Truth is Not a Fragile Thing

Tonight in Bridgewater, conservative and liberal elements of my community will gather for an exercise in disciplined listening. We will hear two different pastoral perspectives on "The Church and Same-Sex Marriage." This "encounter" is the first of two on this topic; the next one, tentatively scheduled for next spring, will feature two policy experts discussing public policy considerations surrounding same-sex marriage.

I hope that we can pack the house tonight with folks who are willing to listen in good faith to both positions, and to consider their respective merits and shortcomings.

I say this despite the fact that I have a definite belief as to which position is "true," "good," and "beautiful." I welcome the discussion and the challenge it poses to my worldview, because Truth is not a fragile thing.

I submit that anyone who is committed to the existence of absolute Truth, absolute Values, should welcome every opportunity to discuss their existence. For if they do exist, they cannot ultimately be disproven, nor will their existence be diminished by any person's refusal or failure to acknowledge them. On the other hand, if they do exist, every opportunity to discuss their existence is an opportunity to allow others to see them.

In The Abolition of Man, C.S. Lewis argues that teachers do their students--and, by extension, society at large--a great disservice when they set out to "debunk" the emotion or dismiss its importance. He writes, "For every one pupil who needs to be guarded from a weak excess of sensibility there are three who need to be awakened from the slumber of cold vulgarity. The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles but to irrigate deserts. The right defense against false sentiments is to inculcate just sentiments. By starving the sensibility of our pupils we only make them easier prey to the propagandist when he comes. For famished nature will be avenged and a hard heart is no infallible protection against a soft head."

In the same way, I think "Christian conservatives" do a great disservice to society when they dismiss liberal, relativist worldviews with an arrogant shaking of the head, as if those who held such worldvivews were a lost cause, not worth the time and effort of engagement. First of all, "we" don't know everything, and not everything is absolute. But beyond that, we serve as poor spokespersons for our own worldview when we walk away from the table. When we behave as if Truth is no better than a spoonful of canned peas, having no real flavor or textural value, but simply demanding digestion as a matter of lukewarm nutritional fact, I wonder if we, ourselves, really understand Truth so well as we think.

Truth is not a fragile thing, nor is it tasteless, nor dependent upon our blind, unthinking, submissive digestion. It is the stuff that both cuts down jungles and irrigates deserts. It is robust, vigorous and vibrant. It is so whether we know it or not, whether we like it or not. It is too great for us to fully or perfectly comprehend and verbalize, and yet enough of it has been revealed--and enough is innately known--to attract our devotion and pursuit.

Let us, who believe that Truth IS, welcome those to the table who believe that it is not. Let us go to THEIR table. Let us hear their best explanations and struggle over them. We may all walk back to our same "corners" in the end, but we will walk back wiser, perhaps questioning some of our assumptions while our brethren question some of theirs. But Truth will shine on, unchanged and unsoiled, and those who truly seek it will find it.

Lessons from Lewis - Part 1 - Saying it Doesn't Make it So

C.S. Lewis had me on his fan list at The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and I required no further evidence of his brilliance. But I was absolutely captivated when I picked up The Abolition of Man a couple of weeks ago.

Lewis wrote the book (actually a series of lectures) in response to an English textbook, a complimentary copy of which was sent to Lewis for a review. [Note to self: Think twice before sending something I have written to a world-class writer, scholar, philosopher and theologian in hopes of a kind literary review.]

In The Green Book, as Lewis refers to it out of compassion for its pitiable authors, the second chapter quotes a story about Coleridge at a waterfall. Two tourists were present. One called the waterfall “sublime,” and the other called it “pretty.” Coleridge agreed with the first pronouncement but disgustedly rejected the second. The Green Book authors comment: “When the man said This is sublime, he appeared to be making a remark about the waterfall… Actually .. he was not making a remark about the waterfall, but a remark about his own feelings…” The authors conclude, “This confusion is continually present in language as we use it. We appear to be saying something very important about something: and actually we are only saying something about our own feelings.”

The rest of The Abolition of Man consists of Lewis’ response to The Green Book’s authors’ misguided effort to dismiss the concept of objective value or truth. I now consider this a must-read for anyone involved in contemporary public policy discussions.

In one of my favorite portions of the book, Lewis explains that “emotional states can be in harmony with reason (when we feel liking for what ought to be approved) or out of harmony with reason (when we perceive that liking is due but cannot feel it). … The heart never takes the place of the head: but it can, and should obey it.” He points out that what is common to the major world religion and philosophies is “the doctrine of objective value, the belief that certain attitudes are really true, and others really false, to the kind of thing the universe is and the kind of things we are.”

Of course, this contrasts sharply with the prevailing beliefs in many spheres of our culture today.

But today’s unconscious philosophies exhibit an even more troubling characteristic: Rather than merely denying that “good,” “bad,” or “truth” can be found, many go so far as to apply false value labels to positions they disdain. Where The Green Book authors said, in effect, “nothing is objectively good or true” today’s philosophers say, “I determine what is good or true based upon my feelings about it.” Today’s philosophers find it unnecessary to explain or prove their conclusions. For them, the heart has "taken the place of the head."

A ready example of this phenomenon is the knee-jerk labeling of those who oppose same-sex “marriage” as “homophobes” or “bigots.” This labeling is as unjust as labeling those who support it “atheists.” Both labels may, in fact, fit a small subset of the universe in question, but it by no means can define the whole. In light of the fact that there are other substantial reasons for people to oppose a dramatic re-definition of the oldest social institution on the planet, the attempt to win popular support for efforts to do so by applying a dreaded label to those who don’t deserve it is nothing short of cheating.

I will examine this particular argument (on the issue of marriage) carefully in an upcoming article, but it is really one of many examples of the larger, deeply disturbing trend. The same phenomenon rears its ugly head in most of the controversial public policy issues our society faces today: abortion, immigration, welfare, and the list goes on.

In fact, I have become accustomed to being labeled a “hater” after anything I write is published, no matter how devoid of hate my words or my actual attitude may be.

For instance, after my guest column “Social Issues and the Economy” (scroll down if you missed it) was published in the Richmond Times Dispatch, one gentleman sent me a nasty e-mail which included this statement: “Jesus must be wondering how people can take his teachings of love and turn them into words of hate.” I took some time to draft a kind response to him, encouraging him to explain which of the words in my article he considered to be “words of hate.” No reply.

And herein lies the harm of what I will call “feeling-based value labeling.” It not only results in the end of real conversation about issues; it seems purposefully designed to do so. It blindly attacks the character of the speaker rather than the merit of the idea. And in doing so, it assaults the integrity of the language we use to describe those attitudes that are “true” and “false” to the “kind of thing the universe is and the kind of things that we are.”

Lewis is certainly right: there is “good” and “bad,” “truth” and “untruth.” But just saying it doesn’t make it so.