One of the most persuasive stories told by inclusivists is an old parable about five blind men and an elephant. Five blind men approach an elephant.
One touches the massive side of the elephant and exclaims, “An elephant is like a wall!”
The second touches the elephant's tusk, and feeling it says, “An elephant is like a spear!”
The third grabs hold of the elephant's trunk and exclaims, “An elephant is like a python!”
The fourth grabs the elephant’s leg and declares, “An elephant is like a tree!”
The fifth grabs hold of the elephant’s tail and states, “An elephant is like a rope!”[i]
The point, of course, is that none of us have the perspective to know the entirety of who God is and to declare otherwise is to be as narrow-minded and foolish as a blind man holding one part of the elephant.
Is this true? Are all religions holding onto a different part of ultimate truth? Are all paths leading up the same mountain? Do all spokes end at the same hub? In the previous post we began considering inclusivism.
There is a desire for humility in this inclusivist position that is very appealing. It is good not to claim to know more than we know. I appreciate the inclusivist’s desire for respect and civility.
Let’s dig into the blind men and the elephant analogy a little deeper. The question we could ask the one sharing the story about the elephant is that it requires one with sight standing away from the elephant. For the inclusivist, the implicit claim is that they are the only ones able to see the elephant.
In other words, as we deduced last week, the claim that the blind men are holding parts of the elephant and not the whole is an exclusive claim. It might be the correct claim, but just making the claim itself does not make it true.
Let’s transition to the Christian response to the claim of unfairness against its exclusive claims. To do so, let’s consider two different parables.
A few years ago Angel and I took a trip to Mexico. To save against getting charged international fees, right before the border we plugged in the address of our destination and then turned our phones onto airplane mode, allowing the GPS to guide us to our destination. As soon as we crossed the border, we were supposed to merge right onto a highway. We crossed the border and prepared to exit, but a police car was blocking the entrance.
And so, there we were, without cell service and a Google map to try to navigate the way to our destination. The highway seemed to fork every thousand feet with another highway or road jutting off one after the other. We pulled over to the side of the street and tried to get our bearings as best as possible and find our way to our destination.
Was it fair that all those roads didn’t lead to our destination? Fair or not, it wasn’t reasonable for us to think that all the roads would naturally lead to the proper destination. It would have been downright foolish. We got our bearings and wound through the side streets toward the direction of our destination. At one point I almost drove the wrong direction onto the exit ramp. A kind Mexican national waved me down and had me turn around before disaster ensued. Eventually, our circuitous path led us to our destination. Hallelujah!
This is the claim of Christianity: there is a distinct destination that God is calling us to. That destination is himself. In his mercy, God has given us a particular path to get to that destination. He hasn’t left us alone: he has given us a map to get to that destination. We can either follow or reject that map, but the destination will not change just because we don’t like the map.
Let me offer a second parable: imagine the entire earth has been infected with a massive pandemic that dwarfs COVID-19. Every human being is infected and will die. All of the world’s best minds are desperately searching for a cure. And then, one day, as humanity inches near death, the National Institute of Health announces that they have found a cure. They will distribute free pills to every person across the globe. Would you complain that just that one pill would save you? Would you think it unjust that your morning vitamin pill or a Sudafed or an aspirin wouldn’t also save you? Or would you be so thankful that a cure was offered?
The inclusivist believes that the God of the Bible is unfair in offering one particular solution for our problem. But is God unjust in offering only one solution to a problem we created? Or is he merciful? And unlike the National Institute of Health, God’s cost for the cure was his death.
The Christian response to the inclusivist is that if God has made a way for us, finite creatures, to get to himself, the infinite, our question should be how can we get on the way, not try to convince the infinite there ought to be other ways.
The Christian response to the inclusivist is that if the perfectly holy and just allows us, the imperfect, to experience eternity despite our unrighteousness, then we should humbly walk that path.
Once, the astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson quipped, “the good thing about science is that it’s true whether or not you believe it.”[ii] The same can be said about ultimate truth. We can’t choose what is ultimately true based on what we want to be true or what is culturally assumed. And we can’t shield ourselves from the consequences of that truth.
The Christian and the inclusivist look at the same data points and see a very different picture of a God who offers one way into his Kingdom.
In the next post we will consider the purported King of that Kingdom, Jesus Christ, and what he would say to the inclusivist.
[i] https://www.allaboutphilosophy.org/blind-men-and-the-elephant.htm
[ii] Quoted in Rebecca McLaughlin, Confronting Christianity, 52.
You May Also Appreciate:
Part 1: Why Is Jesus the Only Way?
Part 2: An Elephant and a Cure: the Challenge of the Inclusivist