By DONALD DeMARCO
A hostess sent out party invitations to her friends that requested RSVPs. When she received a completely illegible response from a particular doctor, she asked her husband what she should do. Upon his advice, she brought the indecipherable letter to a druggist since members of the pharmaceutical profession are reputed to be experts in decoding bad handwriting.
The druggist studied the letter for a moment, excused himself, and returned after a few minutes with a small package. “Here you are,” said the druggist cheerfully. “That will be $125.50, please.”
For many Catholics these days, it’s not difficult for them to preserve the essence of this comedy of errors while changing the identities of the players. The doctor is replaced by a bishop while a parish priest fills in for the druggist. The distraught woman is the typical confused Catholic layperson.
The point here is that when things are not made clear, we may wind up paying a high price, monetarily or otherwise, for something that we do not want and do not need. When it comes to making our thoughts clear, we cannot be too careful.
In Italian, the word traduttore means “translator,” while the word traditore refers to a “traitor.” The Bible needs translators, not traitors, though the latter have, upon occasion, supplanted the former.
In 1631, a printing of the King James Bible went horribly astray when the verse “Thou shalt not commit adultery” was misprinted as “Thou shalt commit adultery.” For the want of a three-letter negative, an altogether different message was communicated. The printers were fined £300, which was an exceedingly large sum at the time, and most of the copies were recalled and burned. This wayward edition, as the result of a single typo, came to be known as “The Wicked Bible” or “The Sinners’ Bible.”
In the early Church, a bitter controversy arose concerning how to understand the relationships between the members of the Holy Trinity. A single letter, an iota, the smallest letter in the Greek alphabet, divided two groups of theologians.
Some preferred the term homoiousios (homoios = similar + ousia = substance) which means “of similar substance” to describe the distinctions between the three persons of the Blessed Trinity. Athanasius adopted the term homoousios (homo = the same + ousia = substance) meaning “of the same substance,” which survives as the correct teaching and is recited during the Mass in the Nicene Creed. Thus, a contentious matter was clarified.
Put simply, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are not merely similar to each other, but are of the same substance. Therefore, God is One, though at the same time Triune. Clarity can be achieved, but it sometimes requires a protracted struggle.
Church teaching, especially on moral issues, has always been consistently clear. Abortion is wrong, and so are suicide, adultery, slander, and blasphemy. We need to be clear about what is right and what is wrong so that we can dedicate ourselves to doing what is right and avoid the indignity that goes with doing what is wrong.
When we are fuzzy about moral issues, we may choose what we will soon regret. One way in which the Church expresses her charity is by the clarity of her teaching.
G.K. Chesterton was a man who constantly strove to achieve clarity. His determination in this regard was no doubt abetted by the fact that foggy notions were very popular even in his day. He denounced as “mere weak-mindedness” the “modern habit of saying ‘This is my opinion, but I may be wrong’,” and the “modern habit of saying ‘Everyman has a different philosophy; this is my philosophy and it suits me’.”
A person’s commitment to clarity is not mitigated by the fear of offending someone or the fear of appearing to be a know-it-all. It overcomes such fears because clarity of expression is simply more important than such disabling fears. When we are clear, we know where we stand. And in knowing where we stand, we are in a better position to know how we are to live. We may not be clear about everything, but we should strive to be clear whenever we can. Intentional cloudiness is not a virtue.
Abraham Lincoln would undoubtedly have been surprised to learn that some of his speeches came to be honored as great literature. His aim was simply to communicate clearly and convincingly.
And this he did with superlative mastery, as notably exemplified by his Gettysburg Address (“That government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”)
His messages were sufficiently clear that millions of his fellow citizens could make them their own. Moreover, he did not cower in the midst of controversy: “As I would not be a slave, so I would not be a master. This expresses my idea of democracy. Whatever differs from this, to the extent of the difference, is no democracy.” Lincoln made it abundantly clear what he meant by democracy.
We can hide behind ambiguity, like the Oracle at Delphi, or bury ourselves under an avalanche of high-sounding phrases, as academics often do. It takes courage to be clear for it reveals something of ourselves. But clarity is also charity for it provides enlightenment for others.
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(Dr. Donald DeMarco is a senior fellow of Human Life International. He is professor emeritus at St. Jerome’s University in Waterloo, Ontario, an adjunct professor at Holy Apostles College in Cromwell, Conn., and a regular columnist for St. Austin Review. His recent works, How to Remain Sane in a World That Is Going Mad; Poetry That Enters the Mind and Warms the Heart; How to Flourish in a Fallen World, and In Praise of Life are available through Amazon.com.
(His most recent book is Footprints on the Sands of Time: Personal Reflections on Life and Death.
(Some of his recent writings may be found at Human Life International’s Truth and Charity Forum. He is the 2015 Catholic Civil Rights League recipient of the prestigious Exner Award.)
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