Related articles and links |  1 of 2

In the culture wars of the first century, there was a group of activists who came down on the right side of all the values questions. They rejected relativism and secularism. They were unwavering adherents of ethical absolutism. They were committed to the Judaeo-Christian values of monogamy in marriage and chastity outside it. They promoted monotheism against polytheistic Roman paganism. Clearly, the Pharisees were considered the Religious Right of Israel.

But it is interesting that the people who held the "right" values were the ones least responsive to Jesus' message and most likely to receive his reprimands. His message was received with the greatest eagerness by those who came down on the wrong side of all the values issues—the prostitutes, the tax collectors, the religious half-breeds.

To be sure, Jesus frequently occupied the Pharisees' circles as a dinner guest and intellectual companion, and there were even those within the group who embraced him. Nonetheless, most Pharisees could not accept Jesus' radical claims and actions in light of their reading of the Holy Scriptures.

The ironic result of their "rightness" in belief and practice was that they became unable to love—did not want the sick healed on the Sabbath, did not want an adulterous woman to be forgiven, did not want sinners to share fellowship with the righteous. They came to see people they were called to love as "the enemy."

But they are not the only ones. The Inquisition, the Crusades, slavery—all these were entered into by people who believed in ethical absolutism and even defended their actions with the Bible.

This is a common temptation for all of us who take faith seriously. I regularly get fundraising letters from Christian organizations that paint society in conspiratorial "us" versus "them" colors. Although I usually agree with their moral positions, I rarely sense from them a caveat—let alone a consistent tone—acknowledging that love must be the ultimate aim even in disagreement.

It is a dangerous thing on questions of truth and significance to be wrong. But there may be a more dangerous thing: being right and knowing it.

Dallas Willard said once that it is very hard to be right and not hurt anybody with it. Look at schoolchildren—their pleasure in being right is boosted by knowing somebody else is wrong. Indeed, if nobody was wrong, being right would not be so special.

It is possible to be so caught up in the joy of being right, in the thrilling sense of being morally superior to those who are "not right," that you become more wrong than your most degraded opponent. This is why certain Pharisees—who were so careful not to commit adultery or steal or murder—were so deeply offended when Jesus said they were further from the kingdom of God than, say, Hugh Hefner or Madonna.

Occasionally those on the front lines of the culture wars will acknowledge they could be more loving. Usually the unspoken subtext, however, reads: "The main thing is I'm on the right side."

But what if it is at least as important to love as to be right? What if Jesus really meant it when he said the heart of the law is to love God with your entire being and to love your neighbor as yourself? What if Paul really meant it when he said that even if he had all knowledge, even if he got everything right, he was nothing if he didn't have love?

An old saying suggests that the first casualty of war is truth. This is not quite true. The first casualty of war is love. And so it is in emotion-charged culture wars.

next page... |  1 of 2

May 19 1997, Vol. 41, No. 6