A question of faith
Novelists Anne Perry and David Corbett on religious belief,
> I BELIEVE
What do I believe? It has been a long journey of discovery. There have been hesitations and errors along the way, and no doubt will be more, because I am still learning, both about myself and about life.
I have two voices within me. In my head there is that of my father. He was an astronomer and theoretical physicist. I remember him teaching me, when I was about three, that the sun was a star like any other and about nine minutes away, at the speed of light. At the same time, he also taught me that Nazis and Germans were not necessarily the same thing. The message was clear: don’t label and don’t judge.
He believed in the immeasurable beauty of creation and the love of knowledge, but not in a God. He looked at what man has done and continues to do in the name of religion, and he found it abhorrent. To him, kindness was the great virtue.
The other voice is in my heart, and it is that of my maternal grandfather, whom I knew only through the memories of my grandmother. He was a chaplain in the trenches during World War I (and the hero of my mystery series set in that time). My grandmother told me the stories of the New Testament in her own search for the same strength he had possessed.
My favorite story was about Jesus taking time from his teaching to visit the sick daughter of Jairus, even though he had been told it was too late; the girl was already dead. He answered that she was only sleeping, saying, “Maiden, arise,” and she awoke. Jesus even cared about sick little girls.
I was just such a sick little girl. On one occasion the doctor told my mother he would come back in the morning and sign the certificate of my death. But she would never give up. He returned to find my fever broken and me arisen. That story sank deeply into me, because I needed to believe that God cares for even the least significant of us.
As I grew up, I learned much of regular Christian teaching at school, and philosophy and morality at home. It was a time when courage, loyalty, honor, and kindness were the giants of virtue.
So what do I believe? It must make intellectual sense. But more than that, it must make moral sense. How can I worship a God who is unfair? I cannot accept that anyone can be guilty without knowledge of both good and bad and they must have the ability to choose.
Would God have created us, then told us not to seek knowledge of the difference between good and evil, and expected us to obey forever? Could anyone be so blind to human nature? And that doesn’t even address the question of why he would wish us to remain innocent when it is essentially the same as ignorant. It makes the whole of existence purposeless. I can’t accept that.
Surely it makes more sense that God knew we would desire knowledge so passionately that we would take it, regardless of the consequences. But with knowledge comes accountability and the beginning of growth. And since we must abide both the good and the bad of that, it has to be our own choice.
Then we come to the one question that really cannot be avoided. If there is a God, why is there such tragedy and chaos in the world? If he is all-powerful, he could prevent it. Does he not love us? Or is he simply not aware, not watching anymore?
Most of us struggle to explain the horrors we see or read about. Does hell have to be so very deep? No, it doesn’t, but if hell is less deep, then heaven is also less high. I believe passionately that the same power that protects me from hell, in doing so, denies me heaven. There can be no glory in the light without knowledge of the darkness.
We need the passion of hope, the hunger for beauty that even a glimpse of it will bring. Heart and intellect should walk together.
Do I believe in the Christ of the New Testament because I want to so much? Am I afraid of a universe in which there is nothing beyond what I can see and someone can prove? Yes, I am afraid of it, but has that anything to do with truth or only with my perception of it? That cool voice of logic again.
Maybe I also believe it because I need to — the alternative is despair.
I have no respect for disobedience nor for an instant do I advocate it. But I want to move as fast as possible to the concept of learning, discovering, eventually doing the right thing because I understand it, I can see the beauty of it, and it is who I wish to be!
I want to be brave; be honest because I have no need to lie, above all to myself. I want to help others because I see my own pain in theirs, and I want to ease it — for them, not for me. It may be a long journey!
Then we come to forgiveness. I have to believe it is available for everyone, but that does not mean there is no price. We are not punished for our sins but by them.
It is so easy to philosophize. It sounds good. Forgive, as you would be forgiven! I imagine a dark, windy plain and a ring of people seated around a fire, so close together that the person outside cannot find any place to come in. No one will allow it. I can’t bear it for him, whoever he is or whatever he has done. I see myself in him, and my rage goes. I can shut him out for a little while, but it can’t last.
That brings me to another of my difficulties, the crucifixion of Christ. I have heard it said over and over that he died for each of us. But then the reasoning voice of my father reminds me that uncountable numbers sacrificed their lives for others. It was what happened in the Garden of Gethsemane that is unique to him and changed eternity. Christ had a vision in which he saw and experienced every guilt, grief, loneliness, and loss in the lives of all mankind, and walked with us through each one.
I don’t want to relive my own past griefs, illnesses, or guilts, let alone stand by helplessly and watch others’. There are pictures I deliberately do not look at, individual agony and humiliation, mass atrocity I refuse to see.
In Gethsemane, Christ asked three of his disciples to watch with him, and for whatever reason, they could not. They fell asleep. If my watching with anyone through such pain would lessen it, would I love them enough to do it?
The greatest commandments of Christianity are Love God and Love thy neighbor as thyself. Perhaps the latter could also be said as Watch with me. There are griefs everyone faces when a hand holding ours in the darkness is all that gets us through, and the promise I will not leave you.
We have our moments when it is as if we are alone in the universe. That is when we know who or what it is we really believe. I have surprised myself with how instinctively I turn to God.
The story comes to my memory of the woman who had had an issue of the blood for years and no doctor could heal her. She followed Christ through the streets of Jerusalem and touched the hem of his garment, with the faith that doing so would heal her. He felt strength leave him and turned to ask, “Who touched me?” The woman came forward. His response was simple, “Thy faith hath made thee whole.”
I wish I had faith like hers, and I believe that if I did, I would be truly whole of spirit and soul.
The more I study the history of mankind and the philosophies we have hammered out of our confusion and seeking, the more insistently do I hear the voice of my grandfather and the faith that survives and keeps you sane. If you cannot see the star any longer, remember that you once did and keep going. Remember what was beautiful, and never lose it inside you.
Back to the beginning: Do I believe these things because I want to? Even need to? Perhaps, but it has a power and a beauty that I have found to work. Is that not the true, utterly rational, and pragmatic test? Does it work for me? Does it give me purpose, explain the darkness and failures of life, make me see myself and others as valuable, tender, capable of great good? Does it make me strive to love more, to be wiser, braver, gentler because I see the endless beauty of it? Yes, not every hour but at least every day. I believe that the plan in which all human beings are the children of God and infinitely loved by him is the most beautiful thing possible. We have the opportunity to take mortal life upon ourselves, to learn and grow in wisdom, courage, honor, and the ability to love.
To become more like God over the ages. I desperately want this to be true because it makes sense of all I know. What else? All the rituals in creation are of no use at all if you cannot be kind. That is what I am certain of.
What is in the little silver needle case that hangs on my bedroom door, written on a slip of paper and in my heart?
Be still, and know that I am God. Anne Perry is an international bestselling author of more than 80 novels. “What Do I Believe?” Copyright © 2015 by Anne Perry. The essay has been edited for length.