Simplicity, Origin & Ubiquity
(Guest Post by Journey Community Member Lily Gross)
Overwhelmed by Oprahific ideology, statements of seeming depth and sometimes controversy printed on the sides of Starbucks cups, an optional Religion identifier on Facebook profiles, and an increasingly blurred line in yoga class between God and the Self, there's no place like our current society and culture to consider where we stand as believers. In the hypothetical situation in which a stranger asks us, What do you believe?, how do we answer? How can you summarize your whole being, the very essence of why you see everything the way you do? Like an essay that prompts "In 200 words or less...," so does the world hold us accountable for our raison d'etre.
I grapple with this. Even my most tried philosophies that have evolved over the years are subject to sudden change, because what I feel passionately today may very well counter what I feel down the road after new experiences: If innate evil exists. The role of developed countries in those of the developing. Whether to drink soymilk or conventional cow's. How can I possibly adopt as my confession of faith a succinct pledge composed by a bunch of ancient orthodox dudes, from whom I am so far removed, if I can't conclusively decipher the ethics of dairy consumption?
What initially turns me off from the Apostles' Creed, though, is exactly what draws me to it: its simplicity, its origin and its ubiquity. Of course, there's a book that could be written about each of the aforementioned traits. By 'simplicity' here, I mean neither "easy to get" nor mere recitation; I am referring to the beauty of brevity. Just like the exchange of wedding vows are short but moving and very significant, so are the phrases in the Creed. As for origins, the age of and history behind the Creed, as I am still learning on Sunday evenings at Journey, fascinate and intrigue me. That we as a community can trace back our collective faith (that is, its formal inception) to such remarkable antiquity fosters an empowering sense of identity. When we deliver the Creed, we are in the spiritual company of the billions of believers who have gone before and will come after us, from Paul to St. Francis of Assisi to Martin Luther King, Jr, to our own children and beyond. And as for its omnipresence, how powerful to attend a service at any number of congregations across the globe and with our brothers and sisters breathe forth in unison the tenets of what we hold to be true. The thought gives me chills!
There may be parts of the Creed you hesitate to give yourself to; I have gentle and humble reservations myself. What we can take solace and find peace in is that, while the speech in its entirety might not perfectly identify us individually, we can take each others' hands and figure it out together, one word at a time.
Overwhelmed by Oprahific ideology, statements of seeming depth and sometimes controversy printed on the sides of Starbucks cups, an optional Religion identifier on Facebook profiles, and an increasingly blurred line in yoga class between God and the Self, there's no place like our current society and culture to consider where we stand as believers. In the hypothetical situation in which a stranger asks us, What do you believe?, how do we answer? How can you summarize your whole being, the very essence of why you see everything the way you do? Like an essay that prompts "In 200 words or less...," so does the world hold us accountable for our raison d'etre.
I grapple with this. Even my most tried philosophies that have evolved over the years are subject to sudden change, because what I feel passionately today may very well counter what I feel down the road after new experiences: If innate evil exists. The role of developed countries in those of the developing. Whether to drink soymilk or conventional cow's. How can I possibly adopt as my confession of faith a succinct pledge composed by a bunch of ancient orthodox dudes, from whom I am so far removed, if I can't conclusively decipher the ethics of dairy consumption?
What initially turns me off from the Apostles' Creed, though, is exactly what draws me to it: its simplicity, its origin and its ubiquity. Of course, there's a book that could be written about each of the aforementioned traits. By 'simplicity' here, I mean neither "easy to get" nor mere recitation; I am referring to the beauty of brevity. Just like the exchange of wedding vows are short but moving and very significant, so are the phrases in the Creed. As for origins, the age of and history behind the Creed, as I am still learning on Sunday evenings at Journey, fascinate and intrigue me. That we as a community can trace back our collective faith (that is, its formal inception) to such remarkable antiquity fosters an empowering sense of identity. When we deliver the Creed, we are in the spiritual company of the billions of believers who have gone before and will come after us, from Paul to St. Francis of Assisi to Martin Luther King, Jr, to our own children and beyond. And as for its omnipresence, how powerful to attend a service at any number of congregations across the globe and with our brothers and sisters breathe forth in unison the tenets of what we hold to be true. The thought gives me chills!
There may be parts of the Creed you hesitate to give yourself to; I have gentle and humble reservations myself. What we can take solace and find peace in is that, while the speech in its entirety might not perfectly identify us individually, we can take each others' hands and figure it out together, one word at a time.
posted by Dale at 1:05 PM
1 Comments:
My own personal story on the creed goes this way. I found that the first time I ever stated the creed in a community setting also happened to be during a real struggle of faith a belief. I found myself saying "we believe" after "we believe" and finding solace in the fact that, while I wasn't sure that I believed, I knew what we believed. It was a comfort to have their belief help my unbelief and to, eventually, restore it again. It's not only important to have a community where you can belong before you believe, but one where you can belong when you're not sure you believe.
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