Faith and Reason
KINDS OF KNOWLEDGE
1. Sense Knowledge
2. Empirical Knowledge
3. Reasoned Knowledge
4. Knowledge from Authority
FIVE COMMON THINKING ERRORS
1. Non Sequitur
2. False and Vague Premisses
3. Ad Hominem
4. Begging the Question
5. Red Herrings
FIVE STEPS TO CRITICAL THINKING
1. Know the Facts
2. Remember the Principle of Contradiction
3. Define Your Terms
4. Be Intellectually Humble
5. Look for Different Perspectives
THE PROCESS OF REASONING
1. Perceiving
2. Categorizing
3. Evaluating
4. Symbolizing
5. Testing
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY
1. What is philosophy?
2. What is theology?
EPISTEMOLOGICAL QUESTIONS
1. What is truth?
2. Can we know anything with certainty?
RECOMMENDED FILMS:
1. “12 Angry Men”
TERMS TO KNOW
premiss
conclusion
reason
epistemology
authority
fear of the cost
object
subject
selective consciousness
stereotypes
prejudices
mystique
Marcus Aurelius
The Meditations
herd need
Magisterium
ecumenism
religious indifference
proof
evidence
G. K. Chesterton
faith seeking understanding
apologetics
Doctor of the Church
culpable ignorance
encyclicals
conscience
A. KINDS OF KNOWLEDGE
1. REASONED KNOWLEDGE
Human beings think a certain way. A healthy person does not say things like “The Soviet Union
collapsed because I didn’t do my homework” “The earth is round, so I’m going to skip school today”
“An invisible elephant just tracked mayonnaise through my house” or “People are stealing my
thoughts.” We say these statements are irrational, and anyone who says them seriously is apt to be
sent to a mental hospital.
We call these statements irrational because we possess reason, which is the power to think in
such a way that we proceed from what we know to what we do not yet know. For example, imagine
that you look inside your car and discover that your CDs are missing from the front seat. The
window isn’t broken and the door does not appear to have been forced open. Then it dawns on you:
Premiss 1
Premiss 2
Conclusion
My CD’s are missing from the car.
Nothing is broken.
I must have left my door unlocked.
Notice you discovered this truth without looking at the lock. Now, you could have discovered
the door was unlocked simply by looking at the lock, but the important thing is that you didn’t need
to. You were able to figure it out simply by piecing together other bits of information. You passed
from knowledge you already knew (wallet missing, nothing broken) to a new truth you did not know
before (door unlocked).
Here’s another example. Suppose the only thing I know about Senator X is that he is a
Republican. Then I read somewhere that Republicans favor a small federal government. I put these
data together to discover something I did not know before:
Premiss 1
Premiss 2
Conclusion
Republicans favor a small federal government.
Senator X is a Republican.
Senator X favors a small federal government.
When a person thinks irrationally, it usually means he or she passes incorrectly from what is
known to what is not known. Suppose a person reasons like this: “There’s a rock in my backyard.
There are no tigers in my backyard. Therefore the rock keeps tigers away.” The conclusion does not
follow from the facts. Or suppose a man said “Everyone is out to get me.” Here he starts with known
data (that other people exist, and that he feels nervous), but then he makes a connection between the
two that isn’t really there.
You don’t have to be crazy to think irrationally. All of us are guilty of sloppy thinking—some
more than others—because critical thinking does not come naturally. It requires practice. Not
everyone can be a judge. A judge trains herself to think carefully, make distinctions, and render
prudent decisions. The rest of us may want to be a judge, but unless we practice, we are unqualified
to sit behind the bench.
The Greek philosopher Aristotle (384-322 B.C.) was the first person to systematically examine
the way people think. He didn’t write any books that we know of, but his students at the Lyceum
took careful notes of his lectures. These notebooks have been read and re-read for 2,000 years, and
they remain essential reading for anyone interested in logical thinking. Aristotle taught that good
reasoning follows a certain form. If you examine the above examples, you will see that a conclusion
(new knowledge) is drawn from two premisses (statements we already believe are true). A set of two
premisses and a conclusion together is called a syllogism. Here are some more syllogisms.
all p are q
a is p
a is q
All humans are rational.
Socrates is human.
Socrates is rational.
a>b
b>c
a>c
I beat Jack at chess.
Jack beat Steve at chess.
I can beat Steve at chess.
if p then q
not q
not p
If a rock is in the box, it will rattle when shaken.
The box doesn’t rattle when shaken.
There’s no rock in the box.
Obviously when people think or express their thoughts to others, they rarely do it in neat little
syllogisms like these. For that reason it’s important to recognize the use of reason in conversation
and prose (ordinary writing). Here’s an example of reason in prose, from the British writer C. S.
Lewis.
I am trying here to prevent people from saying the really foolish thing that people often say
about [Jesus]: “I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept His
claim to be God.” This is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and
said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a
lunatic—on the level with a man who says he is a poached egg—or else he would be the
Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or
else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and
kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not
come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left
that open to us. He did not intend to.1
If we examine this paragraph closely we find a simple syllogism. Lewis considers three
possibilities regarding Jesus’ true identity, and then eliminates those which appear untrue, given what
we know of Jesus. The result is a syllogism which looks like this:
either p, q, or r
not p or q
therefore r
Jesus was either a liar, lunatic, or Lord.
Not a liar or lunatic.
Jesus is Lord.
Here’s another example of reason in everyday conversation. Suppose someone says, “I asked
my girlfriend to marry me, but she said no. So I broke up with her, since it’s clear she doesn’t love
me.” Here’s what this reasoning looks like when broken down.
Premiss 1
Premiss 2
Conclusion
If she loves me she’ll marry me.
She doesn’t want to marry me.
She doesn’t love me.
It is common for people not to articulate one or both premisses explicitly. They imply them
instead. In these cases we say they are using implied premisses. Suppose someone said “I voted for
X because he’s a Democrat.” If you analyzed this reasoning using only what was said, it would
appear incomplete.
1Mere Christianity (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996) p. 56.
Premiss 1
Premiss 2
Conclusion
X is a Democrat.
I voted for X.
Taken at face value, this doesn’t make sense. A conclusion cannot follow from only one
premiss. But the speaker implies that he is a Democrat too, or at least favors that party more than the
others. After all, his statement wouldn’t make sense if he were a Republican. His reasoning makes
more sense after we supply the implied premiss.
Premiss 1
Premiss 2
Conclusion
X is a Democrat.
I approve of the Democratic party.
I voted for X.
2. SENSE-KNOWLEDGE
What we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes,
what we have looked upon, and touched with our hands. . .
--1 John 1: 1
A saw is useless by itself. In order to operate, it needs a piece of lumber to cut. In the same
way, reason is a tool that needs something else to function, something it can reason about. When I
say “All men are mortal, Socrates is a man, therefore Socrates is mortal,” I must have a previous
understanding of “Socrates” “man” and “mortal.” It follows that human beings must possess another
kind of knowledge which is more basic than reasoned knowledge, and upon which reasoned
knowledge is based.
This prior knowledge is sense knowledge. We obtain it through our five senses: sight, hearing,
taste, touch, and smell. I know Moscow exists because I’ve seen it; I know Beethoven’s Ninth
Symphony exists because I’ve heard it; I know chiles are hot because I’ve tasted them; I know
earthquakes are real because I’ve felt them; and I know brussel sprouts are gross because I’ve smelled
them. There’s no need to figure these things out rationally. I learned them firsthand, through
personal experience. (For this reason sense knowledge is also called “experiential knowledge”.)
To return to our previous example, my knowledge of Socrates comes from the fact that I read
about him in books and heard about him in class, for which I needed sight and hearing. My
knowledge of “man” and “men” comes from the fact that I see them everyday, and my understanding
of “mortal” from the fact that I see people die. Therefore my conclusion “Socrates is mortal” would
not be possible without knowledge I already have from my senses. Aristotle explains this in the
Posterior Analytics.
All teaching and learning that involves the use of reason proceeds from pre-existent
knowledge. This is evident if we consider all the different branches of learning, because both
the mathematical sciences and every other art are acquired in this way. Similarly too with
logical arguments. . . , whether [deductive] or inductive; both [discover new knowledge] by
means of facts already recognized, the former making assumptions as though granted by an
intelligent audience, and the latter proving the universal from the self-evident nature of the
particular.2
271 a 1.
Aristotle believed the mind is an empty slate (tabula rasa) at birth, which means it lacks
knowledge of any kind.3 During infancy and early childhood our five senses take in data about the
outside world. Only later, after the brain matures, do we process these data using our reason.
2. Experiential Knowledge
Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my fingers
into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.
--St. Thomas the Apostle
What we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes,
what we have looked upon, and touched with our hands. . .
--I John 1:1
Modern science emphasizes empirical knowledge, which is knowledge we obtain by measuring
something. I know apples weigh about five ounces because I’ve weighed them, I know it’s 238 miles
from St. Louis to Kansas City because I’ve measured it with an odometer.
Technically, empirical knowledge is also sense-knowledge, because I have to see the scale or the
odometer in order to make the measurement. But just because all empirical knowledge is senseknowledge, that doesn’t mean all sense-knowledge is empirical knowledge. For example, I know that
fear exists because I’ve felt it. (Ask me about my brother’s cooking sometime.) But fear cannot be
weighed or measured. True, a doctor can measure increased brain wave activity if you put a tarantula
on my hand. But what is measured here are brain waves, not the actual sensation of fear. The only
way I know that exists is by feeling it!
A person cannot collect empirical knowledge of things which cannot be seen, heard, touched,
etc. After all, how can he measure what he cannot see? For this reason, if something exists which is
immaterial (not composed of matter, atoms, etc.), it cannot be measured, tested, or analyzed. No one
would deny that a mother’s love for her child is very real, and yet it cannot be measured. In the same
way, if God and spirits and souls exist, we will be unable to gather empirical knowledge of them. It is
important to keep this in mind when we discuss the relationship between science and faith later this
year.
4. KNOWLEDGE FROM AUTHORITY
It is this disciple who testifies to these things and has written them down,
and we know that his testimony is true.
--John 21: 24
You probably believe the Earth is round, that Hong Kong is in China, and that Pluto is the ninth
planet from the Sun. But have you been to Hong Kong personally? Have you seen the Earth from
outer space with your own eyes, or counted the planets yourself? If not, then you believe these things
based on what someone else has told you. And you believed them. You listened to authority.
Do not be turned off by the word authority. An authority is simply a person who has knowledge that I do not (or at least claims to have it). I’ve never been to Vatican City, so I don’t have
sense-knowledge that it exists. But I know people who say they were there, and I read about Vatican
City in books. Likewise, I have never seen an atom with my own eyes. I don’t have the foggiest
notion how physicists figured out they exist. But I trust them. You might say I take it on their
3De Anima, 430 a 1. Cf. Aquinas, Summa Theologica, Q. 84, art. 2.
authority.
Ninety-nine percent of the knowledge in our heads is knowledge from authority. Consider
everything you learned from parents, friends, teachers, newspapers, television programs, and books.
If you limit yourself to things you learn from your own experience and rational thinking, your world
will be very small. St. Augustine of Hippo had a similar insight 1,700 years ago. In his autobiography the Confessions, he described a problem he had with Christianity. How can he, an intelligent
man, believe in things like miracles, prophecies, and resurrection from the dead, if he never witnessed
these things personally, nor proved them true through reasoned arguments?
