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Almost Doesn’t Count

Michaelmas–the feast of St. Michael and the other Archangels, Gabriel and Raphael–was last Monday, and it totally snuck up on me. I had previous plans to color angel cut-outs with my kids and do other fun angel-related things to celebrate the feast day, but it came and went during a busy time of travel for my sister’s wedding. So I satisfied myself by simply reading a little bit about St. Michael and the other Archangels while riding home with my family in the mini-van. As I read, I recalled something my husband (also named Michael) once told me about the meaning of his name.

He grew up knowing the meaning of his name to be “who is like God,” which people would interpret to mean resembling God in some way. It always seemed like kind of a nice complement, but he said that there was something that always seemed off about the interpretation to him.

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He shared with me that it was not until his adulthood that he found out the phrase actually ends in a question mark; it is a rhetorical question that emphasizes emphatically that no one is like God.

This was the exclamation that St. Michael directed toward Lucifer during the battle of the angels before he was cast out of heaven. The meaning of his name is then quite different from an exaggerated complement of someone having godly qualities. The meaning is actually prophetic in nature; it is a corrective reminder for anyone tempted by the first sin of wanting to be like God. In short, my husband came to learn that the real meaning of his name was vastly different from what he had always thought, and that difference hinged on the slight nuance of an inflection at the end of a phrase that should end with a question mark instead of a period.

Remembering this anecdote underscored for me the serious responsibility of accurately presenting theological and spiritual truths. In the practice of communicating spiritual truth within any Christian community, almost getting it right doesn’t count. The slight variation of a phrase or theological concept can change its meaning completely, and by extension, it can drastically change the way we think about God and our faith.

Being conscious of this fact seems important during a time when we are frequently bombarded with spiritual snippets via many secondary sources. Facebook, Twitter, and various other communication media make helpful platforms for discussing and sharing faith concepts with others. However, so many secondary sources of information (in any context) can also compromise the integrity of an idea. We all remember the game of telephone we played as kids (or currently play with our kids). By the time a phrase gets to the last person it has usually changed in some manner.

When we communicate church teaching, when share scriptural interpretations or insights with others, we certainly ought to do so with the utmost care and precision. We should always think critically about the source and the context of the truth we present and represent to others. The slightest nuance can be significant. So I remind myself just as much as anyone else–before we “retweet,” before we “share,” we should investigate. A lot is riding on getting the important things right, and almost doesn’t count.

 

The Empathy of Christ and His Mother

The Apostle John and Mary at the foot of the CrossOne of the most profound aspects of relationships, and our communication within those relationships, is the ability to empathize with one another–to see others in all of their humanness and seek to understand them. When we interact with the full humanness of another we have no possible alternative response than to empathize with their pain or hardship. We cannot look the other way; we cannot merely offer sympathies or stereotypical responses. This way of “knowing” another may happen in the context of public relationships as well as more intimate ones, and when it occurs it is a soothing balm to wounded humanity.

Martin Buber (20th century Jewish religious philosopher) gets at this concept with what he terms the “I-Thou” approach to relationships and dialogue between ourselves and others. An “I-Thou” approach to relationships (contrary to an “I-It” perspective) views both yourself and others as whole persons.¹ Neither one can be reduced to a caricature or stereotype; neither should be viewed as an object to be manipulated or categorized. Others are whole beings, just as the self is a whole being; and all human beings’ thoughts, emotions, and experiences are worthy of consideration. In short, Buber is emphasizing that true relationships (existing with others) and true dialogue (communicating with others) means that we cannot objectify another person; we have to know them with an empathetic love. At least that is the primary call of Christianity — to respond to God’s empathic love for us and love others that way in return.

Many who are resistant to the Christian faith will often cite the problem of pain in the world. They (usually for significant reasons) cannot grasp how a God who supposedly loves us would allow pain and evil into our lives. The problem of pain is not one I wish to tackle today, and others have certainly done a far superior job to anything I could say on the subject.² Instead, realizing that pain and evil do wound us, I would offer that the Christian faith and tradition provides a soothing balm — the grace of the empathy of Christ and His Blessed Mother. When in relationship with both of them we can experience being known by two people who have suffered the like of any pain we will ever experience.

