Cogito ergo sum, is one of the Latin phrases I learned in college, even before taking two semesters of Latin. Most of us know its English translation,

I think therefore I am, the famous foundational assertion of René Descartes, the French philosopher who is often credited with/blamed for kicking off modern philosophy and what became the Enlightenment. Descartes’ intent was to figure out what the limit to reason was because so many things he thought he knew could be proven false in certain circumstances, including delusion or demonic influence. He determined that at the very least, because he was aware that he was thinking, that he himself must exist in the real world. Apart from that, Descartes believed you could doubt everything else.

Later philosophers went on to critique Descartes, and rejected his theories, although his influence is great because it sparked a process of questioning what we know and figuring out what reason can teach us. The Enlightenment philosophers provided a challenge to religious teaching as it became harder for religious teaching and thought to stand on its own authority. Biblical criticism and a growing awareness of the Church’s subjectivity around morals and truths has proved troublesome in the centuries since.  

This past week, our Men’s Study Group bumped up against the 21^st Century generation of these questions and struggles. Part of our presentation included Marcus Borg’s assertion that we all go through a pre-critical naiveté when it comes to our faith.  Then, most of us go through a period of critical thinking, in terms of our faith, and ultimately get to a place he calls post-critical naiveté. One example is to take stories of the Old Testament, like Noah’s Ark, for example. We learn them as children, assuming they’re true stories, even if our Sunday School teacher never said they were. In time we realize they probably didn’t happen the way the book of Genesis suggests, yet finally come to understand the value of this story and other such stories to the Church, because it ultimately conveys a truth about God’s lasting care for Creation and the comfort that we will not, in fact, be destroyed (again) for our brokenness. In essence, we allow ourselves to keep from throwing the story away because it isn’t factual, because even without fact, it bears truth. 

People in the first stage of naiveté simply take things as proscribed. Because there is not critical thinking, all is considered fact. One does not have to have faith if one is certain.   In some traditions there is pressure not to challenge a biblical assertion through critical thinking, as some of us read about in Rachel Held Evans’ book during our Lenten Study. Most Episcopalians probably don’t fall into this category, religiously speaking, although some do. In the critical phase, we start to question everything.  If we can’t “trust” scripture to be “true”, then what is it good for?  I have met people who lose their faith completely in this stage and never find it again.  Depending on how we were taught to think (or not) about faith, it is very hard to overcome. But, many of us do overcome it, and learn to recognize that scripture conveys truth even when it isn’t true in the factual sense. We struggle with it again and again and keep finding value in it through the movement of the Spirit, so we don’t worry about the places it contradicts itself or the places we simply do not understand.

We also spoke about this dynamic process of learning where we look for truth and authority. What do we know about God and our faith?  Where do we turn for authority? Who do we trust? As we expand our consideration to other arenas, outside of religion, we readily discerned a wider struggle with these same problems. Apart from the church, where those of us who are faithful church members tend to turn, where do we turn for authority?  Who do we believe? Who do we trust? A 21^st Century spin on Descartes might be, I Googled it, therefore I’m right. We seem to be in an era with so many authorities that we basically choose the ones we agree with, and proclaim the vast majority as untrustworthy. We can clearly see how one news outlet is biased while ours is virtuous. Government, and anything it infects, is not to be to trusted to have our best interests at heart. If there is one dissenting scientific opinion up against a thousand others, we feel secure in claiming the one; science isn’t authoritative any longer. Even the Church itself has become suspect.  If the Gospel lines up too closely with a partisan plank, it must be preacher’s partisanship, so we can ignore it. 

The Enlightenment’s love of individualism and skepticism is alive and well, as it turns out. What many of us recognize is that people in the Western world are living in smaller and smaller spheres, where people who think like they do are grouped together. One example I have heard from politicians is that the days of bipartisan friendships and fellowships are quickly waning. Apparently, one does not have as many friends across the aisle as one used to. The Church demonstrates this as our big tent gets smaller every time a group pulls away and goes in another direction rather than staying in community with those with whom they disagree. We hear statements from people we know, or news outlets, or on Facebook, and we suspend acceptance of the idea until we have had a chance to Google it or check snopes.com. 

I still think healthy skepticism is important. I think our personal experience is important. But I’m not exactly sure how we learn to come back together and begin trusting one another. At some point, we will have to make a choice to do it, even it if makes us a bit naïve by some people’s measures. At some point, we have to start trusting in the goodness of people again, and believe that those who aren’t with us aren’t necessarily against us either. Perhaps we need to remember that there are other good ideas besides ours, even if they are different. Both sides of the aisle, in government and in church, hold people who ultimately want the best for themselves and those they love, and we shouldn’t discard that reality too easily. 

My first semester of college, which included Philosophy 101, helped remind me how much I didn’t know. (It also helped me decide to make Philosophy one of my majors.) My first year in seminary shattered my religious naiveté, although years two and three built my faith back up again.  I find myself pulled into the work of assessing what I’m naïve about and may not realize, and then choosing to be naïve in other areas where faith needs to take over. It’s hard work.  But it’s important work. It’s a hard thing to admit that we don’t know everything, but when we can admit it, we’ll actually show how much we do know.

Tom+

Our God, amidst the deplorable division of your church, let us never widen its breaches, but give us universal charity to all who are called by your name. Deliver us from the sins and errors, the schisms and heresies of the age. Give us grace daily to pray for the peace of your church, and earnestly to seek it and to excite all we can to praise and love you; through Jesus Christ, our one Savior and Redeemer.

--Thomas Ken (1637-1711)