Finally it was you, Lord, who with you most tender and merciful hand gradually laid hold
upon my heart and made it calm. I considered what a countless number of things there were
which I believed though I had not seen them and had not been present when they had taken
place--so many historical events, so many facts about countries and cities which I had never
seen, so many things told me by friends, by doctors, by one man or another man--and unless
we believed these things, we should get nothing done at all in life. Then in particular I
considered how fixed and unalterable was the belief I held that that I was the son of a
particular father and mother, a thing which I could not possibly know unless I had believed it
on the word of others.4
St. Augustine has a point, but most of us would say the issue is more complicated than that. Just
because most knowledge comes from other people, that doesn’t mean we should believe everything
people tell us. How do we know whom to believe? The answer depends on a number of
considerations.
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Do I consider this “authority” trustworthy?
Might this person have an ulterior motive for telling me this?
If he isn’t lying, is he misled or deceived?
From where does she get her facts? How does she know?
Is there any way to check this person’s claim?
These are reasonable questions. We should ask them whenever someone tries to convince us of
something incredible. But let’s be honest. How often do you really ask these questions? Do you
really wonder whether Albert Einstein was out to trick you about E=mc2, or whether Bob Costas has
an ulterior motive for reporting that the Cardinals scored seven runs in the ninth inning? Do you lie
awake at night because you cannot prove Grandma’s story about her father coming to America
without a dime in his pocket?
Probably not. But when the topic turns to religion, people suddenly become very distrustful.
We often hear statements like “Maybe the apostles made the whole thing up,” or “There’s no way to
prove Jesus rose from the dead,” or “Maybe the apostles were looking for fame.” Why the double
standard?
Maybe you don’t think there is a double standard. After all, there’s a big difference between
someone telling me the Cardinals scored seven runs in the ninth, and someone telling me that a man
rose from the dead. The first claim is surprising, but not incredible. The second claim is downright
incredible. I’m not going to believe something like that without serious evidence.
If this is a reasonable policy—and no one is saying it isn’t—then we should apply it consistently.
But do we? For example, scientists tell us that before the Big Bang, the entire universe was
compressed into a mathematical point of infinite density and zero volume. (That means it weighed
more than the whole universe put together, but took up no space whatsoever.) They go on to say that
black holes are rips in space-time so powerful that even light cannot escape; that time slows down for
4The Confessions of St. Augustine. Trans. Rex Warner. (New York: Penguin Books, 1963) VI: 5.
anything approaching the speed of light; that solid objects are mostly empty space; that electrons have
no simultaneous location and momentum in our reality, and that our solar system is surrounded by a
swarm of snowballs each a mile across.
How can scientists say these things with a straight face? Do they really expect us to take them
seriously? There’s no way most of us can verify their claims. Most of us know little or nothing about
about physics. All we can do is take their word for it. Now, if we were really consistent, we’d ask
the same questions of scientists that we do of Christians. Maybe the scientists are looking for fame!
They might say anything for a Nobel Prize! Maybe they want to win some grant money for their
personal projects! (It has happened, by the way.) Maybe they made up black holes just to have a
good laugh at our expense! Hell, they’re probably sitting in a bar this minute, yukking it up over a
few beers and saying, “Can you believe how gullible the public is?
But you know something strange? I believe them anyway.
I believe them because it doesn’t cost me anything to believe. Let’s face it, none of us will lose
any sleep tonight if they suddenly announce on the evening news that black holes do not exist. That
information would be a little interesting, but it wouldn’t have the slightest effect on our lives. So if
scientists say black holes exist. . . well, okay, I’ll believe them. Sure, the notion of black holes is
downright incredible, but so what? It doesn’t hurt to believe. And if scientists come back later and
tell us they were wrong, well, that’s okay too.
But religion is a different ballgame altogether. Crack open any Bible (it’s that big book that
everyone keeps on their bookshelf but never actually reads) and you’ll find claims that are no more
incredible than black holes. Two thousand years ago, a group of people in an obscure part of the
Roman Empire said that God had come to earth in the form of a man. “We saw him with our own
eyes,” they wrote, “and listened to him with our own ears. He told us the meaning of life. He said if
we listened to him we would live forever. He was murdered by people who didn’t like that message,
but he defied them by walking out of his tomb three days later. We were eye-witnesses to this event,
and what we are telling you is true.”
Upon hearing this, people suddenly aren’t as open-minded as they were before. In the back of
their minds they know that if they believe this knowledge from authority, then their own lives can
never be the same. They will have to die to all kinds of things they’ve grown comfortable with,
certain vices and self-indulgences and selfishnesses. They will have to admit that they cannot find
happiness on their own terms. They will have to trust God when He asks them to do something, even
when it seems pure foolishness to them.
That’s why the biggest obstacle to believing Christianity isn’t its incredible claims, but the cost
of believing those incredible claims. Maybe I like my life the way it is. Maybe I don’t want to
change. You only live once, you know. And so I think I’ll question these so-called authorities, thank
you very much, to see whether they’ve got anything to gain by their story, or whether it can be
proved. God only knows what kind of motives those Christians had anyway.”
We are writing this, so that our joy may be complete.
--1 John 1: 3-4
The greatest obstacle to knowledge from authority is fear of the cost. You don’t bother
questioning a person if you don’t care what he has to say. It’s when his message touches close to
home that all the skepticism crawls out of the closet. We like to think we’re open-minded, but none
of us are, not totally anyway. There’s too much of us invested in our beliefs, too much fear of what
will happen if we open our minds and hearts to a new idea or an unknown future. William O’Malley,
a Jesuit priest who teaches high school in the Bronx, wrote a powerful essay on fear of the cost.
To be truly open-minded means to be both unprejudiced and receptive--willing to consider
new ideas, even those threatening to my own. In fact, in the best sense, being open-minded
means going out in search of new ideas. It’s not all that easy. Trying out a new idea is a
threat, a risk. Often it’s uncomfortable at first, like trying out a new pair of shoes. Often you
begin to suspect that tinkering with this tiny new idea may well be pulling a thread that will
unravel the whole fabric of your life. Often it’s a matter of finding new and fresher ways to
look at old facts you “settled” so long ago that they seem lifeless and dull--like, does God
really exist? What’s he really like? How can I really get to know?
Conversion means a shattering of comfortable certitudes in order to open oneself to wider,
more enriching horizons. But we all have an understandable resistance to conversion.
There’s no question that it is painful to leave the warm cocoon behind, to lose something good
in the hope of something better. It happened to Abraham when he was called from the
security of Ur to discover the Promised Land. It happened to Moses when, on the way back
to the Land, his people moaned, “Were there no graves in Egypt that you had to lead us out
into this wilderness?” It would have been far easier for Jesus, and the apostles, and
generations of missionaries to stay where they were and mind their own business. It would
have been far easier for Lincoln and Harriet Tubman and Martin Luther King to settle for
things as they were. It would have been far easier for Galileo and Darwin and Freud never to
have published what the world would demand they defend.
But something else dies in a man or woman who turns from the truth. Blinding oneself to
the truth is a violation of one’s human nature, because we--of all the inhabitants of the earth-were made to know. To deny that hunger, or to palliate it with comforting illusions, is to live
a life far smaller than the one to which we were invited. The late actress Rosalind Russell put
it about as well as anybody could: “Life’s a banquet, and most poor bastards are starving to
death.”
An open mind, surely, is a terrible risk. It means being vulnerable to the truth, no matter
into what new and precarious roads it leads us. It means making peace with uncertainty. It
means leaving behind the dull security of the cocoon for the excitement of flight. But that’s
what we were born for.
Examining the God questions for oneself--for the first time or once again--is that kind of
risk. It refuses to pre-judge the outcome by the people one thinks he finds in the Church or by
the listlessness of its liturgies or by the apparent divergence of its doctrines. It refuses to hide
in the herd and say, “Oh, well, everybody believes that,” or “nobody believes that.” It refuses
to protect itself with dodges like, “Oh, we’ve heard it all before,” or “I settled all that long
ago.” It refuses to defend inertia by denying that God would have any interest in somebody
as insignificant as myself. It means, in a word, to be curious, and if you dare to reach for the
heritage of your humanity, many people will think you very curious indeed.
Be assured, it will cost. Whichever way you decide the God questions, it will change your
whole life. And not to decide is to decide.
B. FIVE THINKING ERRORS
Man is obviously made for thinking.
Therein lies all his dignity and merit;
and his whole duty is to think as he ought.
--Blaise Pascal
We do not have a right to think any way we want. We have a duty to think responsibly. This
means, in part, not drawing irrational conclusions from what we see and hear. The problem is, critical
thinking requires practice. It does not come naturally. So when a person receives a little training in
basic logic, he or she is often appalled to discover inumerable mistakes lurking in newspaper
editorials, textbooks, television shows, and everyday conversation.
Experts in critical thinking use specific terms to describe mistakes people make, like “affirming
the consequent” “illicit redefinition” and “ignoring intensional contexts.” Here are five common
mistakes you must avoid.
1. Non Sequitur (Latin for “it does not follow”)
A thinker commits a non sequitur when his or her conclusion does not follow logically from the
premisses used to support it.
Premiss:
Premiss:
Conclusion:
There is a rock in my backyard.
There are no tigers in my backyard.
The rock keeps tigers away.
Premiss:
Premiss:
Conclusion:
All men are mortal.
Socrates is a man.
All men are Socrates.
Premiss:
Premiss:
Conclusion:
Many Catholics dislike the Church’s teaching about X.
I do not understand the Church’s teaching about X.
The Church’s teaching is wrong.
Premiss:
Premiss:
Conclusion:
Free will is the power to choose between options.
Humans have free will.
Humans should choose anything they want.
Premiss:
Premiss:
Conclusion:
Christians say Jesus rose from the dead.
There’s no way to prove that for sure.
I don’t need to worry about it.
Here’s an example of a non sequitur from a SLUH junior’s paper.
Christians believe that God created the universe and that now he is working to help us with it.
They believe he knows each one of us by name, and knows every-thing there is to know about
us. It would not be such a stretch to believe that humans are actually God.
Premiss:
Premiss:
Conclusion:
God created the universe.
God is all-knowing.
Humans are God.
Huh?
Here’s a classic.
I don’t go to Mass because Catholics who do go are insincere.
This one is difficult to break down because both premisses are implied. First, the student
believes that insincere Catholics do not belong at Mass. (What he means by “insincere” is unclear.)
Second, the student implies that he is a sincere Catholic. How? If the student weren’t Catholic, there
would be no reason to excuse himself for not attending Mass, and if he believed himself to be
insincere, there would be no reason to point to other Catholics. All he’d have to say is, “I’m
insincere, therefore I don’t go to Mass.” Thus his argument looks like this.
Implied Premiss:
Implied Premiss:
Conclusion:
Mass is for sincere Catholics only.
I am a sincere Catholic.
Therefore I do not go to Mass.
Huh?
Other ways to phrase this “logic” are: “I’m not going to follow my personal beliefs if other
people are not going to follow theirs” or “Being a hypocrite is a bad thing, so I will be too.” It’s
amazing that people make this comment without being ridiculed.
2. Faulty Premisses
There are many cases in which conclusions do follow from the premisses, but the premisses are
either vague or false, thus creating an untrue conclusion.
¥Two false premisses, but conclusion still follows.
Premiss:
Premiss:
Conclusion:
All people are Catholic.
My dog is a person.
My dog is Catholic.
¥One false premiss, but conclusion still follows.
Premiss:
Premiss:
Conclusion:
Catholics baptize babies because of their belief in Original Sin.
Original Sin means babies are born guilty of personal sins.
Catholics believe babies are guilty of personal sins.
¥One vague premiss, but conclusion still follows:
Premiss:
Premiss:
Conclusion:
Men are fools.
Albert Einstein was a man.
Einstein was a fool.
