Apologies to an Unbeliever is the title of an essay written by Thomas Merton, the American Cistercian monk. In the mid-1960s, as the boundary between believers and unbelievers eroded, Merton looked for a way of speaking about faith that would be meaningful outside and inside Christian circles.
He wrote the essay "to apologise for the affront which had been, and still is, daily perpetrated on you Unbelievers by a variety of believers, some fanatical, some reasonable, some clerical, some lay." Where authentic religious concern degenerates into salesmanship, it becomes an affront to the honest perplexities of the vast majority – in his opinion.
I was reminded of this recently when talking to a cleric in Ireland. He maintained I was wasting my time as a cleric since I was not preaching or exercising a sacramental ministry. Merton pointed out in his essay that if I as a Christian believe that my first duty is to love and respect my fellow man, then the refusal to let him alone, the inability to entrust him to God and his own conscience, and the insistence on rejecting him as a person until he agrees with me, is simply a sign that my own faith is inadequate.
I was abruptly reminded of this recently when I met a Chinese student I taught 10 years ago. He now works in Beijing and we kept in touch since he graduated six years ago. We met on Sunday and he spoke of his surprise that he could speak to me openly about things he could not share even with his own grandfather - I'm the same age!
He said he remarked recently to his parents (he's now 28 and still unmarried) as he told them of his friendship with me, that he wondered if he should not also be a priest. But he quickly added that his parents expected him to give them a grandchild so he doubted it. I was astonished by his comment as he is not even a Christian. I wondered if Merton was not perfectly right in his remarks about unbelievers.
"Faith comes by hearing" as St Paul says but Merton asks, "by hearing what? The soothing platitudes of a religious operator?" In his opinion the hearing that leads to faith requires listening to the inscrutable ground of his or her own being, in the silence of one's spirit. Merton's critique of the faith of believers is pointed: "The faith that has grown cold is not only that which the Unbeliever does not know but the faith the Believer has kept. This faith has too often become rigid or complex, sentimental, foolish or impertinent."
So it's that I believe teaching in China is not a cloak for manipulating students to accept my dictates or an opportunity to impose my own opinions on a struggling local Church. One native priest said recently in speaking of the efforts of foreigners to influence the Chinese Church through working with the government Patriotic Association, "If you foreigners did not give it credibility, the Patriotic Association would lose power. Father X says he is a friend of the head of the Patriotic Association, he should not be so proud."
Thierry Meynard, a Jesuit now working in Beijing says in a book on Jesuit history in China, "Perhaps the missionary model to be followed now is not that of the 19th century. The lessons of the past would question the wisdom of simply replicating Western institutions in China. Instead, in dealing with the Chinese today, what is required is not so much a one way, paternalistic relationship of changing them for their own good, but rather a multi-dimensional partnership that is mutually enriching. Indeed it may be more respectful and more fruitful in the long term to be 'men and women with others.'"
My final answer to the Irish cleric was to tell him of a remark made to me by a former student. "From you, Mr Collins, I have learned the meaning of truth and beauty and love." I asked the cleric when was the last time one of his parishioners had made a similar remark to him!
Teddy Collins teaches in China.
Read more from The Far East, January/February 2012