But it’s the critical mail I want to talk about right now. It tends to cluster into a couple of categories, both of which warrant a few comments — if only because many readers probably run into the same sort of thing from people they know.

The most common kind is the accusation of bigotry: racism, sexism, homophobia, and that handy catch-all charge, "hate." I seldom bother to answer such missives these days; there’s no real point to arguing with people who don’t care to go deeper than name-calling. Besides, they’re often strikingly careless readers, who don’t take the time to understand the argument I’m making and frequently assume I take positions I neither state nor imply.

For example, when I wrote a piece taking Yale students to task for heckling President Bush at their graduation, some readers charged me with being a Republican flunky who’d applaud had the target been Hillary Clinton. Yet my argument was not only nonpartisan, it centered on objective standards that transcend partisanship. "Good manners aren’t about being civil to the people you like," I wrote, "they’re about being civil to people you don’t." (I might add that I especially dislike hecklers who claim to share my views; hecklers embarrass any cause, good or bad.)

I suspect my critics didn’t so much miss my point as they presumed I couldn’t really mean it; I had to have another, sinister agenda. Such people must live in a terribly boring world. If all your opponents can be dismissed as villainous, you never get to engage your mind in the energizing and rewarding process of debating a worthy and honorable opponent. Not that it’s illegitimate to point out dishonorable motives if they’re in play: You can’t understand, say, the abortion industry while ignoring the roles of lust, selfishness and greed. But if hunting for bad intentions is all you do, you miss out on the wider range of perspectives and motives that shape debates. You do an injustice both to your opponents and to yourself (growing intellectually flabby isn’t exactly self-improvement).

So I relish good, constructive criticism when I get it. I enjoy the challenge, and I know I benefit from understanding other perspectives, regardless of whether I agree with them.

Which brings me to the second category of critical mail I get. Whenever I write a column critical of, well, anyone — like Jesse Jackson (adulterer, liar, swindler, professional racial agitator) or Joseph Ellis, the history professor who fabricated his own history as a Vietnam vet — I’ll usually get e-mails suggesting that the criticism is unfitting for a Christian. Generally they complain that I’m "judgmental" or "focus on the faults and problems of others."

Though some of these writers are liberals mainly offended by my politics, many of them seem driven primarily by a sincere desire to live by what they see as Christian ethics. I respect them and find their comments a healthy reminder for me to check my own intentions.

But I do have to question how much of the Bible they’ve actually read if they imagine that strong criticism, or ridicule for that matter, is inherently un-Christian. From Jesus’ denunciations of the "brood of vipers" and Paul’s outburst at the "foolish Galatians" to the sarcasm-drenched blasts of God’s prophets (check out Elijah’s hoots at the priests of Baal in I Kings 18), Scripture is anything but soft. It contains thundering words of Law as well as comforting words of Gospel, and it’s the forcefulness of the former that drives us to latter. You don’t know how badly you need a Savior unless you recognize how thoroughly you’re a sinner.

Though I’ve done some pieces emphasizing repentance and forgiveness (those on Jane Fonda and Bobby Knight come to mind), it’s true that my writing tends to fall more on the Law side. That’s primarily because I write about politics and culture in a postmodern era that doesn’t take sin seriously.

When I write about the likes of Jackson and Ellis, it’s because they’re not just flawed private citizens. Like Bill Clinton, they’re public figures who both reflect and contribute to the corruption of our culture. They have a long history of offenses, and more significant, a lot of enablers (academics, commentators, political activists) who help them whitewash or minimize those offenses. They’re not so much violating society’s standards as setting the standards — and lowering them.

I grant that dwelling too long on the Jesse Jacksons and Bill Clintons of the world is an invitation for some of us to bask in a sense of superiority. But I think the greater danger to Christians at this point is to sink into a soft, squishy culture that coddles sin and makes excuses for sinners. We shouldn’t mistake that for forgiveness: it’s better described as indulgence. For serious Christians, fighting that trend isn’t just permissible; it’s a positive duty.