Etched in Stone

I struggle with the notion that all matters of faith are absolute -- etched in stone -- that one's belief system must be adamant and unwavering. And, to the degree that we change our opinion from what we originally held, we are deviating from the "faith which was once delivered unto the saints."

Saint Paul talks about the idea of there being a "received faith." He says in his second letter to the Corinthian Church, "...if one comes and preaches another Jesus whom we have not preached, or you receive a different spirit which you have not received, or a different gospel which you have not accepted, you bear this beautifully." And at the end of his life he writes: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith." So there's this notion of a faith that was received at conversion and that any wandering from this constitutes apostasy.

Now, I do agree that truth (ultimate truth) is indeed eternal and universal. There is nothing that is genuinely true in one time and place that is not true in another. Slavery is a good example. Slavery is always wrong and has always been wrong. It was wrong in the United States of the 1850s and it was wrong during the span of the Roman Empire, it was wrong in ancient Egypt. There are also other such universal truths (i.e., it's always wrong to murder or to abuse someone, neglecting the poor is always wrong). Truth -- ultimate truth -- is not changed by popular consensus or the law of the land. Think of the Old Testament prophets standing up to idolatry, or St. Francis standing up to the opulence of Rome, or John Brown standing up to slavery, or Gandhi or Martin Luther King standing up to racism and injustice. Think of how often the tide of public opinion and power has been wrong.

But then there are those matters of religious doctrine that aren't so clear -- those infamous gray areas. Some things I myself have changed my mind about. I used to not accept infant baptism, for instance. Now I do. I used to not believe in the real presence of Christ in the eucharist. Now I do. I used to have a more literal (and self-authorized) interpretation of scripture and I used to eschew the idea that the Church historic was the lens by which we focus our understanding of scripture. I've since reversed my thinking on these things.

My question then is this: What if the faith you "first received" later turns out to be not entirely accurate?

I think about St. Peter and his view on circumcision -- that he originally sided with the more traditionalist Jewish arm of the early church who held the idea that converts to the faith must be circumcised. St. Paul contested him on this and Peter eventually conceded that that belief -- that truth -- was not as he had originally thought.

This might be a bit of a trivial example. (Though I'm sure it wasn't trivial at the time -- especially to those adult males who were about to get their foreskins lopped off.) But there are other examples as well.

There were a couple of incidents in the Acts of the Apostles where the disciples of Saint John the Baptist were converted to Christianity. Their faith was incomplete and they required further instruction. Their understanding of the truth was shifted, or broadened if you will.

I have no conclusive statement on this matter other than that I don't think it's heretical to be open to reconsideration. Think of this: if you do change your belief on a certain issue and you turn out to be wrong. The ultimate truth is not altered in the slightest. For we haven't the capacity to change the truth.

That being said, it should be our ultimate aim to draw closer to the truth -- the true ultimate truth -- as we move through life. For to wallow in being wrong is foolish. If the truth sets us free, then it stands to reason that falsity imprisons us.

What the Pope said yesterday.

I thought it was good what Pope Benedict said yesterday "...He who builds only on visible and tangible things like success, career, and money, builds the house of his life on sand."

We all need to be repeatedly reminded of this.

Luke 12:16-21

When Sinners Get Old

I hadn't written anything in my old blog (steelchicken.blogspot.com) for so long, it was pretty much dead in the dust, so I decided to start a new one. This one has a theme. The concept is simple. It's this: I don't view life, and my spiritual life in particular, the same way I did when I was young. Perhaps my writings will meander around over time (isn't that the beauty of blog writing?), but this is at least how I'm starting out.

Now this premise may seem like kind of a "duh" topic to introduce. Anybody who considers this for a bit will most likely observe that it's just a given that, as we get older, our minds change. But when you actually get to the point where it happens, it can be an interesting thing to examine.

And, as an aside, I'm not sure that all minds do change, at least not that much. There are a good many relatives of mine whose political and spiritual perspectives (or lack thereof) have not changed over the years. They've only become more entrenched in their biases and intolerances. (And, with my family, this usually takes the form of intolarance towards tradition and piety -- intolerance swings both ways.) Enough said.

I'm 48, almost 49. I think what got me started thinking about this was when a young Baptist man came to my door a few weeks ago and tried to proselytize me to go to his church. It was a short but intriguing conversation, at least in retrospect.

When I told the fellow that I went to a Catholic church, he responded, "well, did you ever think of changing churches?" (Ah, if only he knew. If only he had walked a mile in my moccasins.)

I told him I wasn't interested in changing churches.

He then questioned me on my salvation. Having spent years in the Evangelical Protestant church, I expertly spun off the answers that he was looking for. I did this mainly so he would leave me alone. I didn't lie. I do believe all that I told him. However, I now believe it differently than he does. I now think there's more complexity to it all and, in an odd way, more simplicity.

The last thing he asked me was whether I had prayed the sinner's prayer -- had I asked Jesus to forgive me of my sins -- had I asked Jesus into my heart. I told him, "yes, many times."

He jumped on this and told me that I only needed to do it once. I knew before I gave my answer that my words would push a button. However, I didn't pursue the matter any further. The guy was beginning to wear me out. What did occur to me though was to ask, "well, I guess you've yet to experience a fall from grace then, have you?" (And I think I will discuss this issue later on -- the need for continual repentance.)

Also, the young man seemed happy ...and convinced, so why get into a battle with him? (I guess that's another way that I've changed.)

The experience reminded me of myself some twenty-five years or so ago. I was like that young man. So convinced. So right. It's interesting how, since then, the darknesses of life have wearied me but have also brought with them greater mercy and (I say with humility) a kind of wisdom.