"Henry Poole is Here" and Religious Devotion

Julie and I watched "Henry Poole is Here" last night. It wasn't particularly good, despite one or two moving scenes and a few funny lines from Luke Wilson. But one scene in particular interested me, and I'd like to discuss it here.

Henry Poole, having only a few weeks to live, moves back into his childhood neighborhood - intending to spend his last days in the one place he remembers being truly happy. The plot takes an odd twist when Esperanza, a devoutly Catholic neighbor, claims to see the face of Jesus in a water stain on Henry's wall. Although irritated by her intrusion into his final weeks, he feels some sympathy for the past pain she has experienced and indulges her delusion. When the stain on the wall begins bleeding and, unbelievably (for Henry), healing neighbors' afflictions, Henry is forced into a decision. He can either continue to dismiss the stain as a delusion or decide to believe in something that contradicts all his rationality. Given his terminal condition, this choice may have very real consequences for Henry.

I'll not spoil the ending, because what really interests me is an exchange between Henry and his Catholic neighbor. It goes something like this (very loosely paraphrased from memory):

Esperanza: "Mr. Poole, why won't you just believe?"

Henry: "Why is it so important to you that I believe? What do you care? You need me to believe so you'll feel a little less crazy. Because if you can convince others to join in your crazy little delusion then it won't seems so crazy anymore, and you could quiet that voice in your head that tells you you're wrong. You could keep silencing your own doubt."

My first response to this exchange was self-examination. Do I seek validation of my beliefs from others in order to ease my own misgivings? Has the goal of my evangelism been to insulate myself from doubt, rather than to help others find Truth? Honestly, I think not. After much reflection, I can say with certainty that my efforts to evangelize have been motivated by a desire to improve the lives of others. But rather than relying on anecdotal evidence to refute Henry's accusation, I'd like to address the charge more systematically.

I'm sure to an atheist or a moral relativist Henry's explanation for the christian compulsion to evangelize seems credible. But for a person of genuine faith it is nonsense. I choose that word carefully, because Henry's assumption, never mind its truth or falsity, doesn't even make sense when applied to religious faith - at least to anyone examining it honestly. Let me explain.

To have faith in God is to acknowledge that there exists in reality a fundamental Truth that is entirely independent of our perception. While it can be perceived, its existence is not derived from observation. It is there, even if we cannot detect it or refuse to acknowledge it. While this might sound far too mystical for the modern, scientific mind, it is nonetheless perfectly rational. In fact, the "scientific mind" that rejects the reality of unobservable truth cannot be regarded as truly scientific in any meaningful way, for scientific endeavor requires extrapolation beyond present observation and all such extrapolation is necessarily faith-based.

[Aside: If the concept of knowable truth detached from observation sounds far-fetched to you, it may be useful to consider the idea in a non-religious context. Consider: Do the lives of others continue when you are not around? When you hang up the phone with your friend, does he or she cease to be simply because you do not perceive him at that moment? Does he fall into a temporary oblivion? You may say no, because you will see him again in the future, or because someone else is perceiving him now, or even that he is perceiving himself. But all of this is purely anecdotal - it can provide no objective assurance to you. You cannot get inside his head or see through his eyes. The fact is, no matter how obvious your friend's continued existence outside of your interaction with him may be, you cannot assert the truth of it without crossing from science into metaphysics. Into faith. And yet, we do act as though the lives of others have inherent value apart from their immediate utility to us. This is because each of us, at the most basic level of our humanity, believes that what is true for one of us is true for all. Since you exist apart from others' perception of you, you feel certain that your friends, family, and neighbors are the same. That conclusion is perfectly rational but completely unscientific. You can be certain of it, but you can never prove it.]

So what does this have to do with Henry Poole's claim that religious evangelism is nothing more than an attempt to ease our own doubts and insecurities? When confronted with the reality of transcendent, objective Truth, it falls apart. Henry's argument is built to persuade relativists. It makes sense only if you have already accepted its fundamental premise - that there is no truth apart from what people can be persuaded to believe - the more people that can be convinced of something, the truer it becomes. But this idea is anathema to genuine religious devotion. Since the existence or nonexistence of God is a matter of transcendent Truth - a question of reality, rather than perception - consensus cannot possibly be relevant to the question.

So while popular culture enjoys portraying the religious as sheep - irrational and delusional followers lacking the courage to stand apart from the herd - it is actually the non-believer who is more likely to take comfort in consensus. To a relativist mind consensus is everything - it defines truth itself. But to the religious mind, consensus may be useful or informative but it is ultimately irrelevant. To believe in God is to believe that even if you yourself were to stop believing in God, He would still exist. If I believe that something is true whether I believe it or not, is that conviction likely to be influenced by the beliefs of others?

The point is...evangelism is an attempt to bring others out of the isolation and self-destruction that plagues humanity and into the contentment that accompanies genuine communion with God and man. If you've conviced yourself, like Henry, that evangelism is essentially a selfish act, aimed at silencing the evangelist's own nagging doubts and fears, you are not seeing it with honest eyes. I encourage you to take another look.