“Belief” and “believe,” like “faith,” are tricky words in English. I prefer the Latin credo and fides, which survive in English in many forms (not least in banking!). Of course, most versions of the Christian bible rely on Jerome’s Latin… Instead of unpacking the Latin, I’ll tell a story.
My daughter’s BFF, L (to this day and, I predict, till the day either dies and beyond, if there is a beyond), was raised (and remains) an Episcopalian. She’s a Latina and distinguished pediatrician. But I digress. My daughter was raised in a Methodist church, a compromise between my husband and me. I was raised (and will always remain at heart) an Episcopalian. My husband was raised a Southern Baptist but became at UTS a – I don’t know how to describe him. He claims to be some sort of leftist Calvinist, but I don’t buy his intellectual arguments. (I think he is working out growing up in Oklahoma as the son of a civil rights enlightened Baptist minister.) He still goes to church (Congregationalist, this time round). I seldom do (and avoid our NE small town Congregational church altogether, except for funerals – I’d got for baptisms and weddings if there were any in this dying congregation.) Meanwhile, our son is an atheist/agnostic (his partner, a devout Catholic, and I have no idea how they work things out), and our daughter is raising her children Jewish (observant, not just “cultural”), though she hasn’t converted. (I think the beautiful Christmas Eve services at that Methodist church won her forever. Her boyfriend-to become-husband came once – he’d grown up in in a sheltered Jewish world – won him over to understanding. He disdained Christmas trees but permitted a tiny one in their apartment – which he decorated for with her earrings (a love story up there with O’Henry). She and our wonderful son-in-law can get away with a lot in Brooklyn. Yay, Brooklyn!
Just sayin’, religious life can get complicated. So, back to my daughter’s BFF, L. When L was preparing for confirmation, she asked me to be her sponsor, I guess you’d call it. For four or five weeks, maybe six young adolescents, about 13, around a table in a room near but not in the sanctuary. Each child had what I am calling a sponsor. The minister – an amazing man – was there, too. (For those who haven’t been there, there’s a special feeling to such a place. Near to god but far enough away that you could whisper and respectfully challenge.)
The meeting I remember most: the minister asked each adult “sponsor” to talk about a time or times we had doubted about our faith. Each and every one of us talked about our constant doubt, and the minister shared his. The lesson I took away, which I think the minister intended these newly teens take away: doubt is an essential element of faith. You “believe” “as if.”
