A number of people were surprised that I said in my weekend column that I didn’t know exactly what happened after death, because as a Priest I am meant to know that kind of thing. It would be dishonest for me, however, to say that I have the answers as, despite how many think it may seem, there is no one picture in our Scriptures (the book we call ‘The Bible’) nor in the many and varied traditions that have built up around ‘Christianity’ over the past two thousand years of what happens next!
Some people believe in a literal ‘heaven and hell’, some in ‘purgatory’, some that there is no life beyond this world. None of these and all of these could probably be cobbled together by putting together various Bible passages and then adding on top a few other teachings which have been built up over centuries, or even in the past few years.
It’s like that way with a lot of what people think ‘Religion’ is – more often than not, the image we get of a the great Spiritual Traditions – from Anabaptists to Zen is one which is glimpsed from media reports or half-remembered text books (I studied Religions for my first degree). The reality of many Spiritual traditions is that much of the central teachings tend to converge and be based around love of God, love of neighbour, and love of self. How different traditions and cultures interpret that is what we tend to see, rather than the heart of spirituality.
A common thread of deeper spirituality is, in my experience, an ability to use those three great words “I don’t know.” As someone who has a number of degrees and nearly thirty years of experience as a Priest, one of the greatest liberations I have experienced both personally and professionally is to be able to admit that I am not an authority on everything, and there are certain parts of life, death, and everything in between, before, and afterwards that I really do have no idea about.
Then there’s the example of Jesus – who didn’t really answer many questions, at least with a straightforward answer. Jesus was more likely to tell a story in response to a question, or ask another question of the person who had asked him something – I’m sure he must have been a frustrating conversationalist! Or perhaps not, for it seems that in many instances Jesus doesn’t give simplistic ‘do this, don’t do that’ responses, instead he seeks to draw out from the hearer (or reader for those of us who came later) something of their own wisdom and understanding – he allows us to learn, to hear what it means for ourselves, to draw our own conclusions, to seek out truth in community as we discuss his stories (which we call parables) and work out their meaning for any give time, place, and circumstance.
In our scientific and rational age we have become used to knowing how and why things work or don’t. Unlike our forebears we have some idea of how mountains are formed, why clouds exist, how light shining through water creates rainbows. We know much more about why people get sick, what bacteria is and what viruses are. We have split the atom, and explored the skies, seas, and lands – continuing to expand our knowledge and to break down life into its infinitely small particles. This is all good, I am certainly not someone who believes that science and faith are opposed, or that the world was made in seven days and that the earth is flat ‘because the Bible says so’ (it doesn’t). Science opens up a world, a universe, and in some theories a multiverse, of wonder and beauty and wisdom and hope.
But the mentality that all can be explained, that there are answers to everything, that human beings are capable of knowing and understanding everything – I have issues with that, as indeed do many scientists, who recognise that the infinite, as we believe the universe to be, is ultimately beyond comprehension. I worked as a clergyperson in one of the foremost science, technology, and medicine universities in the world, Imperial College London, for four years and I was constantly reminded of how much we human beings do not know and may never know, and was repeatedly surprised and reassured by how many of those who are world leaders in the world of science and technology have a deep commitment to the various spiritual traditions of our world – Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, Sikh, Baha’i and many many more.
What our often simplistic understanding of scientific method has created in the minds of us westerners is what might be called a reductionist approach to life, one where we think everything can be broken down into component pieces, studied, and given explanation and answers for.
What my spirituality brings to this is a sense of unknowing – a sense that there are things we cannot know, and that there aren’t answers to every question. Instead, as Jesus seems to teach his hearers, the meaning comes, perhaps, in learning to live with the questions. Even when we know the how of something, for instance, the why can be a place of contemplation, inspiration, and learning to sit with the confusions of this beautiful, complex, sometimes discombobulating life.
In order to help me sit with these questions, rather than seeking to provide answers I am learning to embrace mystery, accept my part in a universe of which I can only know a small piece, be open to awe and wonder, listen for the wisdom of elders and of spirituality from a wide range of sources – including the religious traditions of the world, scientific writings, art, music, indigenous ways of knowing and being, and even silence. All of these things make me excited about learning, awed by the variety of ways of knowing, and comfortable with not having all the answers. There are things I am certain about, the importance of love and compassion, our calling to be just and equitable, the presence of the Divine in strange and unexpected places, the way we are made to be connected with one another and to live in community – but in all of this I find myself happier to realize that there is much I do not know, and never will know, and I am comfortable living the questions.
The Ven. Alastair Singh-McCollum is Rector of St. John the Divine Anglican Church in Victoria and Archdeacon, Diocese of Islands and Inlets. He has a passion for the Gospel, motorbikes and bike culture, worship, philosophy, theology, guitars, single malt whisky, real ale, cinema and all things French. You can find Alastair at the church website: and on his blog:
*You can read more articles on our interfaith blog, Spiritually Speaking at /blogs/spiritually-speaking
