No Sure Thing

Do not answer a fool according to his folly,
    or you yourself will be just like him.

Answer a fool according to his folly,
    or he will be wise in his own eyes.

Proverbs 26:4-5

Father Roland Murphy would call on my seminary classmates at random at the beginning of each Intro to Old Testament class and ask for a reading.  He laughed at the choice of the passage above and proceeded to warn us to not take verses out of context.  After all, both sentiments are true, even if they seem to contradict each other.  “You need to understand the whole story,” he’d say, as a warning lest we go off on some tangent.

This is a cautionary tale in our search for some objective authority, some absolute foundation upon which to erect our ethics and decision-making.  Everybody seems to want a “sure thing,” like the gambling detective, Nick Yemana, in TV’s “Barney Miller,” but uncertainty seems to be endemic to the cosmos.   We may find ourselves to be fools if we claim certainty in the physical or the metaphysical universe.  In a recent book, “In Praise of Doubt,” the author begins, “You’re not as certain as you think you are.”  

Often the Bible is used as a blunt hammer to get one’s point across, preceded by the words, “The scriptures are clear . . .,” when the truth is actually less certain.  David Wilcox sings of a man who wields the scriptures, like a dagger doing damage.  Meanwhile, in Hebrews 4:12, we find a two-edged sword to describe the more positive way that scripture may be used to discern the “thoughts and intents of the heart.”  Arguments are often fought on two sides of the same coin and we can often find both sides in our canonical scriptures.

In the 1800’s scripture was used to justify the institution of slavery as proponents pointed to Genesis 9:18-27 (the cursing of Canaan) and Ephesians 6:5-7 (“Slaves, obey your earthly masters”).  On the other hand, Paul makes the argument that “There is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free . . . we are one in Christ Jesus” - a theological building block which essentially eliminates not only the institution of slavery but also any partiality between human beings (Galatians 3:28).

The Ezra-Nehemiah cycle of scriptures denounces any Hebrews who have married “foreigners,” thus tainting the purity of Hebrew ethnicity.  Yet the prophet Jeremiah gives specific instruction to the exilic community (29:6) to do exactly what will later infuriate Ezra and Nehemiah (“Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters.”).  The theological emphasis in a particular portion of scripture is often very specific to the historical setting.  What seems necessary in one setting is contradicted in another.  Context.  Context.  Context.

Scripture describes a (G)od who seems bloodthirsty.  In just one of an incredible number of Old Testament examples, the armies of Israel completely annihilate King Sihon of Heshbon and his people.  As we are told in Deuteronomy 2:34, “We left no survivors.”  And just to be clear that this is done under (G)od’s authority we are hear (2:36), “The Lord our God gave us all of them.”

Yet we find Jesus, who Christians claim is the Incarnation of God, telling us to love our enemies, to turn the other cheek, and warning us that if we live by the sword we will die by the sword.  Jesus seems to take seriously the commandment, “Thou shalt not kill.”  But what are we to make of the numerous references to a (G)od who is all too happy to see blood shed.  Even the New Testament occasionally glorifies violence as Revelation 21:8 damns a list of folks (including “cowards”) into “the fiery lake of burning sulfur.”

Again, context, if not everything, is nevertheless essential to our understanding of how to weigh the scriptures.  And critical interpretation must be claimed afresh in each generation to take advantage of continuing scholarship, including an openness to the movement of God’s Spirit. My mother’s advice to me written as a dedication in the first Bible she gave me includes this passage from 2 Timothy 2:15, “Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved by him, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly explaining the word of truth.”  Interpretation of scripture is a task to be done not with bold bravado but with humility.

Of course, all of us need some authority in our lives.  There is within us a need for a compass to direct our paths.  As they say, if we don’t stand for something we’ll fall for anything.  In uncertain times we long for certainty and are uncomfortable with ambiguity.  There are considerable numbers of religious people who are distressed by uncertainty.  Unfortunately, this discomfort often leads to an uncritical acceptance of distorted and abusive authority.  Such authority is a contradiction to the gospel of grace which is central to the Bible.

Still, gray areas make us anxious.  But part of growing up from childhood to maturity is the recognition that life is nuanced.  There are few clearcut answers.  The good is sometimes tainted.  The dark cloud often contains a silver lining.  Things are not always as they appear.  There is mystery in the journey and we will do well to embrace the unknown and unknowable with wonder rather than with certitude.   

In my own search for an authority in my life I have been compelled by the person of Jesus of Nazareth.  So often, when his questioners looked to him for definitive answers, he told stories which allowed his listeners to draw their own conclusions.  This rabbinical approach frustrated his hearers then, and perplexes his hearers now, but provides us with a way of navigating our own search for authority.  Jesus exemplifies a state of wonder which accepts the reality of a nuanced world.  So, to follow his example is to be comfortable with a considerable amount of ambiguity.  

In Andrew Greeley’s novels featuring amateur detective and full-time priest Blackie Ryan, Father Blackie frustratedly admits uncertainty about much Roman Catholic dogma, but then says, “. . . but what I do believe, I believe with all my heart.”  That’s a good place to begin in our search for absolute authority.  Indeed, that may be a good place to end as well.