Every rational person is socialized, meaning that they can be polite, help their friends when their friends need someone, etc. This, however, is not evidence of agape love. There is, of course, nothing wrong with being socialized, but all it means is that you are normal. Jesus drew this contrast: After the command to “Love your enemies,” he makes sure no one is confused: “…if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even tax collectors do the same?” (Matt 5). Loving your friends simply means you are good at being a reciprocal human being, because smart people know deep down that being there for a friend means that she will be there for you when you need a friend – this is completely normal. But since you are the one who benefits here, your love for your friends is, in the final analysis, egoistic. But as we defined agape love, it must be a desire for something that has nothing to do with your own survival, pleasure, or prosperity.
In order to be an atheist, you must be committed to the idea that all love arises naturally through biological and/or sociological mechanisms, and I think it is reasonable to insist that most or even almost all love arises in this way. I like to think of myself as a nice person, but when I love my friends and colleagues, I am really wishing to avoid loneliness and to be successful – it is still all about me. Of course I don’t tell myself this often, but I think that these natural human drives really play a large role in our daily relationships with friends, colleagues, and family. While there is certainly nothing wrong with this, we must be very blunt with ourselves: does this explain all love?
The atheist is not inconsistent by answering “Yes.”; there is no logical contradiction here. But is seems plain to me that there are some who have a real lust for justice on behalf of others; they just get angry about the exploitation of other people (see Part III). Richard Dawkins (part IV) makes it very plain that evolutionary ethics cannot account for this. Darwin himself points out that we are ruthlessly selfish, right down to our genes, and that all apparent altruism can be accounted for as merely the protection of our own genes.
All love is desire for something. Usually, love is egoistic, meaning that it benefits me in some way. This is true both in our love for our friends, and in sexual love. This sort of love is normal, healthy, and human. But there is no good sociological or biological reason why love should be any more than that. If, then, we conclude that there is such as thing as desiring justice on behalf of someone from a different gene pool and/or race or society, then love is a miracle. The atheists keep looking for naturalistic explanations for this phenomenon, but those of us who are religious are not confused about how the natural order of things became ruptured: “God is love.” This also explains why some have both agape AND human love, while some love only humanly: “Everyone that loves has been born of God, and knows God. The one who does not love, does not know God, because God is love” (I John 4). And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with whether you believe that the proposition “God exists” is true or false. There are many who believe that it is true that are not really lovers, just as there are some, I believe, who really know God despite themselves.
I don’t take these last 6 weeks to add up to an argument for God’s existence. But everyone has many choices about how he or she will view the world, and as rational beings, we can’t help but have opinions about the ultimate nature of our universe. If you find yourself to be someone who lusts for justice on behalf of people you don’t really know, then I insist that for that sake of consistency, you should also believe that God exists and seek how you might worship God.
Showing posts with label Love is a Miracle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love is a Miracle. Show all posts
2.18.2008
2.12.2008
Love is a Miracle, Part V
Another strategy to explain away agape love, as the atheist must do in order to be an actual atheist, is to argue that all ethics are socially constructed. This is sometimes called the argument from cultural relativism. The idea is that human beings consciously or unconsciously adopt (or reject) the values of the culture in which they live. So whether positively or negatively, cultural values determine what an individual values.
J.L. Mackie, a cultural relativist a professed atheist, expresses the point this way in his book Inventing Right and Wrong: “Disagreement about moral codes seems to reflect adherence to and participation in different ways of life” (94). That is to say, the mere existence of varying and/or conflicting ethical standards between cultures combined with the relatively high levels of agreement about ethical standards within cultures implies that an individual’s ethical standards are at least partly dependent upon the culture from which she comes. As Mackie puts it, this argument can be expressed in causal terms. He uses the example of the value of monogamy: “The casual connection seems to be mainly that way round: it is that people approve of monogamy because they participate in a monogamous way of life rather than that they participate in a monogamous way of life because they approve of monogamy” (94-5).
This causal connection indeed seems true, but only trivially so. Consider the example of certain Mormon values, such as disdain for caffeine, that are prevalent in Utah but in no other state. From a statistical standpoint, it would be utterly astounding if nearly all of Americans who disapproved of caffeine-drinking on moral grounds coincidently all lived in Utah, were Mormon values were laudable and practiced. It is not much to infer that people who morally disapprove of caffeine-drinking do so because their culture made it customary and hence ordinary.
