[Note: There was a combined July/August newsletter issue, so this is my September article... You might find it has a different feel, intentional on my part; however, if you mull over Tolstoy's short story, you might see Do It Yourself theology in a... Well, I hope you'll see what I mean...]
What do Thomas Jefferson
and Leo Tolstoy have in common? Read on…
One early Spring morning
when I was a seminary student, I was walking to class and as I came around the
corner into a hallway with a couple of large potted trees/shrubs, one with a
lone bright yellow bloom caught my attention (as if that was its plan). I
stopped and looked at it and wondered how a tree/shrub in a pot left to its own
devices on the second floor of a poorly ventilated old building could generate
the kind of natural beauty that could stop me in my tracks. I considered that,
perhaps, the bloom was sign or a message or something... Maybe from God? Maybe
the plant itself is trying to speak the only way it knows how? Even the hapless
atheist has to ponder a yellow bloom from time to time...
As I sat through my
classes that day, I felt a renewed appreciation for the nearly infinite things
the people of this planet believe and believe in. For some, when a belief is at
odds with a tenet or dogma, the simplest remedy is to either rework
(reinterpret) a teaching or create a more palatable replacement. (In the world
today, science, history, politics, and especially religion function for so many
as a cafeteria line—if the price is right, we get in the line and take what we
want.)
In the late 1800s, the
renowned Russian writer, Leo Tolstoy, took issue with some facets of Russian
Orthodox theology and the practices of the church; he became an outspoken thorn
in the side of Tsar Nicholas II upon whom the church had bestowed near-deity
status. He was quieted only by the pneumonia that took his life in 1910. Before
he died, had put together his own "bible" and even had a cult-like
following of morally austere pacifists ("Tolstoyans") who believed
that non-violent resistance to authority was mandated by Jesus and true faith
manifests itself in anarchy (contrary to what Paul tells us in Romans 13).
He may have been a
religious renegade and he certainly had no use for monarchy; however, Tolstoy
was an interesting character and a gifted writer. Much of his work contains a
thread of piety. A great example of this is his short story Three
Hermits, which I found to be an unorthodox (pun intended), but very
effective conversation-starter when I was a high school Russian teacher:
“And in praying use not
vain repetitions, as the Gentiles do: for they think that they shall be heard
for their much speaking. Be not therefore like unto them: for your Father
knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask Him.” -- Matt. vi. 7, 8.
A bishop was sailing from
Archangel to the Solovetsk Monastery; and on the same vessel were a number of
pilgrims on their way to visit the shrines at that place. The voyage was a smooth
one. The wind favorable, and the weather fair. The pilgrims lay on deck,
eating, or sat in groups talking to one another. The Bishop, too, came on deck,
and as he was pacing up and down, he noticed a group of men standing near the
prow and listening to a fisherman who was pointing to the sea and telling them
something. The Bishop stopped, and looked in the direction in which the man was
pointing. He could see nothing however, but the sea glistening in the sunshine.
He drew nearer to listen, but when the man saw him, he took off his cap and was
silent. The rest of the people also took off their caps, and bowed.
“Do not let me disturb
you, friends,” said the Bishop. “I came to hear what this good man was saying.”
“The fisherman was telling
us about the hermits,” replied one, a tradesman, rather bolder than the rest.
“What hermits?” asked the
Bishop, going to the side of the vessel and seating himself on a box. “Tell me
about them. I should like to hear. What were you pointing at?”
“Why, that little island
you can just see over there,” answered the man, pointing to a spot ahead and a
little to the right. “That is the island where the hermits live for the
salvation of their souls...”
You can read the rest of
the story at goo.gl/vKVTJz. (Go ahead—you’ll like it!)
In the end I decided that
the one-bloomed shrub-tree, a paean to the brick-and-mortar captor that sheltered
it from a disordered and fragmented world, was simply relaying the instructions
of its God. We humans were made to do the same (through faith, without
alterations—our theology is not DIY, but DIH…
as in [God] Does It Himself ).
That’s it for this month.
May the Lord bless you and keep you,
Pastor E.B.
P.S. Jefferson, like
Tolstoy, took what he liked from Christian doctrine and assembled his own
"bible."
