This week my oldest daughter came to me and explained how her shelf of LDS belief has broken. She is a faithful member, active in every way. Her husband is Elders’ Quorum president, and she is perplexed as to how to have the discussion about her faith crisis. With young children discovering their own religious identities, she is troubled on how to move forward.
Conflicted, she asks:
How do you have faith when you discover that your beliefs are *literally* not true?
Ah. ’tis a paradox — a conflict, the ultimate in cognitive dissonance. And she is troubled by the mental gymnastics she has been performing for some time to maintain the shelf of beliefs that are literally not true.
I think we agreed that mental gymnastics — sometimes called “apologetics” in defense of literal beliefs — are not healthy to the mind. Shelving obvious truth in order to maintain other truths messes with the mind’s ability to embrace truth from wherever it may come.
Indeed, in the midst of faith crisis, something has to die in order for faith to be reborn. And as we approach Easter, the time of rebirth, isn’t this exactly what Jesus taught as the ultimate paradox, that Jesus had to die in order to for us to live?
‘Tis a paradox: Something has to die in order for something else to live. But what?
Jesus taught in parables. Recently, Rob Bell on the Robcast (a podcast I highly recommend) discussed parables with Pete Rollins. A parable is a story that presents a paradox in conflict with our prevailing tradition values or norms, forcing us to rethink our entire mindset. In a way, they’re like Zen koans, having no simple answer or interpretation, but serve to open the mind and embrace the more that goes beyond.
In like manner, Father Richard Rohr explained to Krista Tippetts (On Being — another highly recommended podcast) how parable and paradox serve to shatter the dualistic mind and help us embrace the non-dual, the unity of all that is in what he calls “deep time.”
The Gospel of John serves to shatter our literalism. As Nicodemus approached Jesus to follow him, Jesus explained that he must be “born again.” Nicodemus interprets Jesus exactly like any religious leader of his time would: literally. How can a person go back into the womb?
There is something deeply important in this dialogue between Jesus and Nicodemus. Nicodemus is a Jewish leader — a wealthy, prominent symbol of the best the Church of his time had to offer. Yet his entire thinking was literal: bound in the Words of scripture (the Torah) as if each and every one were literally true. Jesus opened up Nicodemus’ mind to realize that to be reborn is to allow literalism to die and to embrace the Spirit that goes beyond.
Indeed, for those of us whose shelf has been shattered, literalism must die in order for our faith to be reborn.
When we realize that the Book of Mormon is *literally* not historically true, when we learn the facts of Church history and discover that our dominant narrative is *literally* fabricated, when we find out that our leaders are *literally* fallible and often lead us astray: when we discover these, how can we have faith without setting aside these *literal* paradigms?
‘Tis a paradox.
Yet we live in a community of “orthodoxy.” Paradox and Orthodox are related terms — our “thinking”/”doxy” is at stake here. To be “orthodox” is for our thinking to be “right,” “correct,” “straight.” It’s also to be fixed: for example, “orthochromatic” is a single color. Orthodoxy doesn’t allow for differences: it’s our “one true way” or the highway.
When many of us are faced with the facts that our orthodox beliefs are *literally* not true, we often flip into the opposite of orthodoxy: “heterodoxy” or “heresy”…perhaps even “apostasy.” Certainly, to those who find comfort in orthodoxy, any deviation from the “right way of thinking” is apostasy and to become “anti-Mormon.” Thus, many of the “defenders of Mormonism” (apologists) consider that any exploration outside of orthodoxy is to cause others to lose faith. This is the theme of Michael Ash’s re-interpretation of the “Sin next to murder.”
Many of our believing family and friends react in this same way whenever we question or challenge traditional belief. In fact, “apostasy,” including “marriage equality,” is cause for mandatory church discipline, when child abuse, rape, and other serious crimes are not listed as such in Church policy. The Church formally places apostasy next and equal to murder in terms of seriousness.
So then, how do we navigate these waters when the consequences, at least in terms of Church policy, are so dire?
‘Tis a paradox.
In fact, Paradox is exactly the Centered Way between the orthodox and the heterodox. Paradox is to find unity amidst diversity, to embrace the idea that “both-and” is often more true and meaningful than “either-or.”
But according to Father Richard Rohr, our dualistic minds — the mindset of “either-or” — cannot fully embrace paradox. We need to embrace a different Way of thinking. We need to be ‘reborn” into this new Way, and in order for that to happen, something will die: literalism.
When I read church history, either the early history of Christianity or of Mormonism, I have observed that whenever the Saints experiment with literalized beliefs, they fail to embrace the spirit. For example, the original saints took literally Jesus statement to the rich young man: go sell all that thou has and give to the poor. The first saints practiced communal Zion in a quite literal way, and the Apostles soon discovered that they were doing nothing but waiting on tables: handling logistics rather than teaching the gospel.
In like manner, LDS church history is full of attempts to institutionalize figurative beliefs. The concept of Zion became another form of forced communal living, and utterly failed. Literalized belief in Zion in Missouri literally caused the Mormon War. Literalizing the Word of Wisdom, literalizing eternal marriage — all these result in the peculiar beliefs of Mormonism today.
As I read the Gospel of John, I continue to be amazed, and amused, at how the writer pokes fun at Nicodemus and the Woman at the well in their literalism. It’s kind fun, it’s gentle, loving chiding of our naive literalized beliefs. And Jesus’ loving manner opens up each of them — and us — into the realization of the One.
So then, how do we live the Paradox? How do we eschew literalism while living in a Church full of literal believers?
‘Tis a paradox.
And that paradox finds a solution in another paradox: literal and non-literal believers need each other in order to become One. Again, Jesus taught this throughout his ministry. If we love only those who think the same way we do, are we not the same as those who seek to separate us from the flock?
Eugene England fully noted that living in this orthodox, correlated Church is difficult for those of us who have set aside literalism. Yet he explained why the Church is as true as the Gospel: because it is our workshop for the Gospel of love.
And I have seen this paradox grow into deep faith.
Amidst the deepening problems of life, of suffering the challenges of physical, mental, and emotional health within my family, I am overwhelmed when a thoughtful Saint comes to lift our burdens, mourns with us, and comforts our need to be comforted.
I cannot explain the power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I have no words (the basis of the word “literal” is “in word”) to explain the sense of One found in these moments when souls touch each other in love.
This is the paradox: the letter kills, the letter must die. And when we set aside the letter, the literal, the Christ enters in, even when we are literally sitting with another who does not see things as we do.
The great mystic and saint Bernard of Clairvaux intoned:
Nec lingua valet dicere,
nec littera exprimere:
expertus potest credere,
quid sit Jesum diligere.
No tongue can say
No word (littera) can express
Only experience can have faith
What is the Love of Jesus.
As we continue to Walk the Way of Atonement, amidst the Paradox of this existence, may we be knit with the Oneness of Christ’s love for each other and for ourselves.
‘Tis a paradox…worth living.