When I was 12, I embarked upon a Presbyterian rite of passage: I joined the confirmation class. Known for “loving God with our minds,” confirmands in my church were assigned “term papers” on biblical stories. My story was about the miracle of the loaves and fishes. This was way before the internet, so I went to the church library and pulled down all the commentaries on this story in each of the Gospels. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the pages of those ancient, neglected books. Soon armed with the accumulated wisdom of exegetes who had gone before me, I confidently set out to dispel the mystery of this miracle. After considering a few different scenarios, I proposed that when Jesus took a loaf of bread, broke it and distributed it, he opened the floodgates of generosity hiding in the gathered crowd. Everyone quit hoarding their lunchboxes, and, miracle of miracles, there was more than enough food because they pooled their resources. I have always been something of a pragmatist, so even as a 12-year-old, I knew there had to be a logical explanation. My faith was not seeking understanding. Rather, my mind was determined to find a plausible explanation for the supposedly miraculous multiplication of food. What better solution than sharing? When I got my term paper back, our pastor had written in the margins that this was a perfectly plausible possibility, but he hoped I would at least consider the possibility of a miracle. For any of us with a scientific bent to our ways of knowing, miracles strain at the bounds of credulity. We are trained to look at facts empirically and arrive at the kind of truth that can be tested. The word “miraculous” enters our vocabulary only when a conclusion appears to be in opposition to the facts at hand. That would not have been the case for our pre-scientific forebears. For the ancients, all of life was a miracle. If it rained, it was because God sent the rain in answer to prayer. We instead put our trust in meteorologists who analyze atmospheric conditions and offer educated guesses about impending storm systems. Likewise, with illness and healing, we know certain medical protocols can be used to combat life-threatening diseases and, under the right circumstances, they work. The ancients would have seen the entire art of healing as God’s activity.... Thank you to this week's writer, Baron Mullis. Read the rest of the commentary at pres-outlook.org. |
No comments:
Post a Comment