I ran twenty one yesterday. Twenty one miles. It was my last long training run before the Charleston Marathon in three weeks. It was also the eve of Christmas Eve, so my thoughts were on credit card bills, virgin births and such. During the run I listened to a podcast about the Dead Sea Scrolls, ( I can hear you now, “This guy has no life!”) and I was thinking about what life might have been like in first century Palestine. It was not an easy existence by any stretch of the word, and I find it fascinating and helpful to place the events of the time in context. Jesus was born into a world very different from ours. The first thing that struck me as interesting, in the context of ancient civilization, was the virgin birth. As an obstetrician I am particularly challenged by the idea that the normal biological pathways were bypassed and the physiological problems that entails. Contrasted to our time, claims of virgin births were relatively common place in the ancient world. Alexander the Great as touted as being the result of a virgin birth as were various Egyptian pharaohs and Greek kings. It may not have been as nearly an implausible claim in first century Jerusalem as it is in twenty-first century America. It seems as the virgin birth is more of a question of faith today than in ancient times. And make no mistake, it is an issue of faith. Try as skeptics may, they can never prove or disprove such a claim from antiquity. Yes, the science doesn’t follow the prescripts for it happening that way, but faith supersedes science and becomes a matter of belief. I used to think there had to be agreement between science and faith, after all both have as their end product truth; yet, I have come to see that these are different realms. Science in its purest form can never make claims on issues of faith because science by definition deals with the natural, and faith by definition deals with things of the supernatural. Science measures, categorizes, analyzes things we can see, touch, and observe; whereas, faith grows, explains, and illuminates things that are unseen and unmeasureable. The virgin birth is a stumbling block for the skeptic precisely because they are only allowing science to be the arbitrator of truth. If one begins the argument a priori that there is nothing beyond the natural, then of course a virgin birth is myth and fallacy. However if one realizes that the question of the validity of such an occurrence lies outside the realm of science and only can be answered in the realm of faith, then a consistent conclusion can be made. Science and faith are not mutually exclusive, yet they govern different universes. One does not disprove or prove another, and at the end of the day they can actually be complimentary as they are both interested in the truth.
The danger of intellectualization is that it makes it easy to miss the essence - the gestalt - of an event or person. Reductionism does the same thing. Minimizing something to its constituent parts may relay some understanding of function, but rarely gives any indication of purpose. When I train for a marathon, I purposely employ a reductionist attitude, dissecting the 26.2 miles to its most literal and basic components, placing one foot in front of the other. However, if I simply viewed running a marathon as placing several thousand steps in a sequence I would completely obfuscate any sense of purpose. Likewise intellectualization of Scripture may serve a purpose for scholars and critics; however, it can also cannibalize an understanding of meaning from a faith perspective. This is not to say that the study of Scripture cannot be a challenging intellectual exercise. It most certainly is. Just as science and faith are not mutually exclusive, so a thinking person’s examination of Scripture is not exclusive to cloaking the pursuit in the fabric of faith. I heard a wonderful story recently that illustrates this. A young man wanted to learn how to dance, so he went to the bookstore and bought a book on dance instruction. He studied this book day and night, memorizing the various steps, down to the precise foot placement for each. After hours of practice he proudly went to his wife and proclaimed that he was now a proficient dancer, thanks to his meticulous study and practice. He sat her down and proceeded to demonstrate his proficiency by waltzing through various sequences and moves. At the conclusion he awaited her appraisal. She looked at him lovingly and said,”That was wonderful, yet it was lacking two very important things.” Stunned he asked what he could have possibly left out. She simple replied, “ Me and the music.” You can memorize, analyze, and perfect the mechanics of something, knowing it in great detail and with faultless scholarship, but unless you hear the music, unless you see the purpose, unless you understand the why, you will only be going through the motions.
I think running is a great metaphor for faith. I can read a book about running. I can even run in a few races, but if I don’t understand why I run, I quickly become distracted, bored, and unmotivated. Likewise if I simply analyze faith, dissect theology and reduce it to textural criticism or biblical exegesis,and even at times put my faith into action, but don’t take the time to ponder what faith is and why it is important to me, I can easily find myself confused, detached, and even disillusioned. If I know why I run, I can do it with joy even when challenged by time, setting, and desire. If I know why I believe, I can persist in that belief in times of challenge, confusion, and isolation.
