When Popularity Challenges Truth

“I have set before you life and death…therefore choose life that both you and your seed shall live” (Deuteronomy 30:19)

On the icon of the First Ecumenical Council we observe the fathers of that seminal assembly large and filling the central frame in an imitation of the apostles on the Pentecost icon. Beneath their feet, huddled in a twisted form, is their turbaned adversary, the infamous Arius, leader of the opposition to the champions of the Nicene Creed’s composers. Arius appears to be more than defeated. It seems he is humbled and begging forgiveness for his wrongheaded heresy. But it was hardly the case. He had been a formidable opponent—tall, distinguished, intelligent, possessing the ability to formulate his philosophy into poetry, even lyrics that his devotees were able to chant to rally listeners to their cause. It was indeed a logical understanding of the way in which the heavenly Father was related to the Son of God. It made sense. If there was only One God, there had to be a time when He was Unique and Alone. Let the Son also be unique, special in all ways from all other beings, but there had to be a moment when the Father possessed divine essence by Himself. Even Islam would be open to that idea.

Of course Arius was more than wrong—his message was perverse. Were it adopted, Christianity would be bereft of the salvation that comes only through Jesus Christ, and that only because He is “of one essence with the Father,” as we all proclaim. It makes for fascinating reading, the frightening history of struggles by Sts. Athanasius, the Cappadocian fathers, and others to overcome the challenge to the truth of faith from the adherents of Arianism. Victors write history; therefore, much of the trauma of that period can be overlooked by a triumphalism that celebrates the conquest of Orthodoxy. Perhaps it would be helpful to appreciate what the fourth century fathers had to overcome if we were to take another long look at what can happen when a culture is lured by a popular charismatic person who is able to sway public opinion from traditional truth.

Recently, the formidable Roman Catholic Church in America was divided over the invitation extended to President Barack Obama to address the graduates of the symbol of that faith, Notre Dame University. President Obama’s stand on abortion is well known, which he defends in direct contradiction to the Church’s commitment to the right to life for the unborn. Despite our doctrinal differences between Orthodox Christianity and Roman Catholicism, we look to them as champion leaders of the causes we share, among them being the anti-abortion movement now made a law, which we both regret and oppose. How has it happened that the very Church rocked by the scandal of pedophilia among clergy only a few years ago had been able to absorb the costs monetarily and morally, and then come together like the ocean absorbing a typhoon, appearing calm once again, yet now torn in conflict over what is taught to be the Church’s unequivocal teaching on life?

The enormous popularity of Obama is only part of the reason. Already, his attractiveness has been modified as the normal presidential honeymoon wanes, and his decisions will be challenged; but his administration has brought a new message that appeals to a culture always hungry for change, regardless of the consequences. Abortion comes wrapped in the baggage of such newness of thinking that claims to be enlightenment. It promises sexuality without responsibility. It insists that the “burden” of pregnancy ought not to be a punishment for irresponsible sexual activity, even promiscuity, and those who aren’t of that mindset are simply not “cool.” For such New Think truth is not found in tradition; it’s an ever-shifting adjustment to a society searching for values that are somewhere in a future.