The last word of the Creed is ‘Amen.’ It is an ancient word that connects us with our ancestors from the stone age to the digital revolution and from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth. Some 55% of the world’s population use it regularly in their prayers. It is almost the same word in Hebrew and Arabic and related to the word for ‘faith’ in those languages. When a spontaneous ‘Amen, sister’ or ‘Amen, brother’ is voiced, people’s deepest beliefs and desires resonate with one another and they affirm each other’s faith.

A resounding Amen

When we sing the Apostolic Creed in our church, the creed is responded to by singing a threefold ‘amen’ on no less than sixteen jubilant notes. But can we still say ‘amen’ to the Creed? Can we acknowledge, trust or hope statements to be true that were formulated almost two thousand years ago and often seem at odds with our modern view of reality? Can our souls resonate with the beliefs and desires of people from a wholly different time, place and culture? You may even want to challenge me as to what I believe to be true, after having read so many pages discussing the Apostolic Creed.

In a way, people have been there before. Already in the early centuries of Christianity, the Creed was rephrased several times to bring it ‘up to date’ with the theological discussions of the time. The conception of Islam in the 7th century can, in part, be seen as a rephrasing of the creed, because so many people could believe in angels and jinns, but no longer accept that the incorporeal and unlimited God could want to have a bodily son in Jesus. Muhammed sought to correct the (in his understanding) corrupted Creed and Scriptures before him. In the 12th century, the great Jewish teacher Maimonides formulated Thirteen Attributes of Faith or the Thirteen Creeds, that is still considered the standard of orthodox Judaism today. It provides a Jewish alternative to the Creeds of Christians and Muslims. So why would we not update the Christian Creed to suit the needs of the new millennium?

Faith as a collective experience in continuity with generations and yet renewed in Jesus, is the subject of the Letter to the Hebrews, written or inspired by (friends of) Paul just after the persecution of Christians in Rome by emperor Nero who made them scapegoats for the fire of Rome that bitter tongues suggested he had started himself. Tens, perhaps hundreds of men, women, and children were crucified and burnt as torches along the road, or killed in the arena, simply for refusing to denounce their faith in Jesus. The author defines faith as ‘a foundation of what is hoped for and an assurance about the things we do not see.’ Faith does not compete with knowledge. It is rather the opposite: faith is needed when we seek refuge and embrace hope for a future that cannot yet be known, demonstrated or proven. Yet it is that very faith that will enable that hope to be realized in the end, as it changes the way that people deal with each other, with life and, ultimately, with God. Faith does not regard on intellectually accepting a set of facts or illusions, but on the acceptance of a promise, trust in the faithfulness of the one who made that promise, and loyalty in acting accordingly.

With the faithfulness of many who share in the same spirit, ‘miracles’ are possible, as our predecessors attest of throughout the Bible. If we get to know them, if we take their experiences seriously, we will find out how much we have in common with each other. And if we acknowledge how much the tradition that they form still impacts us today, in the stories, images and metaphors that resonate with our souls (both in art, political speech, and popular culture), it is extremely rewarding to build my own faith on the foundations of the generations before me. And precisely because I share the vehicles of that faith (stories, rituals, conversations) across the globe and across the ages, I can concentrate on the essentials we share while acknowledging and learning from the diversity.

Can I honestly say 'Amen' to the Creed?

Stephen Asma, who identifies himself as an atheist, wrote the book Why we need religion. He argues that our mammalian brain is wired to function better, to have better chances to of survival, if it employs the meaning making activity of religion: we do not only need to think right, but also to feel right if we are to thrive as humans. He observes that many believers choose to believe in a story that they may not truly believe in the intellectual sense, but rather one that produces these right feelings, ethics, purpose. I recognize that much of what I have written here can be understood in the same way. It is a bit like the thing one of my children told me: “I respect you, dad, and I can see it is real for you. But for me, it is all in your head, it is all psychology.” Tough love, I guess. And I might agree but for the amazing force of the inspiration, power, the beauty and the comfort that faith has given me. And not just me. I am utterly amazed at the remarkable interplay that takes place between people who open up to the spirit of Jesus. Miracles still happen, people still get healed, lives are still transformed, and relationships are still restored, just as we read in the gospels. And so, yes, I actually do believe that the apostles were astonished when they experienced the presence of Jesus after his crucifixion. What went on in a biological sense I do not know, but something more than their imagination was going on.

