“The modern world is not evil; in some ways, the modern world is far too good. It is full of wild and wasted virtues. When a religious scheme is shattered … it is not merely the vices that are let loose. The vices are, indeed, let loose, and they wander and do damage. But the virtues are let loose also; and the virtues wander more wildly, and the virtues do more terrible damage. The modern world is full of the old Christian virtues gone mad. The virtues have gone mad because they have been isolated from each other and are wandering alone. Thus some scientists care for truth; and their truth is pitiless. Thus some humanitarians only care for pity; and their pity (I am sorry to say) is often untruthful.” ~G.K. Chesterton
This is one of my favorite passages written by G.K. Chesterton (from his masterpiece Orthodoxy). He is referring to the secular Western world: a society without a unified system of moral thought like Christianity. I think it applies to those of us within Christendom, too, because it speaks to a tendency buried deep within us all as a consequence of the Fall.
As Christians, we often struggle to strike the right balance between truth and pity (or compassion) in our communications and relationships, whether it be on the broad scale or with individuals. We’ve all used righteousness to crush the life out of someone in a way that would make even a Pharisee blush. We’ve all erred on the side of a kind of pity that denied and distorted reality to the detriment of those that needed to hear the truth and be set free.
Why do we do this? I think at least part of the problem lies in the fact that we are focused on ourselves in each of these situations. Selfish ambition or vain conceit have caused us to consider ourselves more than others.
These unhealthy applications of pity or truth are what we tend towards in our sinfulness. In both cases, we have lost sight of the person in front of us and what they need.
And even when we do our best to check our lesser motives at the door, we can still be wrong. Truth and pity are two unwieldy giants for finite creatures such as us to balance. It’s quite humbling, in fact.
In the end, is it even possible to make truth and pity, justice and mercy, righteousness and peace kiss?
“Those underrate Christianity who say that it discovered mercy; any one might discover mercy. In fact, everyone did. But to discover a plan for being merciful and also severe— that was to anticipate a strange need of human nature. For no one wants to be forgiven for a big sin as if it were a little one.”
Christianity alone balances this awful need for goodness to be upheld with justice and truth, and love displayed with pity and grace. And it balances these seemingly opposing forces without diminishing any of them in the least. It is something Chesterton called the romance of true Orthodoxy. This should come as no surprise, too, for at the center of the Faith is the Cross, the ultimate display of absolute Justice and absolute Mercy. The Cross is a collision and a contradiction, as Chesterton observed.
Our Lord was both merciful and severe during His sojourn on Earth. He spoke of Hell more than any of the New Testament writers, including the fiery Paul, making that Apostle look positively mild in comparison. In his other masterpiece, The Everlasting Man, Chesterton wrote, “the image of Christ in the churches … is almost entirely mild and merciful. It is the image of Christ in the Gospels that is a good many other things as well. The figure in the Gospels does indeed utter in words of almost heartbreaking beauty his pity for our broken hearts. But they are very far from being the only sort of words that he utters.”
We must rely on Jesus to lead us in this crucial act of balancing pity and truth in a way that diminishes neither but speaks best to the unique situations in which we find ourselves.
Oh, give us ears to hear and the courage to be genuinely humble when we fail!