Truth and Ambiguity--Two Complementary Principles

Examine with me the nature of the gospel milieu in which we live. Undeniably, the human condition is fraught with ambiguity. Things are seldom as they ought to be and folks (at least folks I know) almost never receive what they deserve--either for better or worse. Latter Day Saints have tilled this doctrinal soil well; tomes upon tomes spill much ink on how to reconcile the reality of suffering evil with the reality of God. Since there are certainly no perfect answers available to us in mortality (Jesus asked these kinds of questions in his moment of greatest anguish--"Why hast thou forsaken me?"), I would be reticent to present definitive answers when posed with these more probing questions. Granted, there is something to be said--in a beautifully paradoxical way--for the possibility that Christ's Atonement helps to heal us from the ambiguity of the questions he himself could not answer. But if truth one coherent whole, seamless and without contour, then how can one accept the existence of real and penetrating inconsistencies within our experiences?

Elder Bruce C. Hafen, Elder Neal A. Maxwell and (couldn't help it) G.K. Chesterton offer us some probing "answers" (if I dare use the term--perhaps "musings" might be more appropriate on these questions. In what I would call a landmark BYU devotional talk for its candor and directness ("Love is Not Blind: Some Thoughts for College on Ambiguity and Faith"), Elder Hafen tackles head-on the problem of ambiguity in mortality and even in our church experience. The gospel itself, Hafen maintains, is not the topic of our discussion, for its teachings are "potent, clear, and unambiguous." However, even the scriptures themselves offer cases of irony and out-of-placeness that force us to take a second look. The example of Nephi killing Laban is classic. Yes, I have heard the "when God commands it, all holds are off" argument and there is much merit to it. Yes, I am familiar with the argument that Nephi's action was consistent with a nuanced version of the Mosaic Law--with "thou shalt not kill" being a more qualified statement than we recognize. But the incident still gives us pause, could that rationale be used in other, less noble situations? Hafen points to the woman taken in adultery; was she not guilty? Yes, we know all about mercy and justice, but this method of application is not always how we have seen it in action. Why did Jesus let her free when we look so scoldingly upon such behavior? There is a reason, Elder Hafen maintains: There is indeed a principle of justice, but there is also a principle of mercy. At times these two correct principles collide with each other as the unifying higher principle of the Atonement does its work. Even though God has given us correct principles by which we are to govern ourselves, it is not always easy to apply them to particular situations in our lives."

Elder Maxwell has stated it even more directly: "Are there times when correct principles seem almost to be competing? Yes! The narrowness of the straight and narrow way involves achieving a balance between tugging yet correct principles. Usually we cite the balancing of justice and mercy. But meekness and judgment likewise qualify as needing balanced interplay. Gospel principles are not opposites at all, yet they do require the unequalled synchronization of the Spirit. Balance on the straight and narrow path is crucial." Correctness of principle seems to almost necessitate ambiguity. If it's an easy answer, according to Hafen and Maxwell, it is probably not a very worthwhile one.

Finally, given G.K. Chesterton's direct literary influence on both Elder Maxwell and Elder Hafen (Maxwell cites Chesterton more--if barely so--than he cites C.S. Lewis and the title of Elder Hafen's talk was inspired by Chesterton), a quotation by G.K. Chesterton would be fitting. Chesterton thought much on the nature on insanity; what made the modern world, on balance, stark raving mad (as Chesterton believed it to be). Moderns had lost their sense of mystery, Chesterton argued. They used "reason without root, reason in the void" (or we might say, in a vacuum). The ordinary Christian (and the sane one), in unknowingly allowed for a healthy dose of mysticism to color his world. "As long as you have mystery you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity." Faced with mere mortality, a man's worldview could not help but groan under the burden of meaninglessness. But when a man allowed the unknown to enter, when he "permitted the twilight." While he left himself "free to doubt the gods," he was also quite willing and able to believe in them." And significantly, Chesterton argued, he "cared for truth more than he cared for consistency...His spiritual sight is stereoscopic, like his physical sight: he sees two different pictures at once and yet sees all the better for that." Truth is not monolithic (later, Chesterton would imply that it was, thus holding true to his overall paradigm--though even this would be reconcilable to his original position).

A touch philosophical, it's true. But as one author noted, if we cannot agree on how we view the world, how can we ever agree on how to run society?