February 12, 2005
Certain
Ann, my cyber friend, emailed me these startling words from Rabbi
Sheila Peltz. “As I stood before the gates (of Auschwitz) I realized
that I never want to be as certain about anything as were the people
who built this place.”
Certain. Would that we could be. Would that I could be certain even
that we cannot be. For where does time and learning stop in my life,
go “on hold” with Kenny G elevator music in the background so that
from there on, I can be certain? Like a young friend wrote from his
freshman year in college, “I’ve not learned anything new since I was
twelve.”
Certainty is the barrier where curiosity atrophies. Where it is
useless to read further. The president of the United States says he
reads no newspapers, no books, no commentary even about himself, only
reads, perhaps, the “riot act” to those who do. He is certain. He is,
of course, not alone.
The church is riven by those who are certain about the mind of God.
Do we so soon forget how Jesus bled in uncertainty as he knelt there
in Gethsemane?