Does Truth Exist?
Graduation Sermon of Fr. Marc Alain Nely, Second Assistant to the Superior General, given in St. Mary’s Academy and College, St. Marys, Kansas (2011)
What is truth? When we ask this question, how can we fail to remember the Gospel scene? Pilate, face to face with Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Word, after having questioned him several times and received remarkable answers full of compassion from Our Lord, came up with this last question in which he showed his offhand skepticism—for he did not even wait for an answer—but turned immediately to the Jews to deliver Jesus to them.
Indeed, Pilate made light of vain philosophical quests and, in his opinion, it is a settled matter that it is impossible to know in what the truth consists.
Consequently, the Truth does not answer him.
We will ask this question differently today and will try to answer it. We will not try to know what is truth, but whether there is a truth–a fundamental question if ever there was one.
Our consideration will be divided into three parts: 1) The usual objections, 2) Man is made for truth, and 3) Answers to the objections.
The Usual Objections
Today a general state of mind exists which necessarily has its repercussions on religious thought: it is the questioning of the very existence of any truth, especially concerning the issues which touch upon the meaning of human life.
In a discussion upon the great issues of human existence, most of our contemporaries’ thoughts, or objections—once the viewpoints are made clear—boil down to this one single fundamental and preliminary question: is there an objective truth?
Today, in many domains, men do not believe in a unique truth, valid for all, changeless through time, and having a value in itself. They do not even admit that, in case such a truth exists, their intelligences may worthily apprehend it.
Without difficulty, they admit the existence of an objective truth in their private or professional life, whereas, in the intellectual domain, they do trust neither in the reality nor in the intelligence. Without even examining the issue, they behave as if all opinions were on an equal footing—meaning that none is any better than another except as the expression of an individual’s subjectivity. Though they are unable to realize it, such minds are already prisoners of a deep relativism.
Indeed, our contemporaries think that logical categories, manners of reasoning and of perceiving reality vary according to cultures, as ethnology and sociology prove it. The truth that I perceive depends upon my origins, my natural environment, and my cultural accomplishment, which “color” my vision of things. Moreover, every man is full of unconscious prejudices, flowing from his family’s opinions, his social standing, his trade, and his country.
On the other hand, differences of temperament multiply the ways of thinking. Often, mankind is divided into two classes: broad-minded but shallow persons and narrow-minded but profound characters. Each category has its way of viewing things and each individual having his many characteristic facets, this produces endless personal conceptions.
But our contemporaries do not merely deem truth to be relative according to persons; they are also imbued with the idea of evolution in time.
Scientific “truth” changes. For proof of this, we have all the successive theories proposed by experimental sciences. Yesterday, we believed that the sun was going around the earth; today, we state that the earth goes around the sun. The day before yesterday, we claimed that light was a wave; yesterday it was an emission of corpuscles; and today that it is a mixture of both; what will we discover tomorrow?
Political “truth” also changes, as social revolutions and putsches prove with their opposite ideological statements. At the time of the Revolution, to speak only of France, they went after the people of the Vendée. During the Restoration, they went after the revolutionaries and next after the legitimists during the Monarchy of July. Under the Empire, they went after the republicans and next after the Catholics, and during the Third Republic, after the conservatives. At the time of the French State, they went after Freemasons, during the Fourth Republic, after Petainists, and so on.
Confronted with the continual evolution of these “truths,” whether of the scientific or political order, men end up believing that truth in itself changes with time, like the world and like man. For them, what was a truth the day before will become an error the next day; whereas what is an error today corresponds to a former truth, which has been given up, but may come back to the foreground.
If we probe a little deeper into what we have said, we realize that our contemporaries are no longer interested in truth as such, in truth “in itself.”
The “truth” they desire is only one which is productive and useful and will serve their personal projects. Even in the scientific domain, the underlying question that people ask is no longer “Is it true?” but “What is its use?”
This quite pragmatic and utilitarian conception of the truth is profoundly linked to the absolutely quantitative evolution of our modern societies, in which the homo faber has long ago taken the place of the homo sapiens, as philosopher Marcel De Corte shows in a fundamental book, The Intelligence in Danger of Death. Karl Marx expressed this state of mind in one of his theses about Feuerbach: “The philosophers have only interpreted the world in various ways; what matters is to change it.”