¥Two vague premisses, but conclusion still follows:
Premiss:
Premiss:
Conclusion:
Evolution means man evolved from animals.
Christians believe man was created by God.
Christians cannot believe in evolution.
In the last example, the conclusion is derived from two extremely vague terms, “evolution” and
“Christian”. There are many different theories of evolution (natural selection, genetic mutation,
theistic evolution, atheistic evolution, etc.) and hundreds of Christian denominations--Catholic,
Baptist, Lutheran, etc.--each with wildly different views on the proper way to interpret the creation
narratives in Genesis. They cannot be lumped together. The above conclusion is true as far as
Missouri Synod Lutherans are concerned, but not as far as Catholics are concerned.5
5We will return to evolution and Christianity when we discuss the relationship between science and faith later
in the year.
3. Ad Hominem (Latin for “against the person”)
So the Jews said to him, “We are not illegitimate.”
--John 8: 41
Your temper flares when an atheist-friend makes critical remarks about your Christian faith.
Unsure how to respond, you say “What do you know about it? You’re an atheist!” This is not an
intelligent response. Instead of judging the atheist’s argument on its own merit, you attacked him.
This is illogical. It doesn’t matter if he is Christian or not, if his opinion is flawed you can point this
out without ever bringing his person into the conversation. If you’re not sure how to respond to his
remarks, be mature enough to admit it, and find the answer later.
“Who are the Catholic bishops to tell me premarital sex is wrong? What do those dried-up old
celibates know about sex anyway?” Here the premise is that bishops lack the necessary sexual
experience to possess an intelligent opinion on sexual morality. But if the bishops really do lack the
necessary experience, won’t that be reflected in their teaching? Point to the flaw in their reasoning,
not to them. After all, many sexually active people have warped views of sex, and we can safely
assume that many celibates have sensible views.
One is guilty of ad hominem reasoning when, instead of attacking a person’s argument, one
attacks a certain quality in the person which is not directly related to the argument itself. Here’s an
excellent example from Time magazine.
Your glowing article on William Bennett topped with the halo on his head [Nation, Sept. 16]
made me sick. “Life is good” for the millionaire, who is nothing more than a blowhard
preacher without the credentials. Who is this rich, anti-gay, anti-choice, pro-corporal- and
capital-punishment zealot to tell people who struggle every day to get by about “‘moral
poverty’ born of negligent parenting, welfare dependency and too easy divorce”? I am sick of
the crop of rich Republicans who hypocritically sermonize about the decline in “family
values,” when their values translated into actions destroy the families of millions! 6
It is enlightening to note that the writer never mentions the supposed flaw in Bennett’s views.
Instead he attacks Bennett. The writer implies that Bennett is wrong precisely because he is
(supposedly) rich, anti-gay, anti-choice, etc. This is illogical. The writer should point to a flaw in
Bennett’s premises or conclusions. As it stands, we don’t even know what Bennett’s argument was,
nor what may have been wrong with it.
Premiss:
Premiss:
Conclusion:
William Bennett preaches the necessity of virtue.
William Bennett is rich, anti-gay, anti-choice, etc.
William Bennett is wrong.
Ad hominems assume many forms. “The teacher only said that because he’s a moron” is an
obvious one. But most are more difficult to detect. Suppose you have a friend who struggles to find
meaning in his life. You offer to explain your religious convictions to him, but he responds with,
“You’re only Catholic because you were born Catholic.” A classic line! Instead of considering
Catholic-ism as a possible answer to his needs, he dismissed it (and you) by attacking your
intelligence and integrity. In his mind he does not have to take faith seriously if you do not take it
seriously. Thus his statement is also a non sequitur, since even if you were a lazy Catholic, it does
not follow that Catholicism is false.
A final note about ad hominems. Many people believe that calling someone a derogatory term is
an ad hominem. This is not necessarily true. If a person does something foolish or demonstrates
6Time, October 7, 1996.
ridiculous thinking, calling him a fool may be harsh, but it is not illogical. After all, the definition of
“fool” is someone who says and does foolish things. However, if you flip it around and say that
someone’s opinion is wrong because he is a fool, that is illogical. It is possible for a fool to possess
solid views on a particular issue.
4. Begging the Question (Latin = petitio principii)
A person begs the question when he tries to argue that X is true, but in the process of arguing,
already assumes that X is true. For example, it is clearly nonsense to say “God exists because God
exists.” But people often say this very thing simply by rearranging a few words. For example, one
SLUH junior wrote:
“I believe God exists because He created us.”
Analyze the second half of this statement. The clause “because He created us” already assumes
that God exists. How could God create us if He didn’t already exist? The student’s statement is the
same as “I believe God exists because He [exists and] created us.” Another example is:
“God’s work through prayer proves to me that God exists.”
When the student writes “God’s work through prayer,” he already assumes that God exists.
Here are more examples. “There is no heaven because death is the end.” (To say there is no
heaven is the same as saying death is the end.) “Jesus was not God because he was only human.”
(To say that Jesus was not God is the same as saying he was only human.) “Animals can reason
because animals are intelligent.” (To say that animals can reason is the same as saying they are
intelligent.) In each of these examples, the statement essentially reads, “X is true because X is true.”
Many cases of begging the question are not contained within a single sentence. Instead, the
fallacy only becomes evident after the argument progresses for a bit.
Mike: “Jesus was God because he performed miracles.”
Paul: “But how do you know he performed miracles?”
Mike: “Because he was God.”
5. Red Herrings
There’s an old saying that the two things you should never talk about in public are religion and
politics. Imagine sitting at a large dinner table at your friends’ house, and making a comment about
gun-control or abortion! Tension in the room would skyrocket, because people are emotionally
invested in these issues. And to make it worse, the mood will turn downright ugly if a person feels
his beliefs are being chopped to pieces in front of his friends. No one wants to look like a fool. In
these situations, the person who’s losing an argument often throws a “red herring”. He or she says
something inflammatory or beside-the-point in order to distract people from the real issue. If it
works, he salvages his pride, but unfortunately truth is not served. (The term “red herring” comes
from the practice of dragging smoked fish over a trail to confuse hunting dogs.)
Here’s a great example of a red herring, written by the nationally recognized journalist Tony
Snow (which only goes to show that professionals are not immune to sloppy thinking.)
Some death-penalty foes claim it’s cheaper to lock a sucker in the slammer forever
than to snuff him. This is disingenuous and false. If we cared primarily about costs,
we’d set aside a few caves, some bowls of gruel and a small band of sadistic guards.
That would turn our prisons into models of thrift.7
First, it’s interesting to note how unprofessional these sentences are. With terms like “sucker”
and “slammer” and “snuff” the writer is clearly trying to provoke an emotional reaction in his reader.
But ask yourself, why does he want to do that? Is he afraid of a calm, rational approach?
Second, analyze his logic. Opponents of capital-punishment argue that imprisoning a criminal
for life is cheaper than execution. This is true. It generally costs ten times more money to execute
someone than to imprison him or her for life, given the costs of appeals, defense attorneys, etc. But
Mr. Snow cleverly dodges this fact by saying, “If these people really cared about costs, they’d put
prisoners in caves”. This is beside the point. Even if opponents of capital punishment are
inconsistent, it does not deny or even diminish the truth that life imprisonment is, in fact, much
cheaper.
Consider this popular pro-choice bumper-sticker:
“Against abortion? Don’t have one!”
This slogan is intended to deflect attention from the question of the morality of abortion to one’s
personal actions. But what do one’s personal actions have to do with the morality of abortion? Not a
thing! The falsity becomes clear when the same logic is applied to other issues. “Against drunk
driving? Then don’t drive drunk!” Well, thanks for the great advice, but that isn’t going to solve the
problem. It sidesteps the fact that drunk-driving is immoral whether I do it or not.
Another popular pro-choice bumper sticker manages to combine both an ad hominem and a red
herring in one statement.
“If men could have babies, abortion would be a sacrament.”
The statement is apparently directed at the Catholic Church, given her adamant stand against
abortion, her devotion to the sacraments, and the fact that only men are bishops and priests. The
insinuation is that, since the Church is shepherded by men, and these men “make the rules,” their
condemnation of abortion is based on naivete of what it means to be pregnant, insensitivity, and/or a
dislike of women.
First, the statement is an ad hominem because it suggests the bishops are wrong precisely
because they are men. But women stand on both sides of the abortion issue, those who have been
pregnant, and those who have not. Clearly, the ability to bear children does not determine a woman’s
position on abortion. Then why should it determine men’s?
Second, the statement is blasphemy to Catholics. It associates abortion, which Catholics
consider the killing of a child, with a sacrament, which Catholics believe is God entering the world in
tangible form. This bumper sticker is clearly intended to infuriate any Catholic who takes his or her
faith seriously. Those who display it demonstrate a considerable lack of good will, and little or no
interest in honest debate.
F. FOUR STEPS TO STRONGER THINKING
1. Know the Facts
When it comes to thinking intelligently, there’s no substitute for knowing the facts. It is the first
and most crucial step.
7Tony Snow, St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Thursday, June 5, 1997. p. 7B.
No one expects you to know all the facts and possible perspectives regarding abortion, American
foreign policy, race-relations, and every other important issue in our culture. That’s impossible. But
if you babble half-baked opinions without educating yourself, you are acting immorally. For this
reason both civil and church law make a distinction between ignorance and culpable ignorance. To
call someone ignorant does not mean he or she is stupid; it means he or she is unaware of something.
Einstein was probably ignorant of Brazilian history. You are probably ignorant of Sartre’s
philosophy.
Now, everyone is at least a little ignorant about everything. A doctor does not know everything
about medicine. But the doctor is far less ignorant than you and I. He has enough knowledge to
make intelligent decisions regarding medication and surgery. I, on the other hand, do not know
nearly enough to operate on someone. If I do brain surgery, even with the best intentions in the
world, I am acting immorally. I am culpably ignorant, because I know that I don’t know enough
about it.
The Catholic Church teaches that a person must never act against his or her conscience, even if it
contradicts Church teaching. However, it is quite possible that one’s conscience is wrong.
Slaveowners believed in good conscience that God wills slavery. Puritans in good conscience burned
“witches” at the stake. In order to follow one’s conscience, one must first educate it. This means
feeding it with information. As my philosophy professor once said, “Students, when all is said and
done, every person must follow his conscience. Just make sure yours is not the conscience of an ass.”
If you call yourself Catholic, it’s your duty to educate your conscience by reading encyclicals
(official church documents which contain the Magisterium’s latest teaching on a certain topic).
Unfortunately the majority of Catholics fail to do so. For example, a large number of Catholics
disagree with the Magisterium’s position on artificial birth control. Quite a few criticize the bishops
openly. I wonder how many of them have read Humanae Vitae (On Human Life), the encyclical
which explains the Magisterium’s teaching? I’m willing to bet most have not, although Humanae
Vitae can be found in any library, or bought in any Catholic store for fifty cents. How can Catholics
object “in good conscience” to the bishops’ teaching, if they don’t even know what the bishops’
teaching is?
Here are some thoughts from SLUH juniors who didn’t know the facts:
“So profound has Jesus’ influence been that a branch of Catholicism, called
Christianity, or the study of Christ, has been named in his honor.’
‘If there is no God then how can people explain where humans came from?
Scientists cannot come up with any logical explanation, so there must be some being
that created us.’
[Regarding the theory of evolution]
combusted or any other stupid theory.’
‘I cannot believe humans spontaneously
‘The story of creation in Genesis was written to further the myth of Christianity, and
it succeeded in this very well.’
2. Remember the Principle of Contradiction
You can’t have your cake and eat it too.
