The things we are most certain of mean the least to us. The things that mean the most to us, we are least certain of. The difference is between fact and truth. We are certain of facts, we believe truths. A chemical redox equation can be duplicated anywhere, any time, and the results will be the same. A redox equation is fact. But does it mean anything to us how may electrons switch valences? Of course, the batteries that depend on redox equations power our cars and cell phones, and they matter a great deal to us. But the certainty of the equation itself doesn’t matter much to me. On the other hand, the fact that there are eternal consequences to the way I live now matters a great deal to me. The truth that there is a loving Creator watching over me, leading me, guiding me towards eternally lasting happiness matters a great deal to me. But the existence of God is a belief, not a provable fact. The reality of eternal life is also a belief, not a provable fact.
I grew up in a family that thought only science was truth. Even art was devalued. Math, engineering, chemistry, mechanics–these were the things that mattered. These were the things they called truth. The meaning a person finds in a poem, was not considered truth. In fact, it wasn’t considered at all. In the Turgenev novel I’m reading, the nihilist Bazarov deprecates belief, the arts, and aristocratic values. He believes in nothing. This abandonment of belief thrusts him into science. He thinks that only science is certain.
But there is much truth in poems, like Robert Frost’s The Mending Wall. “Something there is that does not love a wall.” There is a feeling in us that wants connection among fellow humans and doesn’t love walls that come between us. But Frost is an artist, not a scientist. I don’t think it can be proven that there is a human antipathy to walls that come between us. But I agree with Frost. I believe he is correct. The Mending Wall means more to me than the existence of quarks. Quarks can be proved, Frosts truths can’t. Neither can God’s love for humanity, nor the reality of afterlife. But even if the things that matter most to me can’t be proven, my life is more fulfilling when I act upon the truths I believe. I don’t see how science can direct me to a full and fulfilling life, even if the facts it discovers are provable. The things that matter most to humans are not provable; the things that are provable hold least meaning to us.
David Fekete 