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Kathleen Norris in her book "Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith," tells the story of a seminary student and an Orthodox Priest at Yale Divinity School. It is a story that has been widely quoted because it so perfectly captures the contemporary suspicion of creeds. The priest had come as a guest speaker to lecture on the history of the creeds in the Christian tradition. In a time for questions after the lecture, a student asked, "What can one do when one finds it impossible to affirm certain tenets of the Creed?" The priest answered by saying, "Well, you just say it. With a little practice and effort, most can learn it by heart."
The student apparently felt misunderstood and so asked a follow-up question: "What am I to do if I find I cannot affirm parts of the Creed, like the virgin birth?" The answer was the same, "You just stand with the congregation and say it. You keep saying it. Eventually it will come to you with practice and time." Once more the student, this time in a raised voice, said "How can I say a creed that I do not believe?" Then the priest said, "It is not your creed, it is our creed. It may come to you, in time. For some, it takes longer than for others."
The frustrated student was voicing an assumption that many in the church have -- that ancient creeds are subject to individual scrutiny. If one agrees with them, fine. If one does not, then the creeds may be, perhaps even must be, discarded. The Orthodox theologian was operating with an entirely different assumption -- that the ancient creeds are the treasurers of the whole church that shape and form us slowly over time. We place ourselves under their tutelage in trust and confidence, because they have been the patient teachers of countless believers who have gone before us.
When Great Island Presbyterian stands as it does for baptism and to elect officers and at communion, and when we recite the Apostles Creed, we, too, are in the procession of believers who stand and confess in one voice what we believe. Kathleen Norris's story is illuminating because we can place our own attitudes toward the ancient creeds with either the student or the priest -- or perhaps we find sympathy for both.
We find sympathy for the student in the story, because, deep in our bones, we are children of the Enlightenment. We have all grown up assuming that we are the arbiters of our own destiny, that each of us individually decides what to buy, who to marry, what our political convictions are and what we believe. Yet we sympathize with the priest in the story because, deep in our hearts, we are lonely and anxious. The choices we have made on our own and for ourselves have often been bad for us and those we love. We have discovered that the ideal of the 'lone individual' of our culture is frequently isolating and dividing.
On one hand, we resist the notion of standing together with the generations of believers who come before us and confess with them -- we want to choose!
On the other hand, we long to join our voice with the great chorus of voices proclaiming a common faith -- we want to belong! So, how can our attitude toward the church's creeds be most helpful?
If we recognize the creeds as fellow workers in the common task of serving God, we will be able to study them and puzzle through them, yet consider them to be trusted guides and teachers. Once we have listened well, we will have the freedom and confidence to bring our question to them (and to your Pastor). Rainer Maria Rilke once advised a young poet, "I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient towards all that is unsolved in your heart, and try to love the questions themselves." In the same way, hasty conclusions about the deep mysteries of the faith can short-circuit opportunities for growth. Perhaps the Orthodox priest was on to something: "Well, you just say it. With a little practice and effort, most can learn it by heart."
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Finding Faith is written by area pastors. This week's column comes from Pastor Taylor Camerer of Great Island Presbyterian Church, Lock Haven.