An overused but valid metaphor is that faith is like a marathon. As a marathoner this comparison takes on a deeper meaning, and has actually helped me understand a bit more of why faith is unique and important. It also has deepened my appreciation for the individual yet collective nature of faith. Let me explain. I have run twenty 26.2 mile races so far , and each one has been a unique experience. Each mile was over different terrain, each water stop was operated by a different crowd, each finisher’s medal was colorfully created. Yet in spite of these singular events, so uniquely emblazoned in my memory, there was a confluence of commonality that existed in each race. Each one was precisely the same distance, each one was prefaced by a runner’s expo highlighting the myriad of services and products available to runners, and each was run by hundreds if not thousands of like minded souls with a story unto themselves as to why they were there. Likewise, faith is a singularly experienced phenomenon, special to each one who professes such, but bathed in a sea of common experiences and understandings. What is miraculous about one’s faith is that it can exist and flourish along its own path yet still be true to greater universal truths. This is illustrated by the various machinations surrounding baptism. The overarching truth is that baptism is a ritual that symbolizes cleansing from sin yet it can be experienced along a spectrum of sprinkling to lake immersion. This is characteristic of so many of our faith based rituals. We must always remember to not miss the music for the notes.
Like a marathon, faith takes endurance and time. Faith matures with knowledge, experience, study, and application and in a marathon you survive by practice, education, drive, and persistence. There is a point in every marathon, the proverbial wall, where physical and mental boundaries have to be breached. Many a competitor has been reduced to a mere shuffle or walk by the exhaustion of glycogen that can rob your muscles of energy. Likewise, inevitably in every persons faith walk they hit a time or event that challenges even the most well trained and weathered believer. In the race you have to prepare for this inevitability and devise a plan to overcome it or you will be reduced to a mental and physical wasteland that is daunting to cross over. In our faith walk, we must prepare for the “dark night of the soul” that is inevitable in our fallen world. We must also prepare for this by seeing how those around us and in history have negotiated such faith challenging times. Just as I rely on the teachings and experience of runners from long ago, so scripture and tradition serves as a template for navigating the Siren filled waters of spiritual confusion.
If I was a missionary to China, I would greatly increase both my effectiveness and enjoyment by learning to speak Chinese. Learning the jargon, speaking the language facilitates understanding and effective communication, so using analogies and metaphors, like running, helps me frame my understanding of faith. Jesus understood that saying something outright is not often the most effective tool for teaching. We must also acknowledge that our language capabilities sometimes pale to adequately describe or convey the meaning of a feeling, place, or event. Jesus was forever describing the kingdom of heaven “as” or “like” something we could understand and find meaning in. I find meaning in running, so I embrace the metaphors as a way of deepening my understanding of my faith. You may find purpose in quilting, ( or any of a thousand things) so I would encourage you to meditate on ways of relating what juices you to your religious beliefs. We learn by comparisons and there is no better comparison than something that holds meaning.
The danger of intellectualization is that it makes it easy to miss the essence - the gestalt - of an event or person. Reductionism does the same thing. Minimizing something to its constituent parts may relay some understanding of function, but rarely gives any indication of purpose. When I train for a marathon, I purposely employ a reductionist attitude, dissecting the 26.2 miles to its most literal and basic components, placing one foot in front of the other. However, if I simply viewed running a marathon as placing several thousand steps in a sequence I would completely obfuscate any sense of purpose. Likewise intellectualization of Scripture may serve a purpose for scholars and critics; however, it can also cannibalize an understanding of meaning from a faith perspective. This is not to say that the study of Scripture cannot be a challenging intellectual exercise. It most certainly is. Just as science and faith are not mutually exclusive, so a thinking person’s examination of Scripture is not exclusive to cloaking the pursuit in the fabric of faith. I heard a wonderful story recently that illustrates this. A young man wanted to learn how to dance, so he went to the bookstore and bought a book on dance instruction. He studied this book day and night, memorizing the various steps, down to the precise foot placement for each. After hours of practice he proudly went to his wife and proclaimed that he was now a proficient dancer, thanks to his meticulous study and practice. He sat her down and proceeded to demonstrate his proficiency by waltzing through various sequences and moves. At the conclusion he awaited her appraisal. She looked at him lovingly and said,”That was wonderful, yet it was lacking two very important things.” Stunned he asked what he could have possibly left out. She simple replied, “ Me and the music.” You can memorize, analyze, and perfect the mechanics of something, knowing it in great detail and with faultless scholarship, but unless you hear the music, unless you see the purpose, unless you understand the why, you will only be going through the motions.
