Messy Theology

We have been watching a new show on Hulu lately.  It is called "Rev" and tells the story of a small town Church of England vicar who is now in charge of an inner city London church.  Being a (sort of) Preacher's Kid and having studied to be a pastor myself, I can relate to many of the main character's difficulties.  I can remember situations that I or my father have had to deal with as each show progresses: drug-addled beggars at the door, well-meaning but slightly embarrassing lay workers, a bishop that seems to working for a corporation rather than a church-these could all be characters from my own life.

But there are some big differences as well.  The church of England, assuming they are portrayed correctly (and when I think of how my own faith is portrayed on TV, I doubt it), comes at their faith with a very different perspective.  And this intrigues me almost more than the similarities.  Where as my faith tradition (conservative evangelicalism) tends to lean towards an unthinking acceptance of the cold hard Truth (i.e. hell is not only real, but you should be happy about it), the church of England takes the opposite approach to truth.  In this latest episode, the vicar allows a Muslim children's club to use the church to teach prayer classes because they lost their space at the community center.  He is impressed by their strong moral stance, their surety about right and wrong and decides to try a bit of it himself.  He organizes a strike against a gentleman's club which is due to open across the street from the parish school (he being the only one to even think that that is a bad idea, though he isn't quite sure of it himself) and struggles through the whole episode with the feeling that he is being judgmental, that who is he to say that enjoying dancing naked ladies on stage is wrong and praying for some sort of moral certitude like his Muslim friends.

I wouldn't even want to hear what the leaders of my tradition would say to such an episode.  It would be full of appalled looks, astonished speech, and vehemence against such moral emptiness. I watched a movie once with a friend and his father in which a teenage boy and girl had to face the reality that they were pregnant.  The father spent half the movie sneering and saying things like "that's what you get for sleeping around" and "maybe next time wait for marriage"-completely missing the redemptive way the boy decided to give up his football career to make things right and be there for his new family.

I finished the episode feeling like I didn't know what to think.  On the one hand, I cannot relate to a faith that cannot see what is wrong with a woman stripping for a living...on the other I am disgusted by an approach to theology and morality that is devoid of understanding, love or humility.  I feel there must be a middle road somewhere between the two extremes, one in which I can act righteously, but not arrogantly.  One where I will not be frozen in doubt, but will still be flexible enough in my understanding to continue to grow and change.

I like to think I know what I believe, but am willing to admit that what I believe may be wrong.  In fact it has been wrong for most of my life.  If what I believe now is the closest I've come to understanding Truth, then I've been a heretic all along since I've never understood things like I do at this moment.  But on the other side of that coin, the side this episode made me see, I must be willing to act on what I believe, to not be frozen by doubt.  Which shouldn't be as hard as it sounds because I know that if I am confronted with the chance that I am wrong, I will be able to grow from it and change the way I act.  The humility of theology enables the boldness of action.  The boldness of action checks the humility of theology.

Of course it isn't as clean as that.  It never is.  I am actually quite arrogant about my theological humility and never as bold as I would like.  But if the house ain't messy, it's because nobody lives there.  And I'd like to think there is an awfully big Somebody living in this house.