c. 2005 Religion News Service
(UNDATED) “How was your trip?” asks a friend.
I doubt that he wants the long answer, the full account of two days on the highway and three days visiting family. And yet a simple “Great trip!” seems not enough.
So I tell about lunches at my father’s retirement center and golf with my sister, but I skip the cribbage and Scrabble, morning walks, exploring a town where we once lived, long conversations with my wife, and the delight of stumbling upon Markham’s Restaurant in Winfall, Va., which opens once a month to cook spaghetti for longtime customers.
Each account has truth. The short story is like a highlights film of a baseball game. The long story has more, and the more I explore, the more I see.
To be effective citizens, persons and believers, we need both short story and long story, both light and heavy, shallow and deep, creedal formula and underlying realities. The deep alone would leave us gasping for air. The short alone would leave us under-informed and easily manipulated.
Here’s an example. In the short version of its origins, ancient Israel said that “a wandering Aramean (Jacob) was (their) ancestor” and a sojourn in Egypt went from greatness to bondage, until God rescued them.
In the longer version, Israel told how Jacob came to be, how he cheated his father Isaac and brother Esau, how Jacob was outwitted by his uncle Laban and deceived into accepting Leah, as well as Rachel, how jealousy gripped his household, how 12 sons and one daughter were born and didn’t get along.
In this longer version, Israel addressed important questions, such as enmity among the 12 tribes and how their lives intersected with God. The longer account led to an understanding of self, tribe and God that wasn’t always flattering or heroic, but was true to life.
In our modern age _ sound-bite politics, secretive institutions, bullet-point information, well-vetted slogans _ we tend to stop at the short account. Politicians rely on code words and portentous phrases, hoping to distract us from ambiguous realities and disruptive inquiries. Institutions rely on image, hoping to sell without having to prove, and to win loyalty without having to perform.
Religion should be leading the way deeper but, in its own distractions, tends to reduce the salvation drama to a few shibboleths and hot-button issues. Argue about public display of the Ten Commandments, but avoid engaging the full depth of Torah. Portray Jesus as superhero, even though the Gospels tell a more nuanced story. Reduce faith to a few litmus tests. Reduce ethics to a few attacks on someone else’s morality. Reduce hope to a tribal entitlement.
The short account isn’t enough. We need more than sound bites, more than a highlights film, more than over-simplified explanations. Before we give them our votes, we need to know what our political leaders are doing. Before we take a job or invest in stock, we need information about the enterprise, its values, capabilities and prospects. Before we buy a product, we need to know whether it works as advertised.
Before we commit faith and life to God, we need to know God’s depth and breadth, and how our lives will be transformed and called to account by exposure to God’s mercy. We need to know what is truly at stake _ surely more than the passing breeze of right-opinion and bumper stickers.
In my opinion, faith communities should raise the bar on truth-telling. We should ratchet down our culture-war rhetoric, step away from over-simplified issues, stop shouting slogans as an easy way to gain power, and take the time and effort to engage with God’s full story.
MO/PH END RNS
(Tom Ehrich is a writer, consultant and leader of workshops. His forthcoming book, “Just Wondering, Jesus: 100 Questions People Want to Ask,” will be published by Morehouse Publishing. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C. His Web site is http://www.onajourney.org.)