--proverb
Aristotle discovered that reason operates according to three basic principles. They are the
Principle of Identity (A=A), the Principle of the Excluded Middle (either A or not-A), and the
Principle of Contradiction (not both A and not-A). Although they sound technical, they are in fact
extremely simple, and something we take for granted every day. It is the third principle we will
consider here.
The Principle of Contradiction is that something cannot be and not-be at the same time and in
the same respect. Either King Arthur was a real person or he is only a legend. It has to be one or the
other. It is impossible that he really existed, and not-really existed, at the same time. Either a book
contains precisely 100 pages or it does not, but it cannot contain both simultaneously. Either George
Washington really chopped down a cherry tree as a boy, or he did not, but it cannot be both at the
same time.
Perhaps this sounds too black-and-white. After all, a book might be boring to one person but not
to another. Isn’t this an example of a book being boring and not-boring at the same time? And what
if one person says it’s raining, but another person says it’s misting? Isn’t this an example of it raining
and not-raining at the same time? Not according to Aristotle. The clause “in the same respect” is
essential. It is impossible for a book to be boring and not-boring to the same person regarding the
same precise point--say, for example, a specific plot device, or specific character’s development. As
for the rain objection, what is revealed here is only the vagueness of everyday language. If you and I
agree to define “rain” as X amount of water falling per minute, then it is clear that either X amount of
water falls in a given minute or it does not; but X amount of water cannot fall and not-fall at the same
time.
It is impossible to deny the Principle of Contradiction. After all, if it were possible for it to be
raining and not-raining at the same time and in the same respect, then the statement “It is raining” is
meaningless. Thus you cannot argue that the PC is false. As soon as you say “The Principle of
Contradiction is false,” you assume that your statement is true--but if the PC is false, then so is your
statement! So there.
So what does this have to do with theology?
I’ll never forget my first Parent-Teacher conference. The mother of a junior sat down at my
table and asked abruptly, “How dare you teach my son that Christianity is the truth?”
I felt an eyebrow go up. “Do you want me to tell him that it’s false?”
“Of course not,” she replied. “I’m Catholic. But the way you explain it, you make it sound like
other religions have false beliefs.”
I felt the other eyebrow go up. “Ma’am, either Jesus was God or he wasn’t. Christians say he
was. Muslims say he wasn’t. That particular issue is rather important, and common sense says they
can’t both be right.”
“How can you say that?” she cried. “Do you think that non-Christians are bad people? Do you
think they’re going to hell?”
I raised my hand. “Whoa, ma’am, I never said anything about anyone being bad, and I certainly
never said anything about anyone going to hell. What I’m saying is that good people can be honestly
mistaken about the truth.”
As she got up from the table she shot me an exasperated look that said, “You are soooo narrowminded!”
Nothing suffers more from sloppy thinking than religion. It’s no wonder that many people
consider theology a wishy-washy discipline, when we constantly hear statements like “Every religion
is true in its own way” or “All religions are ultimately alike” or “Religion is just a person’s way of
approaching life”. What people forget is that theology, like history, physics, and the other sciences,
makes truth-claims about reality. Either George Washington was the first president or he wasn’t. If a
historian seriously claimed that Thomas Jefferson was the first president, his peers would rush to
show him evidence to the contrary. And if this historian persisted and said, “Well, what’s true for
other historians may not be true for me,” they would laugh him out of the room. And if an astronomer said, “Ptolemy’s geocentric theory of the solar system and Copernicus’ heliocentric theory are
both right in their own way,” he wouldn’t be able to get a job teaching first grade science.
Why should we treat religion any differently? Christianity claims that Jesus of Nazareth rose
from the dead body and soul. Now either he did or he didn’t. Either Jesus was radically transformed
into a new kind of life, one both physical and spiritual, in time and beyond time, or his body still lies
rotting in some forgotten grave. You can’t have it both ways. I personally believe the weight of the
evidence--historical, philosophical, and scientific--shows convincingly that Christianity is true. If I
didn’t, I sure wouldn’t be a Jesuit. A person might disagree with me--just like historians disagree
whether William Tell was a real person--but that doesn’t mean both of us can be right.
If Jesus’ Resurrection is not a real event, then billions of Christians are simply wrong when they
say it is; and since the Resurrection is the cornerstone of Christianity, you’d have to throw out most of
the rest of our religion as fiction, hyperbole, and misguided morality. But if Jesus did rise, then
billions of Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, and Hindus are simply wrong when they say he didn’t, and they
lack knowledge of the most important truth in the world.
Do not misunderstand me. Every religion, insofar as it teaches the need for human beings to
conform their lives to something above and beyond them, contains truths and holiness. Christians
have learned much from Buddhists with regard to prayer techniques, for example. And Vatican
Council II affirmed that the Holy Spirit works through all peoples, awakening their capacity for faith
and stirring in them an instinctual desire for God. But that’s not the same thing as saying that the
fundamental doctrines of every religion, which are often diametrically opposed, can all be true at the
same time. Let’s not complicate matters by throwing logic to the wind. Either God exists or He
doesn’t. Either Jesus is God or he wasn’t. Either priests have the power to forgive sins or they don’t.
And either that which rests behind the tabernacle doors in the SLUH chapel is the Almighty God of
the Universe localized once again in space and time, or we’re praying to tasteless bread. You have to
decide which are true. But let’s not have any silly nonsense about how every religion is true in its
own way. That attitude is little more than intellectual cowardice.
Forgetting the Principle of Contradiction is exemplified by Sinead O’Connor in this 1997
interview with Time magazine.
TIME: You’ve been critical of religion. Are you a follower of any faith now?
O’Connor: I’m interested in all religions, and I don’t believe in subscribing to one
because I believe in order to subscribe to one, you’ve got to shut out all the others.8
At first glance this seems like a mature and open-minded opinion. But what if we applied her
logic to other issues? What if she said, “I don’t believe in subscribing to democracy because that
would mean I’d have to reject communism, monarchies, and anarchies”? Or what if a scientist said,
“I don’t believe in subscribing to Einstein’s theory of gravity, because then I’d have to reject
Aristotle’s and Newton’s”?
3. Define Your Terms
The first step to wisdom is calling something by its proper name.
--Aristotle
During a Model U. N. Conference at the University of Illinois a few years ago, I struck up a
conversation with a woman who teaches world religions at a public high school in Chicago. I
remarked that it must be difficult to discuss religions in a public school without appearing to advocate
one or the other, which is forbidden by law.
“Not at all,” she said. “I tell them that all religions are really alike.”
I winced. “Oh? How are they all alike?”
8Time, June 23, 1997.
“You of all people should know,” she said, genuinely surprised by the question. “They help
people lead better lives by acknowledging a power greater than themselves.”
“So far, your definition of religion includes federal laws and Alcoholics Anonymous.”
She was not amused. “By ‘greater power’ I mean God, of course.”
“Then what do you mean by ‘God’?” I asked. “Do you mean a self-conscious spirit, separate
from us, who knows us and loves us passionately? Because if you do, I think the Buddhists would
like to have a word with you. Or if you define ‘God’ as an impersonal cosmic force, like in the movie
Star Wars, then deists like Ben Franklin or Steven Hawking are the only people who believe in God.”
“Okay, so religions are different that way,” she said. “But those differences are small,
considering their goals are basically the same--to live a moral life.”
“Leading a moral life is the goal of Christianity?” I asked. “Are we talking about the same
religion here? Telling your students ‘the moral life’ is the goal of Christianity is like telling a man
that buying flowers for his wife is the goal of marriage. The moral life is an expression of a
Christian’s love for God, not his goal. A Christian’s goal is to be with God forever.”
“Aha!” she cried. “See, there you are! You just made my point for me. You said heaven is
Christians’ goal. Buddhists believe nirvana is their goal. So these religions are ultimately alike,
since both have the same objective.”
By now I realized this conversation was going nowhere fast. “Do you have any idea what
Buddhists mean by ‘nirvana’? They believe free will, reason, and personal individuality are illusions,
and that there’s no real difference between good and evil, because everything, including us, is ONE
being. When a person realizes this, his cycle of reincarnations stop, and his individuality is absorbed
back into the ONE. ‘Bill Jones’ will forget everything it meant to be ‘Bill Jones’. Christians believe
that Bill Jones will remain that particular individual for all eternity. Good and evil are really
different, and choosing one over the other has eternal consequences. Both heaven and hell are
possible precisely because we are not God; heaven means being unspeakably close to Him, hell
means complete alienation. Once you understand what is meant by ‘nirvana’ and ‘heaven,’ the
difference is like night and day.”
She smiled. “Oh, maybe for people like you it is.”
“Excuse me?”
“These differences are a big deal for you religious types.”
How odd. I recalled a colleague at SLUH who made a similar comment when I tried to explain
the differences between Protestants and Catholics. So I said to her, “You’re absolutely right. A
person who doesn’t take religion seriously won’t care about the differences.”
The validity of a person’s statement or argument depends on how well he or she defines terms.
For example, people often say that most Catholics are insincere. But doesn’t that depend on what one
means by “sincere Catholic”? Is that someone who goes to Mass every Sunday? Gives 10% of his
income to the Church? Reads the Bible daily? Sends his children to parochial school? If we means
the first, then perhaps 50% of all American Catholics are insincere. If the second, then 99% are
insincere. If the third, the percentage rises to maybe 90%. If the last, then per-haps only 30% are
insincere.
One SLUH student wrote:
‘I have not yet heard a decent argument against miracles being divine in nature.’
The word “miracle” means an event which is divine in nature, therefore the student’s statement
doesn’t make any sense. It’s like saying, “I’ve never heard a good argument against Germans being
from Germany” or “I have not yet heard a decent argument against democracies being a nation ruled
by the people.”
Here’s another example from a SLUH junior:
“So profound has Jesus’ influence been that a branch of Catholicism, called
Christianity, or the study of Christ, has been named in his honor.’
This student is clueless what the words “Catholicism” “Christianity” and “Christology” mean. It
is rather clear that his term paper was a last-minute all-nighter, and that he wrote the first nonsense
that popped into his head.
We’re going to be talking a lot about God this year. Defining one’s terms is so important, that
it’s best if we define a few of our own, before we continue further into the book.
An agnostic is not sure whether God exists. Some agnostics say that although they’re trying
find the truth, they do not believe they can make a responsible decision at this point in their lives
because the evidence is too limited. Others take a more philosophical approach. They say that even
if God exists, there is no way we can know anything about him, because his reality is so different
from ours. Therefore it is impossible for God to communicate with us in any way.9 A third sort of
agnostic is motivated by fear of the cost. In the back of his mind he knows that if God exists, it will
force him to change certain things about his life which he’d rather not change.
There are three sorts of people: those who have found God and serve him; those who
are busy seeking him and have not found him; those who live without either seeking
or finding him. The first are reasonable and happy, the last are foolish and unhappy,
those in the middle are unhappy and reasonable.
--Blaise Pascal
An atheist is someone who does not believe in a God. This can mean one of several things,
depending on how we define “God.” So let’s define our terms. For our purposes, when we use the
word “God” in class and in this book, we mean a personal God (possessing self-consciousness and
free-will). This God is pure Spirit. He creates, knows, and loves human beings. He is omnipotent
(all-powerful), eternal (without beginning or end in time), omnipresent (every-where at once), and
omnibenevolent (all-good). When Westerners use the word “God,” this is usually what they mean.
Now, some atheists say the only thing that exists is physical matter (anything composed of
atoms and other sub-atomic particles). There is no such thing as a spiritual being: no souls, ghosts,
angels, demons, or God. If it cannot be seen, heard, tasted, touched, or smelled, it does not exist.
