One of the memorable songs of the 1980s is “Living on a Thin Line“ by the Kinks. Largely unknown, it underwent something of a revival after it was used, of all things, for an episode on The Sopranos.
The song has been interpreted many ways; some think its about the fragility of life and how our best-laid designs can unravel at any moment. Others think it’s a statement against politics and war, especially the Falklands War (which occurred shortly before its release), but that may be too narrow a description. I think it has larger dimensions. Living on a Thin Line is an elegiac ode to a Britain that no longer exists—or perhaps (as cynics might say), never really did exist.Whatever its intended meaning, the song, admittedly very secular, is paradoxically—and perhaps unintentionally—a warning against secularism. Its lyrics are revealing, even haunting:
Living this way, each day is a dream.
What am I, what are we supposed to do?
Living on a thin line,
Tell me now, what are we supposed to do?Now another century nearly gone
What are we gonna leave for the young?
What we couldn’t do, what we wouldn’t do,
It’s a crime, but does it matter?
Does it matter much, does it matter much to you?
Does it ever really matter?
Yes, it really, really matters.
Listening to these lyrics, one can’t help think of the aimlessness of modern society, not just in Britain but throughout Europe (and increasingly, the United States). Many people, especially those who assail the Church, have absolutely no idea how to order their lives, much less improve the lives of others. They are very passionate about pointing out the sins of Churchmen (real and imagined); and explaining why Christianity is supposedly a blight upon the world. But when it comes to answering the great metaphysical questions—Why is there not nothing? Why is there anything at all?—most are left speechless; and the clumsy efforts of a few celebrity agnostics and atheists to eliminate God from the universe on “scientific” grounds hasn’t helped.
If you ask secularists what the meaning of life is, and what they are living for, you’re likely to get a quizzical look, a secular platitude (“to each his own”) or a confused, hesitant response: “We’re not really sure. We’re just kind of going with the flow.” The problem with “going with the flow,” however, is that it isn’t leading anywhere—at least nowhere healthy—spiritually, mentally, or emotionally. Theologian Henri de Lubac dealt with this issue at length in his masterful book, The Drama of Atheist Humanism: “If man takes himself as a god, he can, for a time, cherish the illusion that he has raised and freed himself. But it is a fleeting exaltation! In reality, he has merely abased God, and it isn’t long before he finds that in doing so, he has abased himself.”
Modern, secularized man is in a state spiritual and emotional eclipse; if he is not stricken with what the French call ennui—a boredom and philosophical listlessness—he is often overcome with anger, even paranoia, which is increasing all the time.
Desperate for guidance, desperate for leadership, wanting something more than the world can offer, he doesn’t know where to turn; and so his heart cries out in a whimper, like the song quoted above, “What am I, what are we supposed to do?”
Pope Benedict, like all great Christian leaders, understands that longing and knows that it exists even among rebels. Watching secularists chant “We don’t need God!” brings to mind the brash teenager who says he resents his parents setting a curfew—all the time secretly appreciating that parental guidance and love.
Benedict will be going to Britain to offer that love and guidance. He won’t be aiming to elevate himself, but instead turn peoples thoughts and hearts toward the One who created us and from whom we draw our daily sustenance.
Those looking for answers to life’s greatest questions will be given them for the listening. Benedict’s recent Message for World Youth Day spoke to these ongoing anxieties: “To some extent, this urge to break out of the ordinary is present in every generation. Part of being young is desiring something beyond everyday life and a secure job, a yearning for something really truly greater. Is this simply an empty dream that fades away as we become older? No! Men and women were created for something great, for infinity. Nothing else will ever be enough.”
Read more here.





September 15th, 2010 | 11:13 am
The “meaning of life” to whom?
http://badidea.wordpress.com/2007/09/27/the-meaning-of-meaning-why-theism-cant-make-life-matter/
As C.S. Lewis put it, “You must show that a man is wrong before you start explaining why he is wrong. The modern method is to assume without discussion that he is wrong and then distract his attention from this (the only real issue) by busily explaining how he became so silly.”
I grant that, on this website, the assumption that ‘secularists’ are wrong might be taken as a given… but perhaps one can understand why others might find the analysis here less than convincing.
September 15th, 2010 | 12:11 pm
“As C.S. Lewis put it, ‘You must show that a man is wrong before you start explaining why he is wrong.’”
I quite agree.
