The story of the demonized boy (Mark 9) can be understood as a motif of postmodernism. The father of the demonized boy confessed, “I believe, help my unbelief.” This is the cry of postmodernity. We want to believe, but we find it difficult to believe, or to know what to believe.
The disciples and the father are engaged in an existential struggle. The disciples couldn’t exorcise the demon. The disciples were powerless – irrelevant to the needs of the moment. The disciples struggled with belief and unbelief. Can this demon be exorcised? In our era, we ponder, is the boy really demonized? Or, is he suffering from a mental disorder, from chemical imbalances in his brain? Can evil be rebuked, or medicated? Does evil really exist? Does God care? Can God act? Can God be known? What does suffering mean? What does prayer mean? What does it mean to be human? Are we among the higher apes? Or, are we the image of God?
We don’t know what to believe about evil, about God, about faith. The secularism of postmodernity pervades the church. The Bible has become little more than fables, illustrations to be used in weekly self-help talks. Sacraments are meaningless, of no effect, rarely celebrated. We no longer need anointing oil because we have antibiotics. The concept of the sacred, of holiness, eludes us. Worship no longer provokes awe of God; but is awesome, that is, entertaining. The postmodern and secular Pentecostal has moved the epicenter of worship from the altar to the stage. The ecstasy of Spirit baptism is replaced with the exciting rhythms of worship music. Speaking in tongues is no longer anointed speech, but annoying speech relegated to an off-stage prayer room.
Postmodernity has led us into an anxious skepticism that makes apostasy easy. Apostates are no longer infamous, but famous. Heretics are celebrated. It seems as if everyone is coming out – there seems to be an exodus from the Faith. The fabricated god of postmodern secular Christianity doesn’t provoke fear, or encourage faith.
As the disciples ponder their ineffectiveness, as the father grieves, as the demonized boy convulses on the ground, Jesus makes an entrance. In the midst of this existential struggle, Jesus rebukes the unbelief of the disciples and encourages the father to believe. But who is this Jesus? Is he a magician with a bag of tricks? Or worse, a charlatan willing to take advantage of these superstitious folk? Postmodern skepticism will not allow us to see Jesus as the gospel presents him, as the Spirit-baptized divine-human Son of God, the transfigured One, the suffering One, the resurrected One. How we answer the question of Jesus will determine how we believe. Is Jesus the Lord? Or is he the union of man and myth, little more than a comic book/movie super hero?
In the midst of postmodern skepticism, Jesus encourages us to believe – to believe in him, to believe in God – a God who loves, a God who intervenes, a God who rebukes evil, a God who saves. In effect, Jesus encourages us to look through the facades of postmodernism and believe in another possibility – New Creation. The notion of new creation deconstructs postmodernity.
Like the Father, we cry out, “I believe, help my unbelief.” That’s enough for Jesus to act. Just a little faith, even faith immersed in doubt. Maybe that’s the best we can do in this age of postmodern skepticism. Even so, I find myself yearning for something deeper, something authentic, something mysterious, something powerful.
