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The Rev’d. Deacon Polly Bowen, St. Matthias, East Aurora
The Hebrew word for faith is “aman,” and in its various forms it
signifies the acceptance of something as trustworthy, firm,
dependable. According to the writers of the Church Teaching Series,
faith implies a deliberate and positive existential involvement; it
precedes belief, which is an intellectual expression of faith. This
echoes the Aquinian definition as “the act of the intellect when it
assents to divine truth under the influence of the will moved by God
through grace.”
But Aquinas is ponderous, and the writers of the Church Teaching Series
can be challenging as well. So if you’ve bothered to read this far, let
me say that in a simpler way: the difference between faith and belief
is that faith is eternal, while beliefs are relative to our history and
therefore bound to time and space.
For the Biblical Literalist, however, faith and belief have a more convoluted pattern; faith depends largely on acceptance of a literal inerrancy of scripture. If the Bible states that Peter leaped from the boat and walked on the water, then it must be exactly so, and the glorious truth of God’s loving concern for us may get lost in the waves. If it says that Jesus fed multitudes from oe boy’s lunch pail it must be believed without regard to the delightful possibilities of teaching people to share with one another at a time when provision was approached legalistically rather than lovingly, much less the deeper message that God provides manna in many forms and through many sources. (The conclusion to be drawn here is NOT that the writer does not believe in miracles. Quite the contrary, I believe in miracles seen and unseen, tangible and in tangible – far beyond those given in the written accounts.)
The non-literalist Christian sees things another way, and sees this other way as being entirely compatible with the truth of the Holy Scripture. To these people, the equation of truth with precision limits truth to scientific approach, and is therefore seen as limiting God. God simply will not be confined to the pages of a book, however inspired that book may be, any more than he will submit to a test tube existence. He bursts out and spills over a multitude of other approaches, he dances in the music and soars in the wind, he is art and literature, technology, philosophy and imagination. He is a sparrow’s song ad a baby’s cry, the roar of thunder and the still, small voice. He is an old man’s memory and a little child’s dream, and both embrace the hope he promises to fulfill.
In short, we can be certain of only one thing: That God can and does reveal himself to his creation. He revealed himself at Moriah and Sinai, at Horeb and Carmel, at the Mount of the Transfiguration and finally, tragically, at the Hill called Golgotha. And although by common agreement the canon of scripture is closed, his revelation continues, for it cannot be limited to these accounts. The Spirit blows where she will, and fresh winds stir the pages of scripture and the pages of history.
And in the end, we can search the scriptures for answers and we will find none. We will find only questions, for the answers are in us, as God reveals himself in the hearts of those who search for him.
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