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Not all fear is created equal, at least not religiously.
There’s a fear that’s healthy and good, a sign
of maturity and love. There’s also a fear
that’s bad, that blocks maturity and love. But this
needs explanation.
There’s a lot of misunderstanding about fear inside
of religious circles, especially around the Scriptural
passage that says that the fear of God is the beginning of
wisdom. Too often texts like these, as well as religion in
general, have been used to instil an unhealthy fear inside
of people in the name of God. We need to live in
“holy fear”, but holy fear is a very
particular kind of fear that should not be confused with
fear as we normally understand it.
What is “holy fear”? What kind of fear is
healthy? What kind of fear triggers wisdom?
Holy fear is love’s fear, namely, the kind of fear
that is inspired by love. It’s a fear based upon
reverence and respect for a person or a thing we love.
When we genuinely love another person we will live inside
of a healthy anxiety, a worry that our actions should
never grossly disappoint, disrespect, or violate the other
person. We live in holy fear when we are anxious not to
betray a trust or disrespect someone. But this is very
different from being afraid of somebody or being afraid of
being punished.
 Bad power and bad authority intimidate and make others
afraid of them. God is never that kind of power or
authority. God entered our world as a helpless infant and
God’s power still takes that same modality. Babies
don’t intimidate, even as they inspire holy fear. We
watch our words and our actions around babies not because
they threaten us, but rather because their very
helplessness and innocence inspire an anxiety in us that
makes us want to be at our best around them.
The Gospels are meant to inspire that kind of fear. God is
Love, a benevolent power, a gracious authority, not
someone to be feared. Indeed God is the last person we
need to fear. Jesus came to rid us of fear. Virtually
every theophany in scripture (an instance where God
appears) begins with the words: “Do not be
afraid!” What frightens us does not come from
God.
In the Jewish scriptures, the Christian Old Testament,
King David is revealed as the person who best grasped
this. Among all the figures in the Old Testament,
including Moses and the great prophets, David is depicted
as the figure that best exemplified what it means to walk
on this earth in the image and likeness of God, even
though at a point he grossly abuses that trust. Despite
his great sin, it is to David, not to Moses or the
prophets, to whom Jesus attributes his lineage. David is
the Christ-figure in the Old Testament. He walked in holy
fear of God, and never in an unhealthy fear.
To cite just one salient example: The Book of Kings
recounts an incident where David is, one day, returning
from battle with his soldiers. His troops are hungry. The
only available food is the bread in the temple. David asks
for that and is told that it is only to be consumed by the
priests in sacred ritual. He answers the priest to this
effect: “I’m the King, placed here by God to
act responsibly in his name. We don’t ordinarily ask
for the temple bread, but this is an exception, a matter
of urgency, the soldiers need food, and God would want us
to responsibly do this.” And so he took the temple
bread and gave it to his soldiers. In the Gospels, Jesus
praises this action by David and asks us to imitate it,
telling us that we are not made for the Sabbath, but that
the Sabbath is made for us.
David understood what is meant by that. He had discerned
that God is not so much a law to be obeyed as a gracious
presence under which we are asked to creatively live. He
feared God, but as one fears someone in love, with a
“holy fear,” not a blind, legalistic one.
A young mother once shared this story with me: Her six
year-old had just started school. She had taught him to
kneel by his bed each night before going to sleep and
recite a number of night prayers. One night, shortly after
starting school, he hopped into bed without first kneeling
in prayer. Surprised by this, she challenged him with the
words: “Don’t you pray anymore?” His
reply: “No, I don’t. My teacher at school told
us that we are not supposed to pray. She said that
we’re supposed to talk to God … and tonight
I’m tired and have nothing to say!”
Like King David, he too had discerned what it really means
to be God’s child and how God is not so much a law
to be obeyed as a gracious presence who desires a mutually
loving relationship, one of holy fear.
Ron Rolheiser
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