“For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” (Jn 18:37)

So speaks Jesus during the interrogation leading up to his Crucifixion, prompting Pilate to ask, “What is truth?” - unaware that he is speaking to Truth Himself. We still grapple with his question two thousand years later. Is truth whatever we believe? Does truth even depend on our belief? The discussion about truth is often caricatured in two extremes: either truth is completely relative (and therefore changeable) or truth is absolute, objective, and mercilessly unchangeable.

Relativism is a philosophy that claims that objective truth does not exist. Moral relativism, more specifically, claims that no action is objectively right or wrong. Rather, it asserts that the morality of any action depends on the surrounding circumstances, time, people, culture, etc. Popularly, relativism is used to mean that truth is what we make of it.

Most people can see the irrationality and inconsistency of relativism, hence our laws that legislate the immorality of certain actions. Personally, I don’t know that I have ever met someone who genuinely believes that all truth is a matter of opinion. I think it’s more often the case that people believe that, for the most part, objective truth doesn’t matter. In this sense, relativism is considered as a matter of personal license, but really it’s a live-and-let-live philosophy in the worst possible way. It ends up saying, “I will let you continue to be wrong, as long as you don’t bother me or anyone else about it.”

The discussion about truth is often caricatured in two extremes

In matters of morality, relativism quickly becomes problematic. We usually boil it down to, “Do whatever you want, as long as you’re not physically or emotionally hurting anyone.” This may sound like a good approach, however, the morality of an act is not defined by whether anyone is noticeably harmed or whether everyone involved consented.

At the same time, we can grow too wary of relativism. I know Catholics who see heresy hiding behind every corner and who shut down dialogue at the slightest hint of relativism in order to defend objective truth. And I confess that I have a tendency to react this way sometimes.

Good as our intentions may be to defend truth, I believe that relativism became such a popular philosophy at least partially in reaction to such harsh and narrow legalism. The fact that some people rely too heavily on “rule-following” as the defining attribute of a Christian is nothing new. Throughout history, the Church has encountered heresies that equate moral perfection with salvation or that promote obedience through an unhealthy fear, rather than love, of God. When we add to this the distinctly American (and, more generally, Western) traditions of utilitarianism, self-sufficiency, meritocracy, and punishment by public shaming, it’s little wonder that some decide they’d rather have nothing to do with these “rules.”

I believe that relativism became such a popular philosophy at least partially in reaction to . . . harsh and narrow legalism

Additionally, advances in psychology, medicine, technology, and research have allowed us to better understand how mental illness, past trauma, sociological pressure, fear, and coercion can affect how responsible someone is for their decisions.

For these and other reasons, our society has, in some circumstances, become more tolerant of people and less judgmental of actions and behaviors. While this is good in many ways, we have also missed the mark, albeit from a different angle. We still judge people and perhaps even more so, as “mommy-shaming,” cyberbullying, and Tindr (to name just a few) prove. When we do “tolerate” people and their actions, it’s a passive acceptance, an apathetic non-reaction to another person, whether or not we agree with their choices. It’s peace, of a sort, but peace borne of a comfortable degree of disconnectedness, of keeping well enough alone, of minding my own business.

If previously we were strict, intolerant, and rigid, in some ways we rushed too far towards the other extreme. The proper response to relativism is not to rush back to our formerly rigid ways, which is what I see some well-meaning Christians doing (I’m also guilty of this). Rather, it means that we still have work to do in finding balance between the two.

In the first half of the 20th century, G.K. Chesterton wrote about coming to appreciate the decisive morality of Christianity in his book Orthodoxy:

“A sensible pagan would say that there were some people one could forgive, and some one couldn’t. . . In so far as the act was pardonable, the man was pardonable. That again is rational, and even refreshing; but it is a dilution. It leaves no place for a pure horror of injustice, such as that which is a great beauty in the innocent. And it leaves no place for a mere tenderness for men as men, such as is the whole fascination of the charitable. Christianity . . . came in startlingly with a sword, and clove one thing from another. It divided the crime from the criminal. The criminal we must forgive seventy times seven. The crime we must not forgive at all.”

This is the ancient conundrum: how do we love the sinner but condemn the sin? It’s easier to lump the two together, to hate the sin and extend that same judgment to the sinner him/herself. Conversely, it is also easier to accept the sinner by excusing the sin.

Knowing how quickly and profoundly we identify one another (and ourselves) with our flaws and weaknesses, is it any wonder that judgment is considered such a terrible offense? We fear that, if we are judged, we will be found wanting, and therefore worthless. It is safer to believe that all actions are acceptable and, therefore, all people must be acceptable.

But is that Truth? The truth is that Christ died for each one of us individually, knowing as He did every sin and mistake we would make, because we each have infinite worth to the Almighty God. God does not merely accept or tolerate us. God loves us. And for that reason, He is not content when we settle for mediocrity, for anything less than His joy and truth.

God does not merely accept or tolerate us. God loves us.

So often, in well-meaning zeal for our faith, we preach objective truth without also including the essential Truth of God’s love. The problem is that too many have never known the Truth that God is Love, that He created each one of us out of love, and that His mercy is greater than the shame, suffering, fear, and sin that fill our lives. The problem is that too many (even Christians, including myself at times) have only ever known of God as another petty, jealous, power-hungry authority figure who imposes arbitrary rules simply because He can. The problem is that, in rejecting that lie, we too often close our hearts to the true God, who is Love itself and whose laws are ordered toward our good.

Often, we are called to speak the truth about what God reveals through the Church. Often, we are called to witness to that most fundamental Truth that each of us is a unique, precious Beloved of God. And the truth is, they amount to the same thing.

“Do not accept anything as truth that lacks love and do not accept anything as love that lacks truth. One without the other is a destructive lie.” - St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein)