Skip to main content
I love Andrew Preslar. And not in the general way we're supposed to love all Christians. I mean, he's awesome. I'm sure we could find tons of stuff to argue about, and for all I know, he'd be a horrible roommate or whatever. We've only met once, on one trip, but I'm pumped we became friends. The way he approaches life and discussion and faith just inspires me. Anyway, I'll stop gushing now. I made my way to the interwebs this morning, and I found his Facebook status. It says something I guess I wanted to say but couldn't, and I think it captures what many converts from Protestantism feel about a fundamental unfairness in the way others attempt to understand "why they did it." I give it here to you:

Several weeks ago, Reformed theologian Michael Horton wrote a series of article [sic] "explaining" and criticizing the motives of persons who convert to Catholicism, and challenging key teachings of the Catholic Church. I don't mind the latter aspect of these articles at all. Iron sharpens iron. But I do mind the former aspect--the gratuitous psychoanalysis. I wonder how my Protestant friends would feel if someone were to write an article entitled "Why Protestants Remain Protestant," which proceeded to attribute to them motives and reasons that they themselves have not claimed as their own reasons and motives.

I suspect that my friends would consider such a move to be patronizing and unnecessary, since "grown folks" of whatever religious (or non-religious) convictions can explain their own motives and reasons--just ask them. As Bryan Cross wrote in his response to Horton:

"... persons who seek to explain why other ... Christians become Catholic should let these persons explain their decision on their own terms, rather than engaging in a ‘just-so’ psychoanalysis, which is a kind of ad hominem in that it avoids dealing with the actual problems, evidence, and arguments these persons bring up, and instead treats their bringing up these problems and evidence as symptoms of some intellectual vice involving unreal ideals and expectations. Horton needs, for example, to address the real problems with sola scriptura, and the real problems with sola fide. The psychoanalysis response is uncharitable and unhelpful because the Catholic could do the very same thing to Horton, i.e. claim that he is saying what he is saying because of rebellion or insecurity or comfort or money or reputation or fear of men, or whatever. Horton would easily and immediately recognize such a response as uncharitable, and patronizing. So the Golden Rule calls us not to respond to our interlocutor’s reasons, evidence, and argumentation with deconstructive psychoanalysis of him or her. Insofar as Horton construes the ultimate motivation of these converts to Catholicism as anything less than the love of the truth, unless they themselves claim that their ultimate motivation is anything less than the love of truth, his construal is contrary to charity...."

It is tempting to dismiss persons with whom we currently disagree by claiming that they are "confused" or "unrealistic" or in some other sense mentally maladjusted. This response is tempting because it is easy and comfortable; it sets aside the substance of the disagreement and rhetorically reinforces a sense of the intellectual and spiritual superiority of one's own convictions without taking the trouble to understand what the other person is actually saying. "Just-so" psychoanalysis requires neither courage, patience, nor humility. On the other hand, really understanding a position with which one disagrees, and carefully sorting through the reasons for the disagreement with people who hold that position, requires precisely these virtues.

Obviously, none of us has the time to do this for each religious (or non-religious) position of which we are aware, or for each person with whom we disagree. But for those who choose to try to understand and engage other people on this level, it is important to do so in the right way. Otherwise, we will only further alienate one another. And whether or not we have the time or inclination for ecumencial dialogue, or to debate the merits of respective worldviews, or social philosophies, etc., we can all hope for and in some way contribute to a better, more civil society for purposes of the common good, and all Christians can hope and pray that everyone who confesses that Jesus is Lord would come to be in full communion with one another, so that the world might believe in Him (John 17:20-21).
 

[Me again] Another thing about the way Andrew writes and speaks is that he's relentlessly measured. Doggedly measured. Comically even-keel. I wish I could do that more. I tend to punch people right in the face, and then rely on my trademark charm and goodwill to pick up the pieces if I go too far. My bad; it's just that I tend to say what a lot of us are thinking, but might be too afraid to say. I have a pretty low tolerance for unnecessary pleasantries and euphemism. But I could learn the kind of literary and rhetorical patience he has.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hilarious Com-Box Quote of The Day: "I was caught immediately because it is the Acts of the Apostles, not the Acts of the Holy Spirit Acting Erratically."--Donald Todd, reacting to the inartful opposition of the Holy Spirit and the Magisterium. Mark Galli, an editor at Christianity Today, had suggested that today's "confusion" in evangelicalism replicates a confusion on the day of Pentecost. Mr. Todd commented after this reply , and the original article is here. My thoughts: By what means was this Church-less "consensus" formed? If the Council did not possess the authority to adjudicate such questions, who does? If the Council Fathers did not intend to be the arbiters, why do they say that they do? At the risk of being rude, I would define evangelicalism as, "Whatever I want or need to believe at any particular time." Ecclesial authority to settle a particular question is a step forward, but only as long as, "God alone is Lord of the con

A Friend I Once Had, And The Dogmatic Principle

 I once had a friend, a dear friend, who helped me with personal care needs in college. Reformed Presbyterian to the core. When I was a Reformed Presbyterian, I visited their church many times. We were close. I still consider his siblings my friends. (And siblings in the Lord.) Nevertheless, when I began to consider the claims of the Catholic Church to be the Church Christ founded, he took me out to breakfast. He implied--but never quite stated--that we would not be brothers, if I sought full communion with the Catholic Church. That came true; a couple years later, I called him on his birthday, as I'd done every year for close to ten of them. He didn't recognize my number, and it was the most strained, awkward phone call I have ever had. We haven't spoken since. We were close enough that I attended the rehearsal dinner for his wedding. His wife's uncle is a Catholic priest. I remember reading a blog post of theirs, that early in their relationship, she told him of the p
My wheelchair was nearly destroyed by a car last night. That's a bit melodramatic, I suppose, because it is intact and undamaged. But we'd left my power chair ("Red Sam" in the official designation) in-between the maze of cars parked out front of Chris Yee's house for Bible Study. [Isn't that a Protestant Bible study?--ed.] They are good friends, and it is not under any official auspices. [Not BSF?--ed.] They're BSF guys, but it's not a BSF study. Anyway, I wasn't worried; I made a joke about calling the vendor the next day: "What seems to be the problem, sir?" 'Well, it was destroyed by a car.' As it happened, a guy bumped into it at slow speed. His car got the worst of it. And this only reinforces what I've said for a solid 13 years [Quickie commercial coming] If you want a power wheelchair that lasts, get a Quickie. They're fast, obviously, and they're tanks. Heck, my old one still would work, but the batteries ar