Written on May 9, 2008

[For the May 18, 2008 lectionary: Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Matthew 28:16-20]

"OPPOSABLE FAITH" by Larry Patten

Give me a “D” grade. Which, actually, I feel good about.

I’m thinking of “D” because I’ve been thinking about two of the most dangerous “D” words in the Bible.

One is dominion. And it comes at the beginning of the Bible in the opening moments of Genesis. On the sixth day of creation, not too long after the creeping things are created, humanity arrives on the scene. And the two-legged, thin-skinned creature—the one made in the Holy’s image—was, by God, given dominion over . . . well, pretty much everything.

The other word is doubt. That snarky, one-syllable word sneaks in near the end of Matthew. If you are confident of your Biblical prowess and humble about your faith, you may be able to quote Matthew’s famous end without looking it up: Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Marching orders! But just before those stirring words, there was doubt. Matthew clearly and oddly writes that Jesus gave those marching orders to some who “doubted.”

Please, in my journey of faith, give me a “D.”

Let me doubt dominion.

Let my dominion include doubt.

A few days ago I was cavorting on my front lawn with my nine-year old neighbor. The weather was delicious and he and his seven-year old brother were outside playing with their Dad. My wife and I joined them, reveling in the day. Our dog was also there.

In between games of tag and fetch the nine-year old mentioned what humans have and dogs don’t.

“Disposable thumbs,” he said.

Actually, that’s what I thought I heard him say. After all, I’m a gray-haired guy careening toward my late-fifties and I don’t hear so well. So, I said, “Huh?”

He repeated himself, and this time I clearly heard him: “Opposable thumbs.”

How do nine-year olds get so bright? I’m not even sure I knew I had opposable thumbs until college. Or maybe later.

Playing in the dirt, stained with ongoing creation, he grasped—with all four fingers and one opposable thumb—one of the things that makes humans so wonderfully unique. And, D-word wise, what makes us so dangerous.

We have dominion. For literally grasping at the world, we are built far better than dogs . . . and a whole lot of other creatures great and small. We’re not the only owners of opposable thumbs. Orangutans (hands and feet) and koala’s (each hand and the toes) have ‘em. So, orangutans could also build elaborate tools and take pen to paper and outwit and out write Shakespeare. Okay, standing upright and having a decent-sized brain help along with weird thumbs. All those add up to serious dominion by homo sapiens.

And yet, let me doubt dominion. I am very much aware it’s only been in my short lifetime that we grave-bound and gravity-influenced two-leggeds have confessed dominion no longer means we dominate the earth. At least some of us have. I long for the day when the old destructive notion of dominion (see greenhouse gases or the absence of wild salmon) is fully replaced by an understanding that the earth—water, soil, birds, fishes and creeping things—is a gift. We care for it; it cares for us. Dominion must be (re)interpreted as stewardship.

I think we can only achieve that by faithful doubt.

I wonder why Matthew added doubt at the end of the Gospel. At first blush, it seems out of place. All writers desire to bring their story to a stirring end. And Matthew achieved a powerful ending with what is often referred to as “the great commission” . . . Go make disciples of all the nations!

But doubt is included. I say, alleluia!

Matthew wrote: When they saw Jesus, they worshipped him; but some doubted. Was the inclusion of doubt negative? Cautionary? If Matthew wanted readers to doubt the doubters, he could have written: “When they saw Jesus, they worshipped him; but some doubted. And those who doubted were proven wrong.” Nope, not there.

So, with my opposable thumbs, and my life-long hope to view dominion not as control but as humble stewardship, I like to think of myself as one of the ones worshipping Jesus and boldly doubting.

I doubt I have all the answers.

I doubt my opinion is the only one that matters.

I doubt that controlling is more important than sharing.

Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann said in a prayer (from Awed to Heaven, Rooted to Earth) about and to God:

Just when we imagine that we have you figured out

you show up working the other side of the street

in your frightening freedom.

Thankfully, the Holy doesn’t hand out grades. No “A”s. No “D”s. Not even, in my way of believing, pass or fail marks. Of course, you might doubt my theological understanding. Excellent! Now, how can we learn from each other without dominating the other?

Let us doubt and grow. Let us claim dominion and share.

in Peace,

Larry