The comments section: my four and a half year experiment

On June 24, 2009 I enabled the comments section of this blog in order to participate in "Synchroblog Day" on which I and sixty other bloggers addressed the same question on how to bridge the gap in our conversations about faith and sexuality. Until that point I didn't allow comments on this blog. However, I decided to try it since the whole point of the synchroblog experiment was to interact with other bloggers and share readers' reactions. Afterward I kept the comments section enabled to see what would come of it.

These past four and a half years, I've learned that the readers of this blog are far more respectful and restrained than some of the commenters I've read on other blogs. I've gotten to know many of you better from the comments you've left. I've seen encouraging feedback and thoughtful interaction. Some of you have shared prayer requests or put up links to additional material that might be of interest to other readers. I'm grateful for all the good that's come out of that kind of sharing.

All that said and acknowledged, I think it's time to close off the comments section once again. I came to this conclusion because I am also a big reader of blogs and websites, and lately I've noticed that there has been an increasingly negative feeling toward comments sections in general. You read a great article that makes excellent points and you wonder what's not to like. Then along comes the comments section. It's not that there aren't worthwhile comments being made by people who actually read and understood the article. It's that what usually carries the day are the inflammatory remarks on tangential points, and the long thread of debate that results.

The outcome is that a lot of intelligent people are discouraged from posting feedback because they don't want to be attacked by those who just like to be inflammatory. No one likes to "toss their pearls before swine," to use the biblical metaphor. So my suspicion is that many of the people whose feedback would be most worth reading aren't sharing it, at least not publicly.

I've been a long time fan and supporter of Andrew Sullivan's blog The Dish and have benefitted from much of his wisdom about blogging when I first started out. The Dish has never had a comments section, which for one thing makes it more pleasant to read. Instead Andrew will often share excepts of what readers email to him privately, and I've noticed that they are some of the most memorable and insightful contributions I've seen published on any blog. What you write privately to an audience of one individual is more honest and free than what you will say publicly before strangers. In a public forum some of the best stuff necessarily gets held back.

I've jumped on the bandwagon of having a comments section for the past four and a half years, but now I'd like to go back to the way things were.

If there are any posts or links from any of the past comments sections on this blog that you would like to copy and save for yourself, I will keep those available until the end of this month (March). But after that I am closing it all down. Blogger assures me that comments won't be erased but merely hidden on this blog, so if there is something you would like to retrieve after I've already closed down the comments section, email me and I will send you a copy of what you want.

Come April send me your feedback by email. If I want to share what you've written in a post I will ask your permission to do so.

Thanks, everyone.

Prop. 8 ruled unconstitutional

What are you doing here? Go to The Man himself, my good friend Andrew Sullivan, who spearheaded the civil same-sex movement almost single-handedly a couple of decades ago. He'll tell you all you need to know at The Daily Dish.

To get you started, you'll find the ruling here.

A list of facts found by Judge Walker is here.

Sam Harris and Andrew Sullivan debate

The debate these past two weeks between atheist Sam Harris and Catholic Andrew Sullivan on Beliefnet has been heating up lately. Excerpts from their most recent exchange:

Harris:

You seem to have taken particular offense at my imputing self-deception and/or dishonesty to the faithful. I make no apologies for this. One of the greatest problems with religion is that it is built, to a remarkable degree, upon lies. Mommy claims to know that Granny went straight to heaven after she died. But Mommy doesn't actually know this. The truth is that, while Mommy may be rigorously honest on any other subject, in this instance she doesn't want to distinguish between what she really knows (i.e. what she has good reasons to believe) and 1) what she wants to be true, or 2) what will keep her children from grieving too much in Granny's absence. She is lying--either to herself or to her children--but we've all agreed not to talk about it. Rather than teach our children to grieve, we teach them to lie to themselves . . .

Sullivan:

I believe I can offer an adequate response. It may not be adequate to you; but it is adequate to me, and to many, many others - in fact, to the vast majority of human beings who have ever lived. My response rests on an understanding of truth that is not exhausted by empiricism or materialism. I do not believe, in short, that all truth rests on scientific premises and can be 'proven' by empirical or scientific methods. I believe science is one, important, valuable and respectable mode of thinking about the whole. But there are truth questions it has not answered and cannot answer . . .

One thing I appreciate about atheists is how they force you to consider whether your faith is as silly as they make it seem, or whether it is based upon something more than just a fairy tale fancy. It is one thing to go out and do "apologetics" for the purpose of evangelism, sounding smart, or just saving face. It's another thing to ask, "Why do I believe?" privately and honestly within your own heart and mind.

Someday I will be lying on my death bed facing the great unknown beyond, if there is a great beyond. In that moment I will be alone with my faith, and none of the people I've wrapped my life around, whether family, friends or church, can help me through it. None of the things I've done to try to impress people with my knowledge or deeds or great Christian witness will count for anything once the finality of death draws near. The thought of death is a reality check for a Christian. And so are the criticisms of atheists who think that I've entrusted my soul (except that they don't believe in souls) to something akin to the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

I'm still trying to get caught up in reading the entire debate. If you want to read the whole thing, you can start from the beginning here.

Update: The morning I posted this I wrote to Andrew Sullivan and shared similar thoughts with him. On 1/27 he posted my email on his blog here.

Thanks, Andrew

After six years of exchanging emails with Andrew Sullivan through his blog, we finally got a chance to meet this past Friday night while he was in L.A. for an appearance on Real Time with Bill Maher. I'm still recovering from the blur of activity, starting out with the car ride to CBS studios (apparently that's where they broadcast the show) and winding up at the pool deck of the Mondrian Hotel talking until 2 a.m. It's been a long time since I've stayed up that late actually having fun (as opposed to getting up to feed the baby).

What I've always appreciated about Andrew is that he has faith in other people. He aims to reach the few conservatives who might listen to him amidst a sea of those who might not. Reading Virtually Normal (subtitled, "An Argument About Homosexuality") back in 2000 changed my life. Part of the reason I had to take his arguments about homosexuality seriously was because I saw that he was taking me seriously, someone with a conservative Christian outlook on politics and life. Religious conservatives are not used to having their values and concerns taken seriously by those who disagree with them. After I got hooked in by the novelty of the experience, it wasn't long before I was convinced by his arguments, except that conservative Christians aren't supposed to be convinced by arguments in favor of legalizing gay civil marriage. Too late, it was already a done deal.

What followed was six years of musings, the creation of a website, and now this blog. In other words, all the trouble I've gotten myself into ever since is all Andrew's fault. Seriously, it's been a wonderful journey and a tremendous blessing, and I wouldn't change a thing about it. Thanks, Andrew!