Why does tragedy have to strike the best of us ? He thought of Natalie.
“We all shall die. That is God’s design for us.”
He forced a smile, and said, “We shall all die, yes, but I’m not sure God has anything to do with that.”
What he didn’t add was that a God who would allow good people to suffer was either not as omnipotent as was claimed, or was cruel and capricious. Or more likely , he thought, doesn’t exist at all. Nothing more than a created image of the human subconscious, a projected desire for a father figure, as Freud argued . But he wasn’t there to challenge this woman’s deep faith. Instead, he wanted to understand it. He glanced to the metal arm that held the solenoids that would soon be positioned near Terri’s head. A God , he thought, created by electrical impulses firing in the temporal lobes of the brain . Then her warm hand alighted on his arm.
“What do you believe in, Ethan?”
He felt his neck redden. He was a medical doctor, a Yale professor, but the question caught him off guard. He was the one who was supposed to be asking the questions, not his patients or his research subjects. But Sister Terri was different. He sensed that Elijah was waiting for his answer as eagerly as she was.
What do I believe?
“I believe in the scientific method.”
“So you place your faith in science?”
“Faith? I’m not sure that faith has anything to do with science. I believe in what I can measure and verify: in experimentation and objective observation.”
“Yes, a popular misconception of faith.” She turned her penetrating gaze from Ethan to Elijah. They shared a look he interpreted as meaning they understood something he didn’t.
She continued, “Faith does not ask us to turn off our minds or our powers of perception. Faith is not the belief in the impossible. God gave us our powers of reason, and so we should use them.”
He cocked his head. “Then what is faith, if not belief in the absence of proof, or worse, belief in the face of disproof?”
His mind scrolled through the scientific problems of religious faith: the creation stories, the descriptions of the cosmos as comprised of realms of heaven and hells populated by divine and semi-divine beings, the miracles attributed to divine powers—all things impossible according to the theories and evidence provided by modern science, an understanding absent in the cultures from which these religious myths developed.
“What if we defined faith as trust rather than as belief?”
“I trust what I can measure, what I can see.”
“As do I, which is why we are here today. Isn’t it? You are interested in measuring something special that I can see.”
“Even scientists like us,” Elijah added, “need faith. We trust those scientists who came before us; we have faith in their theories and the results of their experiments.”
“But religion is different.” Ethan turned. “If I disagree with a previous theory, then I’m free to perform new experiments and either validate or invalidate those theories. As scientists, we can break new ground.”
Sister Terri smiled broadly. “My experience is the same. I don’t read scripture as either a history or a science text. Instead, I trust in the lives of those before me who had revelatory experiences of the divine. But I understand that these people lived two and three millennia ago in a different age with a different understanding of the mechanics of the world. I use their experiences as the starting point for my own spiritual practice. I seek my own revelation of God.”
“Which brings us to the Logos!” Elijah jumped up from his stool.
“It does,” Terri said, “but remember that the mind isn’t the only way we perceive. We understand through the heart too.” She touched her chest.
“The heart?” Ethan asked.
“Through love.”
Love? He tried not to grimace. How does one measure love? Love was ephemeral, changing, impermanent. Intellectual truths were lasting.
“We all shall die. That is God’s design for us.”
He forced a smile, and said, “We shall all die, yes, but I’m not sure God has anything to do with that.”
What he didn’t add was that a God who would allow good people to suffer was either not as omnipotent as was claimed, or was cruel and capricious. Or more likely , he thought, doesn’t exist at all. Nothing more than a created image of the human subconscious, a projected desire for a father figure, as Freud argued . But he wasn’t there to challenge this woman’s deep faith. Instead, he wanted to understand it. He glanced to the metal arm that held the solenoids that would soon be positioned near Terri’s head. A God , he thought, created by electrical impulses firing in the temporal lobes of the brain . Then her warm hand alighted on his arm.
“What do you believe in, Ethan?”
He felt his neck redden. He was a medical doctor, a Yale professor, but the question caught him off guard. He was the one who was supposed to be asking the questions, not his patients or his research subjects. But Sister Terri was different. He sensed that Elijah was waiting for his answer as eagerly as she was.
What do I believe?
“I believe in the scientific method.”
“So you place your faith in science?”
“Faith? I’m not sure that faith has anything to do with science. I believe in what I can measure and verify: in experimentation and objective observation.”
“Yes, a popular misconception of faith.” She turned her penetrating gaze from Ethan to Elijah. They shared a look he interpreted as meaning they understood something he didn’t.
She continued, “Faith does not ask us to turn off our minds or our powers of perception. Faith is not the belief in the impossible. God gave us our powers of reason, and so we should use them.”
He cocked his head. “Then what is faith, if not belief in the absence of proof, or worse, belief in the face of disproof?”
His mind scrolled through the scientific problems of religious faith: the creation stories, the descriptions of the cosmos as comprised of realms of heaven and hells populated by divine and semi-divine beings, the miracles attributed to divine powers—all things impossible according to the theories and evidence provided by modern science, an understanding absent in the cultures from which these religious myths developed.
“What if we defined faith as trust rather than as belief?”
“I trust what I can measure, what I can see.”
“As do I, which is why we are here today. Isn’t it? You are interested in measuring something special that I can see.”
“Even scientists like us,” Elijah added, “need faith. We trust those scientists who came before us; we have faith in their theories and the results of their experiments.”
“But religion is different.” Ethan turned. “If I disagree with a previous theory, then I’m free to perform new experiments and either validate or invalidate those theories. As scientists, we can break new ground.”
Sister Terri smiled broadly. “My experience is the same. I don’t read scripture as either a history or a science text. Instead, I trust in the lives of those before me who had revelatory experiences of the divine. But I understand that these people lived two and three millennia ago in a different age with a different understanding of the mechanics of the world. I use their experiences as the starting point for my own spiritual practice. I seek my own revelation of God.”
“Which brings us to the Logos!” Elijah jumped up from his stool.
“It does,” Terri said, “but remember that the mind isn’t the only way we perceive. We understand through the heart too.” She touched her chest.
“The heart?” Ethan asked.
“Through love.”
Love? He tried not to grimace. How does one measure love? Love was ephemeral, changing, impermanent. Intellectual truths were lasting.
Similar Books
