Tag: truth

An Open Letter to Everyone Who Disagrees With Me

Dear everyone,

If you’re reading this letter, it’s because you disagree with me.1 And because I’m the kind of person I am, you probably disagree with me about something I feel very strongly about. That’s because I feel very strongly about everything. Faith and onions and leggings and children’s books—if I’m informed enough to have an opinion, you can bet it’ll be a terrifyingly passionate one.

Had there been a soapbox, I would have hopped right on up.
Had there been a soapbox, I would have hopped right on up.

Unfortunately, I hate conflict. Deeply, desperately hate it. It gives me stomachaches and makes me so miserable I can hardly think about anything else—even when it’s imaginary conflict with people I don’t even know. It is hard for me to be public about my controversial beliefs. But it would be impossible for me not to be. Standing on a soapbox was written into my soul. It’s who I am.

It’s not a comfortable place to be, but it’s often a productive one, this diplomatic-dogmatic balance I try to hold. I cling to what I know to be true and err on the side of love. And generally people see that and respond with respect.

But sometimes not. Sometimes people attack and accuse and willfully misunderstand. Sometimes the rules of logic and civility seem to be thrown out the window. Sometimes the sound of a Facebook notification makes me so anxious I’m afraid I’m going to give myself an ulcer.

So often it’s because we assume the worst about each other. We assume that all people who disagree with us are condemning us. We think they hate us and find us stupid. And we believe that their position is really the stupid one and if only we can beat our flawless argument into their worthless heads they’ll finally agree with us.

Pope Francis loves youI love you. I really do. And when I try to explain these things—chastity or faith or the Eucharist or helping the poor—it’s because I love you. It’s not because you’re wrong and bad and stupid. It’s because I honestly believe that you’ll be happier living in the truth. I’m sure you disagree. And that’s okay. Just please know that I’m trying to love you well through all this.

I kind of hate me. I know how I—and the Church—often come across: a cold-hearted shrew screaming “NO!” at everyone who’s trying to be happy. I hate that I can’t just “live and let live.” But so often “live and let live” is code for “live and let die.” How can I stand by and watch you break your own heart and not say anything? I hate that the love I speak sounds so much like “NO.” I wish we understood each other better so you could hear the “yes” I’m trying to say.

I get where you’re coming from. I think the most important thing in dialogue is honestly trying to understand why the other person takes a particular position. So on every issue, I’m always trying to figure out the kind, loving, genuine beliefs that could motivate my opposition—and then I ascribe them to every person I encounter. So when you’re trying to tell me that rape victims should abort their babies, I hear compassion and sensitivity and a weak understanding of embryology. I’d love to hear why you take this position–that’s why I’m talking to you–but know that I really am assuming the best about you. I’d appreciate the same.

Not to get ahead of ourselves or anything, but I can't WAIT to celebrate his feast day!
Not to get ahead of ourselves or anything, but I can’t WAIT to celebrate his feast day!

You’re probably not going to convince me. Just about everything I truly believe, I fought. And I fought hard. So if I believe it now, it’s because I’ve asked all these questions and found answers that satisfy me. The only worldview that makes any sense to me at all is the Catholic one. So I’ll listen, because I want to understand your position and appreciate its logic. And if you’re really convincing, I’ll probably think and pray about it for a few days. I may even do some more research.2 But if you’re opposing something the Church teaches infallibly, that’s as far as it’s going to go, God willing.3 Being open-minded, I think, doesn’t mean accepting anything you’re told even if it flies in the face of everything you hold dear; it means being willing to accept that another position is (at some level) kind and reasonable and to consider it fairly. That I’ll do.

I’m not always trying to convince you. Sometimes I know I’m not going to. Maybe you’re so young in your exploration of faith or you’re so rooted in the things of this world or you’ve convinced yourself so thoroughly of a certain matter that I’m pretty sure my input won’t make a difference. I won’t give up on you, but I don’t think it’s my job to convince you of my position. I do think it’s my job to show you that my position4 is reasonable and loving. When I ask you to be open-minded, it’s not because I want you to let go of your convictions; it’s because I want you to recognize that mine aren’t ludicrous or cruel. I promise to return the favor.

