The Veritas Conflict (54 page)

“It’s freezing out here, Claire.” Bethany’s teeth were chattering. “It’s going to snow.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It took me longer than I thought.”

“I don’t know if I want to do this. I just have so much going on and—”

Claire held up her hand. “Look, I totally understand, but can we at least get out of this cold?” She began to steer Bethany toward the Harvard Square T stop. “I’ll make
you a deal. Lets go down to the T and wait for the train to Somerville. We can at least grab a quick snack and talk about what you’re thinking. I think well both be more coherent when our noses are thawed.”

Bethany sighed, but Claire could see a resigned look in her eyes. “All right. But I reserve the right to not get on the train if I change my mind.”

“Deal.”

The T stop was deserted and blissfully warm. Claire pulled off her parka and set down her gaping backpack on a concrete bench.

“Nice bag,” Bethany said.

“its the newest style. Everyone’s going to be doing it soon.” Claire took a long scarf out of her coat pocket and wrapped it around and around the pack. “It looks like we might have a long wait. I bet we just missed a train.”

Bethany’s voice was quiet. “Claire, don’t you think I should have the right to choose what I do with my own body?”

Claire paused in her movements for a split second, then kept working. “Well, it sounds good, Bethany, but is it really your body that we’re talking about? Do you remember those cases today, about the people seeds in your carpet and the world-class violinist that’s strapped to you, sharing your organs for nine months?”

Bethany nodded.

“Well, just like the people seeds example, the illustration of the violinist is really misleading. The violinist isn’t sharing your organs: He has his own!

“There.” She tucked in the scarf ends and tested the pack to ensure it wouldn’t fall apart again. Then she took a seat next to Bethany on the bench.

“The question isn’t should you have the right to choose what you do with
your
body, but should you have the right to choose what you do with
someone else’s
body. The little baby growing in your womb has its own lungs, heart, its own circulatory system. It probably even has a different blood type from yours. He or she is a whole, separate person.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know you
say
that, but right now all I feel is that I’m being invaded without my consent. Shouldn’t I have the right to say what I do with my
own body?”

Her voice was becoming angry, and Claire took a deep breath. It would make such a difference once Bethany saw an ultrasound, saw the slow somersaults of a little figure, the tiny head, the delicate arms and legs—all silent appeals from a precious life needing protection.

Claire paused, praying furiously, and a thought popped into her mind.
Don’t answer the question until you figure out what the premise is
.

“Um, do you mind if I ask you something about that?”

Bethany shook her head, and Claire found herself shaking.
God I’ve never done it this way before. Give me Your words
. She sat on her hands and looked sideways at her friend. “When you say the right to do what you want with your body, what do you mean by
right?”

“What?”

“Just humor me on this, okay? I just want to understand where you’re coming from.”

“Whatever. I guess I mean … you know … the ability to choose my own path. It’s my prerogative.”

“So you’re saying you should be autonomous, the ultimate authority for your life.”

“Duh!” Bethany was laughing now. “Of course!”

“But don’t you think you’re leaving something—or
Someone
—out of the equation? Have you considered what it would be like if everyone lived the way you just said you wanted to? Being their own authority?”

“But that’s what we have now. Everyone lives their own life, according to what’s right for them. I don’t get where you’re going with this.”

“Just humor me. Have you taken any modern history classes that covered dictators like Stalin or Mao?”

“Yeah, last year.”

“Well, then you know that the last century was the bloodiest in history because all these dictators said that their definition of reality should prevail and that they should be their own authority. I read somewhere that those regimes caused the deaths of over one hundred and fifty
million
civilians, while doing what was right for them.”

“Give me a break!” Bethany sprang to her feet, her face incredulous. “Are you comparing me to some Communist dictator who puts people into death camps?”