That’s why my blog post highlights the thinking of two men–Joseph Ratzinger and Henri de Lubac–who do just that in their writings; and its also why my first post drew attention to Joseph Ratzinger’s superb 1988 Fisher Lecture at Cambridge, in which he quotes Lewis to reveal the “less than convincing” secularism of our time.
September 15th, 2010 | 12:43 pm
Your post makes me think about one of the great unexplained mysteries of the ages. No, not “what is the meaning of life?” I know the answer to that one. Our purpose is — as the book of common prayer says — to serve God and enjoy him forever, and the meaning of our lives is found in fulfilling that purpose.
The great mystery of which I speak is how in the world the word “ennui” came to be pronounced “on-Wee.” Now there’s a conundrum.
September 15th, 2010 | 1:18 pm
William, I have to admit I haven’t read Lubac. But if, as your quote suggests, he thinks that it’s common for an atheist to “[take] himself as a god”, I find it dubious that he has all that solid a grasp on the range of atheist thought.
September 15th, 2010 | 2:07 pm
Ray:
Thank you for your input. De Lubac’s work is a classic, and needs no defense from me; but I believe his book is properly nuanced, and that he saves his strongest criticism only for certain kinds of militant atheists. He realizes that many people shift in and out of belief systems, and addresses that no-mans-land very well.
September 15th, 2010 | 2:36 pm
William – I apologize, but you’ve hit on a pet peeve of mine. Can you more clearly specify who you mean by “militant atheists”? It’s a sadly common double standard that, to be a ‘militant’ believer, you have to actually pick up a gun and kill someone. To be a ‘militant’ atheist, though, all you have to do is write a book. Or sometimes just say, “I’m an atheist.”
September 15th, 2010 | 3:06 pm
Ray-You raise a fair point; but as I give you my answer, I’d also like to know what your definition of a militant atheist is– or if you think there can ever be such a thing?
A militant atheist, in my opinion, is a dogmatic unbeliever who constantly decries religion, and the very concept of God; and won’t be persuaded by any argument for the existence of God, even as he/she insists that they, of course, would be wiling to change their minds, and become believers, if only the right argument came along. From a human perspective, its impossible to convert them.
But with God, all things are possible. (Mathew 19: 26)
September 15th, 2010 | 3:47 pm
In my experience, there are four broad types of atheist. I say “broad” because there is some overlap and some outliers, but the basic categories are:
1. “Pony atheists,” those who are angry at God because they didn’t get a pony when they asked for one. Their arguments boil down to “there is no God, and I hate Him.”
2. People who are really just rebelling against their parents, but haven’t really thought too much about it.
3. People who want to do whatever their groins or bellies want to do, and don’t want some pesky “God” telling them what to do, or worse, what not to do.
4. The real, honest-to-goodness, cold-blooded, rational atheists. These are the folks who can really deploy rational arguments in support of their positions.
Category Four, in my experience, is vanishingly small.
“Militant” atheists may be found in each of these categories, but (again, in my experience) are fewer in Category Four.
September 15th, 2010 | 7:23 pm
William – My definition of “militant atheist” follows the conventional usage of “militant” when applied to other believers – advocating or practicing violence to advance their ideology.
Go over to Google News and do a search on “militant Islamist”, “militant Christian” and then “militant atheist” (include the quotes). For the first two, you’ll find people using rifles, grenades, bombs, knives, etc. To take some examples of “militant Christians”, we have the Army of God (bombing abortion clinics) and the Hutarees (currently facing terrorism charges).
Now look at the Google News results for “militant atheist”. As of this writing, it turns up people like Dawkins, Hitchens, Myers, Grayling – people who make make strongly-worded statements, but who actively, specifically decry violence.
Like I said, a double standard obtains. In practice, the secondary definition of ‘militant’ meaning ‘aggressive’ or ‘passionate’ is very nearly exclusively applied to atheists.
Either people use “militant atheist” as a lazy cliché – in which case they should be better writers (might I suggest a few alternatives like “aggressive”, “intransigent”, “close-minded”, “incorrigible”, “bloody-minded”, “vituperative”?) … or else the word’s used precisely in order to associate nonviolent people with violence, in which case it should be abandoned as a dishonest tactic.
Certainly there are and have been militant atheists – e.g. Stalin and Mao, who specifically targeted religious believers with violence precisely to promote atheism. Lumping Dawkins, Hitchens, and the rest in with them is like lumping, say, Pope Benedict XVI in with Pope Benedict IX.
