Eric Hayden
Staff Writer
When I was younger, I defended my faith (often with every tooth and nail), against what I considered gross misrepresentations, distortions and un-truths that were presented by a wholly “secular” world. I studied literature from the Christian Research Institute, learned how the earth could be miraculously only 6,000 years old and espoused the wonders of the theory of Intelligent Design.
My faith was deeply rooted in my exploration — it seemed to be established by having people with doctorate degrees telling me that Creationism, Noah’s Ark and the Old Testament events were not only scientifically possible, but archaeologically confirmed.
It’s easy to let one’s faith (or non-faith) be influenced by an eloquent speaker with a distinguished doctorate. That is why I find studying Christianity at Pepperdine fascinating, yet so confounding.
The assumption the University makes in promoting mandatory Jewish and Christian survey courses is that a student should learn the history of his or her faith and wants to defend it against an encroaching — or prevailing — religious nonchalance.
For the most part, professors take great strides in separating religious tradition from history and try their best to piece together a framework from which we can understand how the two diverged.
But, sometimes we all forget that, without the tradition, history is easily punctured. No one should read the Bible to understand how the mechanics of our world work or why. If you do, you might uncover more mysteries than answers. You’ll find yourself trying to categorize different types of Angels, trying to dissect what a “Leviathan” is or was and unsuccessfully attempting to decode the “hidden” meaning of the book of Revelation.
Categorization is the disease of close inspection, and no book has been sifted, dissected, decoded or reframed as the Bible has.
This leaves Christian professors with the unenviable task of scientifically poking holes in the logical framework of their faith and its history, while somehow trying to maintain the integrity of that very faith as the foundation for their worldview. They seem to acknowledge the incongruity of timeliness, events, prophecies and revelations, yet still can attest to the undeniable power that their faith can have in shaping even their everyday lives.
If the Bible is to be used simply as a moral compass or guidebook, then is it essential for it to be scientifically accurate, or even plausibly historically true? Of course not.
This seems to be the reason why most Christians never decide to dissect the Bible for themselves. The Bible then becomes a sort of cultural touchstone — it is a work of unbridled importance, specifically because it has the power to effect and shape morality in everyday affairs.
Religion classes at Pepperdine naturally try to justify Christian absolutes and ethics, despite the best efforts of impartiality by some of the professors.
The effect of defending one’s worldview through controversial scientific theory and tedious analogies (in eluding Christ is three-in-one — just like an egg, a yolk and its shell) not only seems cumbersome and awkward, but it takes away the mystery and power of faith.
09-25-2008