Putting too fine a point on stuff

Oh Sing to me, Brother Crow! (On second thought . . .)

I like birds. Their singing lifts my spirits (except for crows and magpies; both species are in dire need of voice training) and their appearance here in the sub-arctic in Spring is a reawakening of optimism.

      I think we should avoid endangering species of birds wherever possible; likewise, we should preserve habitat for them.

      That’s my considered (a little bit) opinion.

      It’s a broad consciousness, but there are many who have refined the sentimental opinions on the wonder of birds and have sought out the finer points of the joy in—and the preservation of—our feathered friends.

      For instance, An analysis of Midwestern breeding bird population trends: 1966-1993 is the title of a research paper that narrows down the discussion scientifically. Puts a finer point on it. It’s the modus operandi of researchers, career ecologists and post-graduate students searching for thesis topics for their PhD dissertations. You can imagine any number of potential candidates for fine-pointing: The Effects Of Snow Mold On The Breeding Habits Of The Northern Ptarmigan.

      It may sound like I’m denigrating the practices of fine-point research, but I’m not. It’s the accumulation of such research that allows environmental watchdogs to do their jobs effectively.

      But for most of us—the broad-point people—research will obviously remain confined to issues like the neighbour’s cat raiding a robin’s nest in our backyards—and deciding whether or not girdling our trees with tin might be worth the effort.

      It’s a bit different when we think about faith, belief and doctrine in the Christian environment. There, too, we find broad-point and fine-point people. A man returns from church on a Sunday to a wife who stayed home with the ‘flu. “What was the sermon about?” she asks. “It was about sin,” he replies. “Well, what did he say about it?” “He’s pretty much against it.”

      Broad-point people may not feel a need for nuances or details.

      Like science is driven finally to flesh out its understandings with fine-points, church leaders and theologians are not satisfied with the simple “opposing sin.” They need to ponder the definitions, the translations, the contexts, the authors’ intentions, etc. and although their explanations might cause our collective eyes to glaze over, we should probably have the same confidence in them as in scientists, that their fine-point pondering and research will lead to better ways to practice our faith.

      But there are times when we simply put too-fine a point on faith. There are times and places where the adoption of a new life in the light of the gospel has been given a fine-point window. It’s called “being born again.” That event has particular, fine-point characteristics involving an emotional, miraculous, other-worldly awakening in the presence of an evangelist, possibly, with the palpable presence of a spiritual aura. How many spiritual journeys were road-blocked for people who were just too shy, too reticent to enter through that window we’ll never know. I personally know quite a few.

      I also know quite a few for whom such an experience was life-changing . . . in a good way.

      Confessions of faith can be good examples of putting too fine a point on stuff. The attempt to list the beliefs we ought to share is fraught with booby traps, not the least of which is the misconception that such a confession should be understood as prescriptive rather than as descriptive. This misunderstanding arises, seems to me, when people working in closed rooms with fine-point focus publish their work to “the masses” of broad-point Christians. We want the ambiguities and uncertainties to be settled; we grasp too eagerly at confessions as compilations of answers. It shouldn’t come as a surprise.

      Most unfortunately, confessions end up serving as tools for accusing each other, the perception of heresy raising its ugly head once again, even among brothers and sisters of faith.

      I hold to the broad-point “confession of faith” as uttered by Jesus in Matthew 22:36ff:

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

You’d be right, of course, to protest that this is not a faith confession, per se. Reworded as a confession, it might read, “I believe that the witness of Jesus Christ is a true and faithful guide to God’s desire for his creation and my place and part in it. I embrace the vision of an earth and a people redeemed by love and choose to live my life in the light of this vision, so help me God.”

      Anything more runs the danger of putting too fine a point on the matter.

      At least for me.

      Meanwhile, the Canada Geese are back. Yeh!