In any case, here at med school, we've been doing a unit on spiritual diversity--specifically, how do we respect the beliefs of others as we pursue medical care consistent with their wishes?
I've been thinking all morning about the our fearfulness of upsetting others by approaching the topic of faith. And I agree that part of the motivation for the whole "tolerance" movement is helpful: how easy it is to avoid "those people" unlike ourselves! How quick we are to condemn others! How often that old spirit of fear and disdain returns! We must never underestimate our own sinfulness and pride, and the ease with which we judge others as bad, so we can esteem ourselves highly.
But what happens if we esteem ourselves lowly first? What happens if we approach one another out of humility, out of our own brokenness? Confession, of course, must precede grace.
But while the emphatic calls to tolerance can remind us of our own sinfulness and need for Christ, these same calls for tolerance, intended to uphold all faiths, paradoxically do the opposite. They denigrate each and every position one may hold, whether he is a Christian, Muslim, or Atheist.
The conventional view of "tolerance" depends on a central conceit: that one's faith is a purely personal choice. So you want to be a Salafist Muslim? Very well. Or perhaps convert to Reformed Judaism? Of course. Or maybe you are attracted to Pure Land Buddhism. Fine and good. Or maybe you would prefer Agnosticism. Excellent. These are your personal choices, and it would be a gross violation for me to impose upon you.
Yet this seemingly good-natured amicability banishes belief, thought, and reason. By understanding faith (or non-faith) as a purely personal choice for fear of causing trouble and contention, well-intentioned people shut it up into a box---impenetrable to reason and discussion. Much like the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey, faith is not something explicable, expressible, or coherent, it simply is. Instead of being something someone agrees with or concedes is true, it becomes a subrational and existential choice. Logic and reason have no meaning for one's belief system.
But when a belief system is divorced from truth, so, too, is any possibility of meaning torn away. It only makes sense to believe in a heaven if it is true. It only makes sense to believe love is right if it is true. It only makes sense to hope amidst our darkness moment if who or what we hope for is true. Anything less is only self-deception, words that soothe only be repetition, but not by veracity.
When someone professing tolerance proclaims "fine and good!" to everyone, he must understand that this superficially accommodating gesture is a slap in the face to any sincere believer or unbeliever. For what he says is:
"So you wanna be a Salafist Muslim, or a Reformed Jew, or a Pure Land Buddhist? Fine, what you choose doesn't really matter. The only important thing is that it matters to you."
But anyone--everyone--deserves more than smiling indifference. Anyone who is sincere about their position must respond in protest. The Muslim must say, "Yes, when I go on the hajj, it matters to me, but the reason I do this is because it matters more than just to me!"
The Buddhist must say, "These are not things we choose just because. They are not things we picked out of a hat. We understand you are concerned with offending us and appreciate that, but we did not choose our beliefs because they are small enough to fit inside our own heads. We chose them for the opposite reason: because they are bigger than us, because truth is bigger than something we can just make up."
The Jew must say, "We chose them because we believe they are big faiths, and any faith big enough to be right is also big enough to be wrong. So please don't treat us like children. Treat us like adults--yes, with the respect that is often lost in heated debate--but with the respect that our belief is not something arbitrary."
Yes, often respect is lost because of our pride and sinfulness. That much we should always be aware of. But what is lost when we say all faiths are equal? Something far greater.
While I am on the topic of discussions of faith, I'd like to speak a bit about some glaring differences in faith systems I've seen. Just this Easter morning, I was listening to the radio on the way back from church, and they were interviewing a musician, and what he thought of spirituality. He said that when he plays, he feels such a oneness, a connectedness to all things---to everything. Words to that effect. I am not saying that is wrong in and of itself, but do these vague "Good Vibrations" have the power to save?
Similarly, in some of our readings for class today, I read this:
I have had a very interesting patient for whom bike riding was spiritual. She belongs to a community that travels all over the world and on bike treks. She said, "I feel at one when I'm biking, especially since it has such a connection with nature, too" When she injured herself, we did a spiritual history in which I asked: "Have you ever thought about there might come a time when you're older and you can't bike the same way? What would give your life meaning then?"
The next year, she came back and said: "I thought about your question, and I took up jewelry making, and I love it. I work with my hands now, and I can make jewelry for others. It's a creative outlet and gives me a lot of meaning." She always laughs because, as she said, " I know now you're going to say what if I get arthritis in my hands?" But I think what she learned in that process was that she could continue to look for meaning and purpose in her life; it's not static. What a profound lesson to learn.
Excerpted from: Lewis, Sheldon. "A Journey Through Spirituality and Health." Alternative and Complementary Therapies. June 2007.
To her newly-found enjoyable hobby, I wish her the best, but we must ask the question, does it have the power to save, or merely amuse? One of my most trusted mentors in the faith works as a jeweler, but if you'd ask him, I don't think he'd say his hours at the Diamond Cellar are what made his life significant. "She could continue to look for meaning and purpose in her life"? With tremendous questions unanswered by jewelry making, I think she probably will continue to look.
Some--in fact, probably all of us, to varying degrees--are quite good at avoiding the root questions that bring us to bow before Christ. What do we do with our own brokenness? It is easy to deny, or feel-good your way out of them, but they still remain. And when the questions can be avoided no longer, mealy-mouthed sentimentality does us no good. Watch this clip from a recent ER:
