Apologetics has a noble history. It also has a potential darkness hidden within.
The darkness lies in the dangers of critical thought and argumentation.
What part of the heart is engaged by critical thought and argumentation? In most cases, it is quite possible that no part of the heart is engaged – the exercise can consist in nothing more than rational argumentation and limbic impulses (anger, fear, envy, etc.). This is to say that the “accuracy” of an apologetic article or video can be equally deadly (and sinful) in its effect.
Fr. Thomas Hopko famously taught, “Don’t try to convince anyone of anything.” (#43 in his 55 Maxims).
Hopko’s maxim is an extreme statement, one intended as a wake-up call (I suspect). As someone who has been accused of quietism, I take comfort in such extreme company. I also know that my heart struggles: many days my inner voices do nothing but argue and complain. They leave a trail of alienation and make prayer ever more difficult.
As years have gone by, the phrase, “Guard your heart,” has come to have increasing importance for me. In the course of any given day, I do not find myself struggling to believe “right things.” I am not tempted by heresies. The great struggle is to maintain the most fundamental meaning of the word, “Orthodoxia,” which is “right worship.” Right worship describes the fullness of the heart’s right disposition towards God. The heart is the true battleground of the spiritual life – it is there that I am tempted to put myself in the place of God and others in the place of objects. Such an image of hell! The self as god ruling over a universe of objects!
The reduction of human beings to mere rationality – as if thinking of things were the sum of a human being – is a terrible error. The Liturgy suggests a much greater vision. Just prior to the great prayer of thanksgiving (the Anaphora), the congregation joins in the recitation or singing of the Nicene Creed. The Deacon calls forth this common action with significant words:
” Let us love one another! That with one mind [ὁμονοίᾳ] we may confess, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the Trinity, one in essence, and undivided.”
The “one mind” is not a reference to mere intellectual agreement, but to a true communionof love in which we speak as one. It is an agreement that can only be had through love. It cannot be coerced nor settled by argument.
There is a holy and divine “weakness” within the reality of love. Love must be freely given. In the most extreme case, we may say that God Himself must wait for our love.
St. John records the post-resurrection conversation between Jesus and Simon Peter. Christ asks him, “Do you love me more than these (the other disciples)?” He uses the word “agape” – love in its fullest and most complete sense. Peter responds, “Yes, Lord. You know that I love you,” but, in answering, he uses the word “philia,” a lesser word meaning, “friendship.” Christ asks the same question a second time, and gets the same answer. The third time, Christ lessens his question and says, “Simon, do you love (philia) me?” The text says that this troubled Peter, who said, “Lord, you know all things, you know that I love (philia) You.”
It strikes me that, in that conversation, Christ never hears from Peter that his agape is returned. Peter is offering an honest answer. He knows that he has failed the test of agape in his denial of Christ on the night of Christ’s betrayal. All he can say is, “You know I am your friend” (I love you with “friend-love”). …
The patience of God extends for a lifetime (and more). It is noteworthy that Peter himself writes this:
“The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.” (2 Peter 3:9 ESV)