Those who believe this are called materialists. Famous materialists include Thomas Hobbes, Karl
Marx, and Sigmund Freud.
Other atheists deny the existence of a personal god. Yes, a “higher power” exists, but it does not
know and love human beings, because it is only a cosmic energy field, or as the philosopher Benedict
Spinoza put it, the sum of all physical laws.10 It is responsible for creating the world, but has no
interest in it, like a child who spins a toy top and then walks away. People who believe this are called
Deists. Famous Deists include Benedict Spinoza, Thomas Jefferson, Ben Franklin, Albert Einstein,
and the Masons. (Do not be confused by the fact that Jefferson and Franklin called themselves
Christians. What they claimed to be, and what they were in reality, are two different things.)
If we stick to our definition of God, then we must call Buddhists and Hindus atheists too. True,
they believe in the existence of one universal Spirit, or “Brahman,” but like the Deists, they do not
believe this spirit is self-conscious. It is not aware of itself or anything else. It does not communicate
9Christians, of course, believe that God not only can, but does, reveal himself to human beings in a wonderful
variety of ways. We will discuss these in chapter six.
10This notion of God is captured in the film Star Wars. In the film, people can “tap into” the Force if they
wish, in order to serve their own purposes. People who become experts at this are called Jedi Knights, like
Luke Skywalker. But the Force is not aware that Skywalker exists.
with people. As we said in previous chapters, Buddhists and Hindus believe there is no distinction
between this Brahman and us. We are not separate beings, but different manifestations of the same
being, so that we are God, and God is us. People who believe this are called pantheists. Famous
pantheists include the German philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel and the American writer
Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Now to some people it might seem rather harsh for me to call Buddhists and Hindus atheists.
After all, we don’t call them atheists in our everyday language. For that matter, most Deists don’t
consider themselves atheists either; Franklin and Jefferson certainly didn’t. Have we defined “God”
too narrowly? The key here is to realize that people mean very different things by the word “God.”
If we discuss atheism without defining this term, our thinking will be sloppy, because everyone in the
classroom would assume that we’re talking about the same thing, when in reality we’re not. Now, if
you wish to label Deists, Buddhists, and Hindus by a term other than “atheist,” that’s fine, as long as
you understand they are not believers in the same way Jews, Muslims, and Christians are.
4. Look for Different Perspectives
Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.
--Jesus (John 8:7)
At the beginning of the 20th century the Catholic Church was being attacked by “modernists,”
people who believed modern science, philosophy, and historical research had shown many aspects of
Catholicism to be superstitious (like miracles, angels, and the devil) or simply false (like free will,
hell, or the bodily resurrection of Jesus). Modernists were not necessarily atheists. In fact, most were
Christians who believed the Church needed an overhaul in order to bring it up-to-date with modern
times.
G. K. Chesterton was a famous Catholic writer who lived in Great Britian during the modernist
crisis. He defended the Church from the attacks of writers like H. G. Wells, Bernard Shaw, and T. X.
Huxley. His method was unusual. Instead of trying to show why their arguments were flawed, he
often turned them inside out. In other words, Chesterton was a master at looking at things from fresh
perspectives.
Here’s an example. In the early 1900’s astronomers were beginning to realize the true
immensity of the universe. This led many to say that religion is out-dated. How could human beings
think they’re special, when their planet is nothing more than a tiny speck of dust floating in a cosmic
ocean? Here’s how Chesterton replied in his book Orthodoxy:
Why, then, should one worry particularly to call [the universe] large? There is
nothing to compare it with. It would be just as sensible to call it small. A man may
say, “I like this vast cosmos, with its throng of stars and its crowd of varied
creatures.” But if it comes to that why should a man not say, “I like this cosy little
cosmos, with its decent number of stars and as neat a provision of live stock as I wish
to see”? One is as good as the other; they are both mere sentiments. It may be mere
sentiment to rejoice that the sun is larger than the earth; it is quite as sane a sentiment
to rejoice that the sun is no larger than it is. A man chooses to have an emotion about
the largeness of the world; why should he not choose to have an emotion about its
smallness?11
Orthodoxy means correct belief or teaching, as opposed to heresy. For example, orthodox
Catholicism is that Jesus is truly God and truly human, and that he rose body and soul from the dead.
In Chesterton’s day, it was fashionable for Catholics to profess unorthodox beliefs. Orthodoxy was
for Christians who weren’t brave enough or intelligent enough to think on their own. These
Christians prided themselves for putting their personal “spin” on old-fashioned beliefs.
Chesterton looked at orthodoxy from a different perspective.
People have fallen into a foolish habit of speaking of orthodoxy as something heavy,
humdrum, and safe. There was never anything so perilous or so exciting as
orthodoxy. It was sanity: and to be sane is more dramatic than to be mad. It was the
equilibrium of a man behind madly rushing horses, seeming to stoop this way and to
sway that, yet in every attitude having the grace a statuary and the accuracy of
arithmetic. The Church in its early days went fierce and fast with any warhorse; yet
it is utterly unhistoric to say that she merely went mad along one idea, like a vulgar
fanaticism. She swerved to left and right, so exactly as to avoid enormous obstacles.
11Orthodoxy, 113-114
She left on the one hand the huge bulk of Arian-ism,12 buttressed by all the worldly
powers to make Christianity too worldly. The next instance she was swerving to
avoid orientalism,13 which would have made it too unworldly. The orthodox Church
never took the tame course or accepted the conventions; the orthodox Church was
never respectable. . . . It is easy to be a madman; it is easy to be a heretic. It is
always easy to let the age have its head; the difficult thing is to keep one’s own. It is
always easy to be a modernist; as it is easy to be a snob. . . . It is always simple to
fall; there are an infinity of angles at which one falls, only one at which one stands.14
Here’s a final example. It comes from Chesterton’s book Heretics (1905). He was responding
to those who say that we should never take a position on an issue, but always keep an open mind, so
that we don’t take a chance of being wrong.
The truth is that it is quite an error to suppose that absence of definite convictions
gives the mind freedom and agility. A man who believes something is ready and
witty, because he has all his weapons about him. He can apply his test in an instant. .
. [A] man engaged against a brilliant duellist may fancy that the sword of his foe has
turned to ten swords in his hand. But this is not because the man is playing with ten
swords, it is because he is aiming very straight with one. Morever, a man with a
definite belief always appears bizarre, because he does not change with the world; he
has climbed into a fixed star, and the earth whizzes below him like a zoetrope.
Thinking from fresh perspectives is a different way to think critically. It is more difficult than
avoiding logical errors, because it calls for imagination, patience, and insight. New perspectives are
especially important in theology, because we hear the same tired old platitudes about religion. Here
are a few examples, and how we might look at them differently.
“It’s hard to believe in God when the Church’s history is filled with so many sins and mistakes--the
Crusades, the Inquisition, the Reformation wars.”
Couldn’t Church history actually be a sign that God is with it? How could the faith of such a
weak and sinful people survive 2,000 years without help?
“It is hard to believe in God because of all the evil in the world.”
Doesn’t goodness and beauty need an explanation too?
“It’s difficult to believe in the Catholic faith because some of its doctrines are so weird. Three
persons in one God? Resurrection from the dead? Jesus physically present in the Eucharist? Where
do they get all this stuff?”
Catholic beliefs do seem strange at times. . . which makes it improbable that someone made it
up. If Catholicism were a strictly human invention, why in the world would we have made up things
like the Trinity or the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist?
12Early Christian heresy that Jesus was human but not divine.
13A belief common to many eastern religions that the universe and everything in it is God.
14Ibid., 185-186.
“If God loves us so much, why doesn’t he make it more obvious? Why doesn’t he open up the sky,
come down to Earth, wave his arms around, and say, “Hey look, everybody, I’m here!”
Some would say he did.
C. THE PROCESS OF KNOWING
The least initial deviation from the truth is multiplied later a hundredfold.
--Aristotle
In order to think more critically, it is important to understand the manner in which our minds
acquire and process new knowledge. Distortions can creep into this process at any point.
1. Perceiving
The Gateway Arch exists. If someone said the Arch doesn’t exist, the obvious response would
be, “The Arch exists regardless of your personal belief.”
We do not make up reality on our own. Objects are already out there, waiting to be perceived by
the five senses: vision, hearing, taste, touch, and smell. Perceiving (taking in data from the senses) is
the first step to knowing anything. We are not born with knowledge that the Arch exists. If I know it
exists, it’s because I’ve seen it with my own eyes (vision), or I’ve felt it (touch), or I’ve read about it
(vision), or someone told me about it (hearing).
Two essential terms in epistemology are subject and object: the subject is that which does the
perceiving; the object is that which is perceived. For example, as you read this book, you are the
subject and the book is the object. When you hear your friend call your name, you are the subject and
your friend is the object. When a dog smells its dinner dish, the dog is the subject, the dish is the
object.
The objective truth is that the Arch exists. In other words, the Arch has an “objective reality” or
an “objective existence”. All these terms mean the Arch is real, that it is an object that actually
exists, regardless of what anyone thinks. If everyone on earth were to ignore the Arch, it would not
suddenly disappear. When people try to be “objective” in their arguments, what they mean is that
they want to strip away their personal feelings and prejudices and preconceived notions, in order to
talk about the thing in itself.
But as we all know, we do not perceive the world totally objectively. We tend to put a
subjective interpretation onto everything we see and hear. Our personal biases color the way we look
at reality. These biases include our past experiences, emotional tendencies, currently held beliefs,
desires, etc. To use a previous example, we’ve all had the experience of waiting for a friend at a
crowded terminal, seeing someone we thought was her, and then realizing it was someone else. The
objective reality was that the person was not your friend. But your desire (a subjective condition!) to
find your friend caused you to read more into what you saw than was really there. For a few seconds
you believed the person was your friend; and that was a subjective truth for you. But that belief had
no basis in objective reality.
Watching a movie with friends is another good example of how objective truth is mixed with
subjective interpretations. The objective reality is that the movie exists, and that the same images and
sounds are presented to you as to your friends. Nevertheless your opinions about the film differ; your
friends thought the film was great, but you thought it was boring and cliche. The reason might be that
you’ve already seen the same basic plot in other movies, while your friends have not; so for them it
was a new experience, but for you it wasn’t. This is an instance when your past experiences with
movies, which is subjective to you, affected the way you perceived the objective reality.
What are some different ways in which our subjective biases affect our perception of the data?
One is called selective consciousness, which means that at any given moment we are conscious of
only a fraction of the data presented to our senses. Even though the same images and sounds from the
movie are presented to both you and your friends, your individual interests affect what you perceive.
One friend might pay particular attention to the plot, another might be more conscious of the
character development. One friend who was a victim of violence in the past might be especially
sensitive to the violence in the movie. And of course you are so obsessed with the beautiful actress
that you are oblivious to everything else.
Selective consciousness is unavoidable. Our vision takes in so much data that it’s impossible for
our minds to pay attention to everything at the same time. As you read these lines, your peripheral
vision detects the table on which the books rests, the vague form of your nose beneath your eyes, and
your hands which rest to the side. But you’re not paying conscious attention to them until someone
mentions them. Similarly, as I write these lines, my hearing picks up the hum of the computer, the
click of the keys, the traffic outside my window, and the song “Chain of Fools” on the radio. But I’m
not conscious of these until something prompts me to pay attention to them.
Our minds also have a self-defense mechanism called protective disinterest. If certain
information is too distressing or irritating, our conscious minds often shut it out. The most extreme
form occurs when someone faints after hearing bad news. Other cases of protective disinterest were
reported occasionally during World War II, when military officers were sent to the homes of soldiers’
families to inform them that their son had been killed. After hearing the news, the parents sometimes
stared blankly for a moment and then said, “Oh, how nice of you to stop by for a visit. Can I get you
a cup of tea? Do you have any news about my son?”
