Love Stronger Than Arguments

Kind Disagreements in the Secular Landscape

PRESBYSTER DAVID WOOTEN

Life in the secular, democratic West means pluralism.

What does it mean, in a secular society, to love another person when serious disagreement—especially about deeply personal matters rooted in religious faith or other core beliefs—comes into play?

When each person is (hopefully) free within the broader culture to hold to and express their sincerely held beliefs—religious or not—how should that be treated when people with opposing viewpoints clash?

This used to be something we spoke about (and perhaps yelled about) over the table at Thanksgiving dinner. Political candidates. Educational standards. Foreign policy. Religion. All were topics nearly guaranteed to ruin a family meal, unless exceptionally level heads and a good deal of familial charity prevailed.

But now social media has brought us all at one big American table, where the pluralistic chorus of voices now screams out at an intolerable level. And there has been a shift in interpersonal communication over recent years that concerns me greatly. This shift has led to posturing from both sides of the political aisle. It has led to strangers in the supermarket erupting in screaming matches over hats and t-shirts worn by fellow shoppers (I watched this very thing happen, sadly not for the first time, just last week at an H-E-B here in San Antonio). It has even resulted in incredibly invasive and personal shaming campaigns that have cost people their livelihoods.

This shift is one that has, in essence, one message at its heart: “Pluralism is now at a point where it is a threat to me. The very existence of opposition to my sincerely held beliefs is, in itself, an attack, or a likely lead-up to an attack, on everything I hold dear.”

This manic defensiveness, as I call it, leads many to believe that even love—whether familial, fraternal, or romantic—is now impossible to uphold when members of “that group,” or someone with “that opinion,” disagrees with my central tenets of living. A viral tweet from 2019, which continues making the rounds online, succinctly expresses this attitude: “Turns out my friends who love to tell me they ‘hate the sin, love the sinner’ in regards to my sexuality feel very attacked when I tell them I ‘hate the belief, love the believer.’ Almost as if that phrase is just an underhanded way to tell someone you actually don’t love them.” (Cris Miller / @StillNo_H, Sept. 18, 2019, emph. mine).

I can appreciate the author’s restraint, and I also find the comparison to hating the creeds of religious adherents intriguing and worth considering.

But the final sentence saddens me. In my own life, I’ve developed relationships with many people who, indeed, have told me they hate the Christian faith (or theism in general).

They’ve lamented the “brainwashed billions” who “waste their lives” in interminable prayers to an “imaginary Man in the sky.”

They vociferously decry the “obstacle” to a thoroughly materialist existence that religious adherence continues (rightly, in my opinion) to be.

They see the struggle to conform oneself to a particular ascetic ideal, however that manifests itself, as tragically limiting and antithetical to the full flowering of human experience—“a colossal waste of human potential.”

And they see the efforts of parents to instill in their children a love for, and obedience to, God as tantamount to child abuse. They’ve made these comments knowing I am an Orthodox priest.

But do I take this to mean they hate me, as a person? By no means.

My friends and I have done the hard work necessary to communicate, to listen, and, yes, to continue to value one another’s presence in our lives. We’ve come to realize that one person’s beliefs do not require validation on the part of another, and disagreement about them does not preclude friendship and mutual respect. This kind of coexistence can be a reality, both in interpersonal relationships and political arrangements, such as the religious pluralism that once existed in places like Syria prior to current conflicts in the area.

Pluralistic society requires us to “live and let live” so that the center may continue to hold. For us as Orthodox Christians, this means maintaining certain firm boundaries, so as to be faithful to Christ and His commandments, while also respecting others’ boundaries, even (and especially) in those instances in which the Church disagrees with them. A certain respect for the person in front of you is always required; after all, that person is created in the image and according to the likeness of our God, and is always so much more than simply that belief or practice you don’t like.

Recognizing this, I believe, is a genuine part of love, and though it is not the full scope of Christian love and communion within the Church, I pray that at least this modicum of recognition of what we know to be the image of God can be writ large over our secular society, sooner rather than later.

What, then, can we do on a personal level when these thorny encounters inevitably occur? I offer below a few suggestions:

Do not capitulate, but do not debate. Love does not mean abandoning your own convictions when confronted with other people’s beliefs (though it often involves being able to listen to what you had not previously considered). Ask questions. See if you can hear and understand the other person’s point of view accurately, perhaps even “summing it up” afterward to confirm you’ve heard them right. For the encounter to go well, that same charity needs to be extended to you in kind. But if the encounter devolves into a hopeless loop of contradiction or name calling, it’s best to “agree to disagree” and end on civil terms.
Be aware that hurt people, hurt people. In seminary, I was told of a monk who, before he ever responded to a question or a comment, took a breath, prayed the Jesus Prayer silently, and made the sign of the Cross. We always begin our services with the petition, “in peace, let us pray to the Lord.” If we cannot engage someone in conversation while maintaining an attitude of prayer and peace, it’s usually better to come back to the topic at a later date.
Read the room. Some people simply do not want to converse; they just want to engage in monologues. Sometimes we have to recognize that we are that person! As I’ve said, many people are convinced that disagreement with them amounts to an expression of hate or a threat of violence. No amount of good faith on your part will convince them otherwise. Perhaps they have been hurt in the past by people of faith. Perhaps they have not yet formed trusting relationships with people who respectfully disagree with their views. If that’s the case, be sensitive to it; better not to waste your time and theirs.

We really do find ourselves in an unprecedented place in today’s pluralistic society. Orthodox Christianity stands as one voice among a great many, still proclaiming the Good News of Christ and the salvation of mankind from sin and death. We will face opposition, but let us always remember three admonitions from St. Paul:

“We do not wrestle against flesh and blood”—that is to say, your neighbor himself is not your enemy—“but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph. 6:12).
We must be constant in prayer and ready to “speak the truth in love” (Eph. 4:15, emphasis on the love).
We must strive to practice charity toward those who disagree with us: “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all” (Rom. 12:18).

May God bless our efforts, and may the beauty of deliberate charity temper us all.

Rev. David Wooten is the rector of St. Anthony the Great Orthodox Church in San Antonio, Texas.