Doubt A Parable Quotes

If I could, Sister James, I would certainly choose to live in innocence. But innocence can only be wisdom in a world without evil. Situations arise and we are confronted with wrongdoing and the need to act.

Doubt requires more courage than conviction does, and more energy; because conviction is a resting place and doubt is infinite – it is a passionate exercise. You may come out of my play uncertain. You may want to be sure. Look down on that feeling. We’ve got to learn to live with a full measure of uncertainty. There is no last word. That’s the silence under the chatter of our time.

And if you have any doubts," Peter added, "Corinithians overtly tells us that the parables have two layers of meaning: 'milk for babes and meat for men - where the milk is watered-down reading for infantile minds, and the meat is the true message, accessible only to mature minds.

I want to say to you: Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty.

I have doubts

Life happens when the tectonic power of your speechless soul breaks through the dead habits of the mind.

Is any of this real? Dangerous question. Sometimes I don’t know the answer. I doubt myself. I doubt what I think I know. I try to forget about it. After all, if it’s real, why doesn’t anyone else know about it. Every one knows that change is inevitable. From the second law of thermodynamics to Darwinian evolution, from Buddhism’s insistence that nothing is permanent and all suffering results from our delusions of permanence to the third chapter of Ecclesiastes (“To everything there is a season”), change is part of life, of existence, of the common wisdom. But I don’t believe we’re dealing with all that that means. We haven’t even begun to deal with it.

Father Brendan Flynn: "A woman was gossiping with her friend about a man whom they hardly knew - I know none of you have ever done this. That night, she had a dream: a great hand appeared over her and pointed down on her. She was immediately seized with an overwhelming sense of guilt. The next day she went to confession. She got the old parish priest, Father O' Rourke, and she told him the whole thing. 'Is gossiping a sin?' she asked the old man. 'Was that God All Mighty's hand pointing down at me? Should I ask for your absolution? Father, have I done something wrong?' 'Yes,' Father O' Rourke answered her. 'Yes, you ignorant, badly-brought-up female. You have blamed false witness on your neighbor. You played fast and loose with his reputation, and you should be heartily ashamed.' So, the woman said she was sorry, and asked for forgiveness. 'Not so fast,' says O' Rourke. 'I want you to go home, take a pillow upon your roof, cut it open with a knife, and return here to me.' So, the woman went home: took a pillow off her bed, a knife from the drawer, went up the fire escape to her roof, and stabbed the pillow. Then she went back to the old parish priest as instructed. 'Did you gut the pillow with a knife?' he says. 'Yes, Father.' 'And what were the results?' 'Feathers,' she said. 'Feathers?' he repeated. 'Feathers; everywhere, Father.' 'Now I want you to go back and gather up every last feather that flew out onto the wind,' 'Well,' she said, 'it can't be done. I don't know where they went. The wind took them all over.' 'And that,' said Father O' Rourke, 'is gossip!

At its simplest, the parable is a metaphor or simile drawn from nature or common life, arresting the hearer by its vividness or strangeness, and leaving the mind in sufficient doubt to its precise application to tease the mind into active thought.

The Prodigal Son They gave the deep end of their heart--a hue of crimson red, They whispered their desire and offered up their bed, Yet he prayed for the spirit in the wind and God’s mysteries to find, And in the end it was her transparent heart that stole his restless mind, It really was no contest, not a question or even a doubt, But that is not where love ends or even what true love is all about, You see there was one other that rose above the rest, She was not like these women but still she was God’s very best, So the moral goes: A child answered the call to this man's wandering heart, And that is how the story ends you see... she became his favorite part, And what happened to the virtuous woman who put his mind in hell, She became the whisper in his music and a mystery to tell.

You have no right to act on your own! You have taken vows, obedience being one! You answer to us! You have no right to step outside the church!

It seems inevitable that people who can’t read are going to lean more toward judging candidates on the way they look and sound than on what they claim they stand for. Even people who can read and are educated are apt to pay more attention to good looks and seductive lies than they should. And no doubt the new picture ballots on the nets will give Jarret an even greater advantage.

