Farewell Faith?
Monday, January 19th, 2009
Douglas Murray is a man in a hurry – or at least a man rapidly on the move.
Youthful founding director of the Centre for Social Cohesion, political columnist, lonely defender of neo-conservatism, luminary of BBC programmes such as Question Time and The Moral Maze and biographer of Oscar Wilde’s homosexual lover Lord Alfred Douglas, Murray is a rising star on the national political scene.
I was at the Queen Elizabeth II Centre a couple of years ago where, before a huge audience, he and Daniel Pipes trounced Ken Livingstone and Salma Yaqoub at the then Mayor’s showcase ‘Clash of Civilisations’ debate. Murray was entertaining, incisive and outstanding.
I also know personally that he is generous and sensitive.
I was saddened therefore to read his recent Spectator article ‘Studying Islam has made me an Atheist’ in which he blames the ‘repetitions, contradictions and absurdities’ of the Quran for turning him against all holy books including the Bible of his own Christian heritage. ‘Holy texts are an accretion of human effort and human error… Scepticism of the claims made by one religion (Islam) was joined by scepticism of all such claims… Muhammad made me an atheist.’
Although he went to church with his family on the Big Day three weeks ago, it was his first non-believing Christmas.
I can understand where he is coming from. Like Murray I was brought up an Anglican and like Murray my religion ebbed and flowed. (As Boris Johnson puts it, “My faith is a bit like Magic FM in the Chilterns, the signal comes and goes.”) But following university and business school, I had drifted into long-term indifferent agnosticism by my mid-twenties.
But what pulled me up short and converted me into an irrevocably committed Christian just before my 30th birthday was precisely that which Murray has so recently rejected – the scriptures, and in particular the account of Christ in the New Testament.
I found that the Bible isn’t primarily a set of propositional truths, ancient stories, beautiful poetry or abstract theology – although it is these. Neither is it just great literature like Shakespeare – although the 1611 Authorised Version gives the Bard more than a run for his money.
I found rather that the scriptures are alive and active. They have the ability to reach out and pluck at your heart strings and/or punch you on the nose in a way unknown to other literature.
So when Shakespeare puts in King Lear’s mouth “I am a man more sinned against than sinning,” we may begin at last to engage sympathetically with Lear in his steady decline from tyrant to tragedy, but we leave the theatre personally unchallenged.
However, when the New Testament tells us that the pre-existent Son of God, facing betrayal, scourging and an excruciatingly painful death, tells his followers “Now (am I) glorified and God is glorified (in me)… A new commandment I give you: Love one another,” we cannot walk away unchallenged. Christ is making huge claims about himself and his demise and significant demands on his followers.
Either he is completely nuts or he is who he says he is.
As I wrestled with the scriptures I found the truth slowly got hold of me from out of its pages. In the end I could do nothing but stop arguing, chuck in the towel and admit that Jesus Christ is indeed the ultimate reality.
Precise accuracy in the material or measurable sense was no longer of major concern. The Bible had revealed profound truth that transcended this limited physical world in a way that Shakespeare cannot. Despite myself, I had come into a deep personal commitment.
Douglas Murray’s issue about the accuracy or error of the Bible is important, but not – in my experience – with regard to personal faith. The key question is whether it speaks to you in a life-challenging way.
When Jesus tells us ‘Love your neighbour as yourself,’ is that just an interesting Christian ethic? Or is it a command from our Maker to be complied with?
The decision, as they say, is yours.
