Moralism

When I was a kid, I was a sponge for moralism. Whether it was Sunday School, overhearing adult conversations, or watching PSA’s about reading books or abusing drugs, I was all about it. No discussion needed. There is something so intoxicating about knowing you’re right. We all want to believe we’re on the side of the good guys.

But if Game of Thrones has taught me anything, good guys and bad guys don’t exist. Because the “good guys” often have done some shady shit. And the “bad guys” always have redeemable qualities. And it all makes us human. 

When I say moralism, I mean someone not only believing something, but subsequently projecting these personal morals onto others as if their perspectives are justifiably prescriptive. In other words, to believe I’m right requires that I make others wrong. It’s a hard thing to let go of, but I’m working on releasing my childhood instinct for moralism. I’ve been noodling on a new way of seeing things: there is no right, there is no wrong. There is only love and harm. And everything in between is just flavors of ice cream.

What if there is no right or wrong, but only love and harm? I find it hard to admit that there may not be any right or wrong, but practices of self-reflection have revealed the audacity of my ego. And it’s quite clear that my ego has one primary agenda: to be right about itself. 

I like the word “preferences.” Most things I was taught as a kid really are best described as preferences. For example, this college football team is better than that one. Truth? Or an opinion based upon preference? And it goes on. My church’s style of music is better than the one across the street? Apple versus PC? Chipotle versus Chick-Fil-A? Do audiobooks count as reading? Yes, they do. A truth that causes zero harm.

However, it gets stickier when we start applying this principle to issues with wider consequences. Are gay clergy wrong? Which political party is right? Is abortion wrong? In my opinion, the lens of morality is unhelpful. These issues are too nuanced to be put into buckets of right and wrong. While the lens of love and harm doesn’t resolve the issue easily, I find it to be a much more productive thought experiment.

Have you ever experienced someone making you wrong? One time, I was at a party where a somewhat inebriated man learned that I was a pastor but that my views had become far more progressive than his. He was apparently an attorney by trade and was wearing a very nice suit. He then tried to use 1980’s apologetics to back me into a corner so I would admit the truth about Jesus Christ.

It was such a strange experience. He was actually a great debater. Very persuasive. But forget that I already knew his arguments and ironically made similar ones when I was in my 20’s. Forget that I was the actual expert in the conversation based upon my academic studies and experience as a teacher of the Bible. Also, forget that his hot boozy breath was far too close to my face. What made it so uncomfortable was his fierce commitment to making me wrong.

This is the problem with believing our truth is the truth. It urges us to defend our view by making others wrong. Our activated egos don’t know how to do anything else. It’s not that I want to be silent about my views. I have valuable ideas to share that could potentially inspire others or widen their perspective to include more truth. So do you. I love it when people choose to share their experiences. Their authentic voice matters because all human beings have dignity and deserve to take up space. So beware of the hallmarks of making others wrong: accusing, blaming, shaming, defensiveness, and dismissal. It’s folly to believe you can make yourself right by making someone else wrong.

Reflection: How do you feel when someone else tries to make your views wrong?