Mackie has merely pushed back the question one level: now we want to know if any cultures are superior to any others with respect to the values they have. To many, it seems arrogant to talk about one cultural as superior to another, but I don’t have any problem with this. It seems intuitive that societies that had slaves or contemporary societies that don’t extend rights to women are culturally inferior to cultures that don’t have slaves or respect women as equals. So yes, I agree with Mackie that my values are relative in the sense that my moral education from my family and culture determines my own values. I can freely admit, although with some shame, that if I were born in certain places in the Middle East, I would think of women as second-class citizens. But I don’t see how that implies that values are relative – many of us still have the intuition that some practices really are unjust. We can simply still insist that some cultures are morally superior to other cultures. We still are waiting for an argument from the atheist to show that the phenomenon of love is reducible to sociology or biology.
J.L. Mackie, a cultural relativist a professed atheist, expresses the point this way in his book Inventing Right and Wrong: “Disagreement about moral codes seems to reflect adherence to and participation in different ways of life” (94). That is to say, the mere existence of varying and/or conflicting ethical standards between cultures combined with the relatively high levels of agreement about ethical standards within cultures implies that an individual’s ethical standards are at least partly dependent upon the culture from which she comes. As Mackie puts it, this argument can be expressed in causal terms. He uses the example of the value of monogamy: “The casual connection seems to be mainly that way round: it is that people approve of monogamy because they participate in a monogamous way of life rather than that they participate in a monogamous way of life because they approve of monogamy” (94-5).
This causal connection indeed seems true, but only trivially so. Consider the example of certain Mormon values, such as disdain for caffeine, that are prevalent in Utah but in no other state. From a statistical standpoint, it would be utterly astounding if nearly all of Americans who disapproved of caffeine-drinking on moral grounds coincidently all lived in Utah, were Mormon values were laudable and practiced. It is not much to infer that people who morally disapprove of caffeine-drinking do so because their culture made it customary and hence ordinary.
Mackie has merely pushed back the question one level: now we want to know if any cultures are superior to any others with respect to the values they have. To many, it seems arrogant to talk about one cultural as superior to another, but I don’t have any problem with this. It seems intuitive that societies that had slaves or contemporary societies that don’t extend rights to women are culturally inferior to cultures that don’t have slaves or respect women as equals. So yes, I agree with Mackie that my values are relative in the sense that my moral education from my family and culture determines my own values. I can freely admit, although with some shame, that if I were born in certain places in the Middle East, I would think of women as second-class citizens. But I don’t see how that implies that values are relative – many of us still have the intuition that some practices really are unjust. We can simply still insist that some cultures are morally superior to other cultures. We still are waiting for an argument from the atheist to show that the phenomenon of love is reducible to sociology or biology.
2.04.2008
Love is a Miracle, Part IV
There are many apparent examples of what I called last week “altruistic indignation.” One experiences altruistic indignation if one becomes angry at the perceived unjust treatment of another person. Does this phenomenon really exist? Do we ever genuinely become grieved when someone who is not ourselves is being treated unjustly? The answer to this question is vital. If the answer is “Yes, there really is such a thing as altruistic indignation,” then this poses a problem for the atheist. This week, and the next two weeks, I want to examine typical attempted atheistic explanations for this.
The most common response is from evolutionary ethics. Take for example, the wolf who stays behind to fight the enemy, even though he knows that he will die, so that the rest of the pack can go free. This seems at first glance to be a strong example of altruism – the wolf lays down its own life for its pack. The wolf's altruism comes from its evolutionary instinct to keep its species alive, at all costs. The wolf has a deep instinct to lay down its life for its pack, just as the parent has a deep instinct to lay down her life for her children, if need be. For the evolutionary ethicist, these altruistic instincts are implanted in us by mother nature, for these instincts are what is necessary to keep our own species around.
Richard Dawkins is a fierce critic of the doctrine that mother nature has made us altruists for the sake of the propagation of life. Dawkins, along with Peter Singer, is one of the two living thinkers best known for being atheistic. In his famous book, The Selfish Gene (and specifically Chapter One – Why are People?), Dawkins calls this wishful, un-Darwinistic thinking. Many evolutionists falsely buy into the idea that we have altruistic instincts for the sake of the survival of our own species, but that is because they do not understand Darwinism properly. Dawkins defends Darwin’s idea that we are all “ruthlessly selfish,” right down to our genes. Therefore, the true Dawinistic explanation of the wolf laying down its life for the pack is that it is protecting its own genes: it is ultimately an egoistic action, even though it appears to be “altruistic” to some wishful thinkers.
