There’s a reason the command “Thou shalt not lie” made God’s Top Ten list. Breaking this command, among other things, leaves a hole in people’s hearts. Let me explain.
I recently read a review of the book by former L.A. Times religion reporter William Lobdell, How I Lost My Faith in Reporting on Religion in America—and Found Unexpected Peace, (Collins, 2009). Lobdell had become an active Christian. In the course of his work, he came across priests who had “boys on the side.” The cover-up added to his disenchantment, and Lobdell came to the conclusion that “Christians, as a group, acted no differently than anyone else, including atheists.” He had once been deeply impressed by Christians. Now, all he could ask was, “Where are the holy people?” Lobdell’s disappointed expectations compounded his doubts about the goodness of a God who would allow horrendous suffering. He was now left with a gaping hole in his heart. (I have not read the book. The review is at http://www.latimes.com/features/books/la-ca-william-lobdell8-2009mar08,0,729096.story).
William Lobdell’s pained conclusion lends a wearied exclamation to writer G.K. Chesterton’s observation: “By far the most powerful argument against the truth of Christianity are Christians.”
It is commonly said that Christians are “just a bunch of hypocrites.” There is more truth to that than the average believer dare concede. Lobdell found massive hypocrisy; he allowed it to destroy his faith. I’m guessing that his discovery was the capstone of an ongoing realization of the human condition—reported everyday in every newspaper everywhere—a condition that produced a steady acid drip into the heart of a man who could not reconcile that with his understanding of the way Christians should be.
There is no defense for the evil that Lobdell found. The heart condition of humankind is undeniable. What I would offer is a critique of Lobdell’s expectations (assuming the reviewer had it right). Granted, the people he thought were “holy” let him down big time. They violated even the common atheist’s morality. (Whether or not these people were genuine Christians is therefore almost beside the point). Lobdell’s error was in placing holy expectations (i.e., faith) in people rather than in God.
I’d like to comment on two things in offering this critique. First, something about this word “holy.” Secondly, something about how Lobdell (and the rest of us) might have kept faith intact.
Regarding the word “holy” (related words include holiness, saint, sanctify, sacred): We use it of God and people and things. We speak of people’s good, moral, or sacred actions, or we speak of those whom we think genuinely “better” than most (e.g., a Mother Teresa). We talk about holy “things” like the “holy grail” (Indiana Jones’ quest), a sacred object imbued with mystery and magic. When applied to God in Scripture, the word “holy” does not primarily refer to his moral qualities. Rather, “holy” focuses on his transcendence, his “otherness,” the fact that he is different, set apart from us. In Scripture believers are also referred to as “holy” or “sanctified” because they—being redeemed by Jesus on the cross and forgiven by faith—are now set apart for God. A simple analogy is the pen I bought at Staples: it belongs to me, and I use it for myself. It is now “holy” or “sacred” to me. Scripture teaches that believers are to live in light of who they are: holy to God. The moral qualities of this life should be evident to outsiders. Unfortunately, they are often not. It’s difficult (even to insiders) to sort out genuine believers from mere professors. Some of these assuredly are not. In any case, the resultant damage is evident in too many hearts. Hence Chesteron’s observation and Lobdell’s plaint.
What might have neutralized the acid and kept faith intact? Here’s where one of the Top Ten list comes into play. Jesus nailed it when he said to the religious leaders ready to stone the woman taken in adultery (John 8): “Whoever among you is guiltless may be the first to throw a stone at her.” Jesus wasn’t excusing the woman’s adultery—he told her, “Sin no more.” He was, rather, pointing out their eagerness to judge one they considered a great sinner, while, in their self-righteousness, they were unwilling to face the fact that they were just as capable and culpable. When Jesus quietly pinned them to the wall, they dropped their stones and slipped away. Had they faced the truth, they might have helped the woman.
Augustine wrote of a God-shaped void in the heart that can only be filled by the one who created it. William Lobdell has a hole torn larger by those who should have pointed him to the “void-filler.” People (including ourselves) can’t fill the hole, they seem to make it bigger—and the agony is worse when those we look to are thought to be “holy.” My guess is that they were either pretenders (lying to others) or greatly deceived (lying to themselves). In my own battle for faith, I have realized a couple things: one, that faith can fully rest solely in the one who put the void there; second, that it is safe there (whether he is predictable or not). From that safety, I am now free to help others, to live for something and someone other than myself. I don’t do that always—my own self-centeredness testifies to the reality. I am no different than those who have left the holes: facing the truth and letting others know is near impossible. Being truly known is indeed risky, but it can help heal the holes by pointing to the one who only can fill the void. And so I keep taking this baby step: stop lying to myself and others, drop the stone, help the woman to her feet.
