Religion: Why Only Some People Get It
Some thoughts inspired by a story about Jesus.
12 March, 2018 // in The Coffeehouse Cleric // by Alex Rowe
Why is it that some of us seem to be instinctively religious when others abhor the idea, the mere word — religion — making their guts churn and their skin crawl? This is a question that continues to fascinate me, though I doubt I’ll ever find a satisfying answer for it.
I have sometimes heard Christians say things like this: “I wish Jesus were still here; then my friends would believe in him like I do! If only Jesus would come back; then they would understand!” Now, I do not doubt the integrity with which these words are spoken. When Christians talk this way, all they mean is that they wish their loved ones could experience the same kind of love, joy, and peace which they have themselves. Still, however, I think such statements are entirely wrong. And not only that; they betray a dangerous misunderstanding about the nature of God and the way people encounter Him.
In order to demonstrate my point, all I need to do is turn to one of the Gospels. When we read these stories about Jesus, we quickly see that the situation then was really no different to how it is now. Some who encountered him quickly gave him their trust and chose to follow him; others disregarded and despised him, even to the point of putting him to death. Put simply, Jesus divided opinion even then.
Christians today might find this difficult to acknowledge. “Surely I,” we hope, “would have recognised who he was.” But according to these stories, Jesus’ full significance was not plain and obvious, not available for everyone to see. This being so, I think the kind of statements mentioned above — If only Jesus would come back; then they would understand! —are deeply flawed.
I recently read a story which illustrates this point nicely. Jesus is confronted by a demon-possessed man, a man so oppressed that he is a danger both to himself and those around him and thus people attempt to bind him in chains. Jesus famously casts out the many demons (they called themselves “Legion”) and permits them to enter a two-thousand-strong herd of swine. The swine then run into the sea and drown. Such stories are not often palatable to modern ears, but for the sake of the matter at hand I encourage you to enter with me into the world of the story with full imaginative seriousness. It is with what happens next that I am concerned.
Those who had seen what had happened to the demoniac and to the swine reported it. Then they began to beg Jesus to leave their neighbourhood. As we was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed by demons begged him that he might be with him. But Jesus refused, and said to him, “Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and what mercy he has shown you.” (Mark 5.16–19)
First, notice the repetition of the verb “to beg” (παρακαλέω). Perhaps out of fear, perhaps simply taking a disliking to him, many of those who witnessed this unusual event began to beg Jesus to leave and go elsewhere. The formerly-possessed man also begs, but in the exact opposite direction, for he begged that he might remain with Jesus.
I think this repetition is intended to contrast these two reactions. It serves to highlight how the same event can be interpreted by two different people(s) in two very different ways. What is more, it opposes the simple notion that the only thing people need in order to believe are more proofs and more signs. The majority who witnessed this event were not amazed, but frightened. They did not respond positively: “They came to Jesus and saw the demoniac sitting there, clothed and in his right mind…and they were afraid” (5.15).
Secondly, we can learn something from Jesus’ reply to the formerly-possessed man. The man asks that he might remain with Jesus, only for Jesus to refuse his request. Why might this be? A temptation in an environment where the majority oppose Jesus could be to withdraw, to escape from the hostile surrounds and find comfort elsewhere. This seems to be the desire of the formerly-possessed man. But to his request Jesus says, “Go home to your friends.”
Jesus commands him to remain, despite the majority opposition, and to witness to those closest to him. Instead of trying to win over the crowd, the man is to return home, to his family and friends, and share with them all that has happened. Perhaps they will believe; but — and this is crucial — not simply because of a bold and immediate outworking of power, but due to the ongoing witness of a life transformed. After all, it is those to whom we are closest, family and friends, who are able to observe most fully any lasting change.
The reason I chose the story above is two-fold. On the one hand, it lends support to my claim that the acquisition of belief is not as simple as we often think. Things would not be better if only Jesus would come back; nor if only we could present people with great works of power. I write this as someone who does not deny the possibility of the miraculous, but as one aware that such things do not necessarily, so to speak, ‘seal the deal.’
On the other hand, and more positively, in Jesus’ reply to the formerly-possessed man we find an example of what an alternative witness might look like. This kind of witness does not deny the miracle, but presents it as one constituent part of an entire life transformed by Jesus. This kind of witness does not run away with Jesus, but remains in potentially hostile environments, risks being misunderstood, and presents itself to near ones who are most able to see the change and thus, one hopes, most likely to respond.
Thank you for reading. The Coffeehouse Cleric is a Medium publication dedicated to asking the big questions of life. It features writing on three main areas: minimalism, spirituality, and learning. If you enjoyed this piece, please do share it with friends and family on social media.