“No, of course not. I’m just asking where the limits are, where does your line of reasoning stop? I know you just want to control
you
, and Stalin’s bunch wanted to control
other people
, but if you follow your earlier statement to its logical end, you’re saying the same thing. You both are saying that you are the ultimate judge of What’s best for you.” She smiled ruefully. “Those regimes just happened to think that what was best for them was to remain in power over the dead bodies of anyone who disagreed with them. But if each of us is our ultimate judge, who’s to say those governments weren’t right?”

“But …” Bethany paused, her expression unreadable. “But everyone knows murder isn’t right.”

“Sure. But what they did is logically consistent with the idea that they should have the
right
to be the ultimate decision maker over their lives. Look, I know you don’t want to make that connection, but—”

“You know what? I’ll bet those deaths were from religious wars; that’s what I think.” Bethany folded her arms over her chest, nearly glaring at Claire. “All these religions that are so sure they’re right that they’re willing to kill someone to convert them! How can all you religious people say there’s only one path, anyway? There are paths to God in every religion. No one can tell someone else their path to truth.”

“Well, first of all, I’m pretty sure those killings were ideological, not religious. But second, what do you mean by truth?”

Bethany set her hands on her hips and frowned at her questioner. “Look, I understand what you’re saying about Stalin, but it works the other way, too. Whenever anyone tries to enforce some sort of absolute on others, it causes immense misery.”

“That’s a good point, but I’m not talking about
forcing
acceptance of the truth on anyone. You’re perfectly welcome to disagree with me; I just think you’d be silly to do so if what I’m saying is true.”
Am I making any sense here?
Claire’s voice grew tentative. “Have you ever heard of Pascal’s wager?”

Bethany shook her head.

“I learned this in high school, so forgive me if I mangle it. Pascal essentially said that in rejecting the claims of Jesus, you’re making a terrible gamble. He said that if Christians say there is a heaven and hell, and we’re wrong, we don’t lose anything when we die. But if nonbelievers say there
isn’t
a heaven and hell, and
they’re
wrong—they are in huge trouble when they die.”

Bethany sighed and sat back down on the bench. “I honestly just don’t get all you people who pick right and wrong out of some old book, or say there’s only one way to God.” She glanced sideways. “You’re in that Christian group that’s having the barbecue on Saturday, right?”

“Yes.”

Bethany turned to face Claire, clearly perplexed. “See, I totally agree there’s a God, but I don’t claim to have the only path to Him. Don’t you think God is bigger than we can understand—”

“Absolutely, but—”

“—and doesn’t it make so much more sense to acknowledge that God has put something of Himself in
all
religions,
all
paths? its like—” She thought a second, then snapped her fingers. “Like school!” Bethany stood up again, restless, thinking on her feet. “As we go through grade school, then junior high, then high school, our teachers are instructing us in things when we’re ready for them, piling up new revelations as we expand our knowledge. We learn a little from history, a little from math, a little from science … but we don’t pretend that any one subject will bring us to ultimate truth. That’s what God’s like. He releases truth to us little by little as we can grasp it.

“It’s like that old proverb of blind men feeling all different parts of an elephant and
arguing that the elephant had to be described as the tail, or the trunk, or the leg, when in fact the elephant was so much more than the little piece they could feel.” Bethany’s voice grew earnest. “We have to synthesize what all the religions have learned about God through the ages. We can’t get stuck on any of the bits and pieces that think they’re the be-all and end-all. For Christians to say there’s only one way to God is like a math person saying you only need math to be educated!”

Question assumptions…
Claire thought for a second; then suddenly her eyes opened wide. She could practically hear the Holy Spirit giving her the words to say. She shivered, rubbing down the goose bumps on her arms.

“Bethany, I just realized what’s going on. Our major difference is in our view of God. You think there’s a lot of overlap between religions, and you view God as a sort of vague deity, a big, mysterious force that’s out there in the ether somewhere.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“See, I view God as a person. He’s someone who loves me, a perfect Father who created me and wants me to love Him back. He wants a relationship with me, like any good Father would. Just because I can’t know and understand all of Him doesn’t mean that I can’t
know
Him!