These ideas can be made more concrete with a parable, which I borrow from John Fowles’s wonderful novel, The Magus. Conchis, the principle character in the novel, finds himself Mayor of his home town in Greece when the Nazi occupation begins. One day, three Communist partisans who recently killed some German soldiers are caught. The Nazi commandant gives Conchis, as Mayor, a choice — either Conchis will execute the three partisans himself to set an example of loyalty to the new regime, or the Nazis will execute every male in the town. Should Conchis act as a collaborator with the Nazis and take on himself the direct guilt of killing three men? Or should he refuse and, by default, be responsible for the killing of over 300 men? I often use this moral riddle to determine the degree to which people are hypnotized by Ideology. The totally hypnotized, of course, have an answer at once; they know beyond doubt what is correct, because they have memorized the Rule Book. It doesn’t matter whose Rule Book they rely on — Ayn Rand’s or Joan Baez’s or the Pope’s or Lenin’s or Elephant Doody Comix — the hypnosis is indicated by lack of pause for thought, feeling and evaluation. The response is immediate because it is because mechanical. Those who are not totally hypnotized—those who have some awareness of concrete events of sensory space-time, outside their heads— find the problem terrible and terrifying and admit they don’t know any 'correct' answer. I don’t know the 'correct' answer either, and I doubt that there is one. The universe may not contain 'right' and 'wrong' answers to everything just because Ideologists want to have 'right' and 'wrong' answers in all cases, anymore than it provides hot and cold running water before humans start tinkering with it. I feel sure that, for those awakened from hypnosis, every hour of every day presents choices that are just as puzzling (although fortunately not as monstrous) as this parable. That is why it appears a terrible burden to be aware of who you are, where you are, and what is going on around you, and why most people would prefer to retreat into Ideology, abstraction, myth and self-hypnosis. To come out of our heads, then, also means to come to our senses, literally—to live with awareness of the bottle of beer on the table and the bleeding body in the street. Without polemic intent, I think this involves waking from hypnosis in a very literal sense. Only one individual can do it at a time, and nobody else can do it for you. You have to do it all alone.

Imagine for a moment that one of your friends writes you a twenty-page letter passionately wanting to share her excitement about a new teacher. This letter has only one topic, your friend’s new teacher. [But] at the end of her letter, you still do not know one thing about her teacher. Yet, Paul presents the central figure of his theology this way. . . . It [seems] impossible to imagine how Paul could avoid telling one story or parable of—or fail to note one physical trait or personal quality of—Jesus.

Nobody, in other words - not the devil, not the world, not the flesh, not even ourselves - can take us away from the Love that will not let us go. We can, of course, squirm in his grip and despise his holding of us, and we can no doubt get ourselves into one hell of a mess by doing so. But if he is God the Word who both makes and reconciles us, there is no way - no way, literally, even in hell - that we will ever find ourselves anywhere else than in the very thick of both our creation and our reconciliation.

You have here a parable, the subject of which might be called The Persistence of Truth … Whatever fears, adversities, or doubts assail you, go forward calmly in the knowledge that the truth persists, and will prove itself in persisting. Though prayer be hard, though your soul walk in darkness, though your spiritual memories be shadowed by many a doubt, go forward secure in the knowledge that the truth of God endureth to all generations, and by its endurance will prove itself the very truth.” REGINALD SOMERSET WARD (1881–1962) Anglican Priest and Spiritual Director THE WAY

When scientists underestimate complexity, they fall prey to the perils of unintended consequences. The parables of such scientific overreach are well-known: foreign animals, introduced to control pests, become pests in their own right; the raising of smokestacks, meant to alleviate urban pollution, releases particulate effluents higher in the air and exacerbates pollution; stimulating blood formation, meant to prevent heart attacks, thickens the blood and results in an increased risk of blood clots in the heart. But when nonscientists overestimate [italicized, sic] complexity- 'No one can possibly crack this [italicized, sic] code" - they fall into the trap of unanticipated consequences. In the early 1950s , a common trope among some biologists was that the genetic code would be so context dependent- so utterly determined by a particular cell in a particular organism and so horribly convoluted- that deciphering it would be impossible. The truth turned out to be quite the opposite: just one molecule carries the code, and just one code pervades the biological world. If we know the code, we can intentionally alter it in organisms, and ultimately in humans. Similarly, in the 1960s, many doubted that gene-cloning technologies could so easily shuttle genes between species. by 1980, making a mammalian protein in a bacterial cell, or a bacterial protein in a mammalian cell, was not just feasible, it was in Berg's words, rather "ridiculously simple." Species were specious. "Being natural" was often "just a pose.

