The Veritas Conflict (42 page)

Claire smiled and was about to ask a question when Ian held up a warning hand.

“Keep in mind that I’m describing people’s beliefs as if they were a nice neat package that you can understand if you work hard enough. In actuality, a lot of people themselves don’t really understand what they believe. Its often a confusing mix of beliefs picked up here and there that may not even make sense together, and they often don’t want to bother thinking about it. I’ve seen the same thing with Christians, actually. The key is whether or not the person is truly open to the discussion and willing to examine himself and his beliefs honestly.”

“That makes sense. So is there a number three?”

“Yep. And a number four.” Ian drained his glass and set it back down. He looked at the clock on the wall. “And then you have to go or you’re going to be late. The third thing I try to do in these debates is to put myself in their shoes so that I can start to love and talk with them where they are, as Jesus would, and so that they understand me better. That goes for a student
or
a professor. You need to speak their language and use their lingo, which will help them hear you. For example, if they’re ridiculing you, nicely object in principle to their ‘bigotry’ or their ‘intolerance,’ and point out that they would never make fun of a black student or a gay person.” He grinned. “You might actually see the lightbulb go on over their head. And since phraseology like
people of color
is so popular, call yourself a
person of faith
.

“You also need to make that distinction, quite frankly, since so many people nowadays associate the word
Christian
only with politics or rigid rules or the religious culture of our country, rather than with heartfelt belief in Christ. And keep in mind—maybe even jot down—the main points that you want to say, or you may get your brain scrambled in the midst of their counterresponse.”

“That’s good. What’s the last one?” Claire looked at the clock and started to gather her things.

“Claire …”

She paused and looked up. His face was serious.

“Number four is … have the courage to speak the truth in love. It takes guts, Claire. Guts to publicly defend an unpopular position, especially when you’re defending yourself to a professor. But ‘always be prepared to give an answer for the hope that is within you.’ And when you speak for the Truth,
pray
for those you’re talking with and trust the Holy Spirit to give you the words to say. But always, always speak in love. If they’re abusive—and trust me, Claire, they sometimes will be—respond with the grace that Christ showed, and you will be blameless before God and man.”

“Ian, I just don’t know if I—” She heard a gentle chuckle and broke off, looking back at his face.

“Claire, I don’t know you very well, but I think you’ll do just fine. Its important to know how to defend what you believe. But in the end, arguments and words rarely change
someone’s mind. What changes minds is the building of relationships. Let them be intrigued and drawn by your winsome manner. By the beauty of a quiet and gentle spirit.”

He nodded briefly in parting, and was gone.

Claire stood staring after him then shouldered her backpack, breathing a silent prayer. She
was
going to learn how to deal with this class.

She was about ten steps along before she realized her thoughts weren’t on the class. She shook her head firmly. And she was
not
going to fall for her TA.

“So Paul Kurtz, the author of the
Humanist Manifesto II
, contends that one does not need God-given moral absolutes to champion basic moral virtues such as ‘fairness, kindness, beneficence, justice, and tolerance.’ ”

Professor Kwong was walking around the classroom, looking intently at his students. “Of course, other humanists question why these should be considered virtuous without a deity to provide a standard of virtue. But Hall and Tarkunde get around the religion problem by positing that we animals developed the idea of morality during the evolutionary survival-of-the-fittest process, since morality is important for a properly functioning and therefore stronger society. They argue that religion is not necessary for ethical standards.” He gestured toward the back row. “Niles?”

Niles was sitting alone in a section of chairs, his face tight. “I would argue that not only is it not necessary, but its usually the religious people anyway who are
against
virtues like fairness and tolerance. They just want people to live by their rules, whether or not they’re beneficial for
them.”

Claire shook her head, sighing at the spite in his voice. How was there any basis for morality
without
God?

A girl in the front row raised her hand, then turned and looked at Niles in irritation. “Come off it, Niles! You’re just as bad as the right-wingers; everything is so black and white with you.” She looked back at the professor. “Look, its obvious to me that the humanists are way extreme in their philosophy. But I’m glad, at least, that they brought up this issue of morality. Its always bugged me that religious people think they’re the only ones who are ethical or moral. Are you saying I’m not a moral person just because I don’t happen to believe in God?”

Claire cast an uncomfortable look in the speaker’s direction. That
was
actually the logical conclusion of her own earlier thought—even if it was subconscious. But there were plenty of secular people who were good and moral. She sighed again, wishing this whole thing could be a little more simple.

“See, but that’s exactly what I mean,” Niles said. “There are many ways to live ethically. That magazine article you put in our packet from that atheist author just ripped
the carpet out from under the religious right on this.”

Kwong walked to the podium and set his reading glasses on his nose. “For the religious right to contend that they are for love and peace—when they oppress the gay community and judgmentally make my daughter feel guilty for wanting to move in with her boyfriend—is the height of hypocrisy. When will they learn that all people are precious and worthy of fulfillment and self-actualization, wherever that self-actualization is found?’ ” He looked over the top of the glasses at Niles. “Is that the article you’re referring to?”

“Yes.”

When no one else jumped in, Brad slowly raised his hand. Claire watched several students share derisive looks toward her friend.
God, I can’t handle that!
Would anyone ever like her if she were as bold as Brad?

Brad turned and addressed Niles. “Obviously, I disagree with that author—”

“No, really?” Niles’s tone was scathing.

“First, as an aside, I understand what she thinks about the religious community, but unfortunately she is misinformed.”

“Is that so?”

