One of the major quandaries we encounter during the Great Fifty Days of Easter is the challenging time Jesus’ disciples have in recognizing their risen Lord. St. John’s account of the resurrection [John 20:1-23] recalls Mary Magdalene’s grief at finding an empty tomb. Angels ask her why she is weeping, and she tells them that the body of Jesus has been taken away. Turning, she sees a person she supposes is a gardener, telling him also of her grief. Jesus calls her by name and suddenly she knows whom she sees. Later in the evening, Jesus appears to his disciples and shows them his wounded hands and side. Again, they had not at first recognized him, but in that instant did. Finally, Thomas, absent from the gathering, shows up a week later. Confronted by Jesus, he cannot acknowledge whom he sees until he, too, is shown the wounds. Only then does he shout in recognition, “My God and my Lord!”
Not even the closest of Jesus’ first disciples readily recognized him until other contextual information fell into place – for Mary the sound of Jesus’ voice; for the other apostles gathered in fear, Jesus’ wounds and greetings of peace – so is there any wonder we have difficulties in getting our hearts and minds around who Jesus is and what his call to us ultimately means? We have been largely formed by the American educational model: going to class, memorizing tables and “facts” about this and that, learning the right answers, passing countless achievement tests, “movin’ on up” in school until we move on out into a world of harsh demands and endless challenges. We can only hope that we garner some good references, get accepted at a decent tech school or college, land a cushy position, and achieve whatever the illusive American Dream might suggest. We’ve even shaped living and learning as Christians by that same educational model, movin’ on up through Sunday School and Confirmation to learn the “facts” about faith and belief, and later wondering why folks are all too ready to be “movin’ on off” once confirmed. The Church may well commend to all, hope against hope, “life-long learning,” but do the math: only a significantly small portion of a faith community’s roll remains actively involved in faith formation IF, in fact, they continue to show up at all. There also is the tendency to expect our younger ones to go through the same educational regimen we endured in order to “earn” their Christian diplomas, be communed, in order “to merit” having a voice in congregational oversight. (If we had to do it, then, by gum, they’re going to suffer, too!) Finally, this vicious pattern fulfills itself by deluding our minds and hearts to assume that we somehow can “earn our place” and make ourselves “right with God” with right answers ABOUT the life of love God grants whether we live it or not day by day.
One of my favorite T-tiny tomes of great wisdom is the Hungarian philosopher Michael Polanyi’s The Tacit Dimension [University of Chicago, 1966], originally given as the Gifford Lectures, University of Aberdeen, Scotland, in 1951-1952. Polanyi describes two kinds of knowing: 1) Explicit Knowledge is based on documents, in databases, and stored and accessed by intelligence technology, including old-fashioned books like the ones we had in school or in confirmation. Mercy! We love seeing things in black and white, but surprisingly, such knowledge actually accounts for only about 20 percent of our ways of knowing. 2) Tacit Knowledge accounts for the other 80 percent. Tacit knowing is intuitive knowledge and old-fashioned “know-how,” learned by observation, participation, and intentional mentoring and apprenticeship. It is experiential, contextual, and well-practiced, shared with others through similar experiences over a very long time. Polanyi reminds his readers that people can readily recognize the face of their loved ones from among countless other faces with quite similar features, coloring, and expressions. It has been repeatedly demonstrated that a child can recognize its parent’s voice on the phone even with a significantly high percentage of distortion during the call. Nevertheless, whether it is the sight of a familiar face or the sound of a specific person’s voice, we cannot begin to say exactly what has led us to our sure conclusion. Polanyi’s phrase is to the point: “We know more than we can say…” [The Tacit Dimension, p. 4].
Understandably, Polanyi’s study has much to tell us about the Christian life far beyond Easter IV’s gospel: I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15just as the Father knows me and I know the Father [John 10:14-15a] as well as this coming Sunday’s gospel: I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing… If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples [John 15:5, 7-8]. A central characteristic of Christian community with Christ Jesus at the center is the tacit act of discernment made possible by shared experiences within the context of a faith assembly. The recognition of the enduring, abiding relationship made possible by Christ’s invitation is reflected particularly well in another account about discerning Jesus’ identity. At Caesaria Philippi the apostle Peter is quizzed by Jesus regarding who folks think he is. Peter replies that Elijah, John the Baptizer, Jeremiah, or another prophet have all been suggested as the “right answer.” Jesus then demands, But who do YOU say that I am [Matthew 16:15]? Once again, the experiences he has shared with Jesus cause things to click into place: You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God [Mt 16:16]. Jesus not only might, but actually DOES ask us the same, pointed question: But who do YOU, [add your own name!], say that I am? Do not go scrambling for the “correct” answer you studied centuries ago in confirmation. Do not be frightened that this is your qualifying exam. Rather, listen to that very wise, mid-twentieth century Hungarian philosopher once more: “We know more than we can say.”
Polanyi inadvertently tells us much about faith and belief. FAITH is what is called “primary theology.” It is the on-going, remembered experience of sensing that we are in relationship. That sense of relationship remains the all-important CONTEXT which we find resonating with others in our particular faith communities and hopefully within our immediate families, too. As we grow in faith, we begin to reflect on those encounters and confrontations with the divine which we may only vaguely sense, like peering into a mirror darkly. But in time, we begin to codify, organize, and bring into a coherent structure the things we have discerned and discovered about living in faithful relationship. This, brothers and sisters, is what BELIEF is, remembering it is different than FAITH. BELIEF is secondary theology like creeds and catechisms, articulated after and drawn from those often elusive early experiences we have discerned.
“Drawn from those often elusive early experiences we have discerned” is the key for understanding faith. It is what Luther finally concluded about baptism after a year’s in-depth study and wrestling with the Biblical record and theological and liturgical heritage of the Church. Infants, Luther concludes, most certainly have faith. The baby’s context for its budding faith is the immediate family. It is why much stock is placed in asking questions of parents and sponsors as they present their children for Holy Baptism. Parents and sponsors become aware of what God already has been doing during initial hopes of a couple to bear or adopt a child, when the child begins to grow in the mother’s womb and becomes tacitly aware of her beating heart, the sound of daddy’s voice, the raucous sounds of older siblings and pets, and the like. An infant already tacitly KNOWS its community – and hopefully it is a loving one. An adopted infant or an older child, even adult seekers of faith, quickly begin to amass experiences which encourage fledgling faith to grow and strengthen, too. In time, folks begin to articulate what the experiences and context have meant to them. They learn to articulate belief, the secondary, structured codification and speaking about the faithful life.
Tacit knowing for a Christian is the result of ABIDING in a community of faith. It is why the word “abide” shows up repeatedly in scripture. It is the central meaning of Jesus’ words this coming Sunday: Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me [John 15:4]. It is also the invitation made by other disciples who did even not recognize Jesus after his resurrection: Abide with us [stay with us]: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. And he went in to tarry with them. And it came to pass, as he sat at meat with them, he took bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them. And their eyes were opened, and they knew him… [Luke 24:29-31 KJV]. We ALL have much to discern this coming Sunday because some mighty proud parents are entering a most holy Tacit Dimension in our very presence to request that Master Luke Monroe Bundrick be baptized in faith. Thanks be to God!