Funny thing about truth; everybody has a different idea about what it is. Theologian Bernard Lonergan once said that if there is still debate about an issue then the truth has not yet been found. If that is “true,” then truth is about as rare as a white unicorn. I don’t even know why we use the word anymore. As if, even if it exists, we could know it. There are some statements that are self-evident like, “Lime Jell-O is green,” or “The volume of local car dealership commercials increases on your television by 50%,” but, would we place such statements in the category of truth?
You know what kind of “truth” I am talking about.
On the first day of class in divinity school, I sat in Elisabeth Schussler-Fiorenza’s classroom. She wrote on the board, “Truth is constructed.” It was a memorable moment for me. In fact, I almost fell out of my chair, literally and figuratively; my theological chair that is. Despite my emergent understanding that religion has been constructed and greatly influenced and shaped by historical, cultural and political contexts, I still held on to the idea that there was truth accessible to human knowing and that it existed in some absolute state “out there.” And if only we were diligent enough we could find it. I am still living with the profundity of Elisabeth’s statement.
I have no more illusions about the existence of absolute truths hidden away in some cosmic box (not unlike Pandora’s) waiting for someone to open the lid. If there is such a box and someone should happen to find it and open its lid, whoever they would be, the transmission and interpretation of its contents would not escape the filter of that person’s historical, political and cultural environment and language. And so it would arrive, shaped and colored and distorted through the lens of human limitation.
Truth is constructed.
And yet to say that one is seeking after truth is not the same as claiming to know the truth. Those who seek after truth continue to ask questions and to doubt. Nothing; no thought, no book, no ideology, no law, no doctrinal statement is considered so sacred that it is exempt from the eye of scrutiny and suspicion. As such, one remains open to the wisdom of others and (hopefully) does not arrogantly claim that the human body of knowledge is now a closed system. I have friends who teach theology and religion in Catholic universities. Several years ago they were given to sign a “mandate,” which stated that in their classrooms they would not teach anything that was contrary to official Catholic teaching, nor would they entertain speculative doubt regarding the truth of this teaching. The epistemological assumption here is that all has been revealed, there is no further truth to be found, and that the Church alone is the repository of truth. Many Catholic college professors refused to sign. Now those of you reading this blog who are not Catholic, don’t be so smug. The Catholic Church does not corner the market on religious groups who claim sole possession of the knowledge of truth and arrogantly declare such.
I wonder when, historically, possessing the truth and asserting one’s truth into the world became so important. And why now everyone’s differing truths are such a ground of contention, separation and isolation. One would think that if a truth has been found, it would unite, but all that claims to truth seem to do is divide. Elie Wiesel once said that in the answers there is death; life is in the questions.
I have had students who have told me that in their questioning and doubt they have been told by parents that if they cannot affirm the claims of Christianity then they are no longer welcomed in their home. I have had students who have written their first critical analysis of their religion while their hands shook as they typed the words. I had a student once tell me that it actually crossed his mind that his mother and sister were both diagnosed with cancer in the same month because he was being punished for questioning his faith. I have had students in my office in tears because as they begin to question they begin to reject truth claims that seem to them to be unloving, illogical, and contrary to their understanding of the ethical requirements of compassion. I have had students tell me that they have been told they are going to hell. I could go on and on. And all this pain because they do not conform to someone else’s idea of truth. But what my students are doing is seeking after truth and in seeking after truth, ironically, they are finding what it is they reject. Equally valuable, I think.
Imagine this; no thought, no book, no ideology, no law, no doctrinal statement is considered so sacred that it is exempt from criticism and prophetic judgment. Gandhi once said that any scripture that violates the principles of ahimsa (non-violence) and human dignity is not a shastra (sacred scripture). This remains one of the most courageous and stunning assertions I have ever heard from a religious leader. Sacred scripture is not beyond questioning and if it is found to be in violation of human dignity then it is to be rejected as sacred. Wow. But then, Gandhi’s criteria for assessing whether or not an action or idea was sacred was not that he’d learned it in childhood, or that it was contained in a book, or that it was “tradition,” or part of a body of inherited knowledge. Gandhi’s “truths” had to be tested in ethical experience. The yardstick for Gandhi was non-violence. This was his measure of truth and of the sacred. For him nothing was true that violated human dignity. And he opened himself to the possibility that truths could be found in religious traditions other than his own; that no single system contained all wisdom.
To hold “truths” as sacred does not seem to be serving humanity well. Perhaps our criteria for sacredness should no longer be whether or not we believe it to be true. Perhaps our criteria for judging the value and sacredness of being in the world is better grounded in ethical questions like, “Does this ‘truth’ acknowledge the human dignity of the other? Does this action (or idea) work to alleviate suffering? Does this doctrine alienate, separate and discriminate? If it does, out it goes. Does this belief promote the superiority of the one over/against the other (in THIS world OR the next)? Does the statement in that book violate the dignity and worth of any human being? Promote or instigate violence?
Perhaps instead of asking “Is it TRUE?” we should be asking, “Is it JUST?”
Ahhhh… but this is a loaded question isn’t it? For justice too is relative to one’s “truth.” This relativity is the same which allows a student of mine to sit in the back of the room and in answer to my question as to whether it is logical to propose that an omni-benevolent god condemn 6 million Holocaust victims to hell for all eternity, to nod his head. Yes, yes, this made pefect sense to him. And I’m sure to him and to his version of truth it seemed the epitome of justice. So, in addition to asking the question, “Is it just?” we must listen to the response as it is expressed not from those who sit in the chairs of privilege and authority, for their truths are very different from those at the bottom. No, the question, “Is it just?” must be answered by those who are suffering and their voices must carry the authority to determine the ethical truth of our claims. It must be they who represent the sacred in our midst, and our possession of truth must be measured by how we honor their sacredness.
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