She cocked her head. “The elephant analogy says that the men feeling the elephant were blind. But we’re not blind men! The Bible says God wants His children to seek Him and find Him where He can be found. And in the Bible, He’s already told us what the whole elephant’ looks like—He’s told us how He can be found: through Jesus. Not through living a good life, but through His Son.”

“See, that’s the kind of absolute that just drives me crazy,” Bethany said, drawing back. “You don’t have a monopoly on Truth! How can you say that Jesus is the only way when—”

“I didn’t say it, Bethany. He did.”

“But the other religions all say God has lots of ways—”

“God can’t contradict Himself. He wouldn’t say “This is the only way to one group and then say Oh, there are lots of different paths’ to another group, would He?”

She saw Bethany’s irritation and smiled in a conciliatory fashion. “Look, I totally agree that other religions make some good points. But its not about a monopoly on Truth.’ All real truth is from God, and its not like other religions have found
none
of it! its just that they are incorporating glimpses of the real Truth, picking and choosing which to accept or reject rather than accepting the whole thing.”

Bethany stopped pacing and folded her arms across her chest. “Where does God actually say there’s only one way?”

“Jesus said it point-blank. He said, ‘I am the Way and the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father but through me.’ ”

“But that’s so
ridiculous! it’s
so exclusive! It excludes anyone who follows another religion, anyone with a different viewpoint, even people who try their whole lives to be good, moral people!”

Claire smiled. “Well, first of all, don’t get mad at me. I didn’t make the rules. He did.”

“Well, fine. I’ll get mad at Him, then.”

Claire smiled gently. “But if He’s the kind of God I described—Creator of the Universe, the one who fashioned you in secret just like He’s fashioning this tiny baby inside you right now—don’t you think He has the right to make the rules?”

Bethany stopped. Her eyes narrowed. “Well, if you look at it that way, okay. But I don’t know that I want to believe in a God who would send good people to hell. Its too … too
mean
.” Her voice became plaintive. “I thought God was supposed to be loving!”

Claire sighed in relief. She’d heard someone respond to that argument before. Confident, she started to open her mouth.

No, child! Pray
.

She choked on her intended words and coughed roughly, bending over, her mind furiously racing.
Lord, forgive me! What is it I’m supposed to say?

Bethany sat on the bench and patted Claire on the back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Claire coughed again several times. “Sorry.”

She patted her chest, feeling the choking sensation subside, and looked over at her friend. Bethany’s eyes were concerned. With a glimmer of surprise, Claire felt her own defenses crumble. She hadn’t even known they were raised.

After a pause, Claire spoke from her heart. “Bethany, let me answer what you said in the only way I know how. God isn’t mean. He’s loving, gracious, and kind and so merciful to us that we can’t even fathom it. Yes, He is Lord—He makes the rules, and we don’t—but He is also a friend. The most faithful friend you’ll ever have. And yes, He’s a judge. He says that the wages of sin is death—eternal separation from Him. But He’s also so merciful that all you have to do is accept what Jesus did for you and you’ll be saved—” She gasped, her mind seizing on a new thought.

“What?” Bethany put her face close to Claire’s. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No, I’ve seen the light.” Claire put her hand to her forehead. “I’ve been a Christian three years now, and I never thought of this before.”

“What?
What?
You’re even making
me
curious!”

“You know how you thought Christianity was so exclusive and intolerant? Well, I just realized … it’s actually the most
inclusive
religion in the world!”

“How’s that?” Bethany’s voice was flat.

“Every other belief system requires you to meet some standard in order to go to
heaven, or achieve nirvana, or whatever their equivalent is. But with Christ—” she leaned toward Bethany, her eyes intent—
“anyone
can go to heaven. Not just the good people! Every other faith is
so
much more exclusive that it
is
actually mean. They say you have to be good to go to heaven, but who knows how good you really have to be? What they’re saying is that you might die and find out, ‘Oh, sorry! You’re only allowed two hundred lies in a lifetime, and you told two hundred and
one
. Too bad.’ ” She jerked her thumb downward.