So is there really such a thing as altruism (in our restricted sense of altruistic indignation)? The evolutionary ethicist says “Yes,” and the explanation is that mother nature has made us altruistic as a survival mechanism for our species. Unfortunately, as Dawkins points out, this is wildly un-Darwinistic. Even though some may find it odd because of my Christian world-view, I really like Darwinism. Although I am no scientist, I find Darwinism helpful to my cause, simply because of its thesis that we are all ruthlessly selfish in every way. Seeing the world this way makes the miracle of love all the more salient. If we are all ruthlessly selfish, and yet we can find examples of altruism, then the miracle of love is even more miraculous!
The evolutionary ethicist has proposed the theory that we are altruistic for the sake of the survival of our own species. Dawkins has pointed out that these evolutionists are “fairy tale” evolutionists, because Darwin’s theory of natural selection, properly understood, excludes this possibility. While I am happy to let Dawkins win that debate, I have tried to point out that while evolution, as Dawkins explains it, can explain (at least some) altruistic actions, it cannot explain altruistic indignation, at least when it is for the sake of someone on the other side of the world. Dawkins’ idea, which he lays out in Chapter Five of his book, is that altruism is decreased by a factor of two each successive generation, and is also decreased as one moves further from one’s immediate gene pool. So since my children carry half of my genes, I am very altruistic toward them. If I have grandchildren some day, they will carry one-fourth of my genes, and so I will be slightly less altruistic towards them (And why do some love their adopted children? Dawkins insists that this is a genetic malfunction!). And I will be even less altruistic toward my future nieces and nephews, since they have a few of my genes, but not a lot. This is a very brief summary Dawkins’ explanation of Darwinism, but it brings up a wonderful question: Why would I be angry about the unjust treatment of women on the other side of the globe? Darwin says I should not be. Halleluiah!
The most common response is from evolutionary ethics. Take for example, the wolf who stays behind to fight the enemy, even though he knows that he will die, so that the rest of the pack can go free. This seems at first glance to be a strong example of altruism – the wolf lays down its own life for its pack. The wolf's altruism comes from its evolutionary instinct to keep its species alive, at all costs. The wolf has a deep instinct to lay down its life for its pack, just as the parent has a deep instinct to lay down her life for her children, if need be. For the evolutionary ethicist, these altruistic instincts are implanted in us by mother nature, for these instincts are what is necessary to keep our own species around.
Richard Dawkins is a fierce critic of the doctrine that mother nature has made us altruists for the sake of the propagation of life. Dawkins, along with Peter Singer, is one of the two living thinkers best known for being atheistic. In his famous book, The Selfish Gene (and specifically Chapter One – Why are People?), Dawkins calls this wishful, un-Darwinistic thinking. Many evolutionists falsely buy into the idea that we have altruistic instincts for the sake of the survival of our own species, but that is because they do not understand Darwinism properly. Dawkins defends Darwin’s idea that we are all “ruthlessly selfish,” right down to our genes. Therefore, the true Dawinistic explanation of the wolf laying down its life for the pack is that it is protecting its own genes: it is ultimately an egoistic action, even though it appears to be “altruistic” to some wishful thinkers.
So is there really such a thing as altruism (in our restricted sense of altruistic indignation)? The evolutionary ethicist says “Yes,” and the explanation is that mother nature has made us altruistic as a survival mechanism for our species. Unfortunately, as Dawkins points out, this is wildly un-Darwinistic. Even though some may find it odd because of my Christian world-view, I really like Darwinism. Although I am no scientist, I find Darwinism helpful to my cause, simply because of its thesis that we are all ruthlessly selfish in every way. Seeing the world this way makes the miracle of love all the more salient. If we are all ruthlessly selfish, and yet we can find examples of altruism, then the miracle of love is even more miraculous!