I feel therefore no need to ‘correct’ the Apostolic Creed, because my spirit resonates with the spirit of the people who chose these words. Updating the Creed to bring it in line with present-day science may well backfire once science has progressed further, as we have seen with the efforts of scholasticism (that were in part inspired by Maimonides). It creates the wrong impression that faith and science are settled, with faith filling in the gaps for science, as the answer for the remaining questions.

I would rather hope you to find what in the voices of your ancestors can still resonate with you, with the faith you have in yourself, in people around you and in whatever is greater than us.

I, for one, say ‘Amen,’ when people speak of God as our Creator and Father. That is, I recognize that I too approach this universe as a I place in which I can find my home, a place where life and love can develop and flourish. I trust the voice within me that calls me onto a path of enjoyment, solidarity and blessing. I say this with open eyes, for I too am aware of the frailty of life. All the more, I say ‘Amen,’ when people tell me about Jesus. I feel that my faith in God as our heavenly Father rests on embracing Jesus as his son and our brother. Jesus has shown that we are welcome with ‘God’ as with a loving Father, rather than a distant force or exploitative ruler. Following Jesus, I want to walk the path of love, of letting go, and of being raised up from the depths. I say this with an open heart, knowing full well that I lack the power and purity within me to do so on my own. And, therefore, I say ‘Amen’ when people around me are filled with holy spirit. I want to participate in a community that connects people of good will and fills us with faith, hope and love. That spirit leads us on a path of commitment and community, of mutual forgiveness, embracing life in this body and this world, and experiencing unlimited life in God’s presence.

The power of Amen

Even today, people who say ‘Amen’ to Jesus see their lives changed, relationships restored and – sometimes – illnesses healed. Those who experience the work of holy spirit in their lives are building a firm foundation to trust that they are living with a God who makes a difference. And so, as lives are changed and the stories of the power of holy spirit are shared, those claims that once seemed impossible don’t look so impossible any more. Perhaps then, there is indeed a force that sustains the universe and inspires us to love our self and one another?

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This statue, in the Jewish Quarter in Cordoba, was erected in 1964 to commemorate the 850th anniversary of the birth of Maimonides. He fled Spain when its Islamic rulers became intolerant of other religions but re-emerged at the court of the powerful Saladin in Egypt, where he was physician to the Sultan, rabbi of the Jewish community and philosopher in the tradition of Plato and Aristotle. As the physician of the powerful Saladin, he wrote about treatments and professional ethics. As a rabbi, Maimonides summarized a creed of 13 principles of faith that still form the basis of Judaism: the belief in (1) existence of the God, the Creator, as (2) an absolute and unparalleled unity, (3) incorporeal and (4) eternal; the need to (5) worship God and direct all prayer to Him, (6) listen to his prophecies, as (7) given through Moses, in the form of the (8) Torah that is (9) immutable; and the faith in a God who (10) knows our thoughts and deeds and (11) will reward or punish them in this life or (12) when the Messiah comes and (13) the dead are resurrected. Maimonides can say these things on the basis of the accepted revelation. As a philosopher, however, he engaged with Muslims and Christians scholars who translated, discussed and developed the works of the Greek philosophers in Arabic. He maintained that we cannot assign attributes to God. At best we can deduce certain things that God is not. He wrote a Guide for the Perplexed about the apparent contradictions between philosophy and Judaism. For Maimonides, philosophy can lift up the souls of a few enlightened persons, but religion (in his case Judaism) can lift up the souls of a people as a whole, both the intelligent and the simple minded. Maimonides discerned essential truths from necessary truths, in the sense that the latter are needed to lead the faithful to the essential truths. But we cannot give words to these essential truths, as they are completely different from us, not just in measure but also in kind.

Suggestions for dialogue

A moderator can explain the dialogue steps and invite people to contribute:

• Check in with yourself. Share with each other how you are in this moment. Then take a moment again to seek stillness, humility and openness. 
• First round: Share something from the text or image(s) that stood out to you and that you would like to explore with the group, briefly indicating the thoughts and feelings that it evoked within you. Listen to the others do the same: what resonates with you? Responses in this round should be limited to questions for clarification.
• Second round: Name one or two things that resonated with you from the things that others just shared. 
• Third round: Having heard the group, the moderator names the main topics for exploration. The moderator may also propose a common thread that emerged in several topics. The exploration normally starts with asking the person(s) who brought up the topic to expand on it.
• Leave room for silence and contemplation. 
• Check out by sharing what you take home from this dialogue.

These suggestions are an adaptation of the Estuary protocol. Look for more at https://www.estuaryhub.com