Not long after a child begins to speak in complete sentences, having learned to put their thoughts into words – they discover the infinite regress of the question why. Parents, kindergarten teachers, and babysitters tend to experience this unique phenomenon in real time – perpetually having the premise of their every answer challenged by a single word . . . why.
Inevitably, this incessant drilling down beneath every layer of answer inevitably ends with the non-answer of “just because”. So at a very young age, we learn that every answer we are given in life comes with an assumed presupposed ambiguous premise of “because that’s the way it is”. But the funny thing is, we still think having an answer for everything will somehow provide us with certainty.
Our unspoken assumption is that if we can get our questions answered we will be able to acquire a type of knowing that will approximate some level of certainty, and in our certainty, we will be able to strategize some measure of control over our lives. It’s not that we consciously think through each of these steps, but like most things psychological, we simply default to the patterns that best serve our hierarchy of perceived concerns. So it would seem somewhere along the way we learned to silence our inner child who would undoubtedly be asking us “Why do you place so much importance on knowing the answer?”
It is the illusion of the modern mind to believe that we can think our way to a better life if we only knew the right things – imagining such knowledge would ignite the chain of expectation behind our desire for certainty and control.
This is a profoundly utilitarian valuing of knowing – knowing as a means to an end. But the human heart and mind are actually more naturally oriented toward the knowing we normally associate with how we know our loved ones. In this way, relational knowing is drawn to the more imprecise, and imperfect interactions we mutually share – a knowing that has the power to bind us together in ways beyond explanation.
All of this is what I am pondering as I read Luke 1:1-38 – where we find the archangel Gabriel visiting two different people, making two specific announcements, regarding God’s favor . . . but each announcement receives a very different response.
Zechariah, a temple priest, is told that he and his barren wife’s prayers had been answered, even though they were in advanced years – his wife would now bear a son. To which Zechariah asks “How shall I know this?” and in doing so was silenced until the birth of John the Baptist. Then Mary receives her visit from Gabriel, where she is told that she will give birth to the Son of the Most High, Jesus. So in her amazement at such wonders of God, she asks “How will this be, since I am a virgin?”
There’s a subtle difference between these two responses, but even so a significant one. And the difference between them serves to illustrate the distinction I’m making about knowing. Zechariah offers a qualified acceptance of the good news – he just wants to know how it works so that he can be certain of its truth. To which Gabriel decides it might be best if he doesn’t say another word.
But Mary knows already who she has placed her trust in, and thereby finds her certainty in that relationship. So she doesn’t need to know how God will do it before she can trust that it’s true. In this way, her faith goes beyond reason . . . beyond knowing. She is simply awestruck at how such a miraculous thing could be happening to her. And I would say awestruck is how we should be . . . expecting God to be exactly who he has always been – and find our certainty in that.
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