What’s his problem?
It gave Claire some minor satisfaction that several other students also glanced at Niles in annoyance.

“Unfortunately, there are some so-called religious people who are terribly judgmental,” Brad said, “and some who seem to delight in rules and regulations. But that is counter to how Jesus said we were to act. Its one thing for a person of faith to stand up for the truth, but quite another for that person to do God’s job. If someone needs to change, only God can really convince them of that. Its hard as a Christian to see anyone be judgmental and hateful in the name of a compassionate and loving God. Most true believers aren’t perfect, but they are loving and kind, people who try to befriend the hurting and oppressed just like Jesus did. But even when they aren’t loving, you have to remember that they are just fallible people, not God.

“But that wasn’t my primary point.” Brad looked back at Professor Kwong. “What I was going to say is that the author contradicts herself. She says she’s an atheist and mocks Judeo-Christian religious beliefs, but later in the article says that people are precious. But how is that possible? If we’re all just the product of random chance rather than of a loving Creator, then we’re a bunch of cosmic trash. And if we’re just a bunch of cosmic trash, then how can she say we’re precious? It doesn’t make sense.”

Claire sat up straighter in her seat.
just like Ian said…!
She uncapped her pen and began scribbling notes in the margins of her notebook.

Two women in the row in front of her began murmuring to each other. One of them raised her hand.

“But Brad, you have to admit that religion does come with strict rules, and religion does often make people feel guilty and trapped. I’d prefer to think of myself as precious—even if its just in my own mind—and pursue what makes sense for me. Shouldn’t I be able to pursue whatever actions will be valuable for my self-actualization, even if they don’t conform to the religious rules of the day?”

“Well, Bethany,” Brad said, “I guess my thought is—it may feel good to tell yourself you’re precious rather than cosmic trash. But if in truth wer’e really not precious and beloved creations of God, and if I’m not subject to anything other than what self-actualizes me, then maybe it makes me feel good to oppress you. It
self-actualizes
me to oppress you.

“If I’m a soldier in Nazi Germany and get self-fulfillment and esteem from causing the death of a Jewish victim, who’s to say I’m wrong? Not society—it was deemed to be good for society at the time. Not outside observers—for if all those Jewish people really are just cosmic trash in the process of evolution, then there’s nothing inherently precious about the human lives being lost. And since humanists say morality is only a social construct created by men during the process of evolution, in the grand scheme of thing’s the Jewish killings are ultimately only a matter of whether or not the Nazi society would be strengthened or weakened by them.”

Claire looked from the perplexity on Bethany’s face to the straightforward appeal on Brad’s. She looked down at the notes traveling along the margins of her notebook.
So that’s how that works
.

Niles slammed out of class, furious. He couldn’t believe that Kwong had allowed the class to deteriorate like that. Kwong never had come back to him, although he’d raised his hand several times.

His mind churned as he headed to pick up his mail, his thoughts black. No one really appreciated him or recognized the critical importance of what he had so thoroughly thought out.

The mailbox area was crowded, and he waited impatiently to get to the latest batch of useless activity flyers, administrative announcements, and…

Ah
. He smiled as he pulled the small stack from his box. A now-familiar-looking cream-colored envelope was on top. He slit it open. At least somebody appreciated him. The note, as usual, started without preamble.

Niles, we continue to be impressed with the effectiveness of your column in the student paper. Yesterday we saw a number of students gathered around one of the posters announcing your protest rally. They seemed highly appreciative and interested in joining the effort. Keep it up! You are doing a good work, one we only wish we had time to do. The campus owes you a great debt.

The letter was signed,
Your fans
.

He straightened in satisfaction. Just the boost he needed. He only wished they’d sign these notes so he could get in touch with them.

FORTY

T
HREE MINOR SENTRIES LOLLED AROUND
the faculty conference room, one atop the great portrait that looked down the length of the polished table, another drumming on the door with his fingertips. Yet another sat in one of the leather swivel chairs, enjoying the ride as he twisted it this way and that.

None of the vile sons of Adam were around to see the chair bouncing and turning, seemingly of its own accord, so they might as well have some fun. Of course, it was also fun scaring the wits out of an impressionable human every now and then with a well-placed manifestation.

His mind played over the memory of a recent haunting he’d done at a house in Boston—the barest hint to the terrified residents that a murder victim had returned. He laughed at the thought. His colleagues had arranged the murder all right, and he had
so
enjoyed replaying the event in artful creaks and distant, otherworldly screams. Many years ago he tried to merely create fear, but these days their orders had expanded to include anything that drew attention to the paranormal—ghost tours, séances, channeling. That was fine with them; they—and their master—reveled in the adulation. It made them strong. And even better, it made their adversaries suffer.

He twirled the chair again. He liked ghost duty and was eager to get back to it. This guard stuff was boring, especially when territory was so firmly held, so uncontested by those weakling forces of the Enemy.

“EN GUARDE!”
The spirit jumped to the ceiling at the loud voice not two feet behind his head. He whirled and came face-to-face with a warrior of high rank, his garments shining, his skin and hair glowing like burnished bronze. He held a sword in one hand and a writhing demon—one of the complacent sentries—in the other.

The startled spirits eyes flew to the doorway, where a dozen young men and women—
Christians!-
—were entering the room. Closely following them were two ranks of Enemy warriors. The third sentry was casually pinned by another pair of giant hands.

He pulled his sword, yelling a battle cry of blasphemy against their King. The bronze giant blocked his blow, ripped a hole in space, and flung him and his comrades through it. “Go to your chosen fate!”