It was Bellini’s Sonnambula: a simple and chaste village girl, Amina, is found asleep in the count’s bedroom, having walked there unconsciously; her fiancé and the villagers denounce her as a whore, despite the Count’s protests, which are based on his superior scientific knowledge; but when Amina is seen walking in her sleep across a perilous bridge, which collapses behind her into the rushing stream, her innocence is proven beyond a doubt and she awakes to restored happiness. A parable of the soul, as his Latin teacher had pointed out so sententiously, Amina being a crude anagram for anima. But why, Simon has asked himself, was the soul depicted as unconscious? And, even more intriguingly: while Amina slept, who was doing the walking?

A man doubted that the emperor was descended from the gods; he asserted that the emperor was our rightful sovereign, he did not doubt the emperor's divine mission (that was evident to him), it was only the divine descent that he doubted. This, naturally, did not cause much of a stir; when the surf flings a drop of water on to the land, that does not interfere with the eternal rolling of the sea, on the contrary, it is caused by it. (Ein Mann bezweifelte die gõttliche Sendung des Kaisers, er behauptete, der Kaiser sei mit Recht unser oberster Herr, bezweifelte nicht die gõttliche Sendung des Kaisers, die war ihm sichtbar, nur die gõttliche Abstammung bezweifelte er. Viel Aufsehen machte das na­turlich nicht; wenn die Brandung einen Wassertropfen ans Land wirft, stõrt das nicht den ewigen Wellengang des Meeres, es ist vielmehr von ihm bedingt.)

Bertrand Russell’s parable of the celestial teapot.31 Many orthodox people speak as though it were the business of sceptics to disprove received dogmas rather than of dogmatists to prove them. This is, of course, a mistake. If I were to suggest that between the Earth and Mars there is a china teapot revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit, nobody would be able to disprove my assertion provided I were careful to add that the teapot is too small to be revealed even by our most powerful telescopes. But if I were to go on to say that, since my assertion cannot be disproved, it is intolerable presumption on the part of human reason to doubt it, I should rightly be thought to be talking nonsense. If, however, the existence of such a teapot were affirmed in ancient books, taught as the sacred truth every Sunday, and instilled into the minds of children at school, hesitation to believe in its existence would become a mark of eccentricity and entitle the doubter to the attentions of the psychiatrist in an enlightened age or of the Inquisitor in an earlier time.

There on my knees I closed my eyes and wept like a child. The sorrow I had carried for so many years was washed from my mind and heart, which were flooded instead with light and love. I knew without a shadow of doubt that I had found not only myself, but in Yeshua my master, and through him my Father. A groan broke from my throat and I began to shake with sobs, overwhelmed by such exquisite relief, for I, like the son in his parable, had been lost, but now I was found. Waves of light seemed to sweep over and through me, filling my veins and my bones with warm love. I was awash in the kingdom of heaven. And there was no end to those waves of light… they were eternal. Time had vanished. He was gone, I finally realized. And yet he was still with me, as near as my own breath. I don’t know how long I wept; I only know that when I then sighed a great breath and opened my eyes, morning had come. The sight offered to me by my two eyes was still blurred, but this was of no consequence. I was seeing with new eyes. Eyes that did not require the light of the sun in this sky. The light of the kingdom of heaven was bright within me.

But be that as it may, the telling point is that in this parable, a rich man ends up burning in hell and sees up in heaven a dead beggar he once knew named Lazarus, resting on the ‘bosom of Abraham’, so he begs Abraham to let Lazarus rise from the dead and warn his still-living brothers to avoid his own hellish fate. The parable ends with Abraham refusing, because ‘if they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone rises from the dead’ (Lk. 16.31). Key to this parable is that this fictional Lazarus does not rise from the dead, and that even if he did, it would convince no one, and therefore it won’t be done. This is thus another expanded exercise in making the repeated point that Jesus will not perform signs because they will not persuade anyone (as I surveyed earlier). Notice what happens in John: he reverses the message of Luke’s parable, by having Jesus actually raise this Lazarus from the dead, which actually convinces many people to turn and be saved, the very thing Luke’s Jesus said wouldn’t work. In fact, just as the rejected request in Luke’s parable imagined Lazarus going to people and convincing them, John’s Lazarus is then cited as a witness to the crucifixion, empty tomb and resurrection of Jesus, and is so cited specifically to convince people—again what Luke’s Jesus said wouldn’t work.

