KEY POINTS:
Bishop Has Doubts About God - New Zealand Herald
God Says 'The Feeling's Mutual' - Pearly Gates Gazette
At the risk of offending atheist and fundamentalist alike, not to mention tormented clerics seized with the uncomfortably agnostic feeling that they'd be hard pressed to furnish any "scientifically verifiable"
proof of their own relevance, let's approach this whole debate about what we should or should not believe from a new perspective.
One that may seem vulgar and crudely utilitarian to some but, have faith (whatever that means). You may find, at the end of this modest sermon, that there was method in the madness.
And, if not, then at least you'll be a few minutes closer to oblivion or Paradise - whichever you prefer.
We'll begin by considering this whole question of belief from a commercial perspective. (Outraged cries of "Shame!" and "Keep Mammon out of this!" from the congregation.)
But the child of the vicarage said: "Be still" - and they were still.
You see, putting the debate in a commercial context allows us to describe the churches as God's retail outlets.
Through message and deed, these outlets "sell" not a set of steak knives but a set of beliefs - with matching lifestyle, of course. "Try it on, sir. You'll feel much more ... virtuous."
And, generally, people do. By any measure, the churches sell a good product; at least in terms of outcomes. Those who shop at The Godhouse not only get the bargain of a better world, one in which people "do unto others as ye would have them do unto you", but their investment of faith also buys the promise of eternal life.
Logically, this is a good deal. At the risk of sounding like a Bishop, perhaps even an unbelievably good deal. But that is the deal. That's what the churches sell.
And you'd imagine people would be eager to buy. If thousands are willing to pour over the counters at Noel Lemmings just to get a fridge-freezer interest-free for 36 months then, logically, the opportunity to dwell forever with the heavenly hosts would have irresistible appeal to everyone who walks in the valley of death - especially those addled baby-boomers so terrified of getting old they're willing to worship geriatric frauds like the Rolling Stones.
Yet the established churches are failing miserably. Sales are plummeting.
Branches are closing. When the present generation of (increasingly elderly) customers moves on, this once-great retail empire will almost certainly go out of business.
The "stores" will remain, of course. Many are on prime sites, guilt-edged real estate, ideal for apartments or some other purpose. They could become Metaphysical Outlets for the Balancing of Chakras or a thriving Church of the Unidentified Flying Object. They could experience resurrection as Chapels of the Blessed Alternative Healer. They may even rise from the dead as drop-in centres for alien abductees.
And there's the rub. As customers shopping for beliefs, we can choose whatever we fancy. We can believe in nothing or anything or everything. We can be atheists, pantheists, ecologists, iridologists or, if we prefer, praise the Hubbard, Scientologists.
What we choose has a lot to do with how it's sold.
By way of example, our faith in meat would likely be shaken if the Mad Butcher suddenly declared himself vegetarian. Equally, if Graham Henry revealed his real passion was lawn bowls, we'd probably suggest he skip coaching the All Blacks forthwith.
So it is with faith. The Church's salesmen must believe in their product.
They must inspire their flock ... er, customers. When an anxious shopper says, "Look, I've been a bit lax in the old 10 Commandments department lately and I'm feeling rather like one of the least of these, my creatures, so I thought I'd get a faith," they actually want what they don't have.
They want a faith.
What they don't want is a salesman who says, "Well, we do have God but, to be honest, I can't even prove he's on the shelves. If I knew what he/she/it was, I could possibly help, but I don't. Have you tried love? That's very popular these days. There's lots of brands available."
In retail terms, that's a sale lost. The disappointed customer shopping for faith will simply go elsewhere.
Because God isn't the only intangible on offer.
There are many things that cannot be proven. Yet we "buy" them. For some inexplicable reason, our pursuit of reassurance, improvement and hope requires an external stimulus. Whatever it may be, that stimulus is the fuel that fires our desire to be better than we are.
For those behind the counter of any faith, the message is clear. The place for doubt is the wilderness, not the pulpit.
Those privileged to be part of the Anglican establishment may deem it appropriate to spend 40 days in the former before returning to the latter.
If Bishop Randerson does believe that, "As a church leader I feel uncomfortable leading prayers in public that have an exclusively Christian ending" then his remedy is simple.
Stop being a church leader.
Like it or not, your Grace, if you were a salesman in any business other than the one you have chosen, the boss would sack you.
Indeed, those who've left your retail outlet to fill the pews of the Pentecostal chapel down the road would say he already had.
