Have you ever sat in a church, and found your mind so filled with questions that you found yourself wondering whether you should even be there at all?
Or have you ever wondered if the doubts that you have, and the answers that you do not understand, preclude you from even claiming to be a person of faith?
Questions about faith, about God, about life, about the meaning of all of it…well, if you’ve ever had such questions, please know that you’re not alone. But it is what you do with them that makes all the difference.
Today’s suggested reading from the 22nd chapter of Matthew concludes with a remarkably intriguing, yet sometimes overlooked comment.
In certain ways, the verse provides a closing to a scene that takes place in the final days of Jesus’ life. Immediately preceding these verses were the accounts of a series of verbal exchanges that had taken place between Jesus, and the Pharisees, and an unnamed lawyer who was seeking Christ’s opinion about which of the laws was the most important. Shortly before those exchanges, Jesus had been in discussion with a group of Sadduccees, and before then with some Herodians – all of whom had come to him – as verse 15 had explicitly stated – with the desire to “entrap him in what he said.”
The verbal sparring between Jesus and his interlocutors had gone back and forth – they would pose a question, and he, as often as not, would respond to their questions with questions of his own. They had wanted to know his opinions of Roman taxation policy, his beliefs about the possibility of resurrection after death and the implications of those beliefs for marriage and family relationships in eternity, and his reflections about which of the many laws were the most important and essential to obey. They were actually asking good questions.
The answers that Jesus provided to their questions had impressed the crowds. In the verse immediately preceding the beginning of today’s reading, the text states that when the crowd heard Jesus’ words, “they were astounded at his teaching.” Clearly, the crowds realized that he was able to hold his own…and then some.
But then, as we come to the end of today’s suggested text, we read, “no one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions.”
Their questions had run out.
Which, actually, was profoundly dangerous – as we who are readers of this text realize. This passage, set in the 22nd chapter of Matthew, is set only a few days before Jesus was betrayed and led to his death. And, as the week progressed, after their questions ran out, their verbal exchanges would give way to a violent execution. Those who were engaging him in conversation would soon be plotting with the political authorities of the time to silence him once and for all.
As I found myself reflecting on this verse, over the past week, I found myself pondering the nature and function of questions in our lives.
We all know, I think, that questions are essential to our growth and development as human beings. We are not born into this world knowing all of the answers; we do not come into existence with a complete and comprehensive understanding of the world. To the contrary, it is through asking questions, it is by pushing up against the limits of our knowledge and our understanding, that we grow and flourish and come to deeper levels of understanding and awareness. Doubts and incomprehension that lead us to ask questions are actually necessary prerequisite to growth and the expansion of our journey towards truth and understanding.
But in light of this particular verse, it is equally interesting for us to pause, for a moment, and what it is, within us, that leads us to stop asking questions, as Jesus’ opponents did in this passage?
There are many different reasons why we stop asking questions.
One reason is because we have become convinced that we already know the answer. After all, why bother asking a question if you already know, or if you are convinced that you already have the answer?
We have all probably heard people who continue to ask questions, even though we sense that they no longer are open to answers that do not conform with their already-held beliefs and opinions. It can become frustrating, even irritating, to listen to such people. Both they – and often we – know that their minds are already made up – so why are they bothering to ask?
A second reason why we stop asking questions if because we lose a sense of confidence that a person has any knowledge, or insight or truth to convey to us.
Most of us, at one point or another, have been in situations in which we have to ask for directions. We approach some stranger on the street, hoping that they can help us to find our way or point us toward our intended destination. But then they smile and shrug their shoulders, and say that they, too, are tourists – “I’m not from around here either” they say. We smile back (if we’re Canadian we say sorry), and we stop asking them any more questions, because we know that they do not have the answers that we are looking for. To continue to ask them for directions, or to insist that they give us answers would be absurd.
A third reason why we stop asking questions is because we simply do not respect, or care what the other person thinks or feels. For a whole variety of reasons, we can stop valuing or respecting any solutions or perspectives or insights that they might offer, and often, to to have to continue to listen to their offered answers becomes irritating.