2. Categorizing
Once the senses take in the data, we classify it into abstract categories. This makes it easier for
the brain to handle huge amounts of information. For exam-ple, we see several creatures walking
upright and label them all “human”; or we hear several pieces of music and classify them all as
“jazz”. This does not deny that every person and song are unique, but it does mean that each has
certain qualities that make it a member of a certain class or genre.
Although categorizing is a necessary part of the thinking process, we often place things in
categories too quickly. The result is stereotypes (overly broad or incorrect categorizations), which
itself results in prejudices (pre-judging a person based on stereotypes). Not every effeminate male is
a homosexual. Not every person with speaking difficulties is mentally handicapped. Not every
resident of the inner-city is a criminal. Not every wealthy suburbanite is callous to the poverty of the
inner-city. Not every feminist is pro-choice.
Few people would consciously deny the above statements, but in the back of our minds we often
believe otherwise. About four years ago I was walking along Lindell Boulevard near St. Louis
University when a shabbily-dressed man approached me from across the street. He did not look
intimidating at all, but before he got within ten feet of me I raised my hand and said, “Sorry, I don’t
have a dime on me” (which was true). I’ll never forget the extremely hurt look that crossed his face.
He lifted his head indignantly and said, “I was going to ask you what time it is”. I was mortified. I
apologized and looked at my watch, but he shrugged me off. “Forget it,” he said, “I’ll ask someone
else.”
As embarrassing as it is for me to relate that story, I think we all have to admit times when we’ve
been walking down the street and became nervous at the sight of someone else approaching. We
can’t always help it that we get those feelings, especially if we’ve been raised in a sheltered
neighborhood or in an environment that taught us to fear certain people. But if we are ever going to
solve the problem of racism, the first step must be to admit that even the best of people have their
prejudices.
Once we put things into categories it is tempting to think that we know everything about them.
For example, if you label a person a “liberal” based on one or two of her opinions--and you do not
like liberals--then you’ll be tempted to ignore everything she says without even listening to her.
“Well, what does she know, she’s a liberal” or “I expected her to say that since she’s a liberal.” But
are you being fair? Isn’t it possible that, of all her opinions, some might be moderate or even
conservative? Isn’t it possible that her opinion is correct regardless of whether it’s liberal? That’s
what Kierkegaard had in mind when he wrote “when you label me, you negate me.” When you slap a
label on someone, you usually ignore (negate) everything else about that person that doesn’t fall into
your neat little category. But each person is extraordinarily complex. Each person is a mystery! I
don’t understand why I do half the things I do. . . so how can I expect to “understand” someone else?
We live in a time when people are especially sensitive to prejudices. While this says something
good about us--namely, that we’re rightfully ashamed of past abuses toward minorities and women,
and that we’re concerned for their welfare now--this sensitivity sometimes prompts us to accuse
people of being racist or sexist or classist when in reality they’re not. (Which ironically is its own
form of prejudice!) But if we are ever going to solve the problems of prejudice, we have to be able to
talk about the matter intelligently, always presuming good-will on the part of others unless they give
us clear evidence otherwise. If we call everybody a racist who disagrees with our opinions, we’ll get
nowhere.
We begin to discuss the issue intelligently when we separate objective facts from subjective
prejudices. For example, it is an objective reality that a.) certain parts of St. Louis City and County
are more dangerous than others, b.) poor neighborhoods tend to have higher crime rates, c.) poor
neighborhoods in St. Louis City and County tend to be inhabited predominantly by minorities, and d.)
the vast majority of people on welfare in the United States are white. To point out these facts does
not make one racist or classist. What does make a person racist or classist is a.) to assume that certain
neighborhoods are dangerous precisely because a particular race or social class lives there, and b.) to
believe the color of one’s skin encourages criminal activity, as opposed to poverty, despair, and
isolation from the larger community.
3. Evaluating
It goes without saying that we cannot give equal attention to everything we see and hear. We
must sift the data by deciding which is trivial and which is important. The question is, on what basis
do we decide?
First, the value you assign objective information depends on your subjective relationship to it. If
you’re dying of thirst in the desert, you will not be terribly excited to find a $100 bill in the sand. The
most important thing in the world to you at that moment is finding a water fountain. But in normal
circumstances your attitude toward both objects would be just the opposite. Notice that the objective
reality of the $100 bill or the water has not changed--what’s changed is your subjective situation.
Similarly, you may not think religion class is interesting or relevant right now--but wait until you get
married and have children, or you’re faced with the death of a loved one. Suddenly religion becomes
more pressing. ‘How important is it that I marry someone of the same religion? Will I still go to
Mass if my spouse doesn’t? Do I really want to raise my child Catholic? Do I really believe that my
grandfather survives after death?’
Second, the mystique we give certain things grossly distorts our thinking. There was an incident
a few years ago (in Colombia, I think) when a professional soccer player accidently kicked the ball
into his own goal. The fans were so infuriated that later that evening they killed him. What have we
come to? Soccer is nothing more than a game in which grown men try to kick a ball between two
poles. That’s ALL it is. But it possesses people to the point where they’re willing to kill for it.
Closer to home, many men anguish over the fact that they’re losing hair. One commercial currently
on T.V. calls hair loss “the most traumatic experience” a man can have. But what are we talking
about here? Dead skin cells. That’s ALL hair is. Yet many of the same men who complain about all
the charities asking for money are willing to drop hundreds of dollars on Rogaine or transplants.
Apparently dead skin cells are more important than people.
“Vanity is a dangerous perverter of reason,” warned the Roman philosopher Marcus Aurelius.
The following text is from his classic book Meditations:
How useful, when roasted meats and other foods are before you, to see them in your
mind as here the dead body of a fish, there the dead body of a bird or a pig. Or again,
to think of Falernian wine as the juice of a cluster of grapes, of a purple robe as
sheep’s wool dyed with the blood of a shellfish, and of sexual intercourse as internal
rubbing accompanied by a spasmodic ejection of mucus. What useful per-ceptual
images these are! They go to the heart of things and pierce right through them, so
that you see things for what they are. You must do this throughout life; when things
appear to be too enticing, strip them naked, destroy the myth which makes them
proud. For vanity is a dangerous perverter of Reason.15
Third, we often fall victim to herd need. This happens when we let other people do our thinking
and evaluating for us, like a herd of cattle that blindly follows whoever is leading it. Kierkegaard and
Nietzsche both believed that herd need is responsible for the mediocrity most people bring to religion.
For example, it is not good enough to say, ‘I’m Catholic because I was born one.’ You may have
been born Catholic, but you have the power and the duty to choose whether to remain one.
Sometimes couples get married in the Church, not because they have any intention of practicing their
faith, but because they want the ceremony in a beautiful building, or they want to avoid flak from
their parents. This herd need is caused sometimes by laziness, sometimes by coward-ice, and
sometimes by complacency, but it is always dishonest, not only to yourself, but to the entire People of
God. Kierkegaard wrote
Let us imagine a young man who is a skilled businessman, cultured and well-spoken,
with an interest in public affairs. As for religion, he feels no need. It never occurs to
him to think of God, nor does he go to church. He does not object to religion, but he
fears that to read the Bible would make him appear ridiculous. But then he decides to
get married and soon is a father. He wants his children to be baptized, and to grow
up with correct moral standards. So he sends his children for religious education.
Soon he is regarded as a pillar of the church, supporting its work generously and
playing a leading role in its management. He is universally regarded as a good
Christian. But still he feels no need of religion, nor does he ever think of God.16
4. Symbolizing
The first step to wisdom is calling something by its proper name.
--Aristotle
Mind-reading has yet to be discovered. So if you wish to share your thoughts with others, you
must make sure your choice of words--either verbal or written--accurately conveys your meaning.
Being the brightest guy in the world doesn’t mean a thing if everyone misunderstands you. The
common complaint teachers hear from students who get poor marks on their essays is, ‘Oh, you know
what I meant!’ No we don’t. All we have to go on is what you said or wrote. Make sure it’s
accurate.
Homonyms are a common source of confusion. There’s no reason educated people should
15 The Meditations. Trans. G. M. A. Grube Bk. VI. 13.
16Original source unknown. Cited in Daily Readings with Soren Kierkegaard. Ed. Robert van de Weyer.
(Springfield: Templegate, 1995) p. 78.
confuse the words accept/except, conscious/conscience, they’re/ there/their, to/too/two, affect/effect,
whether/weather, vain/vein/vane, etc.
Not knowing the true denotation (literal meaning) of a word is another problem. “Ignorant” and
“stupid” do not mean the same thing, nor do “intelligent” and “learned.” It is possible to be one but
not the other! Many words also carry connotations, additional meanings tacked onto their
denotations. The words “mediocre” and “average” generally mean the same thing, but saying that a
professor’s lecture was mediocre sounds a lot worse than saying it was average. Cultural slang is
another type of connotation. Until recently the word “gay” meant happy or enjoyable. But you can
readily imagine the misunderstanding that would arise today if you used the word in that sense.
The following are examples of important terms which are often misused. It is crucial to
understand their denotations if one is to have intelligent conversations about religion.
Church and Magisterium: The term “Catholic Church” (with two capital ‘C’s) refers to the
entire People of God, one billion in all, who confess the same faith in Jesus Christ, and the same
beliefs with regard to the sacraments, priest-hood, papacy, etc. So if you are a Catholic and you
speak of the “Catholic Church,” you are in fact referring to yourself. The Magisterium is one part of
the Church. It is the Church’s teaching authority. Guided by the Holy Spirit, the Magisterium is the
authoritative and final interpreter of Scripture and Tradition with regard to faith and morals. It is
comprised of the bishops and Pope; neither priests nor laypeople have this responsibility. Many
Catholics call the Magisterium the “Church,” but that is like calling Congress the United States.
Ecumenism vs. Religious Indifference: Ecumenism is the current attempt by different religions
and Christian denominations to treat each other with tolerance and respect, and to find common
ground which can be celebrated together. From the Reformation until the 1960’s, Catholics and
Protestants harbored an animosity that often resulted in physical violence. In places like Ireland this
is still the case. Since the Second Vatican Council in the 1960’s, Catholics have made a special effort
to promote better relationships with other religions and denominations. She began by making a
formal apology for the ways the Church has failed to be faithful to the spirit of Christ. Ecumenical
expressions like these do much to promote peace and further the development of theology. However,
some people take ecumenism to mean that differences between religions do not matter. This attitude
is called religious indifference. When people say “it doesn’t matter what religion you are as long as
you’re sincere,” they think they’re being magnanimous, when in reality they’re being intellectually
sloppy. Either Jesus intended Peter and his successors to be leaders of the Christian flock or He did
not; you can’t have it both ways. Either Jesus intended the church to have a priesthood or He did not;
either He instituted seven sacraments or He did not; either the Catholic Church is the fullest
expression of what it means to be a Christian or it is not. The truth of these matters radically effects
the way Christ-ians live their faith. If Catholicism is the truth, we have an obligation to try to
convince others of that. . . but always with gentleness, respect, and patience.
Morality vs. Legality: Morality means the rightness or wrongness of an action. Legality means
whether something is permitted or forbidden by law. Ideally law is based on sound morality, but this
is often not the case. Consider the civil rights movement. Martin Luther King argued that
segregation was morally wrong even though the Supreme Court made it legal. Eventually the justices
agreed with King, and the law was changed. Slavery has always been immoral, although it was legal
for hundreds of years in America.
