I have a problem with the Bible. Specifically, I have a problem with a particular verse in the Bible. Even more specifically, a particular translation of a particular verse in the Bible.
Hebrews 11:1 provides the most direct, straightforward definition of faith in the book. Faith is discussed frequently throughout the Old and New testaments, but this is one of the few verses that begins with a simple, "Now faith is…" The King James Version of the Bible renders the verse by saying that "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." The more contemporary New Living Translation describes faith as "the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen" and says it "gives us assurance about things we cannot see." Both are entirely reasonable, and both are pretty accurate descriptions of what it means to be a person of faith - any faith. But the New International Version, which has been among the most consistently bestselling translations of the Bible for decades, uses different and subtly stronger language: "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." And that's awful.
This definition of faith insinuates that certitude is necessary (at best) or sufficient (at worst) for faith, and doubt has no place in the heart of a faithful person. And I believe that couldn't be further from the truth. The relationship between faith and doubt is a lot like that of courage and fear. Fear, after all, isn't the opposite of courage, but a necessary component of it. Being a courageous person means acknowledging you're sometimes afraid, just as being a faithful person means acknowledging you sometimes have doubts.
This doesn't really seem to be a popular sentiment among some ardent proselytizers of many religions. Some who are eager to share a part of their beliefs with others may feel compelled to present a front of unflinching sureness - faith, for many, is supposed to provide a source of comfort about what we don't know, and in that sense, "I'm positive this is true" can be more comforting than, "Well, I'm not sure, either."
It's even reflected in the secular parts of our culture. For instance, CNBC talking heads speak with remarkable, unequivocal certainty, even in the midst of an economic crisis that economists in general and CNBC in particular have failed to reliably predict. But that's understandable-people turn to CNBC to feel better about a situation they don't really get, and hearing a commentator speak, free of doubt, helps provide the sense that somebody has a handle on what's going on.
But the truth is, on the big questions for which we turn to faith, nobody really has too much of a handle. Real faith is supposed to be humbling. Not humbling in the sense of, "I feel humble compared to my God"-it's easy to feel tiny next to someone who's both all-powerful and omnipresent-but humbling in the sense that we become more patient and understanding with each other when we realize that none of us knows anything for sure, but we're doing our best with what we've got.
Wondering where we came from, why we're here and where we're going afterwards is a completely natural part of the human experience. And it's everybody's right to take a stab at trying to figure it out-whether that means your heart is moved by the love of your God or you decide that this stuff is unknowable and you'd really just rather play some Star Fox 64. But whatever anyone decides, no one knows for sure. That's plenty scary, but it's a beautiful sort of scary that binds otherwise disparate people together.
Our world, after all, is one that's becoming increasingly stratified, and marketers are more than happy to segment us into astonishingly picayune divisions. Our feelings of sometimes being a little lost, a little confused, and a little terrified because we don't know the answers to the big questions of life and death are universal, and it occasionally feels like it's one of the few things that's still universal. And I'm resentful of anything that tries to take that away from us, even if it is just a dozen and a half words in one particular translation of one particular verse in the Bible.
Joe Dellosa is an advertising senior. His column appears weekly.
