I am not your old man, but if I were I would tell you I struggle with God. I know it is an ominous phrase. I remember in my twenties directing the play JB by Archibald MacLeish. It is a theatrical interpretation of the story of Job from the Bible. The battle between God and the Devil over the soul of Job; will he break under the torture laid upon him by God. Will he deny God and the Devil wins. I don’t believe my struggle with the deity reaches such a level, but my experience should provide provisional permission to others to question faith.
I know all the typical arguments. I have many friends I love who are firm, faith set Christians, one even a Jews for Jesus conversion who rale at me about the marvel of Christ and all their faith has done for them. As a boy I sang in churches all over, so I have experienced the magic of faith in many of its derivations. I am always struck to ask “When you talk about Christ or God do you mean the Catholic one, the Protestant middle American variety, the Joel Osteen version or the one so long preached of by Billy Graham. Maybe you mean the version raised up at the Ebeneezer AME Church in my hometown. I loved going there for services. The God they prayed to was all for singing, and yelling, and dancing in the aisles, and raising hands in attestation. On the other hand, I grew up in a Congregational Church, which was the epitome of demure, even the church was un-decorated and plain.
My struggle is with God. Why this one. There are so many possibilities. That I was born in the USA, the Eurocentric capitol of Christianity, makes me wonder if I had been born in Japan would I be Shinto and dismissive of all things other than Shinto. Would I happily set out gifts for my ancestors before the shrine in my home believing any faith in its infancy was not worthy of consideration. Were I Arabic would I gladly read the Koran at prayer and wonder at the pagans of America and their inability to realize while Jesus was an interesting prophet, his weren’t the only words of wisdom to consider. What if I had been Chinese, would Mao or Buddha fill the increasing needs of my soul.
Every one of these and so many more talk about being the one true faith, but can we really dismiss the faiths adhered to by millions whose beliefs reside elsewhere. What of those who say they have no faith, no God to hold them accountable in the world. Those who believe in the basic goodness of man or, at minimum, believe man is always striving to improve in our relationships with one another and the planet we inhabit. Doesn’t such a notion fit better inside the optimism of my soul, well not soul maybe my psyche. Or should I attach my faith to Jung or Freud or Aristotle or Socrates; those that believe in the truth of the mind and the heart.
I wrestle with the idea of an all powerful and benevolent deity because I can’t help asking how such an all powerful being allowed thousands of years of slavery and oppression. How such benevolence could ignore the ravages of smallpox, or the starving of millions, or the lack of water, or the absurdity of a human race hell bent on ravaging our home, so its future is more uncertain by the day. Where is the wisdom in such foolishness. I know the argument – God allows free will so we can make decisions that will bring us closer or further from his doorstep. But we mere mortals intervene when one of us strays off the acceptable path, where is his intervention – Noah? That was pretty fucking long ago. I don’t think we hold that lesson very close anymore.
I was in a recent argument with my Jews for Jesus’ friend about the difference between fact and faith. He holds up Christ as a fact, I argue it is always an act of faith. I will occasionally return home after tennis or a long walk with the dog and I am a bit rank, to say the least. I go to hug my wife and she suggests I take a shower. I say, “If you really loved me you would hug me anyway.”
“It is always a test with you” she would say.
“Yes!”
It is always a test. Everything is always a test of our faith, our moral compass, our tastebuds, our commitment, our intellect. Even questioning our faith is a test whatever the final conclusion, or maybe there is no conclusion just continued exploration. So today, like most days, I have a battle with god. I hope he, she, it, they, them, him, her, all appreciate my endless tussle. I believe it is my act of faith to always ask the question.