Taking faith for a pivotal spin

Imagine taking a virtual plane ride today and meeting me in San Francisco. I pick you up outside the terminal and drive you 30 minutes south to Moffett Federal Airfield, formally known as Moffett Navy Air Station. I flash my military ID and we slide easily past the Smokey Bear-hatted federal guards. Just a quarter-mile ahead, we pull curbside and walk across the lawn to the Moffett Chapel. In 2014, the chapel was restored to its original Spanish Colonial Mission church design found throughout California. I'm comfortable here. This is where, in 1994, I assumed my first Air Force active duty chaplain assignment. Three of us replaced the Navy chaplains when their branch vacated the base, or in naval terms, "Secured the watch." Come inside with me for a moment. There's something I want to show you. With a borrowed key from our host, an Air National Guard chaplain, we easily walk through the double doors and into the foyer. You take a sudden pause, breathless before walls of stained-glass windows. I explain they are a story-in-glass highlighting the interfaith traditions of the Navy and Marine Corps. But I didn't bring you here to admire the windows. We walk past the pews and onto the podium. We will pause reverently at the Protestant altar. Centered on the table is a Bible and glimmering cross. To the right and left, there are candles and offering plates. I've brought you here to show you what's behind all this. We step forward into an alcove or recessed space where a larger cross is affixed on the wall aside banners that proclaim faith. Oddly, I ask you to push on the cubby walls. You're astonished that it moves. With my assistance, we rotate what seems like a jumbo version of the lazy Susan contained in your kitchen cabinet. Suddenly, we are standing under a crucifix surrounded by saint statues. Voilà, there it is. Like a moving wall from a haunted house, we're standing in a Catholic church. I push again, and we are share a Jewish altar with the Torah. You say, "This is nice chaplain, but I'm undecided about faith. I suppose I'm spiritual, but not really religious." "No problem," I say. "Give that wall another push." You do and are relieved to find yourself in neutral space. Nothing on the walls. No religion here. Why have I brought you for a ride on the "Lazy" Altar? To illustrate how one might make a choice for faith. No, it's not as simple as gyrating the Wheel of Fortune or spinning the theological bottle to determine where your doctrinal affections will lie. You might begin the journey on one of the traditional altars of our fathers. But it may also take a spin in another direction, landing aside that of our spouse. And it's also legitimately OK to spin faith into something that represents our own journey. Or maybe you don't see faith as having finite definitions, so we choose to blend the moving altars. But whatever you choose, deciding on faith is a serious business that requires us to become comfortable with the tensions that faith presents. For instance, how does one explain the love of God in the midst of so much tragedy? Can you deal with the discrepancies of faith and the hypocrites that inhabit all faiths and philosophies? Can we repent of the sins of organized religions while at the same time reinforcing the humanitarian good they do? I believe it's possible to keep the faith of our parents, but we can change out the theological accessories. For me, I follow the Protestant faith of my father, but my worship isn't confined to a hymnal or pew. Moreover, it means I accept his faith but reject the bigotry sometimes found in evangelical faith. For you, it might mean keeping your faith in the Crucified Christ displayed on the crucifix, but soundly rejecting the sins of the Fathers. It might involve rebuilding a place of worship that holds all women in high regard and safely shelters the children. And if you are rotating the altar in search of generic worship, it doesn't mean your new faith has to be cold, politically correct and without feeling and humanity. It might involve a move toward inclusion of the conservative right side of the church aisle. Finally, if your faith journey ever takes flight toward the Bay Area, stop by Moffett Field Chapel and ask the "Smoky Hats" if they will let you take your faith for a spin. This column is excerpted from my book "Tell it to the Chaplain." Sign up to receive this weekly column in your email at www.thechaplain.net/newsletter or send me your email address to comment@thechaplain.net. All of Norris Burkes' books can be ordered on Amazon. Autographed copies can be obtained at www.thechaplain.net or by sending a check for $20 for each book to 10566 Combie Road, Suite 6643, Auburn, CA 95602.