That there is struggle and inequality even in beauty, and war for power and supremacy: that doth he here teach us the plainest parable. How divinely do vault and arch here contrast in the struggle: how with light and shade they strive against each other, the divinely striving ones. — This is a clear description of the Gothic cathedral where you really feel that life itself has become congealed-one could say it was congealed life. It is often compared to a wood or to the branches of a tree; all sorts of animals run up and down those columns and spires. It is wood that has become stone, or spirit that has become incorruptible matter, and the architecture symbolizes the struggle from which it arose. One sees the struggle itself represented in Norman art, in those manifold representations of the fight between man and monsters, particularly. In the Gothic cathedral this conflict is fully developed and fully represented in the enormous height and depth, in the light and the shadow, and in the extraordinary complication of all those architectural forms melting into each other, or fighting one another. It is also expressed in the peculiar arches built outside the church to support the walls inside; it gives one the idea of tremendous tension, of a thing that is almost bursting. When you look, for instance, in Notre Dame in Paris, at the tension of the walls inside supported by the arches, you realize how daring the whole enterprise was-to catch so much spirit in matterand what they had to do in order to secure it. There is no such thing in the Norman cathedrals; they are really made of stone, while in the Gothic cathedrals one begins to doubt the weight of the stone. And a little later one sees the same peculiarity in sculpture. In the cinquecento sculpture of Michelangelo and the later men, they seemed to deny the immobility of the stone; up to that time, stone had been practically immovable, even Greek sculpture, but with Michelangelo, the stone began to move with a surplus of life which is hardly believable. It seems as if it either were not stone or as if something wrong had happened. There is too much life, the stone seems to walk away. It begins to move till the whole thing falls asunder. You see, that is what Nietzsche is describing here. He calls them the divinely striving ones that are no longer striving; they have congealed, they have come to rest. Jung, C. G.. Nietzsche's Zarathustra: Notes of the Seminar given in 1934-1939. Two Volumes: 1-2, unabridged (Jung Seminars) (p. 1109-1110)

Furthermore, the New Jerusalem is identified as the Bride of Christ (Revelation 21:9, 10), no doubt because it is the eternal home of all who are saved (Revelation 21:24), those who collectively constitute His Bride. But this city has twelve gates, inscribed with the names of the twelve tribes of Israel, and twelve foundations, in which are the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb (Revelation 21:12, 14). This surely means that within the city are both the redeemed of ancient Israel and the redeemed of the later Church of Christ. And this in turn must mean that all of these are somehow a part of "the bride, the Lamb's wife." The Bride, therefore, represents and includes all her attendants and all the wedding guests as well. The symbolism in the parables cannot be pressed beyond its purpose. The real message is that all believers in the true God, both Creator and Redeemer, of all the ages, will one day be restored to perfect fellowship with Him and united with Him forever. Glorious will be the great wedding feast, and blessed indeed are all who are called into it. Whatever distinctions may exist between the saints of the pre-Abrahamic period, the saints in Israel before Christ, the saints among the Gentiles from Abraham to Christ, the saints of the tribulation, and the saints in the churches from Christ to the rapture (and no doubt these will continue to be identifiable groups even in the ages to come) such distinctions are secondary to the great primary truth that all will be there by virtue of the saving work of Christ and their personal trust in the true Creator God and His provision of salvation. There is only one God (not one God identified with Israel and one God associated with the Church) and that one triune God will be in personal fellowship forever with all the redeemed saints of all the ages. He will dwell with them in the Holy City forever (Revelation 21:2, 3).

The Prodigal Son story was a parable, an illustration of how God welcomed back the lost without holding their past wrongs against them. But what Bryan really could have used right now was what came after the feast, from the lost son's perspective. The father was overjoyed, but no doubt the relatives sided with the older brother, maintaining their skepticism while rumors flew. How did the Prodigal earn back the trust of those who had written him off as a wastrel? How did he prove he'd truly changed and not just crawled home when he hit bottom? More importantly, did the change actually stick?

Collins’s understanding of the Fox-Hedgehog parable is questionable from the start. He suggests that people who have had the greatest impact on humanity—including Darwin, Marx, and Einstein—were Hedgehogs, consumed with a single and simple idea, then pursuing it with dogged focus. But Isaiah Berlin made no such claim, observing only that Foxes and Hedgehogs were two different ways of looking at human experience. There have been great people in both categories. According to Berlin, Plato was a Hedgehog but Aristotle a Fox; Dante a Hedgehog but Shakespeare a Fox; Dostoyevsky and Nietzsche were Hedgehogs while Goethe and Joyce were Foxes. Collins’s assertion about Darwin is also doubtful: After all, Charles Darwin was raised as a conventional Christian and arrived at his revolutionary ideas about natural selection after decades of careful observation and reflection—challenging conventional dogma is not the sort of thing a Hedgehog normally does. It’s not even clear that Marx was a Hedgehog, as his favorite epigram—De omnibus disputandum (Everything must be doubted)—has a distinctly Foxlike ring. Many so-called Marxists may be Hedgehogs, but of course that’s a different matter.

