Speaking of Faith -- A Review


Krista Tippett, Speaking of Faith. New York: Viking, 2007. xii + 238 pages.

There are books that are important, useful and helpful, but difficult to read. There are also books that are a breeze to read, but of little use. Then there is Krista Tippett’s Speaking of Faith, which was simply a joy to read. It’s not a difficult read, but it’s an important book none-the-less. A product of love (of matters of faith), that love shows on every page. And at a time when shrill voices both decry and defend the faith, it is good to hear a voice that is gentle and inviting. A voice that is humble and gracious.


That is the voice one finds coming from Krista Tippett, a theologically trained (Yale Divinity School) journalist and host of the radio program of the same title – Speaking of Faith. She is by birth and by profession of faith a Christian. As she engages her guests and us in conversation, she does not shy away from that profession – but at the same time she recognizes that there are other voices that need to be heard. Her book offers evidence that she knows how to listen and that she’s willing to elicit from her conversation partners confessions of faith that are just as humble and inviting.


The book is composed of six chapters that are at points auto-biographical and at others analytical. She begins at the beginning with a chapter entitled “Genesis: How We Got Here.” This chapter is an exploration of the idea of faith and religion – which we discover are not always the same thing. It is here that she affirms the vibrancy of faith today, but reminds us there are pitfalls to watch for. Fundamentalism she insists is “that defensive grasp at certainties stoked by the bewildering complexity of the age we live in” (p. 15). The definition of faith she wishes to give voice to is one that is open and positive, and it is in search of this kind of faith that she embarks on the conversations that are found on her radio program and in this book.


Chapter two is entitled “Remembering Forward,” and it is here that we’re introduced to her own story that begins in a rigid Southern Baptist home but leads in time to a period of struggle with questions of faith and whether God exists or is meaningful to her life. It is in Berlin, after college, serving as a journalist and as a political aid that she comes face to face with her doubts and the possibility of faith. Her reflections on her journey are aided by the words of people like Reinhold Niebuhr, Ellie Wiesel, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and it is Bonhoeffer’s “religionless Christianity” that especially catches her attention.


With this starting point of wrestling with faith – both in the past and moving into the future – we come to a chapter (3) that asks what truth is. In this chapter entitled “Rethinking Religious Truth” she grapples with the text of Scripture itself, and she uses as her guide the story of Jacob wrestling with God. She shares how Bonhoeffer and her Yale teacher, Leander Keck influenced her views. She advocates a middle road between the intolerances of secularism and fundamentalism, and offers as an example of how this works by pointing us to the issue of creation and evolution. Darwin’s own struggle with both the beauty and the brutality of nature serve as a starting point, and she introduces us to conversation partners like John Polkinghorne. She concludes that both science and religion are more about the questions than the answers. It is not, she suggests that these two disciplines offer different answers to life’s questions, it is instead that they offer different questions altogether.


Chapter four takes the book’s title as its own, and here she speaks of faith, a faith that is informed by time spent working in an Alzheimer’s ward and in a children’s day camp, where she learns faithfulness. She also learns to speak of faith in the Benedictine monastery at Collegeville, Minnesota. There she learns to invite others to share as she learned to share first person stories of faith, thereby humanizing doctrine. It is in this context that a radio program is born in 1999, a program that took on new life after 9-11, especially as increased attention was given to Islam. She makes the important point that we don’t hear Islamic voices because they are different from Jewish and Christian ones (p. 144-46). Our ability to hear these voices is strained by hubris and by meanness. She points to a quote from Martin Marty that suggests that the divide isn’t between conservative and liberal but between mean and not mean (and these can be found at both ends of the spectrum). I appreciate her observation that to see the world the way God does requires “grieving in places the world does not notice. It could mean, therefore, to live with a patience that culture cannot sustain, and with a hope the world cannot imagine” (p. 177).


The fifth chapter is entitled “Exposing Virtue.” Here we learn more about living faithfully through the eyes of her religious conversation partners. She points out that different religious groups seem to have aspects of truth, but they tend to take those pieces and then absolutize them (p. 179). Borrowing a phrase from Miroslav Volf, she points to the difference between thin and thick religion. Thin religion is religiosity reduced to a formula that lends itself to violence. Instead of this think religion, she looks for a “clear-eyed faith” that is willing to look inside and see one’s failings and also looks around for signs of creativity, so that one can engage in “repairing the world.” It is here that public theology becomes important, and with globalization we are brought in closer contact with each other, but the question is, can we learn from each other? Quoting Manuel Vasquez, she points out that religions offer “very personal strategies for coping with chaos” (p. 195). In this there is virtue.

The book ends by “Confessing Mystery.” She writes here in the sixth chapter that this book was written as a way of answering the question of how her own faith progressed and developed. This is a very confessional book that allows us as the reader to enter her own search for understanding as a person of faith. Each experience, including a difficult divorce and subsequent bout of depression, offer points at which faith is explored and deepened. She finds help in therapy but also discovers that the Bible is truly “psychologically savvy” (p. 216-17). In affirming the place of mystery in our lives, she notes that life is paradoxical and that while science is helpful, life is bigger than science. And so she finds intriguing what she calls “full-bodied religion.” Religious traditions such as Islam and Pentecostalism are, unlike much Western religion, more than simply intellectual exercises. It isn’t that the intellect is not important, but that faith must not be limited to the mind (pp. 222-224). And, she confesses that while knowledge is good, love is higher than knowledge!

By emphasizing mystery she does not wish to short circuit the pursuit of truth or fall into relativism. What she insists upon is that we recognized that we do not have all the answers – whether we’re scientist or theologian. Thus, our pursuit of truth must be engaged in humility (235-236). So, when we speak of faith “we speak because we have questions, not just answers, and our questions cleanse our answers and enliven our world” (p. 238).


This is the kind of book that can be handed to anyone searching for faith. It is so gracious and inviting that anyone can benefit from reading it. It is personal in tone and eloquent in speech. It doesn’t offer answers so much as it offers a way of asking useful and productive questions. I agree with the sentiments of Martin Marty that are found on the back cover of the book:


“The brilliance of Krista Tippett’s idea is trust people to use the first person singular, to commit themselves with passion and clarity as they enlarge our urgent national conversation.”


What better guide can we find than in this wonderful book?!

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