Skip to main content

The Leap

In September of 2014, when Gallup asked a sample of Americans whether they trust the federal government to handle international and domestic problems, the number of people who marked "None at all" was at its highest point since May of 1972. Respondents even showed a decreasing tendency to trust themselves.* Such distrust goes back to this country's inception. Richard Hofstadter has shown that the Founders distrusted both a government too democratic and one too authoritarian. He perhaps best summarizes this sentiment with a quote from a clergyman named Jeremy Belknap: "Let it stand as a principal that government originates from the people; but let the people be taught...that they are not able to govern themselves."**

Yet, many of us look to those in authority for security, and as examples of moral integrity. There is, I suppose, a danger in both too much skepticism and too little. For one who tends to trust easily, one danger--the least of them-- lies in a stinging disappointment when he finds fault with the one in authority. Worse, such a man may tolerate gross abuses by this person. This rings true in both the private and public spheres.

I write this in response to my own feelings about authority. I, for one, am more apt to trust that people with power want to do the right thing. Yet, both Christian doctrine and my own experience have taught me that motives are not always pure. Athletes cheat. Politicians extort. Pastors commit adultery. It becomes easy to address such glaring flaws in human authority with a decision to keep a distance. Confine the ones in authority to their roles as leaders, scholars, and scientists. Make them heroes. Ignore their personal lives and, by all means, don't get close. With such a strategy in hand, there will be no need to worry yourself with moral flaws.

Such a perception, of course, cannot last. Whether the truth screams or whispers, it cannot be made mute forever; and the house of cards one builds to manage his own insecurities about the world will be dashed, sometimes violently, and often by the man himself. When this happens, a shift in faith often ensues. Faith in business becomes faith in athletes; faith in the church becomes faith in charitable organizations; faith in parents becomes faith in bosses. When, in its turn, this trust is violated, what comes next is a maturity of sorts, if a man allows it. In whatever new or old authority the man invests himself, it is in the clear understanding that it, too, will fail. The foundation, it must be decided at the start, cannot be left the same. No belief in authority can ultimately rest in man himself.

Jesus knew this. In Matthew 7, he communicated the gravity of our decisions about whom or what we trust, and shows that there is one who is trustworthy:
Everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.
Trust involves action. Consider a scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. In a cave containing the Holy Grail, Indy's father is shot. Knowing that the Grail can heal the sick, Indy enters the cave to retrieve it, and eventually approaches a cliff. His guidebook reads, "Only in the leap from the lion's head will he prove his worth." Thus, he is forced to step into the precipice, but when he does so, finds an invisible path there to catch him. His fears relieved, he then walks more confidently across the path. It was the first step that was the riskiest. Just to be safe, however, he threw pebbles across the path behind him so he could see where it was.

We do not always have that luxury. In fact, it is easy for us to forget how God has proven himself to us, so that the faith in God that once moved mountains is so reduced that we can barely get out of bed in the morning. This faith amnesia must be one reason that James exhorts us to continue obeying and following the word of God, “not forgetting what we have heard, but doing it.” Those who do this, James promises, “will be blessed in what they do.”

That there is an eternal Father in whom we can trust may come as unseemly to a nation increasingly unwilling to trust our institutions.*** Yet, this is the only permanent foundation on which we can build our trust, the only one that will not fail. Such trust, like all trust, comes at a cost, of course. We must be willing to obey the one in authority to see that he is trustworthy; once this happens, a man begins to see the firmness of his foundation. "All other ground"-- be it fame, money, achievement, or those in authority-- "is sinking sand."

*"Trust in Government." Gallup, Inc. September 2014. Web. 5 October 2014.
*On domestic problems, seventeen percent of people answered "None at all" for 2011, 2013, and 2014. On international problems, nineteen percent answered "None at all."
**Hofstadter, Richard. "The Founding Fathers: An Age of Realism." The American Political Tradition and the Men Who Made It. A.A. Knopf: New York, 1948. Quoted from Clark, Doug. Linn-Benton Community College. Web. October 2014.
***A 2012 Gallup poll ("U.S. Confidence in Organized Religion at Low Point") found that Americans have also lost trust in the church as an institution. While in 1973, 66 percent of respondents held "a "great deal" or "quite a lot" of trust in the church as an institution, only 44 percent said so in 2012.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Heroes

Although we have several examples of heroes in our day, one of the best known is of a woman named Agnes Gonxhe Bojaxhiu (“Gonja Bojaju”), who devoted her life to sustaining the “poor, sick, orphaned, and dying.” Her venue was Calcutta, India, where she served as a teacher until she began to take notice of the poverty there. Seeking to do something about it, she began an organization that consisted of just thirteen members at its inception. Called the “Missionaries of Charity,” the organization would eventually burgeon into well over 5,000 members worldwide, running approximately 600 missions, schools and shelters in 120 countries; and caring for the orphaned, blind, aged, disabled, and poor. As her personal work expanded, she traveled to countries like Lebanon, where she rescued 37 children from a hospital by pressing for peace between Israel and Palestine; to Ethiopia, where she traveled to help the hungry; to Chernobyl, Russia, to assist victims of the nuclear meltdown there; and to

Comparative Medical Care

One thing I'd like to understand is why there is such a difference between medical costs here and those in Haiti. At the time the book Mountains Beyond Mountains was written, in 2003, it often cost $15,000 to $20,000 annually to treat a patient with tuberculosis, while it cost one one-hundredth of that-- $150 to $200-- to treat a patient for the disease in Haiti. Even if the figures aren't completely accurate, the sheer difference would still be there. Indeed, the United States pays more per capita for medical care than any other country on Earth. My first guess for why the disparity exists is that there is a market willing and able to pay more for medical treatment, so suppliers see the demand and respond with higher prices. According to at least one doctor (go to http://scienceblogs.com/denialism/2009/05/what_is_the_cause_of_excess_co.php), part of the reason is administrative prices here. People here have a higher standard of living, and so the cost of care is shifted to

The Nice Guy Fallacy

I read part of a poem recently by one of my favorite poets. It reads: I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage The linnet born within the cage That never knew the summer woods. I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time Unfetter'd by the sense of crime To whom a conscience never wakes. Nor what may call itself as bles't The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er befall I feel it, when I sorrow most 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. At base, Tennyson contrasted a life of risk, and consequent pain, with one of security. He sides conclusively with the life of risk, and says he fails to envy those who have faced no hardship. I agree with him; and, for good or ill, his words are just as relevant today as they were in the nineteenth century. Like then, there are those today who choose to live their lives with as little risk as