The evolutionary ethicist has proposed the theory that we are altruistic for the sake of the survival of our own species. Dawkins has pointed out that these evolutionists are “fairy tale” evolutionists, because Darwin’s theory of natural selection, properly understood, excludes this possibility. While I am happy to let Dawkins win that debate, I have tried to point out that while evolution, as Dawkins explains it, can explain (at least some) altruistic actions, it cannot explain altruistic indignation, at least when it is for the sake of someone on the other side of the world. Dawkins’ idea, which he lays out in Chapter Five of his book, is that altruism is decreased by a factor of two each successive generation, and is also decreased as one moves further from one’s immediate gene pool. So since my children carry half of my genes, I am very altruistic toward them. If I have grandchildren some day, they will carry one-fourth of my genes, and so I will be slightly less altruistic towards them (And why do some love their adopted children? Dawkins insists that this is a genetic malfunction!). And I will be even less altruistic toward my future nieces and nephews, since they have a few of my genes, but not a lot. This is a very brief summary Dawkins’ explanation of Darwinism, but it brings up a wonderful question: Why would I be angry about the unjust treatment of women on the other side of the globe? Darwin says I should not be. Halleluiah!
1.28.2008
Love is a Miracle, Part III
Is there such a thing as an action that I perform that does not benefit me in some way? Many people conclude that there is not. From this, it is a short leap to the idea that all “love” is ultimately egoistic, and therefore that no love is agape, which is love that is supposed to give without consideration of itself.
The idea that all of our actions benefit us in some way is partly right, but also misleading. Let’s take an extreme example. Say someone reads an article about the sex-slave trade, where young girls are kidnapped and forced to labor in the most disgusting ways possible. Perhaps he becomes angry about this injustice, and decides to give money to an organization that works to break up sex-slave trade rings. Initially, it seems that he has done an altruistic thing: after all, he has contributed in a small way to improve the lives of others. But the moral skeptic points out that he also “feels good” about giving that money. As such, that action is ultimately egoistic. This analysis can be made for any moral action I do – I always benefit in some way.
On these terms, I agree that there is no such thing as altruism. There is, however, more to the story. Let’s say that there are two friends who learn about the tragedy of the sex-slave trade at the same time. When the first friend hears this, he becomes angry because he perceives this to be an unjust state-of-affairs that should be set right, while the second friend is generally apathetic toward the plight of these girls. It seems that most would agree that the first friend responded more appropriately than the second one in a moral sense. That is to say, the first friend is morally attuned to something in a way that the second friend is not.
So the skeptic who insists (correctly) that there are no purely altruistic actions now has a bigger problem: why did the first friend become angry over someone else’s situation? So there may be no altruistic actions, but there may be such a thing as altruistic indignation, for it often happens that someone gets angry over the unjust treatment another. Why is this?
The wise, or those who insist that that agape love does not exist, must explain how altruistic indignation arises from strictly natural causes. After all, if we are purely selfish at base, as the scientists insist, then altruism should not be possible. In the next three weeks, I will look at (and argue against) three potential explanations by the atheist that what appears to be altruism is not altruism after all.
The idea that all of our actions benefit us in some way is partly right, but also misleading. Let’s take an extreme example. Say someone reads an article about the sex-slave trade, where young girls are kidnapped and forced to labor in the most disgusting ways possible. Perhaps he becomes angry about this injustice, and decides to give money to an organization that works to break up sex-slave trade rings. Initially, it seems that he has done an altruistic thing: after all, he has contributed in a small way to improve the lives of others. But the moral skeptic points out that he also “feels good” about giving that money. As such, that action is ultimately egoistic. This analysis can be made for any moral action I do – I always benefit in some way.
On these terms, I agree that there is no such thing as altruism. There is, however, more to the story. Let’s say that there are two friends who learn about the tragedy of the sex-slave trade at the same time. When the first friend hears this, he becomes angry because he perceives this to be an unjust state-of-affairs that should be set right, while the second friend is generally apathetic toward the plight of these girls. It seems that most would agree that the first friend responded more appropriately than the second one in a moral sense. That is to say, the first friend is morally attuned to something in a way that the second friend is not.
So the skeptic who insists (correctly) that there are no purely altruistic actions now has a bigger problem: why did the first friend become angry over someone else’s situation? So there may be no altruistic actions, but there may be such a thing as altruistic indignation, for it often happens that someone gets angry over the unjust treatment another. Why is this?
The wise, or those who insist that that agape love does not exist, must explain how altruistic indignation arises from strictly natural causes. After all, if we are purely selfish at base, as the scientists insist, then altruism should not be possible. In the next three weeks, I will look at (and argue against) three potential explanations by the atheist that what appears to be altruism is not altruism after all.
