Alexandria Heinlein

THEO1402.09
25 September 2020

“Even if we may at times have explicitly despaired of ever finding the truth, we have not been
able to eradicate either our desire for it or our implicit appeal to criteria of truth every time we
use the verb ‘to be’” (p. 96)

Haught introduces this topic by stating that the human consciousness is equipped with a

desire for the truth. Although this impulse may not be the most powerful or obvious in the

context of our multiplicity of our wants, our constant practice of asking questions makes its

presence undeniable. Haught refers to this “desire to know” as the most deeply ingrained aspect

of our being. Some people have already given up on the pursuit for truth: by subscribing to the

beliefs truth is relative to subjective preferences and thus can not be found or does not truly exist.

However, Haught demonstrates that this claim that “it is a ​truth​ that there is no truth” is

self-contradictory, because it too is appealing to some higher sense of what is real and correct.

Ultimately, anytime that we raise doubts, make judgements, or describe something

matter-of-factly with conjugations of the verb “to be,” we reveal that we possess a trust in the

intelligibility and truth of reality.

This chapter was my favorite in Haught’s novel because I found great strength in his

argument that the desires for truth and acceptance can coexist only in an environment of

unconditional love. In his investigation, Haught reveals the human tendency to garner the

approval of others via self-deception as more destructive than I had realized: if we are not

truthful about ourselves, we can not begin to develop a valid understanding of external things.

We have all experienced dark periods of suffering or loss that lead us to view the universe and
other people as untrustworthy. In this mindset, it is tempting to attempt to defend ourselves by

renouncing our ties to anything else and repressing our natural desires for love and acceptance.

However, this strategy for fleeing the ​mysterium tremendum et fascinans​ of truth is flawed and

ineffective because we are inherently social creatures and live in intricate interdependence.

Relatedly, I was struck by the beauty of Haught's notion that the purpose of religion is to restore

our capacity for trust in the intelligibility and trustworthiness of the universe. This trust is what

gives us the courage to ask questions and seek truth in the face of the absurdities that confront us.

“It is our fundamental openness to mystery that sets us apart from the animal and grounds the
self-transcendent nature of our lives.” (p. 124)

In this passage, Haught argues that our capacity for mystery makes a truly human life

possible, because it enables us to respond to the status quo with existential anxiety. In other

words, mystery gives us the freedom to break from mere normality in the search for something

of deeper beauty and truth. We often try to hide from the endless unknown by maneuvering

mystery into solvable and thus disposable problems. Unfortunately, this cowardice has the

detriment of artificially diminishing our perception of the world around us and our own dignity

and growth as human beings. Haught goes on to claim that mystery inserts ourselves into our

consciousness through marginal experiences, which can be tragedies, like suffering and death, or

the euphoric feelings that accompany beauty and love. Boundary experiences are important in

that they disrupt our preoccupation with daily “how” questions and prompt us to ask the “why”

questions that expose our vulnerability and coax us toward a religious and morem magnificent

interpretation of the universe.

 As liberal arts students, we are not unfamiliar with the questions that lie at the limits of

all of the fields of human inquiry. Although we are aware that our problem-solving ingenuity can

only go so far, we continue to respond because there is value in allowing mystery to enter our

ordinary consciousness. I agree with Haught that it is necessary, and yet our culture makes it

difficult, for people to let go of the illusionary ideal of total power that represses mystery. All of

the founders of great religions and schools of thought had to endure accusations of madness in

their time in order to lead humankind into more ultimate boundary questions. An example of

such a figure that I was reminded of was the ancient Greek philosopher Diogenes. Diogenes

renounced all of his possessions and regard for social status, and was known to live in a barrel

and hold a lamp to the faces of passersby in daylight, inquiring them of their honesty. Although

his way of life was absurd, he became the most influential and famous figure in Cynicism.