I’d love to answer any of your well-meant questions. People are sometimes afraid to ask questions—like they think I’ll be offended by their questions about celibacy or how strange it is to sit in a candle-lit room and talk to yourself. But if you’re asking honestly—either because you want to know or because you’re not sure I’ve asked that question of myself—I’m so happy to answer. I’m a Catholic because I really believe that it’s the truth. I really believe that the Church has all the answers. And if I can’t answer your question, that’s something I need to deal with.

That said, there are some questions that are just accusations. You know, “How can you oppose contraception when priests rape babies?” and “WTF is wrong with you?” and the like. Once we fall into ad hominem attacks and incessant harping on analogies, I’m out.

Seriously

I don’t think you’re stupid because you disagree with me. We live in a world where thinking someone is wrong is perceived as thinking that person is stupid or worthless or going to hell. I don’t think any of those things about anyone. I know wildly intelligent people who disagree with everything that I find essential. I know particularly unintelligent people who understand the faith far better than I ever will. I honestly think it’s been years since I judged a person as stupid or sinful or what-have-you because of his beliefs.

I do tend to think you’re stupid when you stop using reason and start freaking out. Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe it’s something I should work on. But when you ignore every point I make except one and then misinterpret that one? When I explain my position over and over and you continue to fight a straw man? When you act like you know all the things and you can’t even grasp my definition of the word the debate hinges on? That’s when I struggle. And that’s usually when I excuse myself from the conversation.

Even people who split infinitives.
Even people who split infinitives.

I’m happy to drop it. It’s the peacemaker in me—I don’t want to fight you. So if you’re done debating, I’ll call it quits. And I probably won’t bring it up again for years, if ever. It’s hard for me not to talk about Jesus, him being the center of my life and all, but it’s easy for me just to limit those comments.5 If you’re firm in your position, I’ll love you and visit you and like your Facebook pictures and never say another word about our disagreement. But I’m here when you’re ready to.

I’m doing the best I can. I was born with my foot in my mouth and it just gets worse when we start talking about something that really matters. When we’re talking, it’s likely that my brain will take over and my heart will run pathetically after, trying to pull the words back into my mouth. I may say something that sounds totally insensitive because we’re speaking different languages. I’m sorry. But please assume that I mean well. I really am trying.

 

This, I think, is what dialogue is all about: love and forgiveness and understanding. It’s not about winning or ripping someone’s worldview apart and leaving him crying amid the rubble. It’s not necessarily about changing anyone’s position but about helping her to nuance it, maybe, or even just to acknowledge yours as not the worst thing ever to happen.

And you know what, friends? I assume you’re on the same page. I assume your intelligence and your good intentions and your integrity. I try to read all of your remarks in the most charitable way possible. Maybe if we all did the same, we could start making some progress.

Yours in compassionate conviction (I hope),

Meg

  1. No, really. You do. About something, I’m sure. [↩]
  2. Really—a very convincing Mormon got me questioning, as did a Calvinist. I’m listening. [↩]
  3. Matters of prudential judgment and politics and opinion are entirely up for grabs, of course. Except Notre Dame football. Duh. [↩]
  4. And by extension, I hope, the Church’s. [↩]
  5. My little brother is an atheist. He also hates football, which makes him a heathen in more ways than one. I said something about football a few years back and he interrupted me: “Meg, you know I don’t like football.” I said, “Timmy, I have two topics. Football and Jesus. Pick one.” He picked football. [↩]

3 Reasons: The Mandate

I don’t know that I’ll ever run out of reasons I love Catholicism. But with the Fortnight for Freedom starting later this week, I’ve got contraception and persecution on my mind. So we’ll call this the Remember-the-HHS-Mandate-Yeah-That’s-Still-Happening edition.

1. Perspicacity1

I remember once talking to a woman who was in a Lutheran seminary studying for ministry. Since I was in college and knew everything,2 I was debating her about something. To make a point, I asked, “Well, what does baptism do?”

Now, any moderately-catechized Catholic will automatically spout something about how it takes away Original Sin or at least something about it making you a Christian. So I thought I was still on common ground. Her response?

“I haven’t decided yet.”

