Recently, the Sunday School class that I periodically attend had an interesting discussion about the passage at the end of Matthew’s gospel in which, after the resurrection, Christ’s disciples met him on top of a mountain.  The passage says that they worshiped him, but some doubted.  That is an interesting contrast: worship or doubt.  Apparently the middle ground wasn’t an option.  We wondered what, exactly, the doubt was about.  Christ was standing before them in bodily form, so his resurrection apparently wasn’t the issue.  So what was? 

As we talked, we came to a consensus that there were things even more difficult to believe than that a recently crucified man was alive.    These things became central to Christian doctrine—that Jesus was the Christ, the messiah who had been prophesied; that the deliverance he provided came not by his being a political or religious leader, but by sacrificing himself for the sins of the world; that going forward his followers would transform the world by loving as he loved.   When it comes to being a disciple of Christ (and in this same section of Matthew Christ instructs his followers to go out and train others to be his disciples), it’s these latter beliefs that matter as much or more than the belief that Jesus was resurrected.

Another point came up about doubt: to become believers, the disciples had to first be doubters.  That is, they had to doubt much of what they previously thought to be true.  They had to doubt their prior ideas about what the messiah would be like, about what godliness consisted of, and about how to live as a person of faith.  Perhaps doubt is essential to faith formation.  Those who cling fervently to what they have been taught waste away intellectually.  Unable to doubt, their ideas become hard and shriveled, incapable of putting forth new shoots.  Peter Rollins, author of How (Not) to Speak of God, says that it is easy to get people to believe.  The problem between Catholics and Protestants in his home city of Belfast, Northern Ireland come from belief.  He is trying to get the people of Belfast to give up the certainties that lead them to condemn others.  That is, he’s trying to get them to doubt.

The movie  Doubt (2008), starring Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Meryl Streep, and Amy Adams, is a meditation on doubt, certainty, and their effects.  Hoffman plays Father Flynn, a progressive priest in a Catholic school in 1964, the era of Vatican II.  Streep is Sister Aloysius, the school’s traditionalist principal, and Adams is Sister James, a young nun and teacher.  During the church service that opens the film, Father Flynn preaches that crises of faith can enter a believer’s life, but the person shouldn’t feel alone because even firm believers have doubt from time to time.  Sister Aloysius has no such doubts, and Father Flynn’s sermon makes her suspect that he doubts because he has done wrong.   She starts watching him vigilantly, and prompts Sister James to do likewise.  Though Sister Aloysius has no doubts about doctrine, she has plenty of doubts about people; she suspects nearly everyone of lying, misbehaving, or having impure motives.  Despite following Sister Aloysius’ instructions to report any untoward behavior exhibited by Father Flynn,  Sister James isn’t suspicious as much as she is gullible, influenced by whatever information she has received most recently. 

Sister Aloysius’ suspicions soon focus on Father Flynn’s relationship with Donald, the only African-American student in the school.  Father Flynn seems protective of Donald, but Sister Aloysius suspects that his interest is sexual.  Pursuing her suspicions produces enough evidence to convince her she is right (though the viewer isn’t given enough information to be able to judge).  Nonetheless, her efforts lead to negative consequences (and perhaps some positive ones as well—the movie offers few certainties) for everyone involved. 

The film suggests that absolute certainty in matters of belief makes one suspicious and intolerant of those who don’t have similar views, whereas doubt produces a more charitable view of others.  Sister Aloysius is not uncaring—for example, she protects an elderly nun who is going blind—but her conviction that she is defender of the bodies, minds, and souls of every pupil at the school causes her to be severe in her discipline and mistrustful of everyone in a position to influence the children.   In a sudden about-face at the very end of the film, Sister Aloysius confesses to Sister James that she is struggling with doubt, though the reasons for and nature of her doubt are unclear.  She’s anguished by this turn of events, but perhaps her newfound doubt is in fact a blessing that will lead to greater compassion towards others and a more genuine faith.