I'd returned some examinations to my eight o'clock class, and students had lined up outside my door all morning to talk about them. The last student had just left (or so I thought), and I was just rising from my desk when I was surprised by a quiet voice. "Professor Theophilus?"

Turning, I saw Mark at the door with a pleasant-looking young woman whom I hadn't met. Yes, now I remembered. Last week Mark had visited my office to talk about skepticism, and before leaving he had mentioned that he wanted to come back to discuss something else.

"Hello, Mark," I smiled. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Sarah, Professor T. We're both in InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, and she happened to be wondering about the same thing that I was wondering about. So I invited her to come along."

"Hi, Professor."

"Good morning, Sarah. I'm glad to meet you. Have a seat." Both students refused coffee, so I warmed up my own mug from the pot in the corner of the desk and sat down with them. "What are we going to talk about?"

The two looked at each other, hesitant to begin. Mark spoke first.

"Well, Professor, it's like this. Every point of view gets heard around campus but the Christian one. So Sarah and I thought we'd try to get a little air time for Christianity."

"Air time?"

"Not radio or TV. I just mean that when there's an opportunity to give a Christian perspective on things, we speak up."

"So what's the problem?"

"Sometimes people listen, and then we have interesting give and take," said Sarah. "But other times, as soon as we open our mouths someone says we're intolerant."

"For instance?" I prompted.

"For instance last week some friends and I were talking about abortion. I said I thought it was wrong, and they said I was intolerant because I 'didn't respect a woman's choice.'"

Mark chimed back in. "And the other day my Comparative Religion professor called me intolerant because I didn't agree that there are many roads to God."

I took a sip of my coffee. "Are you?" I asked.

"Am I what?"

"Intolerant."

Mark stared at me. "No!" he said.

"I don't think I'm intolerant," said Sarah. "But I have to confess that I'm not so sure I know what tolerance is any more."

"So what's your question?" I asked.

"What is tolerance?" she asked.

"That's not my question," said Mark. "I want to know what to do when someone says I'm intolerant. I want to know how to reply!"

"I thought you two said you were wondering about the same thing," I protested. They laughed.

"Go ahead and begin with Sarah's question," Mark said. "Ladies first."

"I don't hear that very often," she grinned.

"Beginning with Sarah's question is not only more gentlemanly but more logical," I explained. "We have to know what tolerance is in order to know what to make of an accusation that we aren't practicing it."

"So what is it?" asked Mark.

"Think of the root of the word," I prodded him.

"The root? It's 'tolerate.'"

"And what does it mean to tolerate?"

"To put up with something bad."

"Right."

"So is tolerance putting up with bad things?"

I countered, "What do you think? Tolerance is supposed to be a virtue. Would you call it virtuous to put up with bad things like murder and rape?"

Sarah said, "No, I'd call it stupid and cruel."

"But tolerance must be about putting up with bad things," said Mark.

"Sure," I replied. "But it isn't putting up with everything bad. Tolerance is the wisdom to know which bad things to put up with, when, why, and to what degree — along with the strength of character to act on that wisdom."

While they chewed on the definition I took another sip from my coffee mug. Then Sarah spoke up again.

"Why put up with anything if it's bad?" she asked.

"Maybe," offered Mark, "because if you didn't, something worse would happen? For instance atheism is bad, but it wouldn't help faith to pass a law against it. If you did, atheists would just lie and say they were believers. It's better to be an honest atheist than an atheist who lies."

"Right," I agreed. "That's why the Puritan writer Roger Williams said the sword breeds a nation of hypocrites. Can you think of another example of putting up with a bad thing because otherwise something worse would happen?"

"Repeal of Prohibition," said Sarah. "Drunkenness is bad, but a lot of people thought Prohibition encouraged organized crime."

"Freedom of speech," said Mark. "False opinions are bad, but in order to discover the true ones we have to allow debate."

"Jackets," said Sarah.

Mark and I looked blankly at her. "Jackets?"

"I'm sorry," she laughed. "One winter when I was thirteen, I gave my Mom a hard time about putting on a jacket. Dad told her to leave me alone, otherwise I'd never learn my lesson for myself."

"Did you learn it?"

"Sure did! It was only 20 degrees outside. I shivered for five minutes, then came in and put on my coat."

Mark chortled and turned back to me. "Professor Theophilus, I get the 'which' and 'why' parts of your definition, but what about the 'when' and 'to what degree'?"

"Let's start with 'to what degree,'" I answered. "What would your attitude be toward a hero?"

"Give him a medal."

"How about toward a person who enjoyed belching loudly? "

"Are you serious? I'd avoid him."

"How about a bad-tempered bully?"

"I'd avoid him and warn others to avoid him."

"And a burglar?"

"Put him in jail."

"See? There are different levels of toleration, with honors at one end and punishment at the other. You need the wisdom to know not only what to tolerate, but how far to go."

Sarah spoke again. "How about the 'when,' Professor Theophilus?"

"The 'when,'" I said, "comes in because it might be right to put up with something on one occasion but not on another — depending on the circumstances or on how it's done. Take speech, for example. You should put up with people expressing false opinions in debates, but you shouldn't put up with people shouting 'Fire!' in crowded theaters."

She looked thoughtful. "Doesn't that bring us back to the problem we came to talk to you about? When Mark and I try to speak from the Christian perspective, some people call us intolerant. Maybe they're the intolerant ones for wanting us to shut up."

"That often happens," I said. "A lot of people simply define the Christian world view as intolerant."

"Yes! That's exactly what I mean. First we're told that it's intolerant to have strong convictions."

"Right." interrupted Mark. "Then we're told that it's intolerant to say that any other view is wrong or to make judgments about right and wrong."

Sarah chimed back in. "And to top it off, we're told that it's intolerant not to tolerate what the other side wants to — like abortion."

"Calm down, crew," I said. "Here are four ground rules. First, it's not necessarily intolerant to express strong convictions."

"All right!" said Sarah.

"But tolerance does require doing so with gentleness and humility. Do you always do that?"

"I could probably do better," she admitted. "Sometimes I just blurt out my convictions without giving my reasons."

I continued. "Second, it's not necessarily intolerant to suggest that an opposing view is false."

"Right on!" said Mark.

"But tolerance does require doing so with charity and patience. Do you always do that?"

"Well, maybe not every single time," he confessed. "I know I could listen better."

"Third, it's not necessarily intolerant to suggest that a particular behavior shouldn't be tolerated."

"Here comes the 'but'," said Sarah.

"Yes, and here it is: But tolerance does require learning where to draw the line."

"How do you mean?"

"If tolerance is the wisdom of knowing which bad things to put up with, then you can miss the mark in either of two directions, can't you? By putting up with what you shouldn't, or by not putting up with what you should."

"What's the fourth ground rule?" asked Sarah.

"It's not necessarily intolerant to express a judgment about right and wrong, or good and bad."

"But?"

"But tolerance does require doing so without presumption or self-righteousness." I finished my coffee as I let the last guideline sink in. "Sarah, did I answer the question you came with?"

"Ye-es," she drawled. "But I bet I'll think of more later."

"If you do, just let me know," I said. "Now I have to get back to work."

"Wait a minute!" protested Mark. "You didn't answer my question! I need to know how to reply when I'm wrongly accused of intolerance!"

"I can't tolerate another minute of such stimulating conversation," I grinned. "My next office hours are the day after tomorrow. Why don't you come back then?"