Sydney
18 November 2001

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Synod looks for signs of hope

The Charles O’Neill story

Remembrance Mass: precious, joyful

East Timor – helping rural communities

Stop the bombing – Pax Christi call

Miranda Mass pays tribute to priests, teachers

Call for ban on cluster bombs

University, institute, theological college forge stronger links

‘Danger’ in Vietnam Church control

Why volunteer to help the needy? ‘It was something I had to do, to be true to myself’

Editorial: The Church in China

Letters: Matter of habit

Conversation: On the other side of the institute - Anne Henderson, author, wife and mother

Reflection: Truth seeking and truth telling

Bundeena: Sydney’s best kept secret?

Love makes their world go around

Holy Spirit promises a class act

Three rivers and a priest on horseback

Reflection: Truth seeking and truth telling

By Andrew Murray SM

From time to time in the liturgy, we read a passage from the Book of Wisdom (6: 12–16), which goes like this:

“Wisdom is bright, and does not grow dim. By those who love her she is readily seen, and found by those who look for her. Quick to anticipate those who desire her, she makes herself known to them. Watch for her early and you will have no trouble; you will find her sitting at your gates.”

Although the sacred author is doing more than just this, the text always impresses me as a rich image for the life of truthfulness. Truthfulness has two aspects – truth seeking and truth telling – and, although it seems that it is failure in the latter that is more often criticised, in many ways it is perseverance in the former that presents the greater challenge.

What is encouraging about the passage is the assurance that Wisdom is there to be seen. She makes herself available. Still, she is elusive; she sits not in the house but at the gate to which we must go to find her.

Failure in this life of truth seeking is to rest with ‘having the truth’, because this is often illusory. To do so is attractive, because it seems to justify us in sitting still and ‘being right’. On a darker note it appears to give us power over others who risk being called wrong if they fail to accept our assertions and the consequences that flow from them. Yet, even the repetition of time-honoured convictions does not, in itself, assure us of our being truthful. Like a cockatoo, we may simply be repeating sounds that have been made by a trainer.

In religion and in politics, there is a tendency to confuse truthfulness and fealty. By fealty, I mean an obligation to allegiance, particularly as it is demanded by those in power. Where it is felt and particularly in times of stress or crisis, the weight of this obligation can deter people even from telling the truth that they know let alone seeking truths that may be inconvenient. What is thought to matter the most is the cohesion of the group.

Truth seeking calls for care and diligence. Often, when an alarming or tragic event on a scale affecting the whole society bursts into our lives, people rush on to television screens or on to radio to tell us what has happened. Wiser people stand back and say that there is more to be learnt yet. They know that events are complex and that things unravel slowly. They stay with their questions and weigh each new piece of evidence. When somebody speaks they ask what does this mean and what could this person know? Even when it seems that it is all over, they continue gently to wonder what it was all about. These are truth seekers.

Fr Murray teaches philosophy at the Catholic Institute of Sydney.