One of the great wonders of life is how words or ideas first heard early in one’s years can come back with amazing force later on. This happened recently and got me thinking.
At our wedding in 1967, somebody read 1 Corinthians 13, known as the “love chapter.” Lots of church weddings have favored this scripture, for obvious reasons. It is the same chapter that contains the promise I hold dear; “Now we see in a mirror dimly; then face to face.”
Tucked away in the second part of a long verse two are these words: “…and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.” There’s a smackdown for zealots of any religion. Believe what you will but if you do not love others, you are nothing.
An obituary set me to thinking about faith and re-discovering these words in Corinthians. The obit ran in the Honolulu Star-Advertiser the same day as an op-ed piece about the impact of the man. His name was Michael Cromartie. His mission was to “insure that American political journalism [would be] imbued with religious tolerance, biblical literacy, historical insight, and an ecumenical spirit.”
The op-ed writer confirmed that her journalism had been improved by what Cromartie taught.
A key part of the obituary noted that Cromartie “never minimized his personal faith” which was evangelical; he was a reformed Anglican. However, in working with scores of journalists as he pursued his mission, he was “neither doctrinaire nor defensive.” And, added the writer, he never took himself too seriously.
He held the position of Vice President and Director of Evangelicals in Civic Life at the Public Policy Center in Washington D.C. He welcomed journalists of all religions and no religions to his seminars, the point of which was to insure fair and informed reportage about religion.
By all accounts, Michael Cromartie was a person of strong faith. In reading that he was “neither doctrinaire nor defensive,” “didn’t take himself too seriously,” and “upheld the spirit of ecumenism,” I concluded that Cromartie’s life was filled with love for humanity and the myriad ways humankind have expressed belief in something beyond themselves, a definition of faith.
A few weeks later, the Star-Advertiser wrote about a former colleague who continues in her role as the head of school in a Catholic school. The story was replete with accounts of her many successes in guiding her school through tough times and seeing it emerge again as healthy and sustainable. The reporter asked about the religious composition of the student body, and the head noted that there were many religions represented. She went on to say that, what mattered to her was that one be a good member of his or her religious community: “if you are Mormon, be a good Mormon.”
She added later, “faith is not knowing.” That got me thinking even more…
People of a Certain Age, the fanatical fundamentalism of far too many people around the world in far too many religions stems from confusing faith and knowing. Mix in the absence of love and therein lies how supposedly pious people can hate those who are different and despise to the point of killing alleged infidels.
I know that the tree outside my window is called, in English, a palm tree. I have faith that there is some kind of existence beyond physical death, the exact nature of which is unclear to me. I know that I am sending you what is called an attachment to an e-mail. I have faith that the teachings I follow are a path to clearer understanding of what comes after death after I die.
I know that others believe differently than do I. I have faith that a life lived grounded in love by anyone of any religion will count for something beyond the grave.
I know that the world could use more people like Michael Cromartie, firm in one’s faith but neither doctrinaire nor defensive, not taking themselves too seriously, committed to religious tolerance.
Faith can come with many faces. I count myself fortunate to have been raised by two people who carried an abiding faith in the teachings of Jesus as Mom and Dad understood them. Their approaches to faith seemed to be different. About my mom, my dad once said that she had a “child-like” faith: not childish, but free from much doubt. He might have been surprised about the doubt part had he known her in her 80s and 90s but he meant what he said as a compliment.
Dad’s faith might best be characterized as a lifelong wrestling match with angels. For him, doubt was an integral part of his faith. He wanted to know more and spent a lifetime seeking answers. He understood that faith was not knowing but that did not stop him from trying to know.
It is a part of my faith that Dad now knows, that he sees face-to-face.
It is also my hope that humanity will one day discover that the discouraging record of the human race in distinguishing between faith and knowing and in punishing those who believe differently could give way to the Michael Cromarties of the world.
Faith without love is nothing.
Daniel E. White
October 9, 2017