From the rector: 'Faith vs. certainty'

In the movie “Conclave,” the dean of the College of Cardinals, played by Ralph Fiennes, addresses the cloistered cardinals just before they cast the first vote for the next pope.  

He says, “One sin that I have come to fear above all others is certainty. Certainty is the great enemy of unity. Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance.

“Even Christ was not certain at the end. ... Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand in hand with doubt.

“If there was only certainty and no doubt, there would be no mystery and therefore no need for faith.”

I have been replaying these words as I prepare for this coming Lent. Like a refrain, I hear “the great enemy of unity, the deadly enemy of tolerance.” I have said that my desire or challenge this Lent is to find a peace — a sense of unity and solidarity, a deep tolerance and understanding without just digging my head into the sand.  I want to be an informed and engaged citizen and civic leader while not losing sight of the beauty of this life, this world, the amazing and beautiful people therein, and their capacity for love, empathy and kindness.  

I don’t know that I would say certainty is the root cause of our collective contempt, our short fuse, our rush to vilify or defend, but the more time I sit with it, the more it feels like a truth — or at very least, something within my control.    

Ted Lasso, in that beautiful dart scene that still makes the hair on my neck stand up, quote’s Walt Whitman, “be curious, not judgmental” reminding me of that same openness that comes from uncertainty.  

For the entirety of my ordained life I have held that the opposite of faith isn’t doubt. It is, in fact, certainty. Certainty isn’t alive, it doesn’t move or engage, it is a stagnant puddle, a withering branch.  Doubt or openness compels, invites, draws forward, grows, adapts, transforms.  I believe doubt is a divine gift, an extended hand that says walk with me and see what you cannot yet comprehend, what is beyond the next turn. Don’t fear the unknown, journey into the messy mystery.    

Every Holy week I am struck by the image of Jesus in the garden, trembling, begging God to remove that cup from him, but even amidst the doubt and fear, there is openness – “Not my will, but Yours be done”.  

And is there anything wider open than Jesus there nailed to a cross, mocked and beaten, so alone, quivering, but begging God to “forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing”? How do we not just stand in awe, but get to that place of understanding and grace?

And finally, Jesus gives voice to his and all our doubts, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Where are you, God? That very question acknowledges pain and a desire for God, and draws us toward reconciling and healing, toward discovery, toward God.  

I am still wrestling with the nuts and bolts of letting go of my certainty and righteousness, but I do think it starts with meditating on the grace we have all received. I also really need to trust in the God of hope, remembering that even those who nailed Jesus to the cross had beautiful and redemptive chapters yet to be written. God worked on the other side of the cross and God is very much still at work in the world now.

I am praying that this Lent allows you the space to lay down your certainty so that you may be drawn more closely to that God of love, grace and hope for all.

Peace,

Ben+

The Rev. Benjamin Wells Maas is the rector of Saint James’ Warrenton. He can be reached at rector@saintjameswarrenton.org.