Too often, we see this in the modern dynamics of political campaigns. Political opponents have lost any sense of respect or interest in what the other person or party espouses, and debates descend from an active and respectful engagement based in the exchange and exploration of ideas, into the realm of insults, dismissals and slanderous comments about the other. Comments might be phrased in such a way that it sounds like legitimate inquiries are made about the other person’s ideas, but we all know that the questions are only being asked in an attempt to set the opponent up for some bitter attack. In such moments in the modern political arena, as in so many other parts of life, we stop asking questions because we simply do not care what the other person thinks or feels – and there is no way that the opponents’ answers will be acknowledged as better than our own, or that they have anything to offer.
A fourth reason why we stop asking questions is because we fear that the answers to those questions might upset us, or challenge us, or perhaps even destroy our systems of understanding and of belief, or that they might provide an irrefutable challenge to the ways that we are living or acting.
This is a risky reason, because it is rooted in an awareness, within ourselves, that our understanding of truth is not sufficient, or that our actions are actually indefensible. To stop asking questions, in such a situation, maintains the power that is preserved by a commitment to the inertia of an unjust status quo. Everyone knows that if certain questions are asked, and if those questions were to be answered truthfully, there would be significant challenges posed to the systems of belief and power that are in place. So rather than overturn the status quo or upset the proverbial apple cart, it is safer, it is less risky, it is more polite, it is less dangerous simply to stop asking questions altogether. And truth goes undiscovered.
So, whether it is because we think that we already know the answers, or because we have lost confidence that the person has any truth to convey to us, or because we have no respect or care for the other person, or because the answers might be challenging to us, there can be many reasons why we stop asking questions – or, like the Pharisees in the presence of Christ, we do not dare to ask any more questions.
But the sad part of today’s story is that the Pharisees’ decision to stop asking questions actually kept them back from experiencing, and being transformed by the truth of the One in whose presence they were standing.
Jesus did not discourage their questions, nor did he seek to silence them from making enquiries, even though he knew that their intentions were not always noble or pure. He responded to their questions – sometimes with answers, sometimes with questions of his own, sometimes by challenging them to wrestle more deeply with the issues and ideas and texts and beliefs that were shaping their questions to him.
He was not afraid of their questions.
Which is an interesting reality for us to ponder throughout all of the changing seasons of our lives. If we are to grow, in faith; if we are to mature in the spiritual life; if we are to go further towards maturity in truth; if we are to be a community that is willing to be exposed to, and potentially reformed, in relation to truth, then we must be willing to ask questions; we must be willing to encourage others to ask questions; we must be willing to set aside our assumptions that we know all of the answers, or that others have nothing of value to teach us, or that it is better for us to hide behind the confining strictures of an unquestioned status quo rather than be exposed to the challenging and perhaps upsetting nature of truth.
God is not afraid of our questions, any more than Jesus was afraid of the questions of the scribes, and Sadducees and lawyers and crowds and disciples and individuals with whom he interacted.
And there are so many questions that we all have about faith.
How do we understand a God of power and love in a world of misery and suffering?
What is the best way to reconcile the insights of faith and of other intellectual disciplines, including science?
What is the meaning of your life and the purpose of your existence?
What happens to us after we die?
What happens to those who do not believe the same things that we believe?
What should the relationship between people of different faiths – and people of no faith – actually be like?
Can those who do not or cannot seem to believe in God actually be convinced by something that we say or do?
Are there limits to who should be “included” in the community of faith?
What are the limits to moral behavior, in every part of our lives?
What is the proper Christian perspective on the acquisition and use of wealth?
What are the most appropriate ways for Christians to be engaged with politics?
What does it really mean to be saved?
Is it really true that all things work together for good?
How can I love and forgive those who do terrible things to me or to my loved ones?
The list of questions, of course, could go on and on.
And you all have your own questions. Keep daring to ask them. Do not follow the example of the Pharisees, who did not dare to ask Jesus any more questions; rather, be confident in the good news that there is One who intentionally chose to walk among us in order to show us the way to truth; One who both answered – and asked – questions in the pursuit of truth.
So keep daring to question.
It is the only way to discover the truth.
