In an earlier post, I described how the Apostle Thomas - Thomas the Doubter - is one of my heroes because his relationship with the divine was the most human, and therefore the most honest. Arising from this comes an inevitable question: what position, if any, do I have on the question of doubt and its place in faith?
To an extent, we live in a state of perpetual uncertainty. The future is always unknown, and we have no means of predicting whether our hopes will be achieved or our fears realised. Likewise, awareness of our mortality always means the question of what happens beyond death lurks near at hand. Life at times seems arbitrary and capricious, the captive of random chance and an unforeseeable circumstance.
But there are times when this daily existential uncertainty sharpens into something stronger, when it causes us to question the point of existence or the basis of faith. These occasions may be precipitated by personal tragedy, or simply by witnessing the terrible sadness of existence as it plays out in daily life. Either way, they often shake the foundations of our being, and with that being, our faith.
The frequent response has been that we must cling to faith, to regard it as the rock upon which we scramble out of the sea of our troubles, or the shield from which we find shelter against the vicissitudes of fortune. Indeed, faith is often seen as that which carries us through our trials and torments, and that we inevitably and ultimately triumph over adversity by and because of the quality of our faith.
In other words, faith is a quality, a virtue; whereas doubt is a weakness, a flaw that corrodes faith and undermines our capacity to deal with life’s uncertainties. In this context, faith and doubt are mutually exclusive, they exist in a state of continuous repulsion, much like magnets which are similarly polarised.
But I have a different view, a view that utilises the Eastern Orthodox notion of the Holy Spirit existing in perichorsis, or a “dance around”. In the same way that, in the Orthodox Church, the Persons of the Trinity are in a mutual and continuous relation, so I also believe that faith and doubt exist in a similar “dance“.
To explain, I believe that faith and doubt exist in a necessary tension, a balanced and ongoing relation in which each complements the other, while also cancelling one another’s negative effects. Thus, they are not similarly polarised magnets that repel one another, they are like a binary star system, distinct and yet bound by their mutual gravity. Faith and doubt hold one another at arm’s distance, yet are enclosed in a perpetual embrace. Without one, the other is diminished; without the other, the one is insufficient.
In other words, without faith, doubt degenerates into cynicism and despair; and without doubt, faith warps into fundamentalism and bigotry. Doubt grounds faith, and faith transcends doubt.
To an extent, we live in a state of perpetual uncertainty. The future is always unknown, and we have no means of predicting whether our hopes will be achieved or our fears realised. Likewise, awareness of our mortality always means the question of what happens beyond death lurks near at hand. Life at times seems arbitrary and capricious, the captive of random chance and an unforeseeable circumstance.
But there are times when this daily existential uncertainty sharpens into something stronger, when it causes us to question the point of existence or the basis of faith. These occasions may be precipitated by personal tragedy, or simply by witnessing the terrible sadness of existence as it plays out in daily life. Either way, they often shake the foundations of our being, and with that being, our faith.
The frequent response has been that we must cling to faith, to regard it as the rock upon which we scramble out of the sea of our troubles, or the shield from which we find shelter against the vicissitudes of fortune. Indeed, faith is often seen as that which carries us through our trials and torments, and that we inevitably and ultimately triumph over adversity by and because of the quality of our faith.
In other words, faith is a quality, a virtue; whereas doubt is a weakness, a flaw that corrodes faith and undermines our capacity to deal with life’s uncertainties. In this context, faith and doubt are mutually exclusive, they exist in a state of continuous repulsion, much like magnets which are similarly polarised.
But I have a different view, a view that utilises the Eastern Orthodox notion of the Holy Spirit existing in perichorsis, or a “dance around”. In the same way that, in the Orthodox Church, the Persons of the Trinity are in a mutual and continuous relation, so I also believe that faith and doubt exist in a similar “dance“.
To explain, I believe that faith and doubt exist in a necessary tension, a balanced and ongoing relation in which each complements the other, while also cancelling one another’s negative effects. Thus, they are not similarly polarised magnets that repel one another, they are like a binary star system, distinct and yet bound by their mutual gravity. Faith and doubt hold one another at arm’s distance, yet are enclosed in a perpetual embrace. Without one, the other is diminished; without the other, the one is insufficient.
In other words, without faith, doubt degenerates into cynicism and despair; and without doubt, faith warps into fundamentalism and bigotry. Doubt grounds faith, and faith transcends doubt.
However, the mutuality of this relationship points to its true worth: that in doubt, the expression of our human brokenness and inadequacy before and without God, lies the seed for developing a mature faith. By mature faith, I mean that faith which not only lives with doubt and uncertainty, tolerating them as necessary aspects of being; rather, faith which embraces doubt, which understands that doubt is not a weakness, but rather a potential for enlightenment.
Beyond this, however, the mutuality of this necessary tension also points to something beyond the simple relationship between faith and doubt. In the overlapping yet distinct relation between the two, a third space is created; a space which represents the active operation of both. A space in which faith and doubt have ceased to be separate features and have merged to form a new wholeness. A space in which humanity lives, a space that is the essence of a living faith.
And I call this space: hope.
Beyond this, however, the mutuality of this necessary tension also points to something beyond the simple relationship between faith and doubt. In the overlapping yet distinct relation between the two, a third space is created; a space which represents the active operation of both. A space in which faith and doubt have ceased to be separate features and have merged to form a new wholeness. A space in which humanity lives, a space that is the essence of a living faith.
And I call this space: hope.
Talk to you soon,
BB
Quote for the Day: Not being able to control events I control myself; if they will not adapt to me, then I will adapt to them. (Michel de Montaigne)
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