Ask me again in six years.

There are moments when I realize how different my exploration of faith has become in the last few years. I had one of those moments today.

The conversation started about the book of Jonah. Is it written as a literal, historical record, or was it intended to be a metaphor about the relationship between God and humanity? I have no answer to the question, but I admitted that I was open to the possibility of either. This admission was troubling to some in my company, and our conversation turned from discussing Jonah specifically to applying the concept within the entire Bible and toward the meaning of Holy Scripture.

I believe that Scripture is sacred. It has been designated, set apart, and shaped toward a specific function. It is holy and purposeful; it is different than any other document ever written. It miraculously carries the weight of the divine through human expression. But I do not feel that it has to function like a textbook to prove its credibility.

I have been on the other side of the debate. I have insisted that without absolute literal consistency the entire message is put in jeopardy. I have been afraid that bending on a bit of literal interpretation here would lead to the crucial tenets of my faith being thrown out there. But I’ve relaxed a bit in my old age. I’ve come to accept that there are places in Scripture that seem to speak more clearly as a piece of carefully crafted art. In the last four hundred years—conspicuously noticable since the Enlightenment—many believers have made it absolutely necessary that all Scripture defaults to a left-brained record of purely objective events.

Now please understand, I know much of Scripture was obviously written as a fact-to-hard fact account of history and personalities. But there are some passages that undeniably employ poetic imagery and metaphor to make absolutely true statements about God and humanity. Couldn't it be that there are others that we have read incorrectly? As a student of literature, I love the way that art can speak a higher, clearer truth than a cold record of events may attempt. Christ often employed metaphors to help his hearers find themselves in a fictional account of the deepest truths.

Our Enlightened, Western minds ask for absolute certainty, for closed-ended answers. It feels safe. It promises to cover any vulnerability. But we have forgotten that truth is not limited to historical records. It can be manifested in the art of paintings, poetry, and music.

We have been taught that gray areas and the unknown only exist to be explored and explained. We are uncomfortable with the mysterious. But as a created, limited being, I must recognize that I only see the faintest shadows of reality. A certain amount is revealed through Scripture, the use of our minds, the inspiration of an active faith and the community of believers. But ultimately there is so much both within and beyond my reality that I am incapable of knowing. I must acknowledge that any quest for unshakable certainty will always be limited by my entirely liminal existence.

St. Benedict helped me through the process. It was his quote, “All truth is God’s truth,” that blew the doors off the world for me. I realized that seeking answers to difficult, intimidating questions could only draw me further into truth, thus closer to God. And it helped me be comfortable in uncertainty. If I was in religious-philosophical limbo about a question, wasn’t that somehow better than being stuck to the wrong answer?

Real life is a balance between the known and the unknown. The early Christians passed down the Apostles Creed as the most basic statement of faith for being a follower of Christ. It speaks of certainties- choices of faith. It outlines the factual importance of the death and resurrection of Jesus. It affirms eternal life. These are the black-and-white pieces of Christian faith. So many other pieces were left open for discussion!

The story of redemption works beautifully with uncertainty, with grayness. We are given immense grace and security in the midst of our thick thought processes. We are not expected to have all the answers, but we are invited to be full participants in the conversation. We have been given good, creative minds to further our fascination with a God that has no explanation, no neat ending.