She hadn’t decided yet! Forget the fact that it’s a little silly to phrase things as though your opinion might impact objective truth, I was stunned by the realization that in most denominations a theologically-earnest person has to examine every single matter of dogma and determine her position. You can’t, if you’re being intellectually honest, accept anything on the authority of your church because your church doesn’t claim to have any authority and probably doesn’t have any official teaching on most points.

I’m exhausted just thinking about it. The logical result of sola Scriptura is that you have to examine all of Scripture for the answer to any doctrinal question.3 Being the kind of person I am, I would have felt compelled to figure out the answer to every question–without any authority to point me in the right direction. What an exhausting prospect! It’s not necessarily easier to submit to the Church on difficult matters, but it has the benefit of being right.

Romans 12 2It’s not just confusion that the Church’s authority protects us from–it’s that powerful temptation to ignore Paul4 and conform to the world. I think we see it most powerfully these days in the matter of contraception.5

Prior to 1930, every single Christian denomination unequivocally condemned contraception. After all, hadn’t St. John Chrysostom declared in the 4th century that contraception was worse than murder?6 And Caesarius in the 6th?7 And doesn’t it seem significant that the only time anyone in Scripture contracepts he gets struck dead for it?8

But there was pressure from society (not least, I’m sure, from the esteemed Ms. Sanger of Planned Parenthood and eugenics fame) and the Church of England caved, declaring in 1930 that contraception was acceptable in marriage when absolutely necessary.

By the time 1968 rolled around and Pope Paul VI reminded everybody once again that this isn’t going to change, every mainstream Protestant denomination accepted contraception. Most even taught that contracepting was the responsible thing to do, an essential element of good stewardship.

Source
Source

That’s a complete 180 in less than 50 years. And still the Catholic Church stands strong, telling us again and again that sex was created to bring life into the world, pointing out the terrible damage that contraception can do to a marriage and to unborn children and to our bodies as well as to our souls. With all the pressure society is putting on us to stay out of the bedroom or to recognize birth control as a human right, still our Church holds to what is true. Praise God for a Church with authority and the guts to exercise it.

2. Perseverance

For a good 50 years now the Church has been fighting societal pressures to cave on the contraception thing. But now we’re fighting the government. I’m sure you know all about the HHS Mandate–how it’s requiring businesses and non-profits to violate their consciences by providing their employees with insurance that covers contraception and abortifacients. If not, catch up here.9

But I think that after last summer’s protests and Fortnight for Freedom we thought that it was over. As it happens, it’s only just beginning. August 1 marks the date when non-profits will have to start paying hefty fines–up to $100 per person per day, as best I can tell–for refusing to comply. No matter that employees covered by the mandated insurance are likely making more than enough money to buy their own birth control. Or that they could choose to work somewhere that doesn’t object to this requirement. Or that birth control is never medically necessary given that abstinence is vastly more effective in preventing pregnancy.10 Our government has decided that contraception is basic healthcare and can’t for a moment understand why anyone would object.

right to contracept iusenfp

They thought we’d back down. That after 2,000 years of standing strong the prospect of fines and awkwardness would convince us to change our teaching–or at least to look the other way while funding evil. They thought we’d be convinced by their rhetoric: “Religious freedom doesn’t mean that you get to make choices for other people based on your religion.”

But we’re not. We’re not trying to limit anyone’s access to birth control, just refusing to provide it or pay for it ourselves. And as Christians–as Americans–we refuse to allow our government to require that we violate our consciences.

As our government has pushed and cajoled and threatened, our bishops have grown stronger. They’ve stood together and refused to back down. They’ve promised that they will shut down every Catholic institution before they will betray their faith. As the world closes in, the Church is closing ranks and rather than bow to the idol of free love we’re getting ready to take up our crosses.

3. Persecution

So everybody and his mother is suing the government. And we Catholics in the pew, we sit and wait. But the atmosphere in this legal waiting room isn’t nervous. It’s more–well, excited. We may not want to die for our faith–most of us would much rather not suffer even financial setbacks for our faith–but we’re willing to. And after a lifetime of being tolerated by society, we’re ready to fight. We’re ready to join the ranks of our fathers in suffering for our faith.

Tertullian wasn’t kidding when he said that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church. In every era, the persecuted Church has flourished while the complacent Church has faded. In some situations, the blood of the martyrs quite literally made new Saints–when he was beheaded, Edmund Campion’s blood splashed on a worldly Henry Walpole. Walpole left his empty life and became a practicing Catholic, a priest, a martyr, and a Saint.

