Dennis Taylor’s column of Nov. 13 is a masterpiece of the pot
calling the kettle black.
Dennis Taylor’s column of Nov. 13 is a masterpiece of the pot calling the kettle black. Mr. Taylor criticizes his ideological opponents for not debating issues fairly, for not stating their arguments, for not answering questions. He accuses them, or should I say us, of narrowmindedness, zealotry, cowardice, self-importance, self-aggrandizement, moral superiority, moral absolutism, authoritarianism, and exaltedness.
Pardon me, Mr. Taylor, but have you looked into a mirror recently? How in the world can you accuse anyone else of writing a diatribe, when you write nothing but? You smear your philosophical opponents rather than debate issues. You call names rather than discuss substantive points. You accuse others of authoritarianism while demonizing them for expressing their opinions.
Worse, you ask why your opponents don‚t mind their own business. Why don’t you mind yours, Mr. Taylor? It’s the mayor’s business to see that the business establishments in this town obey the law. California state law prohibits charging money to arrange sex acts, and prohibits operating a house of assignation. Why is it your business to castigate the mayor for minding his, Mr. Taylor? Practice what you preach.
Mr. Taylor cannot ask a simple question, deserving of a simple answer, because he is too busy calling names. Leaving out the insults, what he asks is: Why don’t his opponents mind their own business? Who gives them moral authority? What gives them the right to dictate morality?
I can tell that Mr. Taylor is not interested in an honest response to his questions, because he simultaneously sneers at anyone who cites the Bible as a higher authority, and throws in another sneer at the football player who prays before kicking a field goal: perverse, he calls it. While giving lip service to tolerance and to the Constitution, Mr. Taylor cannot tolerate anyone who freely exercises his religion.
Therefore, though I shall attempt to answer Mr. Taylor’s questions, I am not addressing him. I address open-minded secular humanists who wonder about the questions Mr. Taylor raises, as I wondered about them, 10 years ago, when I was a secular humanist, when I thought this world was all there is, and that man is the measure of all things.
Before I became a Christian, I thought that athletes pointing up to the sky and people citing the Bible were exhibiting rather odd behaviors. I didn’t put anyone down for it. I just let them perform their little religious rigamaroles, and went my merry way.
As a teenager, with an adolescent’s disdain for tradition and an adolescent’s pre-occupation with self, I had erected my own personal set of ethics: not morals, mind you, but ethics, because morals were traditional and handed down by a higher authority, and my ethics were individual and independent and cool. I was quite proud of my ethics.
Trouble was, every now and then, my ethics would cause me to do something that hurt either myself or those I loved, just terribly. Each time, I would be brought up short. I would stop, and adjust, and rebuild, and go on.
It was as if my ethics were this house I had built, and I was very proud of it. But as time went on, it looked more and more like a hovel, and I went on adjusting and rebuilding, and it started to look more and more like a house, rather ramshackle, but more and more like a traditional house.
And when I became a Christian, (for reasons miraculous, not moral,) it was as if someone handed me a set of architectural blueprints, and I could see that I would never, never in a million years be able to design a house this good, or even build this one, without help.
So: when a Christian pulls out that Bible, he is not claiming moral superiority. He is evincing abject humility. He’s saying, “I don‚t make the rules around here, and I‚m not even very good at keeping them, but God says …”
And the athlete? That athlete is nervous. He’s a little embarrassed about making the sign of the cross on national TV, but he has the courage to do it, to admit in public that he believes in God, and when he makes the goal, he runs down the field pointing heavenwards, giving credit to the One who gave him the talent to boot that ball.
Cynthia Anne Walker is a homeschooling mother of three and a former engineer. She is a published independent author. Her column is published in The Dispatch every Friday.
