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.