The Importance of Israel's Past (1–8) I Will Teach You (1–3) Truths in parables (1–2a) Things hidden from old (2–3) You Will Teach Others (4–8) The wonders of God (4) The word of God (5–8) The Insurrection of Israel's Past (9–16) They Rebelled Against God (9–11) They forsook his word (9) They forgot his works (10–11) God Rescued Them (12–16) God did wonderful things (12) God divided the sea (13) God directed them through the sea (14) God divided the rock (15–16) The Ingratitude of Israel's Past(17–31) They Defied God (17–19) They sinned against him (17) They tested him (18) They spoke against him (19) God Delivered Them (20a) He struck the rock (20a) He served them water (20b) They Disbelieved God (20b) They doubted he would give them bread (20b) They doubted he would give them meat (20b) God Disciplined Them (21) He was wrathful toward them (21a) He was angry with them (21b) They Denied God (22) They did not believe him (22a) They did not trust him (22b) God Delighted Them (23–31) God commanded the clouds (23) God rained down manna (24) God fed them abundantly (25–29) God disciplined them (30–31) The Insincerity of Israel's Past (32–39) They Rejected God (32–37) They sinned against God (32–33) They sought God (34) They remembered God (35) They lied to God (36) They left God (37) God Remained Faithful (38–39) He forgave them (38) He remembered them (39) The Insubordination of Israel's Past (40–55) They Rebelled Against God (40–42) They turned from God (40) They tempted God (41) They forgot God (42) God Rescued Them (43–55) He performed signs (43) He sent plagues (44–51) He led them (52–53) He directed them into the land (54) He drove out the nations (55a) He divided up the land (55b) The Idolatry of Israel's Past (56–72) They Rebelled Against God (56–58) They tested him (56) They turned back from him (57) They provoked him (58) God Disciplined Them (59–61) He abhorred them (59) He abandoned them (60–64) God Favored Them (65–72) He fought for them (65–66) He chose Judah (67–68) He constructed the temple (69) He chose David (70–72)

And if you have any doubts,” Peter added, “Corinthians overtly tells us that the parables have two layers of meaning: ‘milk for babes and meat for men’—where the milk is a watered-down reading for infantile minds, and the meat is the true message, accessible only to mature minds.

Home is the center of my being where I can hear the voice that says: “You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests”. A never-interrupted voice of love speaking from eternity and giving life and love whenever it is heard. When I hear that voice, I know that I am home with God and have nothing to fear. As the Beloved, I can be tortured and killed without ever having to doubt that the love that is given to me is stronger than death. As the Beloved, I am free to live and give life, free also to die while giving life. It is the voice of a nearly blind father who has cried much and died many deaths. It is a voice that can only be heard by those who allow themselves to be touched. Sensing the touch of God’s blessing hands and hearing the voice calling me the Beloved are one and the same. This became clear to the prophet Elijah. In the tenderness of God, voice was touch and touch was voice.

Nobody, in other words - not the devil, not the world, not the flesh, not even ourselves - can take us away from the Love that will not let us go. We can, of course, squirm in his grip and despise his holding of us, and we can no doubt get ourselves into one hell of a mess by doing so. But if he is God the Word who both makes and reconciles us, there is no way - no way, literally, even in hell - that we will ever find ourselves anywhere else than in the very thick of both our creation and our reconciliation. All the evil in the universe, whether from the devil or from us, is now and ever shall be just part of the divine ecology. And the Sower says that. The seed eaten by birds is as much seed as the seed that produced a hundredfold. The snatching of the Word by the devil - and the rejection of it by the shallow and the choking of it by the worldly - all take place within the working of the kingdom, not prior to it or outside of it. It is the Word alone, and not the interference with it, that finally counts. True enough, and fittingly enough, the most obvious point in the whole parable is that the fullest enjoyment of the fruitfulness of the Word is available only to those who interfere with it least. But even in making that point, Jesus still hammers away at the sovereignty and sole effectiveness of the Word. Those on the good ground, he says, are those who simply hear the Word, accept it, and bear fruit: some thirty-, some sixty-, and some a hundredfold. It's not that they do anything, you see; rather, it's that they don't do things that get in the Word's way. It's the Word, and the Word alone, that does all the rest.

