Pagan weaselishness
I came to church as a pagan this year, though wearing a Christian
suit and white shirt, and sat in a rear pew. There I was, a skeptic in the henhouse, thinking
weaselish thoughts.
This often happens around Easter. God,
in His humorous way, sometimes schedules high holy days for a time when
your faith is at low tide, a mud flat strewn with newspapers and
children's beach toys, and while everyone else is all joyful and shiny
among the lilies and praising up a storm, there you are, snarfling and
grumbling. Which happened to me this year. God knows all about it so I
may as well tell you.
Holy Week is a good time to face up to the question: Do we really
believe in that story or do we just like to hang out with nice people
and listen to organ music? There are advantages, after all, to being in
the neighborhood of people who love their neighbors. If your car won't
start on a cold morning, you've got friends.
I don't doubt God's existence -- there He is -- but I doubt His
interest in us right now and I haven't the faintest idea what He wants
from me.
There is comfort for the doubter in the Passion story. You are not
alone. Jesus' cry from the cross was a cry of incredulity. The apostle
denied even knowing Jesus three times. The guy spent years with Jesus,
saw the miracles up close, the raising of Lazarus, the demons cast out,
the sick healed, the water-walking trick, all of the special effects,
but when the cards were down, he said, "Who? Me? No way."
He repented. I would too, but not quite yet.
Skepticism is a stimulant, not to be repressed. It is an antidote to
smugness and the great glow of satisfaction one gains from being right.
You know the self-righteous -- I've been one myself -- the little extra
topspin they put on the truth, their ostentatious modesty, the pleasure
they take in being beautifully modulated and cool and correct when
others are falling apart. Jesus was rougher on those people than He was
on the adulterers and prostitutes.
So I will sit in the doubter's chair for a while and see what is to be learned back there.
(I wish that I'm witty enough to write this. I am not. But Garrison Keillor is. I am with him, so i posted it. The original aritcle is here)
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