Okay, maybe it’s not really persecution yet. It’s just ridicule and fines and possible imprisonment. Probably nobody’s going to die. But the fact remains, as I’ve said before, that the approaching discomfort will separate the wheat from the chaff. Maybe, when we’re all done pretending to be politically correct and the gloves finally come off, people who are mostly Catholic but not in the bedroom or at a steakhouse on Ash Wednesday or alone with a computer–maybe they’ll realize that this Catholic thing is either everything or it’s nothing. Maybe they’ll decide that it’s worth fighting for when they see people being fired and bankrupted and jailed for their convictions. Maybe when it stops being so easy to be Catholic people will see how good hard is.

And maybe people who call themselves Catholic but only show up at Mass twice a year or dissent from the Church’s teaching or live in unrepentant, manifest grave sin will let go of the moniker they hold so dear. Maybe we’ll be rid of all the politicians who tell us that they’re devout Catholics and that’s why they fight for abortion on demand. Maybe our dear friend Piers Morgan will decide that calling himself a Catholic isn’t getting him ratings or street cred or whatever he’s looking for and will own up to the fact that he doesn’t much believe in Catholicism and that’s okay because it’s his own business.11 Maybe all those Catholics on the fence will pick a side–for or against.

truth stomach Flannery O'ConnorBut whether or not the upcoming persecution gains strength, whether or not the Supreme Court overturns the HHS Mandate, whether or not our Bishops are in jail in ten years, our Church will continue to teach truth. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it’s unpopular. Even when the whole world stands against us–Christians and non-Christians alike–we will speak truth into a world of falsehood. Because our Lord promised. “The gates of hell will not prevail against it,” he said of our Church, and he was right. Not Diocletian’s hell, not Good Queen Bess’s hell, not Lenin’s or Stalin’s or Mao’s hell, and not the hell we see in the world today. Our Church will fight and our Church will win and a thousand years from now Catholic schoolchildren will roll their eyes at being made to remember Sebelius and Pelosi in a world where Humanae Vitae is just one document in a long line of repetitive statements about contraception.

I praise God for a Church that can discern, by the power of the Holy Spirit, what is true, that refuses to back down when challenged and threatened, and that rejoices even in the suffering occasioned by our commitment to the truth. Pray with me, friends, for the Supreme Court, the Church, and our nation. These are difficult times. May we stand firm in our faith and emerge from this time of trial purified.

Oh, and if the NSA is reading this–along with my mundane emails and my snarky Facebook statuses–let me just say:

bring it on 2

Linking up with Micaela and a bunch of other people whose posts are assuredly less combative and controversial than this one. But that’s just how I roll.

3reasonsAnd now watch an atheist school a Catholic on what it means to be a Catholic. You’re going to love this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SsqzCDaS5uI

  1. I know this is an appalling and unnecessarily large word, but it fit so well with the other two that I had to go with it. And I wish I could have listed it third so you would see why I used it but I had to be systematic and explain why we’re right first. So…sorry not sorry? [↩]
  2. Who are we kidding? I’d do the same thing today. [↩]
  3. There’s also the concern that some central Christian truths aren’t overtly in Scripture and that you don’t have a Bible without the Church…. [↩]
  4. Rom 12:2 [↩]
  5. You knew I’d get to the point eventually! [↩]
  6. “Indeed, it is something worse than murder and I do not know what to call it; for she does not kill what is formed but prevents its formation” [↩]
  7. “No woman may take a potion so that she is unable to conceive….  As often as she could have conceived or given birth, of that many homicides she will be held guilty….  If a woman does not wish to have children, let her enter into a religious agreement with her husband; for chastity is the sole sterility of a Christian woman.” [↩]
  8. Gen 38:9-10 [↩]
  9. Really–I wrote this one before anybody really read this blog, so check it out. [↩]
  10. I understand that this is a difficult issue and that abstinence may not be an option in abusive relationships, but why is our response to this contraception and not helping women get out of these relationships? And I know that complete abstinence in marriage is very, very difficult and generally unhealthy for the marriage but why is it the Church’s job to provide you with contraception? [↩]
  11. See video below. Love it! [↩]