And of course he was flattered that she wanted him. He was human, and no doubt tired of being alone.

THE STORY OF DENNIS KOZLOWSKI is a real-life parable of the good life conceived as wine, women, and song, with the power to replenish supplies at the snap of one’s fingers. While the dimensions of his appetites make the story grotesque, their out-sized character makes it easier to see our common longings for what they are. Kozlowski wanted to be rich. He believed that wealth would lead to limitless pleasure and achievement would lead to fame. He became obsessed with gratifying his own desires, despite the consequences to others. He thus exemplifies the modern American desire for personal autonomy, defined as freedom from all restraints, with the added kick of flouting the law. His ultimate goal became to do just as he pleased—to be his own god. There may be saints immune to these siren songs, but I am not among them, and I doubt that you are either. Bizarre though Kozlowski’s story is, I can identify with him. We both came from modest backgrounds. My view of life was particularly influenced by having seen bread lines in the Depression, and I vowed never to let that happen to me. We both had an enormous drive to succeed.

Second, Christian speech verbalizes the apprehended mystery of God by using a distinctive non-representational 'picture-language'. This consists of parables, analogies, metaphors and images piled up in balance with each other, as in the Bible itself (from which this language is first learned), and all pointing to the reality of God's presence and action in order to evoke awareness of it and response to it. Analysis of the functioning of this language is currently in full swing,8 and no doubt much remains to be said. Already, however, the discussion has produced one firm result of major importance — the recognition that the verbal units of Christian speech are 'models', comparable to the thought-models of modern physics.9

1 Cor. xv. 24: "Then cometh the end, when He shall deliver up the kingdom to God, even the Father; when He shall have abolished all rule and all authority and power." Christ will abolish these things, not merely in connection with evil, but absolutely. When He is supreme Monarch and there is no other power, friendly or hostile, in existence, then shall the Son also be subject to the Father, that God may be all in all. Who shall tell the majesty and glory of God's purpose? Let us cease to have circumscribed ideas regarding God and His Christ. He to whom a thousand years are but as yesterday when it is past and as a watch in the night, is moving on, despite our fret and worry. "For I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns." Who shall tell what lies beyond the handing of the Kingdom to God? Did you ever dream that there must come in the endless and illimitable time-which is not time, but eternity-a moment of weariness, a sense of monotony? Nay, think also of endless space. The sensitized film reveals stars which no astronomer has ever examined. Reach the further limit thus marked, and space is still before you. God is there, as here, limitless and unexhausted; and where He is, is love. All the things of which we have spoken are but the passing of His breath. While God and Love live on, there never can come weariness to the children of His love. "And every one that hath this hope set on Him, purifieth himself, as He is pure.

If you close your eyes, you will be a party to all that comes after.

It is Doubt (so often experienced initially as weakness) that changes things. When a man feels unsteady, when he falters, when hard-won knowledge evaporates before his eyes, he's on the verge of growth. The subtle or violent reconciliation of the outer person and the inner core often seems at first like a mistake, like you've gone the wrong way and you're lost. But this is just emotion longing for the familiar. Life happens when the tectonic power of your speechless soul breaks through the dead habits of the mind. Doubt is nothing less than an opportunity to reenter the Present.

I still long for a shared certainty, an assumption of safety, the reassurance of believing that others know better than me what's for the best. But I have been led by the bitter necessities of an interesting life to value that age-old practice of the wise: Doubt.

God gave you a brain and a heart. The heart is warm, but your wits must be cold.

Look at you. You'd trade anything for a warm look. I'm telling you here and now, I want to see the starch in your character cultivated. If you are looking for reassurance, you can be fooled. If you forget yourself and study others, you will not be fooled.