Monday, on the Catholic liturgical calendar, was the memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows. It was a day for memorializing and reflecting on the sacrifice of Mary, the mother of Jesus, and her sorrow at the foot of the cross that held her beloved son. The day before, Sunday, was The Exultation of the Holy Cross, a reminder to Christians of the instrument on which Christ was sacrificed for the world. As I reflect on these sequential memorials, I cannot help but notice the amazing grace that is symbolized in the picture of Christ on the cross looking down at his mother. The grace to us — the moving realization to me — is that we have been offered a relationship with Christ (and with his mother) that embodies perfect empathy.

What is the worst pain or evil that has been inflicted on you personally? Whatever it is, Christ has experienced its equal. He empathizes; He knows you in that pain. In fact the only thing worse (to me) than such personal pain would be to witness such pain inflicted on the one(s) you loved the most. Have you lost a child? Have you walked with a spouse through a ravaging disease that finally ended that dear one’s life? Mary knows you in that pain. She watched her son be nailed to a cross and stood there until the end. She can intercede for you with empathy. We may never be satisfied as to why such horrible pain exists in the world, but by divine grace we may be consoled; we may be soothed. We have been offered a relationship with a God, and his mother, who know our pain intimately.

Even if you are a Protestant, and you do not venerate Mary by the Catholic practices or ask for her intercession, realize that the Saint of all saints in heaven has walked the most lonely road too. Perhaps you haven’t considered whether the great “cloud of witnesses” (Hebrews 12:1) that have gone before us to the Father intercede for us to Him. Maybe you have, but you haven’t thought of what kind of relationship we have with them through prayer. Because of my Catholic faith, I am consoled that not only am I loved empathetically by Christ, I am prayed for empathetically by Mary (and all the saints). All I need do is to ask for her intercession on my behalf; for she knows my pain and the needs of my heart. Hopefully, this grace imparted to me will help me to better love others and seek to know them with the same empathy.

 

1. Martin Buber, I and Thou (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1937).

2. See, as one example, C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain (New York: Macmillan, 1944).

Let Dialogue Be Politically Correct

A couple of weeks ago I was lamenting the fact that dialogue over matters of human sexuality does not exist in America today — or many other parts of the Western world. If we are being honest, much of the current public discourse regarding sex and marriage falls into two different categories — politically correct or politically incorrect. The idea of dialogue–an ongoing and respectful back and forth between individuals with different perspectives–has been completely unvalued and non-existent in mainstream media today. I realize that my traditional, Catholic views on sex and marriage are not culturally popular ones, but I still found it frustrating that asking certain questions and discussing the value of differing perspectives was considered politically incorrect.

And then I came across Damon Linker’s column, “What Religious Traditionalists Can Teach Us About Sex.” Here’s a guys who disagrees with my perspective and the Church’s perspective on matters of sexuality and marriage, but he wants to have a dialogue with me about it. He wants to have a dialogue because he thinks that I/we might have something valuable to share on the topic. His perspective is not only refreshing; it’s courageous. He has probably ticked off a lot of people who share his personal views on the subject. Linker writes:

“I am not a religious traditionalist (at least not anymore). I don’t think sex is profoundly dangerous. I usually feel at home in sexual modernity. I don’t think sexual pleasure outside of wedlock is inherently sinful. I vastly prefer a world in which people have been liberated from sexually inspired suffering, shame, humiliation, and self-loathing.

“But I also take the traditionalist critique of sexual modernity very seriously. The objections aren’t trivial. Western civilization upheld the old sexual standards for the better part of two millennia. We broke from them in the blink of an eye, figuratively speaking. The gains are pretty clear — It’s fun! It feels good! — but the losses are murkier and probably won’t be tallied for a very long time.”

I have profound respect for individuals who welcome outsiders to question and critique their comfortable worlds. When I encounter them I am encouraged to maintain an openness to questions from outside my perspective. Such is the (healthy) behavior of critical thinkers. They don’t run from questions that pose challenges to their deeply held beliefs or presuppositions about the world. They welcome them. They are not afraid of what dialogue will bring.