Proof vs. Evidence: Descartes showed that, in theory, it is possible to doubt everything. Thus it
is wise to avoid using the word “proof” or “prove,” since it often misleads others. “Evidence” is a
better term, since all we can do is ask ourselves where the weight of the evidence lies. (Evidence
means a fact, consideration, or circumstance which tends to show that something is true.) For
example, no matter how hard you try, you cannot prove that your family loves you. I can always
come up with another explanation that fits the facts. Nevertheless, you believe they love you because
the weight of the evidence--everything you’ve seen and heard and experienced for the past sixteen
years--makes “love” the only reasonable explanation. Again, attorneys try to demonstrate the
defendant’s guilt or innocence by offering evidence for or against it. It’s the jury’s responsibility to
decide which party’s evidence is weightier. But remember: there was never a lawyer in all of history
who proved the defendant’s guilt or innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt. All lawyers can do is
establish his case beyond a reasonable doubt. The jurors then do the best they can with limited
information.
5. Testing
We must be humble enough to admit the possibility that our beliefs are wrong. Not to do so
results in fanaticism, and if we are in error, shuts out any possibility of learning the truth.
First of all, make sure you know the facts about a given belief-system. Too many people reject
faith in God not because of what the Church teaches, but because of what they think the Church
teaches. I remember one woman who left the Church because she couldn’t buy into the Catholic
belief that babies are born guilty of sin. The irony is, Catholics don’t believe that either. She was
confusing moral sin with “original sin,” which are two different concepts. She would have
discovered her error quickly enough had she only asked somebody, but apparently that was too much
trouble. Many atheists reject the Church because they refuse to believe in a God that punishes
people, or that the Bible should be taken literally in terms of science. Catholicism doesn’t believe
these things either, but some atheists don’t bother examining the issue carefully enough to realize
there’s a world of difference between Catholicism and other Christian denominations. That’s their
fault, not the Church’s.
There’s an old saying that those who do not know their opponents’ beliefs do not truly
understand their own. Once you understand a little bit about Buddhism, Judaism, and atheism, you’ll
have a better grasp of why Catholicism believes what it does, and thus you’ll be able to make a more
informed decision.
Most people have life-experience greater than your own. Do you dismiss your parents with
‘You just don’t understand’? Or are you mature enough to admit that they probably do understand?
They were in high school once. Take advantage of their experience. How else can you avoid making
the same mistakes?
D. PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY
The terms “philosopher” and “theologian” have been used a number of times in this chapter. It’s
critical to know what they mean.
1. What is Philosophy?
Philosophy literally means “love of wisdom,” from the Greek words philia (love) and sophia
(wisdom). Philosophers think deeply about the big questions of human existence. What is the
meaning of life? What does it mean to be human? Does God exist? What is truth? Can we know it?
What is ultimate reality? Which political system is best for humans? What does it mean to act
morally? What makes something good or bad? Immanuel Kant, a German philosopher, once said
that everything we ask can be summed up in three basic questions: “What can I know?” “What must
I do?” “What can I hope for?”
How does a philosopher look for truth? Of the three kinds of knowledge we discussed earlier, a
philosopher emphasizes reasoned knowledge. He or she tries to rationally explain their experience
using reason, in order to discover truths or insights. To put it more simply: if a philosopher is going
to think about some-thing, he or she needs something to think about. What does he or she think
about? Obviously, whatever it is they experience in their everyday lives that causes them to wonder
and ask questions.
So far, this is a pretty general description, and you might have noticed that it applies to a
scientist just as well as a philosopher. As a matter of fact, until a couple hundred years ago, science
and philosophy were considered the same thing. In many ways they still are. But today there are
some basic differences. A scientist’s method emphasizes observation; a philosopher’s method
emphasizes speculation. To put it oversimply, philosophers rationally examine the world using
reason alone (their rational investigation of the world takes place solely inside their heads), while
scientists check their hypotheses using physical experi-ments. There are strengths and weaknesses to
both methodologies.
Philosophy is the no-man’s land between science and religion, under attack from both sides.
--Bertrand Russell
A good example of the philosophical method comes from G. K. Chesterton, a famous Catholic
writer who lived at the turn of the century. He begins by pointing to something that is a part of
everyone’s experiential knowledge: evil exists. Chesterton knows that evil exists because he has
seen it. This causes him to wonder about God. So he begins to analyze the issue using his reason.
Modern masters of science are much impressed with the need of beginning all inquiry with a fact. The ancient masters of religion were quite equally impressed with
that necessity. They began with the fact of sin--a fact as practical as pota-toes. . . . If
it be true (as it certainly is) that a man can feel exquisite happiness in skinning a cat,
then the religious philosopher can only draw one of two deductions. He must either
deny the existence of God, as all atheists do; or he must deny the present union
between God and man, as all Christians do.17
Chesterton draws two logical possibilities from his analysis. In effect he says, “People say God
is all-good, how could an all-good God allow evil to exist? Therefore, either God does not exist
(which is what all atheists say), or our relationship with God has been damaged (which is what all
Christians say). Which is it?”
Western philosophy originated in Greece about 600 B.C. Before that time ancient people
explained their experiences using myths: man’s conquest of fire was explained by the story of
Prometheus, diseases and sins were explained by the story of Pandora’s Box, seasons were explained
by the story of Pluto’s abduction of Persephone, etc. Then, for reasons which historians do not
entirely understand, Greeks began to put stories aside in favor of rational explanations. Of all the
ancient Greeks, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle are by far the most famous and influential. They even
had a considerable impact on the way Catholics understand their faith. We will refer to them often in
following months.
Today numerous branches in philosophy investigate every aspect of human existence. For
example, metaphysics is the study of ultimate reality (what Aristotle and St. Thomas called “being as
being”). Epistemology is the study of knowledge and logic. Moral Philosophy investigates different
ethical theories and the goodness of human acts. Political Philosophy (or Political Science) asks
which political and legal systems are best for humans. Philosophy of History looks for patterns in
human history and what we can learn from them. Linguistic Philosophy investigates the ability of
language to grasp and describe reality. Philosophy of Science is concerned with the presuppositions
and limitations of the scientific method. Natural Philosophy studies the existence, attributes, and
17Chesterton, G. K. Orthodoxy. (New York: John Lane Co., 1908). p. 24.
motion of physical objects, and how it points to a different kind of reality (metaphysics). Philosophy
of Human Nature deals with what it means to be human, by studying our desires, endowments, and
actions. Philosophy of God asks whether God exists and what we can know about him. The
Philosophy of Religion studies the various ways in which humans respond to longings for truth,
happiness, immortality, and whether these phenomena tell us anything about ourselves or God.
Anyone can be a philosopher who possesses a sense of wonder and curiosity, a rational intellect,
and a willingness to use it. Famous philosophers include Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Marcus Aurelius,
St. Thomas Aquinas, Rene Descartes, David Hume, Immanuel Kant, Blaise Pascal, S¿ren
Kierkegaard, Friedrich Nietzsche, William James, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Martin Heidegger.
4. Is Absolute Certainty Possible?
We’ve all heard the statement, “The problem with religion is that you can’t prove anything.”
Here we must ask what is meant by “prove”. If the speaker means rock-solid arguments that show a
certain religion is true beyond a shadow of a doubt, then he is correct: you can’t prove anything in
religion. I wish I could give irrefutable arguments that Jesus rose from the dead, or that he made
Peter the leader of the early Church, or that he is physically present in the Eucharist. I cannot.
But the speaker threw the proverbial baby out with the bathwater, because his statement implied
that certain things can be proven. After all, it would be silly to condemn religion for being
unprovable, if everything else is unprovable too. But that is exactly the case. Nothing you claim to
know can be proven with absolute certainty.
Remember what we said earlier about knowledge from authority. Ninety-nine percent of the
facts rattling around in your brain are there only because certain people made claims which you
believed. You did not prove them by abstract reasoning or physical evidence.
But let’s talk about the remaining one percent that comes from personal experience and logical
reasoning. You believe that SLUH exists, that the moon goes through phases, that your family loves
you, and that 2+2=4. Can these be proven with certainty?
The French philosopher Rene Descartes is famous for pointing out that there is nothing we know
with absolute certainty. You might be convinced that your family loves you, but Descartes would say
it’s possible they’re keeping you around so that you’ll take care of them when they get old. You say
2+2=4, but he said it’s possible an evil genius hypnotized you into believing that. You think that at
this moment you’re reading this book, but he would say you might be having a vivid dream. You
believe the world exists--but Descartes said it may not. Perhaps everything you see is actually a
figment of your imagination, and your mind is the only thing existing in the universe. You can’t
prove otherwise!
If all this sounds ridiculous, just remember Descartes’ basic point: in theory it’s possible to
doubt everything. Nevertheless, everyone has certain beliefs which he or she thinks is true. These
beliefs are based (hopefully) on where they believe the weight of the evidence lies. To decide where
the weight of the evidence lies requires mature and honest reflection. That’s where any search for
truth must begin.
Self-consciousness and abstraction are not the only distinctly human endow-ments. Due to lack of
time we cannot discuss others, but if you’re interested in this topic, another human endowment is the
ability to transcend (go beyond) one’s personal experience to make general statements. For example,
the statement “All men are mortal” transcends anything the speaker has actually seen. He has not
witnessed the death of every man who ever lived; he’s only seen a limited number of people die. But
to go from those limited experiences to the conclusion “All men will die” requires a mental leap that
animals seem unable to make. This kind of reasoning--from the limited to the universal--is called
induction.
The process of drawing conclusions is called reasoning, and any being which possesses reason is
called rational. Since humans appear to be the only animals with reason, Aristotle called us rational
animals. At this point some readers might object to the statement that only humans possess reason.
After all, certain animal species use tools, decipher simple puzzles, and communicate data to
members of its own kind. Isn’t this reason? In order to address this question, we need to be more
specific about we mean by reason, and what makes reason possible.
There are at least two endowments (natural abilities) human beings possess, which, with almost
complete certainty, we can say animals do not possess; qualities which propel our mental processes
onto an entirely different plane. These are self-consciousness and abstract thought. (There are
actually more than two, but these will suffice for our purposes.)
Self-consciousness means a creature is conscious (aware) not only of the environment around it,
but also of itself as an individually existing being. Imagine a motion detector in a bank: the detector
senses the world around it, and triggers an alarm if it detects something moving. In a loose sense you
could say the detector is aware of the world around it. However, the machine is not aware of its own
existence. It is not self-conscious.
Most philosophers, theologians, and scientists agree that animals lack self-consciousness. Of
course, no one denies that animals are much more complicated than a motion detector. Animals have
memories, can respond in complex ways to sensory stimuli, and communicate certain data to
members of their own species. But these abilities do not require self-consciousness. I think most of
us would agree that animals do not have a sense of personal morality, nor do they create art as a
means of self-expression. Why not? Because an animal is not aware of itself as an “I”.
Self-consciousness frees us from enslavement to biological instincts. We are not forced to do
what our drives urge us--although we are still strongly influenced by them. Humans can “step back”
from any situation in which they find themselves and ask: “Is this what I should be doing? I don’t
have to do this. . . I could do something else. What is the best thing for me to do?”18
Abstract thought [or abstraction] is the ability to think about something as if it exists by itself,
when in reality it does not exist by itself. People often talk about “beauty” as if it were a thing. But
beauty per se (in itself) does not exist. We see beauty in things, such as a beautiful view or a
beautiful woman--but never standing all by itself. We contemplate the color red, but redness per se
does not exist. We see a red apple and a red car and a red neck, and from these individual objects we
extract their common quality: redness. We see John and Susan and Becky, and from these
individuals extract their common trait: humanity.
