Opinions are like noses, they say, everyone has one. One very common nose is that this bit of received wisdom means that we can never really know the truth. Which, of course, is a truth claim, and so contradicts itself. But perhaps one of the reasons that our post-modern culture has a tendency to embrace relativism is because we are coming out of a modernist culture that was over-confident in its capacity for knowledge. Being tired of living in a culture of know-it-alls, we have become the know-nothing culture.
The pseudo-science of psychology was perhaps most given to epistemological hubris. One pop-psychologist claimed to be able to read people’s posture, telling us in the best-selling Body Language that crossed arms are a sign of hostility, folded fingers a sign of perceived superiority. Freud claimed to be able to tell us why some folks chewed pencils, and others were overly fastidious. The sub-conscious mind, we were told, was out there in the open for all of us to read. The underground man is always coming up for air.
The truth is that we don’t always know the truth. Such should not send us scurrying into skepticism, just appropriate humility. We ought not to claim to know more than we do, especially about the motives of others. Such should make us particularly cautious about making judgements about others. That all men are wicked doesn’t mean we should ascribe the basest motives to others. Instead it should give us pause before we trust our own assessment. It also means we should beware of base motives when others are speaking well of us.
Consider Paul’s trial before Felix. The Sanhedrin has hired a mouthpiece, a lawyer named Tertullus to make the case against Paul. First Tertullus sets the stage for Felix, “We have enjoyed a long period of peace under you, and your foresight has brought about reforms in this nation. Everywhere and in every way, most excellent Felix, we acknowledge this with profound gratitude. But in order not to weary you further, I would request that you be kind enough to hear us briefly” (Acts 24: 2-3). Had you been Felix what you should have heard is that you are about to hear from a manipulative lick-spittle with no interest in the truth. What Felix probably heard was a wise man, one of the few to recognize his own beneficent rule. Here both speaker and hearer are caught up in their own deceitful hearts.
Gentle Tertullus then turns his attention to the accused, “We have found this man to be a troublemaker, stirring up riots among the Jews all over the world. He is the ringleader of the Nazarene sect and even tried to desecrate the temple; so we seized him” (verses 5-7). It may very well be that Tertullus believes that he is now speaking the truth. This may in fact be his perception of the events surrounding Paul in Jerusalem.
The distinction, however, between truth and falsehood is not grounded in the sincerity of the believer. Paul is equally sincere in his belief that he is guilty of none of these charges. The wise in our age would affirm that both are right, and that neither is right. Because people sincerely disagree, it is all a matter of perception, and no real truth exists. The wise in our age are fools. Paul went and preached the gospel. He did so with a clean conscience. His goal was that his brothers in the flesh would come to worship the Messiah for which they had been waiting. That preaching pricked the hearts of those who heard, and they in turn caused trouble, and rioted. The truth is that it was neither Paul, nor the truth that caused the trouble. Instead it was the hatred toward the truth that caused the trouble.
Had Paul not been sincere, however, he still would not stand guilty. Were there a battery of court appointed psychologists there at the trial to testify that Paul did have a titanic case of megolomania, (see, look at the way he folds his fingers, and how he signs his name with such big letters), he would still not be the cause of the riots. The only issue for Felix to decide is whether or not the message of Paul was true. If it was true, those who rejected it were to blame. If it were false, then Paul is to blame.
Sins are like the pores in our skin, everybody has a lot of them. One of the reasons that we go out in search of knowledge that we cannot possibly find, one of the reasons we seek to probe our darkest parts, is so that we can use the knowledge we think we have to trump the knowledge that is as plain as the nose on our face. If Felix can get at Paul’s motives, then we don’t have to trouble over the truth claims that he makes. And if he can avoid that, then Felix can avoid the claim of Jesus Christ on his life. We seek what we cannot know so as to hide from what we do know. At the end of the day, Tertullus’ message to Felix is one of praise and peace. And if Paul is right, Felix must repent, admit his sins, and serve another King. And so Paul remains a prisoner.
We would do well to judge better than Felix, to aspire to believe that which is true, because it is true, no matter what it says about us. We would do well if we would heed the wisdom of the true King, who told us that the truth would set us free. We must believe what we know, and leave the rest in the hands of the One who knows us.