Many indeed shall hear, and hearing, some shall be glad, and some shall weep. But even these, if they hear and repent, shall also rejoice. Hear, then, the parables of the tower; for I will reveal all to you, and give me no more trouble in regard to revelation: for these revelations have an end, for they have been completed. But you will not cease praying for revelations, for you are shameless. The tower which you see building is myself, the Church, who have appeared to you now and on the former occasion. Ask, then, whatever you like in regard to the tower, and I will reveal it to you, that you may rejoice with the saints.” I said unto her, “Lady, since you have vouchsafed to reveal all to me this once, reveal it.” She said to me, “Whatsoever ought to be revealed, will be revealed; only let your heart be with God, and doubt not whatsoever you shall see.” I asked her, “Why was the tower built upon the waters, O Lady?” She answered, “I told you before, and you still inquire carefully: therefore inquiring you shall find the truth. Hear then why the tower is built upon the waters. It is because your life has been, and will be, saved through water. For the tower was founder on the word of the almighty and glorious Name and it is kept together by the invisible power of the Lord.

Some years ago I took a copy of God’s “whoever” policy to California. I wanted to show it to my Uncle Billy. He’d been scheduled to visit my home, but bone cancer had thwarted his plans. My uncle reminded me much of my father: squared like a blast furnace, ruddy as a leather basketball. They shared the same West Texas roots, penchant for cigars, and blue-collar work ethic. But I wasn’t sure if they shared the same faith. So after several planes, two shuttles, and a rental-car road trip, I reached Uncle Billy’s house only to learn he was back in the hospital. No visitors. Maybe tomorrow. He felt better the next day. Good enough to come home. I went to see him. Cancer had taken its toll and his strength. The recliner entombed his body. He recognized me yet dozed as I chatted with his wife and friends. He scarcely opened his eyes. People came and went, and I began to wonder if I would have the chance to ask the question. Finally the guests stepped out onto the lawn and left me alone with my uncle. I slid my chair next to his, took his skintaut hand, and wasted no words. “Bill, are you ready to go to heaven?” His eyes, for the first time, popped open. Saucer wide. His head lifted. Doubt laced his response: “I think I am.” “Do you want to be sure?” “Oh yes.” Our brief talk ended with a prayer for grace. We both said “amen,” and I soon left. Uncle Billy died within days. Did he wake up in heaven? According to the parable of the eleventh-hour workers, he did.

Because later Christians such as Paul do not develop story parables, they are distinctive to Jesus in the NT. Most scholars of all persuasions thus usually deem the Gospels’ parables authentic to Jesus, not the sort of sayings that some scholars believe later Christians would have invented for him. By contrast, some more skeptical scholars have doubted that the interpretations of parables offered by Jesus in the Gospels were really uttered by Jesus. More recent scholarship has challenged such skepticism, however. Other Jewish parables frequently have interpretations, as Jewish scholarship on parables recognizes. It is in fact parables that lack interpretations that appear more unusual in antiquity. Parables were like sermon illustrations, but they often made little sense without being connected to a sermon. Because Jesus often offered the illustrations independently, interpreting the parables only privately to his disciples afterward (Mk 4:10–12), they served as riddles to the crowds, inviting the hearers to consider Jesus’ point. Some scholars have questioned Jesus’ interpretations particularly in cases such as the parable of the sower, where his interpretation identifies meanings for multiple points in the parable (in this case, the four soils, the birds, and so forth). This objection arose because some interpreters, reacting against the overinterpretation of parables by earlier writers, insisted on each parable having only a single point. Often Jesus’ parables do have a single main point, and many details merely contribute to the story. Comparison with other ancient Jewish parables, however, demonstrates that parables could include multiple figurative points of contact, just like the interpretations the Gospels provide for Jesus’ parables. There is no historical reason, then, to question their authenticity. ◆

He didn’t let self-doubt or the doubts of his family or the laughter of his friends stop him from going to college, and then medical school, surviving by way of a combination of scholarships, jobs, and huge debts. He began as a quietly arrogant Black boy of no particular distinction, and he ended as a physician.

It seems that she doubted herself from time to time, but she never doubted the dream.

I read up on Buddhist stories and parables. One concerns a farmer who wakes up to find that his horse has run off. The neighbors come by and say, “Too bad. Such awful luck." The farmer says, "Maybe." The next day, the horse returns with a few other horses. The neighbors congratulate the farmer on his reversal of fortune. "Maybe," the farmer says. When his son tries to ride on the new horses, he breaks his leg, and the neighbors offer condolences. "Maybe," the farmer says. And the next day, when army officials come to draft the son—and don't take him because of his broken leg—everyone is happy. "Maybe," the farmer says. I have heard stories like this before. They are beautiful in their simplicity and surrender to the universe. I wonder if I could be attached to something so detached. I don't know. Maybe.