Most agree that animals cannot think abstractly. A squirrel does not sit on a tree branch
anguishing over what it means to be a squirrel. It has no notion of “squirrelness” (or “squirrelity”?) in
general. Now someone might object that squirrels recognize members of their own species, since
they run from humans but not from other squirrels; or that they know enough to mate only with other
squirrels. However, their activity in this regard can be explained without abstraction. They simply
avoid large noisy animals (like us), and know enough to mate only with animals with the right
pheromones, namely other squirrels. But a squirrel does not think, “This animal is like me, and that
animal is not; therefore I like this one and not the other.
How does abstraction make reason possible? Refer back to the first example of reasoning given
above. The term “mortal” is abstract. In order for a creature to realize that it is mortal (going to die),
it must first observe the deaths of other animals, abstract that one particular similarity from each
individual, and then apply that abstraction to itself, e.g., I am mortal (requiring self-consciousness).
In addition, for the creature to make the connection between itself and the other creatures in the first
place, it must see certain qualities in the other creatures, recognize those qualities in itself, and
conclude that it is the same kind creature.
18It is this ability to distance ourselves from the immediate influence of instinct that gives us free will, a topic
to which we will return in chapter four.
The biggest questions of human existence are all very abstract. What does it mean to be human?
How should a person act? What makes something good or evil? What is art? What is ultimate
reality? Is there life after death? Which political system is best for humanity?19
Although our senses sometimes deceive us, we consider experiential know-ledge to be the safest,
surest source of truth. Sane people do not ask for proof that the Moon exists, since they have seen it
for themselves, and they are satisfied that their sense of sight has given them true and certain
knowledge. Since we consider experiential knowledge so reliable, we usually ask for some kind of
sensible proof when someone comes to us with an incredible story. (Here the word “sensible” means
something that can be perceived by one or more of the senses.) So who can blame the apostle
Thomas for saying “Unless I can put my finger into the nail holes in his hands, and put my hand into
his side, I refuse to believe”?
Although experiential knowledge is the surest kind of knowledge, it is possible for the senses to
deceive us. Hallucinations, mirages, and dreams can trick us into believing that something exists.
More common however, are those times when our desires and emotions cause us to read more into
the sense-data than what we actually see and hear. For example, you are waiting at a crowded MetroLink station for your friend to arrive. At the far end you see a person whom you believe is your
friend, but as the person approaches, you realize you were mistaken. What happened is that you
wanted to see your friend, and that desire caused you to misinterpret what you were actually seeing.
19Mathematics is the most perfect form of abstraction. No one sees a “4” existing all by itself. All we see are
four individual objects, like four seasons or four tops. Mathematics is such an exact and predictable science
because it removes itself from all the fuzziness and vagueness of physical objects in favor of abstract numbers
which are precise. Nevertheless mathematics’ strength is also its weakness. It will always be impossible to
construct a totally mathematical description of the universe, precisely because mathematics does not consider
the physical objects themselves! For example, it is impossible to obtain an exact measure of anything. If you
ask a mathematician to weigh an apple, she might say that it is 5.374643234 ounces. However, if you ask her to
give you its exact weight she would be unable to do so, because no matter how accurately she measures, it is
always possible in theory to measure still more accurately. Numbers after the decimal point go on forever.
2. What is Theology?
Whenever you love someone, you want to learn as much as possible about that person. Love by
its nature seeks to understand. That is why St. Augustine called theology fides quaerens intellectum,
or faith seeking understanding. The one who loves God naturally will wish to learn as much as
possible about Him and their relationship together.
Theology is the exploration and examination of one’s faith using reason. Christian theologians
do this to deepen their faith and to make their faith more comprehensible to others. This is not to say
that theologians try to eliminate all the wonder and mystery in religion. That would be undesirable
and impossible: undesirable, since humans thrive on wonder and mystery; and impossible, since God
is the ultimate reality, so there is no way we can reasonably expect to understand everything about
Him.
A good example comes from St. Augustine of Hippo, the greatest theologian in the history of the
Catholic Church. Although the Trinity is a mystery, August-ine tried to render the mystery more
comprehensible by using this analogy:
Think of the Father as fire and the Son as its brilliance. . . . The very instant fire
begins, immediately it brings forth brilliance; the fire is not before the brilliance, nor
the brilliance after the fire. And if we should ask which begets which, the fire the
brilliance or the brilliance the fire, straightaway common sense, an inborn wisdom,
makes you all cry out: Fire the brilliance, not brilliance the fire. Behold the father
beginning, behold the son at the same time, neither coming before nor following
after.
Behold, therefore, the father beginning; behold the son beginning
simultaneously. If I have shown you a father beginning, and a son at the same time
beginning, believe in the Father not beginning, and with Him the Son Himself not
beginning; the Father eternal, the Son co-eternal.20
Since faith entails a loving relationship with God, a person cannot theolo-gize about his or her
faith unless he or she has faith in the first place. An atheist cannot be a Christian theologian, nor can
a Christian be a Muslim theologian. (If you’ve never had an experience of romantic love, simple
observation is not enough to understand why two lovers relate to each other the way they do. You
would have to be in love yourself--or at least have had a previous experience of love--to even begin to
understand.)
Like philosophers, theologians rely on experiential and intellectual know-ledge. Where they
differ, is that the theologian will be guided, encouraged, and restricted by doctrines of his faith-doctrines which the philosopher does not necessarily hold. For example, an atheist philosopher like
Thomas Hobbes looked at the world around him, saw that everywhere people were fighting wars, and
concluded that humans was nothing more than selfish animals who needed strong governments to
keep them from killing each other. But a Catholic theologian could never agree to this, because
according to his faith, humans are intrinsically good and capable of becoming Christlike by God’s
grace. Therefore, although the Catholic theologian looks around him and sees fighting every-where,
he knows to look for a different explanation.
Catholic theology covers a tremendous range of topics, so there are many specialized fields.
Ecclesiology is the study of the Church and how God works through her. Historical Theology
investigates the development of theological ideas and doctrines in church history. Systematic (or
Dogmatic) Theology often takes a more philosophical approach to Catholic beliefs, examining them
as a whole, and how individual doctrines relate to each other. Systematics also defends Catholic
beliefs by showing that they’re both reasonable and grounded in either Scripture or Tradition.
20St. Augustine, “The Creed to Catechumens,” 3, 8.
Spiritual Theology studies ways God reveals him-self in prayer, and ways people grow in holiness.
Biblical Theology examines the ways God has revealed himself in Scripture. Sacramental Theology
investigates the ways in which God’s grace is mediated through the seven sacraments. Marian
Theology studies the way that God has worked through the Blessed Mother for the divine economy
(God’s overall plan of salvation). Liturgical Theology studies and perpetuates the history, rituals, and
symbolism of the Mass and other sacred ceremonies. Trinitarian Theology studies the mystery of the
Trinity, and its relevance for Christians.
Closely related to Systematic Theology is a field called apologetics, which endeavors to explain
and defend Catholic beliefs in terms which modern people can understand. For atheists, Catholic
apologeticists provide arguments to show the reasonableness of belief in God (using a more
philosophical approach, since atheists obviously do not recognize Scripture or Tradition). For nonChristians like Muslims and Jews, apologeticists examine their common beliefs, and from there try to
show why the evidence supports belief that Jesus really is the Son of God. To Protestants and
Orthodox, apologeticists explain why Catholics believe their faith is the fullest expression of what
Christ intended for his Church, including the seven sacraments, the priesthood, the papacy, the
communion of saints, the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, etc. Other issues with which
apologetics is concerned, especially in the West, are demonstrating that science and faith are not
enemies, that the existence of evil does not disprove the existence of God, and that faith provides the
only real hope for personal happiness in a culture where consumerism and self-gratification are
rampant. A large portion of this course will be devoted to apologetics.
Anyone can be a theologian who belongs to the particular faith which he or she studies. If the
insights of a Catholic theologian have a profound effect on the teachings or understanding of the
Catholic faith, the Church honors that person with the title Doctor of the Church. Famous Catholic
theologians and/or Doctors of the Church include St. Paul the Apostle, St. Augustine of Hippo, St.
Thomas Aquinas, St. Theresa of Avila, St. Catherine of Sienna, St. Pius X, Hans Urs von Balthasar,
John Courtney Murray, S.J., and Karl Rahner, S.J. Famous Protestant theologians include Martin
Luther, John Calvin, Huldrych Zwingli, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Rudolf Bultmann, Karl Barth, and Paul
Tillich.
Reason’s last step is the recognition that there are an infinite number of things which
are beyond it. It is merely feeble if it does not go so far as to realize that. If natural
things are beyond it, what are we to say about supernatural things?
--Blaise Pascal
G. RECOMMENDED FILMS
Notes for film “12 Angry Men”
Foreman: 35 years old. Assistant high school football coach. A small, petty man who is at first wary of his
own authority, and then impressed by it. Handles himself quite formally. Not overly bright, but dogged.
Juror #2: 38 years old. Bank clerk. A meek, hesitant man who finds it difficult to maintain any opinions of
his own. Easily swayed. He usually adopts the opinion of the last person to whom he has spoken.
Juror #3: 40 years old. Head of a messenger service. A strong, forceful, opinionated man, within whom can
be detected a streak of sadism. A humorless man who is intolerant of opinions other than his own, and
accustomed to forcing his wishes and views upon others. His son ran away from home after a fight.
Juror #4: 50 years old. Stockbroker. A man of wealth and position. A practiced speaker who presents
himself well at all times. Seems to feel a little bit above the rest of the jurors. His only concern is with the
facts in this case and he is appalled by the behavior of the others. He constantly preens himself, combing his
hair, cleaning his nails, etc.
Juror #5: 25 years old. Mechanic. Raised in a slum. A naive, frightened young man who takes his
obligations in this case very seriously but who finds it difficult to speak up when his elders have the floor.
Juror #6: 33 years old. Housepainter. An honest but dull-witted man who comes upon his decisions slowly
and carefully. A man who finds it difficult to create positive opinions, but who listens and accepts those
opinions of others which appeal to him.
Juror #7: 42 years old. Salesman. A loud, flashy, glad-handed baseball fan who has more important things
to do than sit on a jury. He is quick to show his temper, quick to form opinions on things about which he
knows nothing. He is a bully and a coward.
Juror #8: 42 years old. Architect. A quiet, thoughtful, gentle man. A man who sees many sides to every
question and constantly seeks the truth. A man of strength temp-ered with compassion. Above all, a man
who wants justice to be served, and will fight to see that it is.
Juror #9: 70 years old. Retired. A mild, gentle old man, long since defeated by life, and now merely waiting
to die. A man who recognizes himself for what he is, and mourns the days when it was possible to be
courageous. Judging by the frequency with which he takes pills when under stress, he clearly has a heart
condition.
Juror #10: 46 years old. Garage owner. An angry, bitter man, who antagonizes almost everyone in sight. A
bigot who places no value on any human life except his own. A man who has been nowhere and is going
nowhere and knows it deep inside. He has a bad cold and continually wipes his nose or sniffs from a
benzedrine inhaler.
Juror #11: 48 years old. Watchmaker. A refugee from Europe who came to the United States in 1941. He
speaks with an accent. He is ashamed, humble, almost subservient to the people around him, but a man who
will seek justice because he has suffered so much injustice.
Juror #12: 30 years old. Advertising agent. A slick, bright advertising man who thinks of human beings in
terms of percentages, graphs, and polls. He has no real under-standing of people. A superficial snob, but tries
to be a good person. Throughout the film he doodles on paper.