I have a new novel coming out soon, entitled The Good Know Nothing.
The title came from a quote from novelist Paul Auster: “For only the good
doubt their own goodness, which is what makes them good in the first place. The bad
know they are good, but the good know nothing.”
Soon after I decided upon the title, I mentioned it to my son Cody, which prompted
a discussion of the value or danger of “knowing.” He contended that unless
we know or believe we know something, we will have no passion to fight for it.
I maintained that we can believe with a mighty passion while holding onto a portion
of doubt that our belief is valid. This portion of doubt (however small), I argued,
can keep us from murderous fanaticism and help us obey the admonition to love even
our enemies. For all we know, they may possibly be right. A portion of doubt can
also leave us free to grow, intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually, and to
live unburdened by the defensive posture that troubles and often ruins so many
friendships.
I’ve noticed a distinction between types of people, whom I’ll call
“question people” and “answer people.”
Let’s apply the distinction between question people and answer people to their
attitudes toward belief in God. Either sort might assert “I know God exists.”
But a question person would probably define the word “know” as a deep feeling
or an existential choice based upon both intuition and experience. I’ll call this
faith, and point out that faith is not an appropriate synonym for knowledge. Knowledge
more properly refers to understanding based strictly upon evidence. And where there is
evidence, there is no need for faith. Faith is a kind of knowing apart from, or only
partially based upon, evidence.
Now let’s tackle a more nuanced question, and imagine ourselves in a small group
of believers. Someone asks, “How can I resolve the fact that the Bible says our
prayers will always be answered with my experience that makes that claim look false?”
The “question person” may have an answer, but it’s liable to be
tentative, and she is likely not to express it right away. Rather, she will wait to
see if someone else’s answer might offer new thoughts or angles on the question,
or a new insight or awareness.
The answer person generally seeks closure by delivering a formula, such as:
“God always answers prayer, but sometimes the answer is no.” Or, “The
answer may not come right away, but it will come eventually.” Or he may come to the
dangerous conclusion that the person who prayed lacked faith or didn’t pray according
to God’s will.
The question person is comfortable with mystery. The answer person is not. Essayists,
I suppose, can be answer people. Poets or writers of fiction had better be question
people, or else they’re not making art, they’re making product, which those
of us who consider life on earth far too short don’t have time to bother reading.
—Previously published in the blog,
The View from Perelandra College (31 March 2014)
Influenced by writers of the Beat era and their quest for spiritual transcendence
as an approach to living in a world gone wrong, and commonly labeled a noir writer,
Ken Kuhlken thinks of his work as beat-noir. His stories, features, essays, and columns
have appeared in Esquire and dozens of other magazines and anthologies,
have been honorably mentioned in Best American Short Stories, and have earned
a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship.
His novels have been honored by awards such as the Ernest Hemingway Best First Novel,
the St. Martin’s/Private Eye Writers of America Best First Novel, and the
Shamus Best Novel. His California Crime Series, featuring detective Tom Hickey and
sons, unmasks the ruthless, heroic, and unsung characters who transformed the state
from a frontier to the cultural center of the western world.
Kuhlken teaches writing and literature at
Perelandra
College in California. Learn more about his books and blogs at:
www.kenkuhlken.net.