Pluralism and Relativism in December

I think there's a bit of confusion in terminology in the church. I hear a lot of Christians praying against "the evils of pluralism in our society," especially during the holiday tidal wave during December. I think the problem is that Christians often confuse pluralism with relativism.

Pluralism simply means that the holder of a worldview tolerates the existence of other worldviews. If a person has an attitude of pluralism, it means that he doesn't interfere with others' rights to believe differently than he. That doesn't mean that the person cannot think of other worldviews as wrong (in fact, he wouldn't have much of a worldview if he didn't), nor does it mean he cannot dialog with others about their worldview and try to convince them of his (again, he wouldn't have much of a worldview if he didn't); it means that he affirms for others the freedom that he enjoys. It's like the saying that arose around the time of the American Revolution: "I may not agree with your beliefs, but I will fight for your right to believe them." To put it pointedly, pluralism is what Christians are thankful for every time we praise God for our freedom to worship Him (which I think comes up in most church services on a regular basis).

Relativism, on the other hand, goes a step further (quite a few steps, really) and says that all worldviews are equally valid. Because we're all equally finite, the relativist says, each of our worldviews is equally flawed. Thus, no one worldview is better than any others. (The irony, of course, is that relativists hold onto their relativism very dogmatically, and are rather intolerant of non-relativists.)

The key difference is that the pluralist can still think that other worldviews are wrong. The key difficulty (and the one that, I think, makes Christians think "pluralism" is evil) is in discerning how pluralism should be lived out.

A big example this time of year is what holiday benediction Christians should use in a secular environment.

• Should we say, "Merry Christmas," because, to us, "Happy Holidays" is empty and meaningless?
• Should we say, "Happy Holidays," because we acknowledge that the other person might not celebrate Christmas, making that benediction empty and meaningless to them?
• If we know the person celebrates a holiday other than Christmas, should we specifically wish them to enjoy in that holiday?
• Should we not say anything, and run the risk of appearing uncaring?
• Should we just respond with whatever the other person says to us?
• If we're in academia, should we just wish them a "Happy Break," since that's the primary benefit we're all looking forward to, anyway?
  

I'm not entirely sure how to answer this question; thus, I alternate between answers depending on how a given situation feels. (Does that make me a good pluralist or a bad pluralist?)

But I think we can keep in mind that pluralism---when rightly defined---is a good thing. It's the basis for our beloved freedom of religion. Whatever we say between now and December 25, let's not lose this precious distinction.

When have you seen the difference between pluralism and relativism played out? What do you see as the difference between pluralism and secularization?

Clearing up Misconceptions about Fear

I mentioned last time that I wanted to try reading some alternative Christmas texts this December. I started with Isaiah 11, which provides a great description of who Jesus is and what He seeks to accomplish.

I was astonished by how twice it describes Jesus as being characterized by "the fear of the Lord."

This is a phrase that many Christians (present company included) tend to step lightly around and that skeptics love to hate. "How can you have a loving relationship with God," they both ask, "and be afraid of Him?"

It's certainly a difficult question to answer (and not one I'm going to attempt to answer here), but here's the more astonishing fact about this passage: It says that Jesus (God Himself, in human flesh) would have "the fear of the Lord."

If it's difficult for us to explain how we can be called to love and fear God, it's even more difficult for us to begin to fathom how God the Son can perfectly love and fear God the Father!

A couple of thoughts based on this:

First, if we're confused or uncertain about what "the fear of the Lord" looks like (and we very often are), we should look to Jesus. He's our example of everything else that human life should be---why not the fear of the Lord? As a prime example, we can see right away in this text that Jesus "delight[s] in the fear of the Lord."

Second, look at what this attitude of fear toward God (however it is harmonized with everything else in Jesus' divine psyche) produces.

1. Judging the poor with righteousness.
2. Treating victims with fairness.
3. Faithfulness to His people.
4. Peace.
   

Shouldn't these results be appealing to our socially-concerned skeptical friends? Better yet, do we show them this connection between fearing the Lord (something they don't understand or agree with) and caring for the needy and the hurting (something they often think we don't care about) by living it out?

When I have to play the skeptic

I've worn a lot of hats since I joined the faculty at my university: adviser (officially and unofficially), instructor, tech support, committee member (that's at least 4 hats), team coach, author, copy editor, spiritual encourager, substitute instructor, event coordinator... I'll probably think of ten more tomorrow morning.

There's one hat that I've had to wear that I did not expect to. The skeptic hat.

Christian professor aren't supposed to be skeptics, right? We're supposed to defend the underdog faith-based perspectives. We're supposed to encourage wonder and awe at the universe, and point out the flaws of human reasoning. (Okay; so maybe we're supposed to be skeptical about the skeptics, but only to show the limits of skepticism, right?)

But sometimes skepticism is necessary, even for a Christian professor.

An example that often comes to mind is when students in my physics classes try to draw out metaphysical implications of physical laws. This usually happens when we reach Newton's Third Law (N3L), and someone in the class inevitably tries to argue for some version of the concept of karma based on N3L. "For every action you make there's an equal and opposite reaction, so... what goes around comes around, right?"

I tell them that that sounds nice, except that that isn't what N3L says. N3L is a mathematical relationship, and there's no math to karma. (Enter the skeptical argument.) I encourage them that, if they believe in such a concept, N3L is a nice metaphor or picture for the concept. I further encourage them that, if they also believe in a God who oversees this concept, it stands to reason that this God created N3L in such a way as to illustrate this concept. But there's no definitive logical progression that leads one to believe that N3L proves this concept.

So, I play a nice skeptic, but a skeptic nonetheless.

But perhaps I'm more. My desire, after all, is to uphold not only rationality (which the above argument defends) but also the Christian worldview that holds that spiritual matters are illustrated in creation but revealed in God's word.

Pascal said that, ideally, human reason uses rational proof, skepticism, and faith in harmony with each other to reach the truth. When have you had to switch back and forth between these hats?

Clearing Up Misconceptions

I think one of the services Christians in the academic world can contribute is to clarify misconceptions about the Christian faith. This opportunity comes about because

1. We're forced to deal with our own misconceptions if we're going to pursue our faith & scholarship faithfully, and
2. We're often given the opportunities to do so in situations we encounter every day.

Take, for example, my introductory physics class last Friday. Fridays in this class are somewhat lighthearted; the students work problems at the board and, time permitting, I answer questions from the week. We got onto the topic of living in a universe with dimensions that we can't see, and I made reference to A. Square in Flatland.

A. Square, I explained, is a square living in a two-dimensional universe who becomes persecuted by Flatland's intellectual/religious authorities for claiming that there is a third dimension that they are incapable of seeing. He knows of this third dimension because he has been visited by a strange being that calls himself a "sphere" that exists in a three-dimensional world.

One of the students commented that A. Square, therefore, is a lot like Jesus.

I said that I understood what the student was trying to say, but expressed my hesitation to agree. I said that a better comparison would be Galileo or Copernicus, and that I didn't think that Jesus was a good comparison, because Jesus did not so much claim to have a revelation as he did claim to be the revelation.

Did the student understand my clarification? I'm not sure. Will it drive him to seek out Jesus as a unique authority on life? I don't know. But I do think it's neat that Christian faculty have opportunities like that.

What are similar opportunities that you've experienced? How has God used them?