A duck is a duck but a duck is not a mallard? Reflect on our varied codes of ethics– both those founded in the gut (e.g. sleep test ethics) or those rigorously defined (e.g. utilitarianism). Their common pursuit is the resolution of moral dilemma at the possible expense of forgoing principles that society generally regards as “good” (e.g. to not kill). You advocate mutual love and purport that your steadfast adherence to that code, by definition, renders it morally irrelative. What? That’s not what you said? I apologize. Let me try again. God, with all his omniscience, warrants universal moral truth (i.e. moral irrelativeness) and you believe that mutual love best approximates that truth. Notice that I describe two common interpretations of moral relativism. In classic fashion, Christians often confuse the two.

Reread your original post. In particular, you write: “[sarcastically to emphasize your displeasure with the notion] it is incredibly audacious to tell someone that they shouldn’t murder another person.” You claim that “loving one another” permits contextual consideration. How then do you justify the sarcasm screaming from this statement? In other words, if you define moral relativism as that which opposes the “great command that governs all of ethics,” then why emphasize the absurdity of moral relativism with the oftentimes contextually permissible act of murder?

One more question: Where is the heart of the common Christian wearing the t-shirt bedizened with the common quip “reject moral relativism?” There are two ways to answer this question. The first is to say, “It’s their style of expressing their unwavering devotion to glorifying God and spreading His message of love and yadi yadi yadi.” The second requires a bit more meat and pertains to and expands on the conversation at hand. Can you guess which I prefer?

I’d like to offer a few points in response to your article, and, in particular, your review of moral relativism. To call the Judeo-Christian code of ethics Christianity’s white elephant does not duly articulate its uselessness. Its veneration throughout the Western World, both remarkable and tragic, persists unchecked and without reason. The code employs zero constituents, not for its impossible standards or the flaws of humankind, but for its irrelevance to routine moral dilemma. Let me explain.

Judeo-Christian ethics lives in a box wherein dilemma unfold simply and out of context. You’re in a box, knife in your hand, facing a nameless other. Do you kill or not kill? You don’t kill– wonderful. You’re in a box, a nameless other asks your name. Do you lie or not lie? You don’t lie– two for two; this is great. Now consider a more demanding example.

You’re in a box, knife in the hand of a nameless other. He insists, “Pick a number, one or two.” You pick two. “I’ll slit my throat if you chose two. What did you choose?” You no doubt lie, answering “one” to save his life. Let me make myself clear: you conclude that the relative appropriateness of lying hinges on the details governing the situation. Once again, consider a more demanding example.

You’re in a box, knife in the hand of a nameless other and in yours. He insists, “Kill that child at your side or I’ll kill the child at mine.” You say “no” and his child suffers the slow anguish of maniacal exuberance. And once more. You’re in a box, knife in the hand of a nameless other and in yours. He insists, “Kill that child at your side or I’ll dice the 1 million children at mine, and the one at yours.”

It was horrid, but you killed a child that day and saved a million more. In case you’re scheming, let me establish an additional constraint. As the dead child lay at your side, the nameless man says, “You repent your sin, in your prayers or in your heart, and I will shred these kids apart.” You comply; you live; and later you die. Are you burning for all eternity in the depths of Hell? No. Just as before, you recognize that the relative appropriateness of murder hinges on the details governing the situation. Likewise, you expect that God, with His infinite mercy and benevolence, shares your sentiment.

Granted, the box scenario’s a sham, but it highlights an important and inescapable limitation of Judeo-Christian ethics: such ethics only apply to simple, one-dimensional scenarios, free of controversy and free of moral doubt. When faced with a defining moment– that is, a scenario whose varied solutions each require a wrong and each prevent a right– Judeo-Christian ethics provide no guidance. The reason you assume your salvation following the last example is because you assume God acts pragmatically, that for the case presented He empathizes with your decision to murder or at least recognizes your intention to glorify Him. This, of course, is the definition and application of moral relativism.

Next, reconsider the final moral dilemma. All else constant, this time the nameless man threatens fewer than 1 million children. Perhaps he garners 5000 children, or 42 children, or 3 children, or whatever number of children between 1 and 1 million for sacrifice. How many children must the nameless man assemble to justify your murdering just the one? I expect there exists a range of numbers of children in which you become ethically torn. And your range might differ drastically from others’. This, of course, is the definition and application of moral ambiguity. Even if you redirect your moral quandary to God, you must recognize that in order to provide guidance, God must act pragmatically (that is, in a morally relativistic manner).

While the previous examples were concocted for the sake of argument, I argue that practically all dilemma we humans encounter conform to this form– falling within the gray areas where simple right/wrong Judeo-Christian ethics do not suffice. Moral relativism or ambiguity arises not from evil, corruptness, or a discomfort in “claiming that someone else is wrong,” but, rather, from the complexity and diversity of our societal interactions. Examine the decisions of your life ranging from the most challenging to the most mundane. You’ll find that some degree of pragmatism (that is, moral relativism) was evoked; it is necessary for survival.

I also wanted to mention that it is very important that we stake everything on our claim to truth. Paul says that if Jesus Christ didn’t rise from the dead then Christians are to be the most pitied out of anyone. If I am wrong about Jesus then I am a fool.

These are great thoughts. I am genuinely curious, though, as to whether or not a Christian need engage the truth debate early on when developing a relationship with a non-Christian of postmodern bent. My own feeling is that once people come to know Jesus personally (usually through communal practices with other Christians; especially the reading of Scripture), they come to know the Truth, and all philosophical discussions about truth and pluralism fade away. Just a thought, but I appreciate your thoughtful post.

Kel