Intolerant, Insensitive and Downright Annoying

Long and painful self-analysis has revealed that I am the embodiment of the title’s characteristics. Nothing can make me change. Counseling won’t help. Neither will a thorough astrological review. Ditto for yoga or aroma therapy. Not even a session chanting mantras in the hot tub. I cannot change, for I am a Christian.

I am intolerant because I refuse to accept the modern definition of tolerance. This new, enlightened definition did not storm the landscape in hard boots. It did not thrust itself on the American culture as a result of a single, polarizing event. It crept, instead, ever so slowly into our national lexicon. It diffused below the radar of conscience. It succeeded in becoming the anchor of our modern morality.

My old college copy of the American Heritage Dictionary states clearly that to tolerate means to “...recognize and respect, as the rights, opinions, or practices of others whether agreeing with them or not.” With respect to another’s particular inclinations or behaviors, the classic definition of tolerance allows me to honor their freedom while still honoring my conscience. I am able to judge actions, not people, from afar and hold those actions up to the scrutiny of my moral code. Both of our free wills are rightly respected. Makes perfect sense.

The revised definition of tolerance, however, removes my ability to disagree with another’s actions. I am now under pressure to recognize, respect and approve all actions of my fellow man, regardless of where such actions reside on the moral continuum. In other words, I must sanction that which is immoral, unlawful, or just plain sinful to avoid severe penalty. What severe penalty? The notorious badge of “intolerant.” It’s the label that ends the discussion, closes the issue and hisses loudly that its recipient is a social leper. For absolute censorship, I expect “judgmental” added on as well.

So there I am - accused, indicted and executed without a trial. The true import of this penalty is that it now taints everything else that I have to say in the future. Its broad scope ensures that I am properly vilified as one who considers himself above all others, looking down with disdain on a vast ocean of sinners. The sentence passed on me ensures that my moral code is bludgeoned out of existence. It’s been deemed old-fashioned, out-of-touch, or completely unenlightened. I am now persona non grata for my temerity in declaring anyone’s behavior to be wrong.

Funny thing is, in labeling me intolerant my culture fails to realize that I am simply honoring the time-honored precepts I have chosen to live by. I am not operating from a set of principles developed on my own. I am not rendering my personal opinion. As a subscriber to a code of life known as Christianity, I have sworn to honor its demands. Going to Mass, fasting and prayer are part of my faith and pose few problems to society. Caring for the poor and dispossessed even garner a degree of respect and approval. Identifying right and wrong actions, however, opens the door to untold woe. I am instantly silenced and shunned for observing these demands of the same code of faith. Could it be that the modern notion of tolerance, unmasked, is simply hard-core intolerance?

On to my insensitivity. Yes, I am utterly insensitive, a regular Attila the Hun. A bona-fide lost cause. Why? Because, like tolerance, the term sensitive has been modified to fit the emerging theology of the now. Due to numerous socio-political contortions, I no longer have any earthly idea what this word means. My faithful dictionary reminds me that to be sensitive means, “...susceptible to the attitudes, feelings or circumstances of others.” No doubt it is important to pay attention to welfare of others. Compassion and understanding are two hallmarks of human nature. Makes perfect sense.

But wait. Since nobody ever wants to be perceived as devoid of such attributes, what better way to obtain sanction for wrongdoing than to declare someone as lacking in them? Modern sensitivity casts a shadow that spans from those truly heartless all the way to those rejecting the latest self-indulgence. Its scope allows every deviancy to be protected by the gospel of feelings. We are now in the position of having to render at least tacit approval of another’s actions or risk alienation. Being labeled insensitive, just like intolerant, results in societal leprosy. Cowering in fear of such a badge of infamy, we sell out our values without a whimper. We are just like the villagers who lived adjacent to the concentration camps. In order to avoid retribution, we support the “atrocities” while pretending we really don’t know what’s going on. We offer our souls to the God of feelings rather than the God of Abraham.

When I point out wrongdoing, when I fail to approve a deviant lifestyle, or when I choose not to accept another’s brand of morality, I am awarded the “insensitive” badge for my vest. Sew it on, for I cannot back off for fear of society’s punishment. I cannot water down or compromise my beliefs. I simply do not have that choice.

Which brings me to being downright annoying. Here I am, plodding through life wearing the badges of my societal sins. Now that my status is known, I present a problem to the enlightened ones. They know for what I stand and have to figure out how to avoid my bothersome beliefs. After all, my faith may awaken long-dormant notions of right and wrong in their own minds. Perhaps my presence will prompt them to walk down the hallways of conscience, chancing upon old friends. Loyal but bothersome friends like virtue, truth and faith.

It’s kind of like inviting your loud Uncle Joe to your Christmas party. Protocol demands you tender an invitation, but you cringe at the thought that he’ll regale your guests with stories from your childhood. Stories that are terribly embarrassing mainly because they’re all true. Having a guy like me around is equally troublesome. Someone might discover that what I profess to be true is actually just that.

Thanks to my Baptism, I bought into the notion that God has standards which he established for a reason. He set the bar at a challenging height. His Commandments, Beatitudes and Gospels are designed to continually fortify my intolerance and insensitivity toward sin. When I don’t live up to his standards, I am compelled to take responsibility for my failures. With utter disdain for my transgressions, I must humbly seek Reconciliation. In turn, God lavishes his mercy and forgiveness. In his goodness, however, God never relieves me of the mandate to live rightly. I am continually reminded to,“...Go and sin no more.”

So, off I go in search of others who still like old-fashioned dictionaries. I look for those whom society deems intolerant, insensitive and annoying for their steadfast refusal to capitulate to the culture. Those who still believe that God’s law is not negotiable. Those who understand that we cannot redefine our vocabulary to serve as a smokescreen for sin.

When a new term or a redefined old term comes along, I must ask the key question: What exactly am I being asked to compromise? I must demand clarity. I must ask the hard questions. I must not let my culture off the hook with feel-good euphemisms. I must not allow myself to be manipulated. Too much is at stake.

I have already navigated the minefields of political correctness, multiculturalism, diversity, alternate lifestyles and inclusion. With every one of these fancy terms, drilling down uncovered the multitude of moral compromises buried in their meaning. None could stand the scrutiny of my trusty dictionary.

I am unashamed of the new badges on my vest. They tell an important story. By all means alert the enlightened members of society. Have them strike my name from all party invitations. Delete me from their Christmas card list. Make sure they don’t include me in any important convention, meeting or event. After all, if I am included people might come over and check out my vest.