The Problem with Certitude

Like you, I've seen lots on the news and in Facebook posts this past week concerning President Obama's expression of his personal support for same-sex marriage. As I've read and listened to people's, specifically, Christian people's reactions in the wake of Obama's interview, I've felt (occasionally) encouraged but more often discouraged. My discouragement doesn't come because of my personal views about same-sex marriage, which are not the point of this post; my discouragement and disappointment come from the nature and tenor of the conversation itself. Specifically, I'm distressed by the way many Christians seem to feel called to take definitive and certain stances about complex issues, and the rhetoric they use to state and defend these positions, rhetoric that tends to divide rather than unite and close discussion rather than open it.

I'm interested in exploring what it is about the Christian religion, and perhaps more specifically, evangelicalism that results in such an approach.

In 2009, I published a book about C. S. Lewis' writing style (http://www.kentstateuniversitypress.com/page/4/?cat=5&snap=R) in which I argued that a major reason for Lewis' popularity among evangelical Christians in the 1940s and 1950s was his style of certitude. Lewis was writing in a time where scientific discoveries and religious liberalism were challenging the assertions of conservative Christianity. In a period of doubt and questioning, Lewis' clear pronouncements about the truth of miracles and the validity of key Christian doctrines were welcomed by his audience. In an age when traditional doctrines were being questioned, readers found in Lewis a Christian (and an intellectual, no less) who knew what he believed and stated it in no uncertain terms. To give one example, to those who said that Jesus might have been a great moral teacher but not the son of God, Lewis responded that Jesus must be either a liar, a lunatic, or Lord. No other options. Case settled. Lewis seemed to have a way of cutting through complex arguments and reaching a simple solution that was convincing to his readers.

I was in my late twenties when I did my initial research on Lewis, and I have to say that in those days I was one of those readers. As a young Christian in a conservative denomination, I, too, found Lewis' confident answers to complex theological questions reassuring. I remember quoting Lewis' famous liar, lunatic, or lord explanation approvingly in articles and presentations. Years later I discovered that this very famous argument for Jesus' divinity could be more accurately described as a logical fallacy because there could be other options than the three Lewis enumerates. As my views on faith have changed over the years and I've been called into a wider, less fundamentalist view of scripture, I've grown less and less enamored with the clear, confident Lewis whose words and style seem to say: "here's the way it is; I'm not asking for debate; take it or leave it." Today the passages I'm drawn to in Lewis' writing are the ones where he expresses humility, even doubt--passages where he admits that he doesn't have all the answers and even encourages the reader not to feel compelled to agree with the opinion he's defending. A good example would be the passage in Mere Christianity where he leaves the door open for people to come to Jesus who don't know Jesus. The fictional representation of this idea is found in the last Narnian chronicle where Emeth, a follower of Tash, is admitted into Aslan's country based on his pure heart and good character even though he was not, in name, a follower of Aslan.

So what does all this Lewis stuff have to do with today's Christian rhetoric?  What I've heard and read from those who oppose Obama's position on same-sex marriage are most often appeals to some kind of certainty.  For example, I was listening to an NPR interview of some of the audience for Mitt Romney's commencement speech this weekend at fundamentalist, evangelical Liberty University. In the speech itself, Romney only addressed the issue once, but he addressed it in tones of certainty: "Marriage," he declared (to roaring applause),  "is a relationship between one man and one woman." Period. End of discussion.  Here's what an audience member had to say when asked about her position on same-sex marriage: "It's wrong. There's nothing else to say about it. It's in the Bible." Case closed. No discussion wanted here. This audience member's attitude was pretty close to the old bumper sticker: "God said it. I believe it. That settles it." Among my Facebook friends, I've seen a number of posts that begin with the phrase, "The Bible clearly teaches that homosexuality is sinful."  I want to respond: Is it really, really so clear as all that? Don't you want to open up some room for discussion here? Are you aware that some Christians who read the Bible arrive at a different place? As one of my colleagues pointed out this week, when someone opens with the phrase "The Bible clearly teaches" it's a sign that she's stopped listening to and trying to understand the other person's point of view.

These statements of certitude about this complex issue (and many others we could bring up) are, it seems to me, unfortunate at best and damaging and divisive at worst. Instead of certainty, I want to argue for uncertainty. Instead of definitive positions, I wonder what would happen to the climate of discussion if more people said things like "I don't really know what I believe about this issue" or "I would like to hear more stories from my gay and lesbian friends before I develop my position." Or even, as President Obama said prior to his interview, "my position on this issue is evolving."

I found it interesting that before he stated his personal view in the interview, Obama was being criticized by religious conservatives for not taking a definitive stance on the issue. His "my position is evolving" statement was seen as a political tactic. I even read Facebook posts that declared (confidently and certainly) that Obama was going to wait until after the election to "come out" with his true feelings. In this regard, I applaud our President for taking the political risk to state his personal views. Regardless of whether you agree with him or not, you have to admire his honesty and courage.

What I'm suggesting here is that there is a cultural tendency in evangelical Christianity that does not leave room for "evolving" positions, complexity, uncertainty, or doubt.  In fact, in my history as a Christian I often felt I was expected to know exactly what I believed about all sorts of issues and that if I didn't I was somehow a slackard as a Christian. I remember that passage in Timothy being quoted to the effect that we should always "ready to give an answer for the hope that is in us." Guess I just wasn't aware then that included as part of that hope was my position on same-sex marriage!

Another tendency I deplore is the one that assumes there is one proper or appropriate or approved position that all Christians must take on any given issue. For me, this started back in my Bible classes at my Christian College where we would discuss questions like "Can Christians serve in the military?" or "Should Christians dance, or play the lottery, or drink alcohol, or ____________ (fill in the blank)?" I'm not saying that some of these weren't worthy questions to discuss; what I am saying is that each began with the assumption, which I now see as flawed, that using the Bible as their guide, all Christians would ultimately be able to agree on the "Christian approach to" or the "Christian view of" whatever issue was on the table. Here's a current day example: I was following a comment thread on Facebook about the same-sex marriage debate where a commenter had made an inclusive plea for LGBTQ folks to be embraced in Christian fellowship. The next commenter asked, "_____, are you a Christian?" Well, it doesn't take much analysis to deconstruct that question. The commenter had obviously assumed that anyone who could suggest that the LGBTQ community be loved and accepted in the Christian church could not (de facto) be a Christian.

So here's my modest proposal. When discussing these controversial issues as Christians, can we exercise enough humility to temper our statements? Can we resist the temptations of certitude, realizing that they tend to draw lines in the sand and reinforce stereotypes that non-Christians already carry about those of our ilk? Can we learn the use of conditional phrases like "Based on my understanding of scripture" or even "I might be wrong about this" or, God forbid, "my views on this are evolving"?

Doubt is not a four-letter word--even for Christians, as Richard Rohr reminds us:

It is probably necessary to eliminate most doubt when you are young:
doing so is a good survival technique. But such worldviews are not 
true--and they are not wisdom. Wisdom happily lives with mystery,
doubt, and "unknowing," and in such living, ironically resolves that
very mystery to some degree" (Falling Upward: A Spirituality
 for the Two Halves of Life)