The debate that has raged through the first weeks of this year over contraception has got me noticing how bad we are, generally speaking, at arguing. I am a great fan, as anyone who has taken my “God and Creation” class knows, of good argument. And if that sounds like an oxymoron to you, you’ve got the full support of my oldest daughter, who once heard me describing a “great argument” we had in class that day. She reminded me of my firm “no arguing” policy governing board games and kitchen cleaning, and proceeded to dress me down for blatant hypocrisy.
But of course, there’s argument and then there’s argument. The sort that includes a sincere effort to tests warrants, evaluate conclusions, and improve the language and perspective on a particular issue is the kind I on occasion celebrate at the family table. (Not that I dominate meals with diatribes on symbolic logic; more often than not our discussions focus on the rather more “material” sort of reasoning that occurs on the playground, or perhaps in Axl Rose's lyrics.)
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