I think running is a great metaphor for faith. I can read a book about running. I can even run in a few races, but if I don’t understand why I run, I quickly become distracted, bored, and unmotivated. Likewise if I simply analyze faith, dissect theology and reduce it to textural criticism or biblical exegesis,and even at times put my faith into action, but don’t take the time to ponder what faith is and why it is important to me, I can easily find myself confused, detached, and even disillusioned. If I know why I run, I can do it with joy even when challenged by time, setting, and desire. If I know why I believe, I can persist in that belief in times of challenge, confusion, and isolation.
An overused but valid metaphor is that faith is like a marathon. As a marathoner this comparison takes on a deeper meaning, and has actually helped me understand a bit more of why faith is unique and important. It also has deepened my appreciation for the individual yet collective nature of faith. Let me explain. I have run twenty 26.2 mile races so far , and each one has been a unique experience. Each mile was over different terrain, each water stop was operated by a different crowd, each finisher’s medal was colorfully created. Yet in spite of these singular events, so uniquely emblazoned in my memory, there was a confluence of commonality that existed in each race. Each one was precisely the same distance, each one was prefaced by a runner’s expo highlighting the myriad of services and products available to runners, and each was run by hundreds if not thousands of like minded souls with a story unto themselves as to why they were there. Likewise, faith is a singularly experienced phenomenon, special to each one who professes such, but bathed in a sea of common experiences and understandings. What is miraculous about one’s faith is that it can exist and flourish along its own path yet still be true to greater universal truths. This is illustrated by the various machinations surrounding baptism. The overarching truth is that baptism is a ritual that symbolizes cleansing from sin yet it can be experienced along a spectrum of sprinkling to lake immersion. This is characteristic of so many of our faith based rituals. We must always remember to not miss the music for the notes.
Like a marathon, faith takes endurance and time. Faith matures with knowledge, experience, study, and application and in a marathon you survive by practice, education, drive, and persistence. There is a point in every marathon, the proverbial wall, where physical and mental boundaries have to be breached. Many a competitor has been reduced to a mere shuffle or walk by the exhaustion of glycogen that can rob your muscles of energy. Likewise, inevitably in every persons faith walk they hit a time or event that challenges even the most well trained and weathered believer. In the race you have to prepare for this inevitability and devise a plan to overcome it or you will be reduced to a mental and physical wasteland that is daunting to cross over. In our faith walk, we must prepare for the “dark night of the soul” that is inevitable in our fallen world. We must also prepare for this by seeing how those around us and in history have negotiated such faith challenging times. Just as I rely on the teachings and experience of runners from long ago, so scripture and tradition serves as a template for navigating the Siren filled waters of spiritual confusion.
If I was a missionary to China, I would greatly increase both my effectiveness and enjoyment by learning to speak Chinese. Learning the jargon, speaking the language facilitates understanding and effective communication, so using analogies and metaphors, like running, helps me frame my understanding of faith. Jesus understood that saying something outright is not often the most effective tool for teaching. We must also acknowledge that our language capabilities sometimes pale to adequately describe or convey the meaning of a feeling, place, or event. Jesus was forever describing the kingdom of heaven “as” or “like” something we could understand and find meaning in. I find meaning in running, so I embrace the metaphors as a way of deepening my understanding of my faith. You may find purpose in quilting, ( or any of a thousand things) so I would encourage you to meditate on ways of relating what juices you to your religious beliefs. We learn by comparisons and there is no better comparison than something that holds meaning.
