By Martha Quillen
I always check out the maxims posted in front of Salida’s Episcopal church. They’re often clever or funny, and occasionally downright thought-provoking. But in July one of them struck me as way too optimistic. “If it is good and right,” the sign declared, “then it will be.”
After I walked by, I started formulating sayings that I felt were more credible:
If it is good and right … then it won’t get through Congress.
If it is good and right … my ex (or kids) won’t have anything to do with it.
If it is good and right – and harmless, too – it’s probably boring.
If it is good and right … then prove it in court.
If it is good and right … the NRA will claim it violates our Second Amendment rights.
If it is good and (made) right … it probably has too many calories.
If it is good and right … my mother (or mother-in-law, husband, boss, kids – pick your critic) will make sure I hear about it.
I’m glad the Episcopalians post friendly, non-denominational words of wisdom. And I’m likewise grateful for the many local churches that extend charity to the needy and beleaguered in our community. In this era of fiercely factional politics and crass put-downs, the community services performed by our local churches are something to celebrate.
In recent months, various states have introduced legislation that may reduce the personal liberties of a huge number of Americans (presuming it goes into effect). The proposed legislation aims to eliminate Planned Parenthood, close abortion centers, limit women’s birth control options, make it harder for some citizens to vote, and outlaw homosexual relationships. That, in my view, is a cruel and un-American political strategy.
Even though its backers claim to support Judeo-Christian values, this sort of action doesn’t strike me as particularly Christian. Despite a popular propensity for linking Christianity with conservative values, Christians are not as homogenous as milk. A friend sent me a Facebook post recently which clearly illustrates that the faithful are not given to lockstep unity in values or doctrine.
The post featured pictures of the signs in front of two churches:
“All dogs go to heaven,” the Catholic Church announced.
“Only humans go to heaven. Read the Bible,” the Presbyterian Church billboard across the street responded.
“God loves all his creations, dogs included,” the Catholic sign replied.
“Dogs don’t have souls. This is not open for debate,” the Presbyterian Church insisted.
“Catholic dogs go to heaven. Presbyterian dogs can talk to their pastor,” the Catholic sign said.
The debate went on and got funnier with each entry, but also more entrenched – even though it seems likely that congregants from both churches are divided on this issue. But that’s the odd thing about arguments; – they seem more likely to solidify our differences than modify them.
Take the age-old science vs. religion controversy that plagued the ancient Romans, Greeks and Galileo. This summer it was addressed in Salida’s Mountain Mail by Martin Rush, who champions science and atheism, and Ide Trotter, a Christian. They have both written for Colorado Central before, and are smart, well-read and erudite. But I doubt that either one of them grants much credence to his opponent’s arguments – and in that they are in good company.
Another Facebook post I received featured a quote by Carl Sagan: “I would love to believe that when I die I will live again …. But much as I want to believe that, and despite the ancient and worldwide cultural traditions that assert an afterlife, I know of nothing to suggest that it is more than wishful thinking.”
According to Sagan “… there is no reason to deceive ourselves with pretty stories for which there’s little good evidence.”
But what would Sagan regard as evidence? Eyewitness testimony? Research by parapsychologists? Theories by physicists? I suspect that Sagan would have remained skeptical if a dozen deceased scientists had arisen from the dead to supply him with evidence, because Sagan didn’t believe in that sort of thing.
However, Sagan did champion sending the Golden Record greeting card to extraterrestrials, which I think suggests as much “wishful thinking” as consulting a Ouija board or psychic – and it cost considerably more, too. But if you ask me, somewhat irrational attempts to commune with the dead and/or aliens are rather grand gestures, so I’ll support them (especially if we can funnel some of our bloated weapons budget into such diplomatic efforts).
For decades I tried to figure out why talking seldom results in greater understanding, and why easily verifiable truths often get rejected in the course of conversation. As a reporter, I thought maybe we needed to approach politics differently, but I couldn’t think of a good way to do so. Then, for a time, I thought our communication problems must reside in our language; it was too imprecise, open to interpretation, and good for developing benevolent-sounding yet greedily self-serving ideologies.
Language, however, is merely a tool; we are the liars. Psychologists explain that lying comes naturally for humans, as both a defense mechanism and a social tool. (For more on that read Cordelia Fine’s A Mind Of Its Own: How Your Brain Distorts and Deceives; Self-Deception by Herbert Fingarette; Why We Lie by David L. Smith; Robert Kurzban’s Why Everyone (Else) Is a Hypocrite: and countless other books.)
Animals communicate with sounds and posturing, and they can be duplicitous. Cats bristle in order to look bigger, and birds mimic the cries of other birds. But to lie, exaggerate, convince, convict, condemn and seduce others you need words, and we exchange a lot of them – some of them not so pleasant.
But the most common deception I detect is not aimed at others; it is a matter of deluding oneself. People tend to regard what they believe to be true as true, regardless of the evidence, because once people regard something as true, they start assuming the evidence against it is specious.
And as for the evidence? If we had actually confined our science versus religion debates to what we actually knew about the means and mechanisms of life and the cosmos, they would have ended centuries ago. In geologic terms, mankind is in its infancy and science is a newborn. We took our first toddling steps off of our planet less than fifty years ago, and we still have much to learn.
Yet I assume that we all, be we scientists or parishioners – or both or neither – embrace our convictions and defend them passionately, because they give our lives meaning and purpose. Our ability to share our visions is a wondrous gift. But our attempts to force our beliefs on others have repeatedly led to disaster.
Arguments about our religious beliefs, sexuality and family planning should be aired in our homes, churches and communities, and in magazines, books and on blogs, but such personal matters shouldn’t be mandated in courtrooms and government chambers. That’s just wrong.
Besides, ideas persist despite opposition and oppression – or perhaps they are actually strengthened by resistance. Our ancestors launched crucifixions, crusades, witchhunts, inquisitions and wars to stymie developments they disapproved of, but to little avail. Scientific inquiry, cosmology, Judaism, Christianity, Islam and even old nature religions survive and thrive.
Prohibitions don’t work; they merely punish the vulnerable and weak for the perceived sins of the many. But perhaps we could get along better by adopting one simple little maxim: “I won’t impose my truths on you, if you don’t impose your delusions on me.”
However, I will, of course, keep trying to persuade you. And you, in turn, are free to try to convince me.
Martha Quillen lives in Salida, where she keeps telling herself that she will soon master texting, tweeting, digital photography and the newest e-book devices, which is not a delusion. It’s just taking more time than she expected.
