faith and tradition

the longer i wait to write this, the more tangents seem to keep distracting me as i process, so i'll try to keep this somewhat short and  connected...

for me, this piece really breaks down to the concept of special revelation vs. general revelation (revelation of Truth through the bible vs. revelation through nature).   many, if not most, christians agree that both are equally important.  however,  after working in a "christian" school and being blasted by parents for suggesting that some people believed that Noah's ark was a teaching myth, or that some bible believing scientists think it possible that dinoflagellates might have caused waters to turn blood red, it became obvious to me that christians, on the whole, do not really rely on general revelation to inform their faith.  if it is in the bible, it is TRUE, factual, real-- if it was a myth, clearly GOD would have said it was a myth.  and i have to wonder what would happen if we did open up our faith experience to include more mystical, experiential theology.  

but-- we are a logical, research-driven society.  and in the church we justify the things we cannot fully reconcile with phrases like, "we don't understand why this is, but we still believe, and we have faith that GOD understands..." (which is roughly how the sermon ended last sunday).

the part reece wrote about his pastoring father and grandfather resonated a little painfully for me.  i often wondered, in the final days of my father's life, if he questioned his devotion to the cause of christianity.  to his parishioners, he was devout until the end, always saying that whatever happened, he was "in God's hands".  but at home, he just seemed tired and a little afraid (maybe as much for my well-being as for himself).  unfortunately, the manifestation of a cancer such as his can cloud the mind as much as it harms the body, so I didn't receive any final spiritual counsel or encouragement from my father, as i would have hoped for.  but, strangely enough, just after we decided on this article, i received an email from an old friend, part of which reads:

"When your father was first sick, we were standing in the kitchen when he told you. You went downstairs by yourself and he and I spoke. I have told you before of how greatly I was impressed with your father that night. I have also told you that the entire episode threw me into a deep personal crisis - largely focused on seeking the strength to die well and with purpose...and more importantly to acknowledge that the biggest reason God tolerates evil and suffering is that it allows him to show He is God. We can't bring good from evil. Only God can do that. Only God can bring order from chaos. Only God can bring joy from suffering. "

purpose-- purpose is what my father's faith provided him.  and joy, and suffering, and love and lots of other things.  like andy wrote, it made his life make sense.  and it makes my life make sense, much of the time.  except when i start asking the difficult questions... which is why, for many (including myself), it is easier to avoid those questions that create chaos out of a calm, safe theology.  

i picture my faith, my theology, as a brick wall that has been built over the course of my life.  some bricks will stay in place forever.  the bricks of tradition are sacred to me.  this article and the onset and passing of the season of advent, really made me ponder traditions.  i never thought i would consider myself a "traditional christian" in the way that perhaps a Jew might be Jewish but not really practicing, but they still eat ladkes at hanukkah and know choice yiddish phrases.  in some ways, i feel myself drifting in that direction, holding fast to traditions i find significant, but becoming also allowing my faith to become informed outside of that tradition.  as new bricks are added to the wall, some old will fall away.  i want art, and poetry and nature to be much more a part of my own spirituality than i saw in the lives of my forefathers and mothers.  but perhaps art and poetry and nature were seen as different things in different days.  perhaps my grandmother appreciated the art of the quilt, my grandfather the art of the workshop or the poetry of a sacred hymn.  perhaps being connected to the land for food and survival made my uncles feel more reliant on a holy creator GOD.  

i don't think what reece is saying is terribly new, nor do i think the issues he addresses are limited to those who have been steeped in fundamentalist christianity. be it through art, craft, music, poetry, or  nature, i think our whole society has made light of our need to be in contact with the beauty of the earth.