1.14.2008
Love is a Miracle, Part II
I began an investigation last time into the existence of unconditional love. We decided that this inquiry is important for the Christian because if it turns out that such love does not exist, then Christianity is foolish; conversely, the atheistic world-view would be threatened if we could find instances of love that are not reducible to biological or social phenomena.
There is undoubtedly much love in the world in certain forms. There are at least three Greek words translated as “love”: agape, philos, and eros. The latter two are related in that they have to do with desire. When one has eros or philos, one has a lack of something, which results in the desire to fulfill that lack. Eros is of course where our word ‘erotic’ comes from, and indeed, eros usually indicates sensual desire. Philos is the other side of the coin: it is characterized by non-physical desire, as this love seeks fulfillment in some way that is not sensual. For example, a philosopher is supposed to love wisdom, and Philadelphia is the city of brotherly love.
To these two words for love, the New Testament adds a third: agape. It is much more difficult to define, but it forms a remarkable contrast with the former two words for love in at least one important aspect. With eros and philos, there is always a desirer fulfilling a desire. Therefore, in the end, these kinds of love are always egoistic, or selfish. I will use this contrast to characterize agape love as altruistic, or focused essentially on others. Many ethicists claim that all human actions are ultimately motivated by eros or philos, and that therefore there is no room for any other type of love. This claim has some initial appeal. Take the example of the kind shopkeeper: one might be tempted to say that his kindness toward the people that come into his store is motivated by agape love, but the skeptic could just say that his kindness really comes from his desire to retain his customers, whether he realizes it or not. Even most friendships can easily be described as motivated by philos, because we desire the company of other people: a person with no friends feels lonely. If we had no desire for fellowship, we would not seek out friends.
It gets worse for the person who wants to believe in agape love: even Jesus seems to praise selfish actions: “But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Matt 5:3-4). Jesus here recommends going out of our way not to let our generosity be seen by people, because we will forfeit a greater heavenly reward. But if we seek a reward, even if it is eternal and not temporal, these kinds of actions are selfish.
These examples show that there is nothing wrong with selfishness in certain contexts. After all, it helps us become good friends, good neighbors, and good co-workers. But can I ever perform an action which doesn’t benefit myself in some way? And if I can’t, can I ever really say that I have purely unselfish or altruistic motivations? And if I never have altruistic motivations, can I insist that there is such a thing as agape love? And if there is no such thing as agape love, doesn’t this put Christianity in an awkward position?
There is undoubtedly much love in the world in certain forms. There are at least three Greek words translated as “love”: agape, philos, and eros. The latter two are related in that they have to do with desire. When one has eros or philos, one has a lack of something, which results in the desire to fulfill that lack. Eros is of course where our word ‘erotic’ comes from, and indeed, eros usually indicates sensual desire. Philos is the other side of the coin: it is characterized by non-physical desire, as this love seeks fulfillment in some way that is not sensual. For example, a philosopher is supposed to love wisdom, and Philadelphia is the city of brotherly love.
To these two words for love, the New Testament adds a third: agape. It is much more difficult to define, but it forms a remarkable contrast with the former two words for love in at least one important aspect. With eros and philos, there is always a desirer fulfilling a desire. Therefore, in the end, these kinds of love are always egoistic, or selfish. I will use this contrast to characterize agape love as altruistic, or focused essentially on others. Many ethicists claim that all human actions are ultimately motivated by eros or philos, and that therefore there is no room for any other type of love. This claim has some initial appeal. Take the example of the kind shopkeeper: one might be tempted to say that his kindness toward the people that come into his store is motivated by agape love, but the skeptic could just say that his kindness really comes from his desire to retain his customers, whether he realizes it or not. Even most friendships can easily be described as motivated by philos, because we desire the company of other people: a person with no friends feels lonely. If we had no desire for fellowship, we would not seek out friends.
It gets worse for the person who wants to believe in agape love: even Jesus seems to praise selfish actions: “But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Matt 5:3-4). Jesus here recommends going out of our way not to let our generosity be seen by people, because we will forfeit a greater heavenly reward. But if we seek a reward, even if it is eternal and not temporal, these kinds of actions are selfish.
These examples show that there is nothing wrong with selfishness in certain contexts. After all, it helps us become good friends, good neighbors, and good co-workers. But can I ever perform an action which doesn’t benefit myself in some way? And if I can’t, can I ever really say that I have purely unselfish or altruistic motivations? And if I never have altruistic motivations, can I insist that there is such a thing as agape love? And if there is no such thing as agape love, doesn’t this put Christianity in an awkward position?
