We Discover Our Beliefs

Of late I have been struggling with the notion of “faith orientations,” which I have described as things we discover—if we are willing—within ourselves.  At the outset, I probably should clarify the phrase “faith orientations.”  We believe many things at once, and we disbelieve many things at once, and we can have within ourselves veritable stew-pots of ideas—some cohering, some colliding—that constitute the scheme of our beliefs.  It is probably best to reckon that we do not “believe” this-or-that and “disbelieve” this-or-that.  It is difficult enough to know what to believe and what not to believe.  We do ourselves no favors and—most importantly—we do God no honor by trying to convince ourselves that we believe what we do not, or that we believe anything more than we really do.

We discover our beliefs, and we discover our beliefs typically when we are called upon to demonstrate the value we apply to this-or-that.  This all has a rather practical aspect, in that it is one thing to claim to believe some one thing absolutely, yet it is quite something else to claim a consciously-held scheme of beliefs.  As usual, I will appeal to the gospels to illustrate the matter.

I will continue with Matthew, wherein I have gotten to the part in which Jesus first describes his mortal fate.  In the course of his series of three descriptions of how he will suffer, Jesus offers quite a few teachings.  What does not seem to be generally understood about those teachings is their common theme of how values are assigned by the listeners.  Jesus does not so much tell his audience what to believe, but rather Jesus tells his audience to look to the values they have internalized—he asks them to discover what they believe, illustrated by what they value.

Jesus, immediately upon congratulating Peter for his confession of his Messiah (chapter 18), says he will give Peter the keys of the kingdom.  Whether Jesus refers to Peter (and/or his ilk and/or his followers) defining what is to be permitted, or deciding who is or is not to be held guilty of transgressions, one thing is certain: Jesus is placing on Peter a responsibility for value judgments.

And “From that time forth began Jesus to shew unto his disciples, how that he must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things of the elders and chief priests and scribes and be killed, and be raised again the third day.”  For this Jesus was rebuked by Peter, and Jesus tells Peter, “thou savourest not the things that be of God, but those that be of men.”  It is all about the things that Peter finds that he values—and the things that all of us find that we value.

This mode of analysis streaks through the ensuing passages.  Jesus asks, “what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?”; Jesus tells us that our reward will be in accordance with our works.  What, is the implication, do we value, and how can we escape being judged in terms of our values, regardless of how we might wish to avoid examining them?  That is how we find out what we really believe.

Do the disciples value the heritage personified by the two ancient figures presented by God at the Transfiguration, or do they value “my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased”?  The disciples are confronted with the examples of a tormented child, with their own status as children of the kingdom, and with the moral status of actual “little children.”  In each instance, the disciples are not presented first and foremost with rules, but rather with challenges about value judgments, and commands to act according to those judgments.  “Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”

Jesus in this part of Matthew weaves a gruesome tapestry threatening damnation—yes, damnation based on works—interspersed with calls to value the “little ones.”  The discovery and acceptance of values is the point: “How think ye? If a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and goeth into the mountains, and seeketh that which has gone astray?”

A trespassing “brother” is to be valued first and foremost, and to be regained if possible; the value of one’s faith community members are the key divine intervention; a “brother” is worth forgiving seventy times seven; the value one places on divine forgiveness is measured by one’s value placed on forgiving others; the value of marriage is inseparable from the person of the spouse—the logic of “value” drives on and on.  So often, what has been understood as Jesus making demands of his followers could be much better described as Jesus calling his followers to account according to their values—either recognized or latent.  That is the stuff of “belief” that really matters.

When Jesus finishes telling a young man that he ought to account his possessions as nothing against the opportunity to follow Jesus, the disciples consider their Master’s devaluing of wealth and ask, “Who then can be saved?  Jesus responds, “With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible.”  The doing, then, of the things of God ought to be the least of our concerns.  The valuing, then, of the things of God ought to be the greatest of our concerns.

To value something is to treasure it, and what we treasure we store within ourselves.  It always remains, and even when forgotten it can be brought again to view in the harrowing moments of our value crises.  To believe something, on the other hand, can be to force a value upon it, and such an artifice can wither and disperse when our attentions are drawn elsewhere.