incurring the wrath of fellow believers (and sometimes,
strangely as insistently, of nonbelievers) for not “toeing the line” of
standard Christian doctrine. I can do little about the latter, what others think,
long ago taking as a mantra (though insufficiently realized) the title of a
book I never read, What You Think of Me
Is None of My Business by Terry Cole-Whittaker.
But
it still feels like my business what God thinks of me, and I have had the fear
of the Lord assuaged in me by Brother Thomas Keating’s observation that
biblical “fear of the Lord” was less that of anxiety than of awe. I do believe
in an awesome God, but what keeps me from quivering (most of the time) is that
I TRUST God rather than FEAR God, which seems to me what the gist of the
biblical witness is about. I say all this as preface to what follows.
I don’t believe Jesus
died for my sins. At
least, not exactly. Human sin tortures, torments, and kills people every day,
and I do my fair share of causing that, either by sins of commission or
omission. But a god who requires the blood of a scapegoat, a lamb, or a child
of God to forgive me is not worthy of my praise. The God I believe in is bigger
than that. I do believe in a God willing
to sacrificially forgive, which to me is the spiritual essence of the
story. And I do believe that Jesus lived and died and still lives on our behalf.
Jesus is not the only
son of God. Remember,
the Hebrews thought of themselves as the children of God. And the Gospel of
John says Jesus came into the world that we all might be children of God. I do
believe Jesus reminded us of our divine imprint, the imago dei of creation, and the apostle Paul called us to live up to
our inheritance as sons and daughters of God—an awesome task, not to benefit
our self-esteem as in self-help movements or “extend our territory” as in the
prosperity gospel, but to “be the change we seek in the world” (Gandhi).
“One holy catholic (as
in universal) church.” Notice I did not preface
this with “I don’t believe” nor “I believe in…” “Lord, I believe, help my
unbelief,” I would say. I have seen this holy universal church in my dreams as
well as in my waking hours. It is not confined to the institutional church, of
course, but includes those “standing on the threshold of the church” with
Simone Weil, and those well beyond that threshold, “the least of these.” This includes
those of us who carry invisible wounds of the church’s abuse and abandonment,
like my rescued dog, Hobbes, who ducks when somebody reaches to pet her because
she was apparently mistreated before I found her, abandoned in the local park,
thirteen years ago. For us and for her, it’s not really about forgiveness, it’s
about trust.
I don’t believe in hell. What good is it? What
good does it do a deity to enforce eternal suffering? Purgatory makes more
sense to me. I’m not quite sure what to make of heaven either, except I’ve long
believed that heaven on earth is where God’s will and our wills coincide. I
would like to think that those I love who’ve died are with God. I do believe
God loves us always, and in that love (again) I trust, so, blessedly, I don’t
have to have a fully-formed opinion.
I don’t believe in
original sin. This
one’s way too easy. With Celtic Christianity and specifically with Pelagius, I
believe each of us is born good and essentially are good, though we may be
blemished, disfigured, or held captive by sin. Thus redemption may be viewed as
liberation to be who we really are.
“Jesus loves me, this I know.” And not only because
“the Bible tells me so.” Mere words could never convey the love I have felt
from Jesus. It came from my mom and dad, from Christian friends, teachers,
professors, clergy, guides, soul friends, and lovers. And it came from the Holy
Spirit, opening scripture to me, opening my heart and mind, and releasing me
from the whitewashed tombs of doctrines that no longer resonate.
“To God be the glory.” This seems too obvious,
but needs be said in a culture and church where everyone’s glory is noted in
the phenomenon of celebrity. No matter how “glorious” one becomes, including
even Jesus, all glory ultimately rests with God. Else, how would it be there?
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