The Terminology of Talking About Humans

In teaching The Parables of Matthew last Fall, I ran into an interesting question while discussing the two parables found in verses 44-46 of Chapter 13:

The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in the field, which a man found and hid again; and from joy over it he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking fine pearls, and upon finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.

The question comes from the two possible interpretations of these parables.

One interpretation (the standard interpretation) is that the searcher in these verses is Jesus' followers and that the treasure/pearl is Himself. This makes sense, given the suffering that the disciples were beginning to encounter (thereby "selling all that they had).

The second interpretation is that the searcher is Jesus and that the treasure/pearl is His people. This interpretation also makes sense, given that the rest of the parables in Matthew 13 feature Jesus as the active party and His people as the passive recipients.

(Of course, there's no reason they can't both be correct, and one astute member of the class---thanks, John!---noted that, given the wording that follows, "The kingdom of heaven is like," in each parable, one could argue that the first interpretation is true of the first parable, and that the second interpretation is true of the second parable!)

I'll admit, that second interpretation is attractive to me. I like reading about Jesus being the hero in a story, and I like envisioning the lengths to which He went/goes for His people.

But that interpretation does lead to an interesting question: What does it mean, in the second parable, for the pearl to be "of great value?"

Proponents of the first interpretation say that, because of our sin and His self-sufficiency, God has no need of us, and therefore doesn't view us as valuable; Jesus, after all, in John 17, clearly indicates that He is going to the cross because the glory of God & His relationship with the Father is so valuable to Him. One of the key points in the gospel, to them, is the emphasis of the centrality of God in the gospel, and the supremacy of grace and mercy. While these are invaluable points, these folks run the risk of devaluing humans (and sometimes appear quite cantankerous).

Proponents of the second interpretation say that of course humans have value to God because they are created in His image; Jesus, after all, in Matthew 6 assures His disciples not to worry because God considers them valuable. One of the key points in the gospel, to them, is to help other see how valuable they are in the scheme of things, and to inspire them to turn to God to live out their created & redemptive purposes. While these are also invaluable points, these folks run the risk of inflating the value of humans (and sometimes appear no different than the world's self-esteem gurus).

I'm not going to claim to answer this dilemma! However, I think it's important to note that these two camps seem to be attaching a different meaning to the word, "value."

When this debate emerged in my class, I asked the debaters to consider what they meant when they used the term, "value." Did they mean worth? significance? importance? worthiness? worthwhile-ness? loveliness? When we realized we were at a terminology impasse, the debate died down, and everyone seemed to have something new to think about.

I think it's important that we pursue a clear understanding of our terminology when we talk about human beings. We are, after all, finite beings somehow created in the image of God and one of the greatest paradoxes (a la Pascal) in the universe. No wonder it's very easy for our statements about ourselves to be misunderstood!

When have you run into this terminology problem? How can seeking a clear definition of your terms help you understand what truths the Bible claims about humanity? How can seeking a clear definition of your terms help you communicate those truths to others?

Facts, opinions, and everything else

I gave my Technical Writing students an assignment in which they were to read each other's mid-term papers and suggest revisions (to their approach, organization, and formatting) to their classmates.


One student raised the issue, "I don't want to write about my opinions."


This gave me pause. Was I asking them to write an opinion piece? I certainly was not asking them to report on facts, as they were simply responding to a paper, not conducting research. But I was not asking for their opinions. So, what was I asking for?


As I mulled over this, I realized that a dangerously simplified dichotomy has been introduced into our educational system: facts and opinions.


Consider it: In third grade, we are handed a list of statements and told to identify each one as a fact or as an opinion, as if every statement in human linguistics could be classified as one or the other. This student knew that he was not writing about facts, and so concluded that he was being asked to write about his opinion.


There is, instead, a broad spectrum of statements between pure fact and pure opinion, including judgments (which I was asking them for), hopes, desires, conclusions, theories, creeds. (Where do creeds fit into this spectrum? Maybe we shouldn't go there right now...)


Take, for example, a physics experiment that results in the red crosses on the following graph:

(Never mind what it's plotting.) We would look at this data and say, "Ooh! It looks like it forms a line! Let me try to fit it." We then create the green line (which has a slope of 1) as a best possible fit to the data, and calculate it to have something like 95% accuracy.

Now, in the lab report for such an experiment, one would say, "The data is fit by a line of slope 1 to 95% accuracy." That would be a statement of fact.

To go one step further, one would say, "This data demonstrates the linear relationship between variable X and variable Y." Here's the question: Is this second statement a statement of fact? Not exactly, because one can't inexorably connect the graph to that statement. But is this second statement therefore an opinion? Not exactly, either, because there's certainly evidence to support it! The second statement could be considered an evidence-based judgment (or conclusion), which isn't really a fact but also isn't purely opinion.

So, how can we encourage our students to think along a spectrum of certainty, instead of merely in terms of absolute fact and opinion? How does the existence of this spectrum impact the way we teach our subjects? How does it impact the way we communicate our faith?