1.06.2008
Love is a Miracle, Part I
Is there any such thing as love?
This is the sort of foolish and naïve question that children might ask. ‘The wise’ never worry about such things. By ‘the wise,’ I mean the anthropologists, the biologists, the geneticists, and above all the philosophers, who by definition make their living by loving wisdom. For the biologist and geneticist, love is merely a programmed survival instinct. For the anthropologist, love is the invented oil that lubricates social interactions and gives shape to traditions, while the philosophers are all too eager to agree with either or both of those diagnoses.
There are several different things I could mean by ‘love,’ and I will give some distinctions next time. But for now, it is enough to say that I am referring to the kind of love ‘without conditions’ that the New Testament writers can’t seem to stop talking about. John says that “love is from God, and everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love…” (I John 4:7,8). Paul, after saying that love is greater than faith (I Cor. 13), goes onto to anticipate John’s writings: for him, as for John, the unmistakable evidence of the presence of God in one’s life is the presence of love (Gal. 5:22). And conversely, a life without love always indicates the absence of God (Gal 5:19-20).
So it is that love is central for New Testament Christianity. Therefore, if the wise are successful in their attempts to reduce love to biological or social mechanisms, Christianity (along with many other religions) would be the most pervasive, extravagant, and scandalous deception in Western history. To appropriate Paul, we should be pitied in the worst way, perhaps the way a parent might pity a child who discovers that Santa Claus never leaves presents at his house. That child deserves pity because he must come to terms with the fact that something he has believed strongly his whole conscious life, even in the face of adversity, turns out to be wrong.
But we should also look at the issue the other way around. If there is such a thing as love after all, ‘the wise’ have an accounting problem on their hands. How can they account for the fact that love ended up in the world? When asked whether there is love, it is tempting to give an immediate and sharp “YES!” After all, we all love our children, spouses, and parents with unconditional love, right? Don’t we show love to the neighbor across the street when we invite her for parties even though she continues to be un-neighborly? Don’t we manifest true love when we are nice to our co-worker even while he is rude to us? I want to resist an easy answer, because this question, it turns out, is complicated. The wisdom of the world has given us an important challenge.
This is the sort of foolish and naïve question that children might ask. ‘The wise’ never worry about such things. By ‘the wise,’ I mean the anthropologists, the biologists, the geneticists, and above all the philosophers, who by definition make their living by loving wisdom. For the biologist and geneticist, love is merely a programmed survival instinct. For the anthropologist, love is the invented oil that lubricates social interactions and gives shape to traditions, while the philosophers are all too eager to agree with either or both of those diagnoses.
There are several different things I could mean by ‘love,’ and I will give some distinctions next time. But for now, it is enough to say that I am referring to the kind of love ‘without conditions’ that the New Testament writers can’t seem to stop talking about. John says that “love is from God, and everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love…” (I John 4:7,8). Paul, after saying that love is greater than faith (I Cor. 13), goes onto to anticipate John’s writings: for him, as for John, the unmistakable evidence of the presence of God in one’s life is the presence of love (Gal. 5:22). And conversely, a life without love always indicates the absence of God (Gal 5:19-20).
So it is that love is central for New Testament Christianity. Therefore, if the wise are successful in their attempts to reduce love to biological or social mechanisms, Christianity (along with many other religions) would be the most pervasive, extravagant, and scandalous deception in Western history. To appropriate Paul, we should be pitied in the worst way, perhaps the way a parent might pity a child who discovers that Santa Claus never leaves presents at his house. That child deserves pity because he must come to terms with the fact that something he has believed strongly his whole conscious life, even in the face of adversity, turns out to be wrong.
But we should also look at the issue the other way around. If there is such a thing as love after all, ‘the wise’ have an accounting problem on their hands. How can they account for the fact that love ended up in the world? When asked whether there is love, it is tempting to give an immediate and sharp “YES!” After all, we all love our children, spouses, and parents with unconditional love, right? Don’t we show love to the neighbor across the street when we invite her for parties even though she continues to be un-neighborly? Don’t we manifest true love when we are nice to our co-worker even while he is rude to us? I want to resist an easy answer, because this question, it turns out, is complicated. The wisdom of the world has given us an important challenge.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)