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May 

Walter Brueggemann, a well-known Old Testament scholar, has published a book of stunningly powerful and beautiful prayers.  In one, an Easter prayer, he speaks of what he terms “powers of death” -- powers that drive us from God, from our neighbors, from our best selves; powers that take the life from us, kill community, kill hope.  Among such powers, he includes fear, greed, anxiety, brutality.  He adds one more, however, one that you might not expect to be included, this one: certitude.

But why?  Why would he list certitude as a power of death, a power that kills, a power that drives us from God and others and our best selves?

Chances are, we think of certitude -- the absence of all doubt and questioning -- as something good, something we should seek as believers.  We even might equate certitude with faith, seeing faith as having absolute certainty.  In this uncertain, confusing and chaotic world, you would think certitude a most welcome thing to possess, something that most would dearly love to have.

So what’s the problem with certitude -- in particular, religious certitude?  The problem is that religious certitude declares, “I know God.  I know God’s will.  I know what Jesus would do.  I am right; all who disagree with me are wrong.  I have the answers; they do not.”  And for someone to declare that is to declare that he is closed to the possibility of any newness God might work, closed to listening to or learning from others who hold different views, closed even to the Spirit bringing new visions and creating new beliefs.  Moreover, such certitude must be constantly defended -- any threat must be attacked, defeated, even destroyed.  Certitude can only engage in diatribe, never dialogue, and the only community in which it can exist is a community in which all agree.  Certitude, by necessity, leads to judgment, exclusion, self-righteousness.  By its very nature, certitude shuts us off from God, others, and the selves God calls us to be.

Certitude is, in fact, the exact opposite of the Biblical understanding of faith.  Faith is to trust God more than we trust our beliefs about God.  Faith is openness to what is possible for God, not simply what we deem possible.  Faith is looking for the new thing God can work and letting go of our old understandings of God.  Faith listens for God, rather than simply demanding that God listen to us.  Faith is using doubts and questions to seek deeper understanding, rather than suppressing all doubts and questions to protect cherished beliefs.

And this is why story after story in the Bible tells of God demolishing certitude -- to create space for faith.  The Israelites in exile thought they knew what God could and could not do, only to have Isaiah demolish their certitude so that they could see the utterly new thing God was about to work through Cyrus of Persia.  The Pharisees thought they knew what the Messiah would look like, act like, be like, only to have the resurrection shatter their certitude.  And Simon Peter thought he knew what God considered clean and unclean, who was acceptable to God and who was not, only to have his certitude devastated by a vision of God welcoming all who sought God.  And down through the centuries, every time the church figured it had God nailed down, God turned the tables on it and worked a whole new way of seeing things.  That’s the problem with certitude: it allows no space for faith.

And that is why it is a power of death.  Because it drives us from the God of all creation, replaces God with little gods of our own making; because it drives us from the neighbor in its need to attack, exclude, destroy; because it drives us from our best selves, our most kind and generous and gracious selves, as it chokes off compassion with self-righteousness, suffocates love with oppressive beliefs, strangles hope with constricting creeds.  Certitude is a deadly thing.

Now if you’re wondering where I’m going with all of this, well, think about our world today.  Religious certitude -- whether it be Christian, Jewish or Muslim -- seems to be at the heart of so many of our problems.  Instead of calling for healing, reconciliation, coming together as all God’s creatures, major public religious figures incite an increase in fear, divisiveness, hostility.  Instead of offering a vision of a new kind of world, a vision of hope and peace, a vision of the lion and the lamb lying down together, they offer only the nightmare of more violence and death.  Instead of pointing to the newness and life God can work, they point us to the same old world we have worked again and again.  Their certitude makes it impossible for them to do anything other than attack those who disagree.  They are closed to the possibility and power of life that is God.

So what’s needed?  Oh, how about more faith and a lot less certitude.  And a healthy dose of humility -- the humility that confesses that we don’t know God as well as we think we do.  And some strong doubting and questioning of anyone who claims to have God nailed down.  And new beliefs.  New understanding.  A lot more space for God in our hearts and minds and beliefs.

May that be our prayer not only during the Easter season but each and every day.

 

God be with you,

Jeff

 

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