As usual, Tom has a very interesting post on reaction to church teaching.
In another context, I wrote this this morning:
My passion is for the truth, not for being right--so that even though I run again and again at that brick wall, seeking to knock it down, the reality is that I would rather know the truth than be right. (Obviously to have both at once would be ideal--but as we are dealing "a bear of very little brain," I'll accept that I start off more often wrong that right and acknowledge that I'm willing to conform to the truth when it finally gets through my thick skull. ) All you see are the outward dynamics of trying to force it through my thick skull, and I often worry that I am more aggressive about it that is seemly--but is it really possible to be too aggressive in seeking out the truth?
I wrote over at Tom's that I often rant and rave, kick and scream, fulminate and froth, threaten to leave the Church, cry, wail, howl, and do all sorts of other things when I feel particularly put out. (I live a very histrionic interior life--it's really quite satisfying in a variety of ways.)
But the reality is that in nearly every case that I have taken umbrage at Church teaching, I've been shown time and again just how wrong I am. And when you think about it, that only makes sense. After all the Church has two thousand (and more) years of the collective wisdom of some of the most brilliant people humankind has ever known. By the end of my life (god willing) I will have my threescore-ten, or four or five score. So, let's see, perhaps a million years of humankind's wisdom compared to the less than half-century of one person--what should have the greater weight in my consideration. And it is in this sense that I must respect the tradition of the Church in its teaching--knowing that particulars might change, but that the weight of wisdom and thinking demands attention and, eventually, obedience.
What is true about a matter is far more important that what I think about it. This reality is one of the reasons I need a shepherd in the first place.
