Never Walked In High Heels

I was in a small group this week where we were studying historical intricacies of the Bible. In many Christian circles, one is never given the opportunity to ask about what facts there are available from the resources of archeology and history which can bolster our faith on the days when all reason points to doubt. Much of the modern church seems to take the idea that we have been ‘saved by faith’ as a reason for us to keep our eyes closed the rest of our lives.

Turns out, there’s a lot of evidence I never heard about in my Sunday School education. And I can think of no reason why this would be so. Much of this evidence would help me to understand theological debates better, rather than shaking my beliefs. Why then have I never heard of these sources which can act as corroborating evidence, or translations which would help me to understand nuances in the Bible that people point to as contradictions. Why was I never even taught how the Bible was put together in the first place?

When I went away to uni, a theologian who was also a member of our congregation got wind that I was planning to take a philosophy class my first semester at school. The man begged my father to dissuade me from doing so, citing the plethora of young people who had lost what they believed in university classes. Thankfully, my father refused to take his advice. Why would any theologian, who knows what he believes to be truth, be afraid that his beliefs would not stand up to questioning?

The irony of the entire situation is, of course, that if students are never challenged in their faith, it will never grow strong enough to stand up to a debate or even an honest question. As is the case in any field, if something doesn’t stand up to questioning, what exactly is the point of fooling yourself into believing it? Challenging one’s own beliefs is like taking a hammer to the hull of a boat: you may learn where the boat is going to spring a leak… but you might learn that the entire boat was a lot stronger than you had originally thought. Either way, the boat needs to be checked over well before you send it out to sea.

So why don’t we bother looking at the common challenges raised by any of our beliefs rather than examining them fearlessly? This is one of the many places where organized religion as a whole fails miserably. Dostoyevsky argues in his The Grand Inquisitor that it is because most people are afraid of responsibility and freedom that they would rather run to a mind controlling church. To a point I think he’s correct, but there’s something more insidious than feeble going on as well. If our believes don’t have to stand up to the challenges placed before us, then everything is under control and whatever we base our world around is completely tame. The leap of faith becomes a bunny hop, and we understand the universe completely.

What we miss in that flat world which we think we understand, is the breathtaking intricacies in which faith is rooted.

Last night I became engrossed in a debate with a fellow American about whether or not it was appropriate for us to bow when meeting the Queen of England… should we ever do so. Her argument was that it is British custom bow and “when in Rome…” The problem is, there is a difference between following cultural custom because you are a guest and completing an act of submission, which is what the bow symbolized originally.

I’m not going to talk about the point of the American Revolution and the preamble of the Constitution ensuring that Americans bow to no one. Such an argument is quickly, even if irrationally, dismissed in a postmodern world. But I do want to challenge the argument that people give: Americans should bow to the Queen as a sign of respect?.

Respect for what exactly?

If it’s respect for the culture, this is a shaky argument to say the least. I’ve never walked down Tottenham Court Road and seen one man bow to another. Unlike the Japanese, Brits are not normally the bowing type these days contrary to what you may read in fairy tales. That’s why businessmen bow when they are over in the Tokyo office. This is not a bow I have a problem with.

So then, why do British people bow to the Queen? Simply put, because she is their queen. They do not bow to their prime minister or any other member of their government. They bow to no other foreign regent but their own; British people don’t bow to the king of Saudi Arabia because he is not their sovereign. And likewise, Queen Elizabeth is not ours.

You will now no doubt say, “you should respect a world leader.” I will never disagree with this. But since when does showing respect to people mean bowing to them simply because they wear a crown on their heads. For that matter, what makes her a world leader? She was born into a regal position, this is very true, and so were many world leaders. One might even very well argue the same about a wealthy man born into his privileged position. But by being a leader it is inherent the one leads. According to most of my friends here in the UK, the only leadership activity she undertakes is putting on the crown.

I bow to no one except to God. The American Constitution and my own faith are far too engrained in me to even consider doing otherwise. Some might call it fanaticism, others can call it arrogance. But I personally think no one should be obliged to bow down to another person, ever. If we are all made of the same stuff, if we are all equal as people and as cultures, why should a title be acknowledged at all, let alone with an act which historically signifies acquiescence. You are still fearfully and wonderfully made, even in a place as sophisticated as Rome.

I’ve been told there was recently a horrific earthquake in Haiti. My pastor tells me the president’s approval ratings are at fifty percent. Evidently there’s been a change over in congress. Supposedly Google and China are at odds. Oh and Johnny Depp is dead (I read that one on Twitter… it wound up being a hoax).

Other than that I have no idea what’s going on in the world. I haven’t turned on the news, listened to my favorite talk radio station, or opened a paper since New Year’s Eve. This was the resolution I made for myself. And so, what I know of the world I get in snippets: the boldface overly dramatic Evening Standard sign, conversations with friends, a headline I happen to see from the paper the man opposite me on the tube is holding or a dubious Twitter feed. There are no images of mass graves coming into my home while I’m eating dinner. I haven’t seen a lying politician for months. And my blood pressure has probably dropped.

This year long experiment has already changed my worldview in so many ways. I can no longer assume myself to be the most jaded one at a cocktail party as every piece of news hits me fresh. I listen to other people and their opinions more, because I cannot offer my own. And once I hear of an incident, it is the principles rather than the particulars which I am left to think about.

But my favorite effect of not watching the news is I see the things in front of me much more clearly. With the extra time I now have, I’ve made an effort to spend it with the people who surround me in daily life. The truth is, everyone’s life is so dramatic that each person could be their own news show. If broadcasts are supposed to inform us about the events that shape our world, why do we not respond with the same amount of passion when our friend finds out that her husband is having an affair as we do when we hear about a politician doing the same to his wife. How can I honestly say I feel pain for people who lost their homes in a natural disaster, when I don’t even bother to understand why a man outside Waterloo Station has lost his?

I’m not even saying ‘love thy neighbor as thyself’ and everything will be fine. The truth is I don’t like the idea of being nice for niceness sake, it becomes another excuse for legalism. I think western society’s obsession with the news can be another form of this devotion to the standards of society. We appear to care about the world around us while not actually looking at the issues close to home. It’s like driving in the desert; everyone is looking at the mountains, which are miles away, wondering how the people there can live in such harsh conditions. We almost marvel at the drama of it. What we miss are the folks who we drive past that desperately need a cup of water. Perhaps we are even on our way to help the folks on the mountainside ourselves. But while this is admirable, we aren’t anywhere close to our destination. The fact is, when can’t even get where we think help needs to be without looking around and seeing first where we are.