Say, consider Pope Benedict XVI – a dogmatic believer who constantly decries atheism, and the very concept of disbelief in God; and won’t be persuaded by any argument for the non-existence of God, and who indeed insists that no such argument could be right…
September 16th, 2010 | 12:29 am
The song “Living on a Thin Line” deals with subjects Ray Davies had been writing about for years. The great Kinks concept albums “The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society” and “Arthur” both dealt with the changes and decline of England in the 20th century.
“Arthur” traced the life of an ordinary Englishman who was born at the tail end of Queen Victoria’s reign (when England really did seem to rule the world), and found himself an old man in the Sixties (when England was a small and not terribly important country).
Arthur, like England, found himself wondering, “Didn’t I once have grand dreams? Didn’t I seem to have an unlimited future? Wasn’t I destined for greatness? How did I end up like this- old, tired, weak and worn out?”
September 16th, 2010 | 7:43 am
Gary – I find the number of people who can deploy rational arguments in support of their positions in almost any area to be dismayingly small. However, in my experience that fraction is notably higher among atheists.
Oh, well. The plural of ‘anecdote’ is not ‘data’…
September 16th, 2010 | 8:44 am
Re: Ray Ingles post: Pope Benedict in his earlier writings very clearly accepted the possibility of doubt and proposed two categories – those who believe in spite of the fact that doubt exists and those who doubt or refuse to believe in spite of the fact that it might be true. His life is an exemplary example of constant fidelity to the demands of reason accompanied by true faith which has its source in a spiritual apprehension (grounded in experience) of the truth of God. Is this what you mean by dogmatic?
September 16th, 2010 | 10:17 am
Ars Artium – I was echoing William’s characterization of ‘militant’. I think it fairly applies – and thereby illustrates a problem with his characterization.
Just so I’m clear… are you contending that Pope Benedict would be willing to become an atheist “if only the right argument came along”?
September 16th, 2010 | 11:12 am
…are you contending that Pope Benedict would be willing to become an atheist “if only the right argument came along”?
This is a fascinating question.
As I am sure you are aware, only two arguments against God are usually accorded real weight. These are, of course, the argument from evil and the argument from lack of obvious necessity. Arguments about cause and effect, though some think they are substantial, generally fail because they do not distinguish between essentially and accidentally ordered causation, or they deny essential causation altogether.
Now Benedict surely understands not only the arguments from evil and from lack of obvious necessity, but also the refutations of these arguments.
Why do some find these arguments persuausive, and others do not? Why are some people able to have faith or be faithful, that is, to assign rational trust to God?
There are people who understand rational arguments, professional academic philosophers, who have strong faith. Others do not. There are people like my grandmother, who lack even a grade school education, and are not read up on the scholastic philosophers, and yet have strong faith. Others, similar ignorant and uneducated, do not believe. Why is this? I do not think that belief in God is simply a matter of deploying the right arguments.
September 16th, 2010 | 11:34 am
Response to Ray Ingles: Pope Benedict was referring to the fundamental dilemma of believers and non-believers of good will, that is, neither can offer absolute “proof” to the other. Each can and must rely on a synthesis of reason, intuition, and lived experience, both within and without. This synthesis led Josef Ratzinger to faith across the abyss of doubt, but he did not then lose all respect for the dignity of those who disagree.
On the contrary he is always willing to offer logical explanations for the content of his faith; to explain how he came to hold these beliefs. He welcomes challenges.
Of course this is in the hope that he will be able to offer something of value to his interlocutors, as he hopes, in turn, to receive something from them.
“Dogmatism” is defined as “positiveness in assertion of opinion esp. when unwarranted or arrogant” or “a viewpoint or system of ideas based on insufficiently examined premises”.
The point I hoped to make is that the faith and reason of Pope Benedict has nothing to do with “dogmatism” at least as defined. Perhaps you had another meaning in mind.
Your question about “the right argument” for some reason brings to my mind the quality of a real love that has become part of oneself. How could that love be destroyed? I suppose only if it could be shown to be based on a figment of one’s imagination, to have no reality other than in one’s own mind, that irrefutable evidence could be produced of its falsity.
Perhaps someone else can provide a better response to that question.
September 18th, 2010 | 11:49 am
Gary, Ars – you both seem to more-or-less concede that an argument won’t convince Pope Benedict he’s wrong, though he does claim to be open to reason. Is this not what William was talking about?
(And considering the place that dogma has in the Catholic church, saying the Pope isn’t dogmatic takes a certain amount of chutzpa, no? :) )
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