Three Things I Learned from Michael Weed

Several months ago, one of my theological and pastoral mentors passed from this life.  Michael Weed, and his wife, Libby, both finished their races within the past several months.  But for over two decades, I and my family were blessed to know the Weeds and I will forever be grateful for the legacy they left so many.  Though time and memory would fail to do justice to all I gained from my interactions with Michael, I would like to share three things I learned from Michael Weed.

Faith Seeking Understanding 

Though some believers may shy away from theology due either to its seemingly foreign or high-fallutin' nature, essentially, theology should not be avoided but embraced.  Theology is simply faith seeking understanding.  Anselm of Canterbury is said to be the originator of this definition, but this sums up what Michael Weed tried to impress upon his students.  We begin with faith, but we do not leave our faith in an infant state.  We grow our faith; we mature our belief.  An unexamined faith is nothing more than blind faith.  But a mature trust in God is the kind of belief that isn't hindered by fear but overcomes fear.  Like perfect love, it drives out fear.    

I have been around some Christians who desire black and white answers and the avoidance of hard or dangerous questions.  These individuals tend to embrace indoctrination and avoid a robust education.  They would rather be told what to think, instead of figuring out how to think.  In the long run, this might, ironically, lead to someone losing their faith, rather than developing a tried-and-true trust in Christ.  Michael Weed never avoided the tough questions, instead he faced them head on and taught his students to do the same.

We Do Not Worship the Bible

It is easy to miss the forest for the trees.  In some circles of conservative Christianity, the Bible is so revered that it is nearly worshiped.  What a strange form of idolatry!  Michael Weed impressed upon me that we do not worship the Bible, but rather the God to which scripture points.  The word of God is not God.  But the word of God does lead us to the Word of God (Jesus - see John 1:1 & ff).  In fact, under Weed's guidance and through deep reflection, I have come to embrace an incarnational theology of scripture.  What I mean is that rather than believing that God dictated scripture in a mechanical way to human beings, the Spirit instead inspired the writing of scripture from the ground up through flawed, broken, and fallible human beings, with all of the limitations that entails.  This has led me to have an even greater respect for the Bible than I previously had.  God meets humanity where humanity is, including in the authoring of sacred texts.  In fact, the entire story of scripture is the tale of God using unlikely people and means to accomplish his will.  

Tradition is Not a Bad Word 

Tradition has taken a bad rap over the past few decades in some church circles.  I believe this is due to a couple of things.  For one, Jesus constantly harped on the Pharisees for their reliance on the tradition of men at the expense of YHWH's instruction through the Torah.  Another reason that tradition has a bad name in some faith communities is that the Roman Catholic Church has at times emphasized its own traditions at the expense of scripture.  No doubt, both of these instances should remind us that tradition can go awry, but tradition, in and of itself is neither good nor bad.  It all depends on the kinds of traditions we are considering.  Context matters.

Think of all the amazing traditions we honor each and every holiday season.  Consider your own family traditions at birthdays and anniversaries.  How many of us wholeheartedly embrace the traditions of our High Schools and Universities at sports games and graduations?  Traditions are crucial for creating and sustaining our identities as human beings and communities.  It's been said that tradition is the living faith of dead people, and that traditionalism is the dead faith of living people.  I think this is a healthy perspective and one that Michael Weed was always committed to.  Michael reenergized my appreciation for "tradition".  

Legacy 

I think we all desire to leave a legacy for others when our time on earth has come to an end.  Usually though, the legacies we leave will vary.  We may not leave the same legacy for each individual we impact.  I know Michael Weed meant so much to so many people.  What they drew from Michael will undoubtedly be different than the ways that he impacted me.  And of course, these three snippets are only snippets.  I have far more memories of my time under Weed's tutelage and pastoral care.  I will leave you with one anecdotal story that exemplifies Michael's pastoral heart, as well as his theological prowess.  

In the early 00s, I was perplexed by the shallow and short-sighted direction that many within evangelical churches were seemingly headed.  I couldn't get my head around why congregations were whole-heartedly and unreflectingly embracing mass-marketing and consumerist tendencies over rigorous discipleship and genuine community.  I expressed some of my frustrations with Michael and he invited me to his home one afternoon where he shared a "church history" lesson and then offered a positive vision for the future that he hoped I would carry with me as I continued my ministerial journey.  That afternoon was simultaneously theological, pastoral, and personal.  I know that I am not the only one who will continue to miss Michael and Libby Weed. - Shay  

Still Trying to Figure it Out

I do not possess a "scientific" mind.  I never took physics, I struggled in chemistry and biology, and mathematics is not my strong suit.  Engineering, medicine, or related fields were never going to be an option for me.  But I love it when experts in their field can make complex ideas understandable for me.  I am also thankful that there are incredibly intelligent people who can design and build stuff and help me get better when I'm sick.   

Though I'm grateful for the work scientists, doctors, engineers, and architects do, I am more intriqued by fields of study such as philosophy.  Like theology, what a person even means by "philosophy" can be quite fluid and diverse.  For me, philosophy is simply a way of describing how humanity, individually and collectively, has historically and presently tried to understand reality and make our way in the world.  Just as there is a "history" of everything (though we have yet to fully uncover, unpack, and understand that history), there might be a philosophy for everything.  In other words, every facet of human existence lends itself to "navel gazing".  We seek to understand why things are the way they are, and we also seek to, if possible, improve things in the future, either individually or socially.  

I recently listened to a philosopher speak on a podcast and what struck me was the way this particular thinker tried to break everything down into its material - and even its atomic structure.  So, according to this philosopher, humans are nothing more than a conglomeration of atoms and chemical reactions.  According to him, what we "see" as reality, is nothing more than an illusion.  I think I have a vague idea of where he's coming from, but it's a very strange way of looking at the world.  It also raises the question - if everything is an illusion, then who is this illusion fooling?  

Certainly, within each of us there are millions, if not billions or trillions of microscopic cells, organisms, and processes constantly working to keep us sound and whole.  How it all fits together and works, for the most part, in harmony, blows my mind!  But where does my "mind" even come from?  What is consciousness, and how does it even "arise" from the material substances that make up our bodies?  This is a question that science and philosophy has yet to answer.  But what should be plain to each and every one of us is that we are more - far more - than the sum of our parts.  I am someone - a person - a being with a past, present, and future.  I am not simply two feet, two legs, two arms, a torso, and a head.  Yes, those parts help to form and make me who I am - but they are not me.  How much more am I not simply a collection of atoms and chemical processes.  

I recently gave a ride to a philosopher who teaches at one of the many local universities in the area.  We briefly chatted about both philosophy and religion over the 20-minute drive, and he expressed his dismay at the overly "scientific" way of doing philosophy that many modern philosophers have adopted.  Yes, a table might at its most basic level be a collection of atoms, but it also functions as so much more.  It might be a place to write, draw, paint, or otherwise create.  It can function as the centerpiece of community as people gather around the table and share a meal and conversation.  When all of us talk about tables - we don't - or at least, should not simply talk about its atomic structure.  Equally, I would argue that there's far more to humanity than the building blocks that help to make us who and what we are.  Those building blocks are necessary, but they are simply a means to a far greater end.  And what is that greater end?  Well, that to me is what philosophy, theology, history, and religion are all about.  I'm still trying to figure it out.  What about you? - Shay