Doubt or disbelief?

One of my friends raised an interesting question this week in relation to faith: what is the difference between wanting to believe yet doubting and disbelief itself? I'm not suggesting that I have the answer, but I thought I would record some thoughts which came to mind.

I am remembering a quotation from Saint John of the Cross:
Dear Lord, give me truths which are veiled by the doctrines and articles of faith, which are masked by the pious words of sermons and books. Let my eyes penetrate the veil, and tear off the mask, that I can see your truth face to face.

Perhaps John of the Cross is not the ideal saint to quote in this context, because, as God leads each of us on the proper path based on who we happen to be, John's road was unusual by any standard. For example, I would imagine that one could be a Carmelite abbot for fifty years and never know anyone who was in "The Dark Night." Yet I quoted him not only because he is a favourite of mine, but because no one could think that my source was heretical. :) John had an intensity of devotion, a height of prayer, which hardly anyone reaches in this life - and which would lead him to a combination of delight and darkness we can barely fathom. He was not denying doctrine, or the revelation the Christian or Jew believes to be its source. John's total, single minded oblation to God had given him a glimpse of divine glory - and I suppose that, the more one has had intimacy with the Beloved, the greater is one's awareness of how we barely scratch the surface in our understanding.

I'm quoting from memory here, so those more knowledgeable are asked to excuse any flaw in the quotation. In another work, An Ecstasy of High Exultation, John of the Cross writes, "I entered in, I know not where, and I remained, though knowing naught, transcending knowledge with my thought. So borne aloft, so drunken reeling, so rapt was I, so swept away, within the scope of sense or feeling my sense or feeling could not stay..." And even the newest to his poetry will have read, "One dark night, fired with love's urgent longings - ah, what bliss!"

Knowing naught - transcending knowledge with his thought - dark nights coupled with bliss. We never can truly know God, and I think that those who were unusually close to Him, having caught that glimpse which I mentioned, are aware of this to a high degree, yet delight in that the divine essence is so far beyond the limitations of our vision. I in fact believe, as did some of the early Fathers, that heaven will be constant growth as well - coming to heightened knowledge of God, without ever coming to full knowledge.

Now, to return to earth.... :)

I am sure that many Christians would agree with me that we reach a point where, even when we are not conscious of this, our actions, viewpoints, ethics, whatever, all are strongly grounded in our faith - it is not restricted to worship. Perhaps many others, like myself, see that the faith gives value to everything in our lives, yet we never lose the fear of losing this. I gather that this means faith is very important to us, but we recognise how very fragile we can be.

No one (except possibly Gnostics and Jung) would be able to say "I know there is a God," much less that one could know with certainty that God is loving, the creator, omnipotent, omniscient, the redeemer. I would imagine that most believers have times in our lives when we especially were aware of divine providence at work (the more with hindsight), but we can never be positive that there truly was a divine origin. During my childhood, one of the catechism prayers was "I believe these and all the truths which thy holy Catholic church believes and teaches, for thou hast revealed them, who canst neither deceive nor be deceived." Well, I could still recite that prayer - but it fails if there is no God, or no revelation. We can never know for sure. It's always a leap of faith... and faith is a grace... and there is no grace (share in the life of the Trinity) if there is no God... and what if there is not?

The late Jaroslav Pelikan, whom I consider to be an outstanding theologian and church historian, was an interesting combination - he'd gone from Lutheran to Orthodox. One very powerful point which he made always remains in my mind. Pelikan, in treating of the developments of the early creeds, and how much had been implicit in liturgical texts long before the actual creeds were formulated, pointed out how many doctrines make perfect sense 'on our knees,' but are difficult, if not impossible, to explain in some rational formula. My own life is built around liturgical prayer - the doxology at the end of each psalm - and it makes perfect sense at prayer, but I'd hardly undertake to explain the trinity, revelation, the resurrection, the Real Presence, or even what Creation means! I've said this before, I know - but there are days when I wonder if there is a God, while concurrently being positive that I just received his Body and Blood.

In my own case, and this unusually for someone who is overly intellectual, I cannot say I ever had a period of atheism. My own struggles were those unique to the theist: believing there was a God, and one who continued to act in creation, and therefore wondering why He did not. Sometimes Auschwitz and comparable tragedies were in my mind - at other times, raised on tales of mini miracles, I wondered what I'd done to offend Him, why he'd rejected my using the gifts with which he endowed me for his Church. But I'll save expounding on that for another day, adding only that deism sometimes is appealing as very restful...

Genuine atheists (a modern innovation, I might add) may be indifferent to religion, or hostile, or have an opinion of its being foolishness, or (these are the ones particularly dangerous if we are very young in either years or faith) see it as immaturity. Yet both agnostics and great mystics would agree on "I don't know."

Doubt comes in many flavours. If one is not an atheist, it can mean coming to greater maturity - getting past images that were suited for us in childhood or later, but which are inadequate. (Such progress is frightening, because we lose a certainty which sustained us.) It's also possible that there is some sin against faith - but I don't think one should worry about this unless one is actively doing something contrary (for example, dabbling in the occult.) Other times, our emotions can be in tumult, or we can be in a period of suffering, whatever, and we may be confused about our own identity, or integrity, or whether religion was 'a crutch' (just visit any Internet forum, and there will be contributors who will cast one in another mould).

But doubting when one wants to believe (and I think all the saints have done so) shows that our will is essentially turned towards God. One who hadn't made that step in love would not care in the least whether he believed or not.

I may not express this well, but I think that most of what we have to offer is action alone. If we seek to act with love - or to act in worship - it is the sign of response. Once we believe we are certain, we just might close our minds.

I did mention, at the outset, that I do not have an answer - I have no abilities in discernment whatever, for all that I'll not deny I have a rather encyclopaedic knowledge of certain areas of theology. I may be far off the mark. Yet I believe doubt can be very healthy, because it keeps us from over-estimating the scope of our own vision.