Formal Fallacies and the Erosion of Our Witness

It showed up again on my social media feed again today. It actually makes a regular appearance and I keep thinking – “why do we do this kind of stuff?”

Here’s the most recent version – all dressed up in Facebook graphics. “Why would someone be upset about deporting children . . . but not upset about aborting them?” I think this fits the definition of a formal fallacy that I found on a reasonably academic, but not too dense, website: “Comparing one thing to another that is really not related, in order to make one thing look more or less desirable than it really is.”

Really – do I have to make a choice between being upset about deporting children or being upset about aborting children? What if I turn that statement around? “Why would someone be upset about aborting children . . . but not upset about deporting them?” I almost guarantee that if I were to put that statement on my social media, I would be covered up with responses declaring concern for both. But logically, the second version seems as “reasonable” as the first version.

The problem is, neither version is fair – they are both fallacies. Any given person can be upset or not upset about both sides of the fallacy. But it is so alluring to sound like “I’ve got you” with the fallacy of assuming that if deporting children upsets me, I don’t care about abortion.

To be honest – I’m upset by both! The fact that we separate children from their parents, even if illegally present in the United States, is deeply troubling. Even in the densest expressions of the Law of Moses, we read frequent reminders about caring about “sojourners.”  And when it comes to how a follower of Jesus deals with “the law of the land,” I’m pretty sure Peter made that plain in Acts when he said that to obey God will always trump obeying man!

While it is probably a bit more complicated a subject than some would say, I find abortion upsetting as well. The Bible tells a story of life over which God is sovereign – and our casual ignoring of that culture of life for the convenience of abortion is deeply troubling. However, if that is where I am theologically, then I have to own up to some responsibility to provide needed care for “the inconvenient births” I insist must happen. What if I make the formal fallacy something like this: “Why would someone be upset about aborting babies . . . but not upset about the fact they may grow up without basic necessities?”

Even more confusing – and fallacious in its logic – is that some of the most anti-abortion people I know are also the most pro-capital punishment people I know. Can I object to violating God’s sovereignty over life when it comes to abortion, but assume privilege when it comes to capital punishment? What if I make the formal fallacy this: “Why would someone be upset about abortion . . . but not upset about capital punishment?” 

A number of years ago, in the same class during the same semester I had a student who was vehemently anti-abortion, insisting that Christians should go to abortion clinics, with poster-sized pictures of aborted fetuses. But at the same time, he insisted that the state of Georgia should not pardon a woman on death row who had hired someone to murder her husband, and was given the death sentence, even though she had become a deeply committed believer who was described by the prison chaplain as an incredible resource for ministry in that prison. Is it less sinful to kill a repentant sinner because "the law of the land says so" than it is to abort a yet unborn baby?

So if you’re still reading . . . let me be clear. I’m upset about both issues: abortion and deporting children. But equally upsetting to me is that we play these little nonsense games with false comparisons that gives anyone with a brain an excuse to think, “Followers of Jesus don’t make a lot of sense!”

Please don’t make assumptions that I have to be one or the other! When we do that, we erode our witness to the world that desperately needs to hear about Jesus.

Spotlight Theology

It was the second time (the first can be seen in Mark 8:31ff) Jesus has broached the troubling reality of what will happen once He arrives in Jerusalem. Since the first time, Jesus has taken Peter, James, and John up on the Mount of Transfiguration as we know it and, once down from the mountain, expressed frustration at the failure of His disciples to cast out a demon.

All of that sets up the second troubling conversation, when Jesus says, “The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill him. . . .” (Mark 9:30-32) Mark notes that not only did the disciples – the twelve – not understand this, they were afraid to ask Him anything about it.

But they weren’t afraid to get into an argument among themselves about “who was the greatest.”  Jesus tends to associate greatness with service, but I’m pretty confident that wasn’t what was on their minds. It could be that this conversation is what prompted the requests of James and John (10:35ff) about getting reservations for the most important seats in the kingdom. 

When Jesus inquires about what appears to be a bit of a verbal sparing event, they keep silent. Why would they do that? Maybe they realize how odd it would be to tell the Son of Man who has, for the second time, just told you about what would happen in Jerusalem that your real interest was in making sure the kingdom of God’s spotlight was perfectly aligned to shine on you!

Ever ready to zero in on our nonsense with great dramatic effect, Jesus says something like “actually, to be first, you have to be willing to be last and to serve.” When’s the last time you saw a spotlight shining on “the last” or those who “serve?” I wish I had a video showing the facial responses on the faces of the twelve when Jesus took a little child into His lap and said, “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.” (9:27, ESV)

Most people reading this are probably like I am when it comes to children. I will stop what I’m doing just to interact with a little child. Some of my colleagues bring their children by my office sometimes – forget whatever I’m doing, they have my attention. I have lots of what I call “surrogate grand kids,” many of whom call me “Sam,” – the name I’ve decided my own grandchildren will call me one day. They are these innocent little angels in flesh and blood. I understand why Jesus would say this!

 But that’s our world, not their world. In their world, children had no social or legal status. In significant ways they were often viewed as burdens until they were old and strong enough to work. In some parts of the world of the first century, not so much the Jewish world, if a child was not perfect at birth, or perhaps a female when there were already girls in the family, they could be left out for exposure. 

It is in a world that sees children as “nowhere near the spotlight” Jesus says that receiving that little child, not having the power and status of “who is the greatest” is the way to receive him. And remember, it is in “receiving him,” that “we receive the one who sent him.”

One of the common qualities of much of the church and much of the state these days is that both pastors and politicians will do anything and everything to get the spotlight shining their way. That’s the surest path to power and status. You won’t need to do a whole lot of research to discover that for pastors and politicians alike, that can be a dangerous approach to life. 

Oddly, as the most powerful human to ever walk the planet, Jesus never seems interested in either power or the spotlight. In His post-resurrection days on earth, He declared “all power is given to me in heaven and on earth.” (Matthew 28:18ff)  

That has to mean our questions about the spotlight ought to be something like “If Jesus didn’t want the spotlight, should I?” and “If all power is His, how can I dream of amassing power over others?”

Spotlight theology is a pretty good cultural idea. But if the Jesus story is of interest and importance to you, it needs to be left behind!