Written on January 25, 2008

[For the February 3, 2008 lectionary: Exodus 24:12-18 + Psalm 99 + 2 Peter 1:16-21 + Matthew 17:1-9.]

MISTAKEN FAITH By Larry Patten

My wife will be gone for a few days and I must be careful about saying her name aloud. Wasn’t Voldemort, in the Harry Potter books, the “name that should not be spoken?” Well, my wife isn’t evil. In my silence, I’m just trying to be a nice guy for my dog.

Our dog Hannah “knows” a few words. If I say “carrots,” Hannah will think treat. In fact, the word “treat” is also a popular expression for Hannah. And there are a few others, but the truly big-ticket items, in the realm of spoken sounds, are my name and my wife’s name.

Hannah knows our names. When I say my wife’s name, Hannah expects to see, find, smell, and soon to be in the presence of my wife. And, since I don’t like to trick my dog, I refrain from saying “the name that should not be spoken.”

There is a scene in the Gospels referred to by a mouth-twisting five-syllable word: the trans-fig-ur-a-tion. Maybe I like this scene, which includes Jesus along with Peter, James, and John, because it takes place on a mountain. Or maybe because it is described by that fancy five-syllable word. But I also like it because it reminds me about the limits of knowledge. Unfolding like a myth—at a higher elevation, with a divine voice, and appearances from “known” heroes (Moses and Elijah)—the transfiguration unsettles Jesus’ disciples.

Let’s build a shelter, Peter will propose; a place to honor who and what is known. Most Biblical scholars will remind readers that Moses represents “law” and Elijah “prophesy.” Tossing out any mythic and sacred underpinnings to this Gospel account, I could irreverently quibble about how Peter recognized Moses (or Elijah). Had he checked a first-century version of the Internet for images on Google for the guy who whupped the Egyptians and led the Israelites to freedom?

However, all quibbling aside, Moses and Elijah were symbols of the known. The safe. The predictable. The settled.

The five-syllable word for that mountaintop moment can be expressed by a familiar one-syllable word: change. Jesus was changed and change agent. Knowledge can build a dwelling; change invites a journey. All faith traditions, whether in five or single syllable words, unsettle us and open a new path. What we think we know is met by the unexpected and unpredictable.

Recently I saw the 2007 film, Juno. The storyline was fairly simple and I won’t spoil the plot by saying it’s about a woman, a junior in high school, who gets pregnant. She does not want to keep the child. She “knows” she has made a mistake and is not ready for parenthood. What will she do with this change in her life? And from there, the story takes flight, often in unexpected ways.

Not unexpectedly, I’ve read various reactions to Juno from pro-life and pro-choice groups. These reactions coincide with the thirty-fifth anniversary of Roe v. Wade and statistics showing that abortion rates are declining. (According to a January 21, 2008 Time.com article . . . “the 1.2 million abortions performed in 2005 numbered 25% fewer than the high of 1.6 million in 1990.”)

Both sides of the abortion issue claim Juno agrees with their position. Both sides quote the same statistics to “prove” the rightness of their position and the wrongness of the other.

Again, not giving much away, I enjoyed Juno because it made me uncomfortable. It was, like the transfiguration on that mythic mountaintop, about making decisions less on what we know and more on faith. Acting in faith is scary, and as uncertain as crossing a room in the dark after the furniture has been rearranged.

I liked how Juno, the film’s title character, trusted herself. I liked how the key people in her life trusted her. Most of the best decisions in the film were acts of faith.

Peter and the other disciples wanted to claim and tame what was known. That was safer.

I suspect pro-life and pro-choice folks would like to think Juno proves their point. It is easier to do that than learn from others.

While my wife is gone, I will not speak her name around Hannah. As silly as that is, I know it would be unfair to Hannah’s wondrously limited canine knowledge.

As a human I am thankful for nearly unlimited knowledge, for history, facts, tradition, prior experiences, and more. And yet, especially because I am human, I am thankful and blessed because I can act in faith. Which means I will make mistakes.

I love what the late scientist and writer, Lewis Thomas said of human mistakes (in The Medusa and the Snail):

It may be that this is a uniquely human gift, perhaps even stipulated in our genetic instructions. Other creatures do not seem to have DNA sequences for making mistakes as a routine part of daily living, certainly not for programmed error as a guide for action.

Dare I liken faith to making mistakes? For me, yes. Sometimes I have to abandon knowledge. I have to take a next step. Maybe I will make mistakes. No, correction, I will make mistakes. And in those times, I “know” how important it is to have people around me who trust me.