Linker mentions various reasons he is more comfortable with the modern sexual environment in America today than with previous eras that celebrated religious/traditional sexual conventions. But he acknowledges the counter-point: “At what cost?” He is honest about the conclusion with which he feels most comfortable, that which seems correct to him. But he is willing to enter a dialogue with “the other” about important questions. He doesn’t think that asking important questions about human sexuality should be politically incorrect, and he doesn’t fear the result of a respectful and articulate dialogue on matters of sex. In fact, he is arguing that we need it if we care about the impact these new cultural norms will have on our society.

After reading Linker’s piece, I am encouraged that someone who generally disagrees with my perspective still wants to hear and discuss it. I am hopeful that there are others–on both sides of such debates–who welcome the hard questions, rather than deflect them as politically incorrect. If more and more such people exist, then true dialogue is something for which we can hope. And why should we hope for dialogue? Why do we need it? Because it does two (among others) really important things.

First, engaging in dialogue forces us to understand another’s perspective or argument. There is a world of difference between expressing your view of someone else’s ideas, which conflict with your own, and being able to articulate those ideas from that person’s perspective. As an example, Linker is invested in a spirit of dialogue to the point that he seems to understand why certain questions about sexuality/marriage/family are significant to traditionalists, as well as why they take them so seriously. In his article he articulates these questions in a way that reflects the perspective from which traditionalists pose them:

“What will become of childhood if our culture continues down the road of pervasive sexualization?

“Do children do best with two parents of opposite genders? Or are two parents of the same gender just as good? Or better? How about one parent of either gender? What about three, four, five, or more people in a constantly evolving polyamorous arrangement?

“Can the institution of marriage survive without the ideals of fidelity and monogamy? What kind of sexual temptations and experiences will technology present us with a year — or a decade, or a century — from now? Will people be able to think of reasons or conjure up the will to resist those temptations? Will they even try? Does it even matter?” (Linker 2014)

These are the kind of questions that most media voices vehemently dismiss as politically incorrect, asked by people they often characterize as simple-minded bigots. Yet, Linker argues that these questions, and the dialogue that would flow from a discussion of them, are valid and should not be dismissed outright: “What I do know is that the questions are important, and that I respect those who are troubled by them. And maybe you should, too” (Linker 2014).

Yes, respect! Here Linker points us to the second important result of dialogue. Engaging in dialogue makes us see people as human beings–not ideologues, not talking heads, not caricatures–human beings created in the image of God. Of course we “know” people are human beings, right? But we seem to forget it daily, as we reduce them to 140-character summaries of their political and religious views. The other day I came across (thanks to The American Conservative) one of the best (and most convicting) exhortations to view every person as a human being deserving of love and respect. In his column on the Village Voice, Andrew W. K. responds to a reader’s frustration with his father, who he describes as “a 65-year-old super right-wing conservative who has basically turned into a total [a**hole] intent on ruining our relationship and our planet with his politics” (W.K. 2014).  Andrew’s firm rebuke may not have been exactly the response the reader was expecting:

“You’ve reduced your father — the person who created you — to a set of beliefs and political views and how it relates to you. And you don’t consider your dad a person of his own standing — he’s just ‘your dad.’ You’ve also reduced yourself to a set of opposing views, and reduced your relationship with him to a fight between the two. The humanity has been reduced to nothingness and all that’s left in its place is an argument that can never really be won.” (W.K. 2014)

Read Andrew’s whole response to this reader; it is powerfully written! We have to view the people with whom we disagree as human beings, and as such, we have to respect them. We may not like their ideas, politics, or perspectives; but people should not simply be reduced to the sum of these things. When we do this to them, we cease to be human ourselves. As Andrew puts it: “When we lump people into groups, quickly label them, and assume we know everything about them and their life based on a perceived world view, how they look, where they come from, etc., we are not behaving as full human beings” (W.K. 2014).

Political correctness often prevents us from being full human beings, because it renders dialogue on certain important subjects impossible. It prevents us from engaging opposing viewpoints in ongoing conversation; it prevents understanding other humans and learning from each other. Let’s not let dialogue about issues of sexuality and marriage be labelled as politically incorrect. We should not fear dialogue, because the purpose of dialogue is not to silence voices; the true purpose of dialogue is to understand our fellow human beings and become more fully human ourselves.