A Darn Good Day

The seniors I teach are embarking on their research paper this week.  For many of them, it’s “freak out” time.

It’s an enjoyable time for me, though, for most of the students choose interesting topics, many of which I’m quite familiar with.  Today, a surprising number of girls chose abortion, for instance.  All of them except one were arguing for the pro-life position, and the one girl that wasn’t solidly in that camp was leaning that way.  She was pro-choice with pro-life intuitions (most girls that choose the topic argue the pro-life position, I’ve found).  This is all very encouraging to me, if only from an anecdotal standpoint.

I was able to discuss sources with them and point them towards some excellent pro-life papers and books, all written from a scholarly view.  I also pointed them towards what many consider the most famous pro-choice argument ever made: the “violinist” argument of Judith Jarvis Thompson (after I mentioned the paper, one student even found it in a book she checked out!).  I’ve lost count of the times I’ve ran into that paper ever since my college freshman ethics course.
Why would I point them to that source?  I’m not worried: quite a few of the pro-life sources I pointed them towards do an excellent job of answering Jarvis’ argument.  Besides, why should I fear?  When the truth is put next to the lie, truth wins every time.  In my mind, this experience will do nothing but strengthen their ability to argue and dialogue effectively  in the public square.

Then there was another student–one of the many class clowns in this one particular class.  Good kid…makes class interesting.

I asked him what he was doing his paper on.  “Religion and war,” he said.  “I love arguing those topics…I HATE religion!  Religion has caused so much bloodshed over the years.”

Hmmm..Ok.  Well, I’m kinda glad he chose the topic, because I know a thing or two about it.

Without overwhelming him or outright showing my cards, I brought up the fact that he’d need to even-handedly deal with counter-arguments to his thesis (same point I made to the pro-lifers…that’s why I mentioned the Thompson paper) and I pointed him towards “Christianity’s Real Record,” a paper on the whole “religion and bloodshed” deal by Greg Koukl.  Before that, though, I asked him why he hated religion, and he told me about his experience in private school.  Supposedly, a priest told him he was going to hell.  “Why would that matter?” I asked.  “That’s horrible,” he replied, “don’t impose your beliefs on me.” (the judgment was directed towards the priest, not me.)  Supposedly the priest did just that.

This was curious to me.  I mean, I get the fact that many in our modern society are offended at that.  It’s just, well, why is offense a good reason to reject a religion or claim?  If I have cancer, that fact might horrify and offend me, but that’s not the question I’ll be asking.  The real issue is, “do I have cancer?”  In that respect, the bottom line question the student should ask is, “does hell, completely aside from my feelings in the matter, really exist?”

I hope that question really makes him think twice about putting anything like that in his research paper (using his feelings of offense as a litmus test for truth).  Offense isn’t much to stand on when you are writing what is supposed to be a scholarly paper.