The influence of “marketing” is very important in this. In the old days, we devised a product answering a real need and next we sold it. Today, if we may put it in this way, we study the alleged desires of users and next we devise the corresponding product. Men have transferred this way of doing to other fields. Politics was contaminated first. Henceforward, we take the desires of the voters as the starting point to propose a political project. Quite simply, truth itself is made to serve man; it is no longer the other way round.
This utilitarian contamination eventually reached the highest realities. To be aroused for the sake of truth is now meaningless.
Yet our contemporaries do not always and only identify truth with mere practical usefulness. At other times, for them truth expresses the genuineness of a personal “account.” A work is judged by the worth of its living testimony and the richness of its sincerity. Its logical coherence, its intellectual meaning, and the value of its truth, all fall into the background.
If truth is good only as the expression of a personal experience recounted with sincerity, the intelligible contents of a doctrine become indeed unimportant.
This state of mind brought about a lack of trust towards a thinking process that raises problems and comes to a solution by referring merely to concepts and reasoning. The notion of a speculative truth expressing a relationship between the ideas we have of things and the things themselves gets warped into the relationship between man and himself.
The idea that our mind can manage to grasp an idea not bound with time and independent of man becomes utterly unthinkable. Truth is no longer a definitive acquisition for the intelligence, which may be transmitted by teaching throughout time, space, and various cultures, but merely the expression of a passing subjectivity.
If truth is relative to various persons, if it changes with time, if it corresponds to what is useful, if it comes merely from the expression of “life experience,” then this truth cannot be the same for all. It cannot last through time, it does not deserve that we be attached to it, except inasmuch as it can be useful to us or enables us to communicate with another’s subjectivity.
Today, men think that there are several viewpoints, various “approaches,” as they say nowadays, which all contain a “portion of truth.” We cannot lock reality into one rigid conception because this would mean “exclusion” of the other conceptions, which are equally true in their own order.
This mindset is widely spread. Considering all statements as equally true, everyone rejects any interior or exterior authority and believes that, in the name of his own truth, he has the right to follow only his impulses or his viewpoint.
We see how, at the religious level, the acceptation of one single and consequently exclusive religion is becoming unthinkable and even unbearable for most of our contemporaries. Such a claim is even the very apex of the intolerable!
Eventually, in their minds, people have the idea that the various systems of thought resulting from various mentalities end up by reciprocally annulling each other or by melting into a vast syncretism. It becomes useless to trouble about an objective and stable truth. Hence the well-known statement: “You say this, but others speak differently!” They mean that the clash of opinions is merely the fruit of differences of temperaments and that there is no need to worry about their intelligible contents. Or, according to an expression that has become familiar: “Each one has his own truth.”
Protagoras of Abdere, the sophist whom Plato so beautifully portrayed in the Theaetetis and in the dialogue bearing his name, had already given evidence of such a state of mind. “Man,” he said, “is the measure of all things, of those that exist and of their nature, and of those that do not exist and of the explanation of their non-existence.” He concluded that “the true is what seems to be so to each one” so that “the same object may be white for one and black for another.”
In his time, this conception led Protagoras, like many of our contemporaries in our time, to agnosticism concerning the highest and most essential realities of human life. “About the gods,” he used to say, “I cannot say anything, neither that they exist, nor that they do not. Many things prevent us from knowing this. First, the obscurity of the issue and next the shortness of human life.”
Man Is Made for Truth
We have just reviewed a series of objections against a steady and objective truth, or, if this latter existed, against man’s possibility of knowing such a truth. We now have to answer these objections.
But, in fact, the essential answer to these objections lies hidden in the answer to another question: What is man, and what must he become? In other words: what is his true destiny? When we have found this out, we will be able to state with some seriousness whether the quest for truth is of any worth to him.
Genuine philosophy, as we can see when we study its first steps in the history of mankind, starts from the observation of facts. This is what we are going to do now.
When we observe all the minerals, plants, and animals around us, we notice that each spontaneously tends to become as much as possible what it is according to its constitution and definition. Its own task, its specific program seems to be to develop the virtualities of its nature and bring them to their full completion. A horse does not tend to be a donkey or an eagle, but a horse in all the fullness of its horse’s nature. Likewise, an eagle does not tend to be a horse or a donkey, but to reach the fullness of its eagle’s nature.
Man is distinct from the horse, the tree, or the stone just as these beings are distinct from one another, for he also is of another species. Hence, by nature, he does not tend to become a horse, a tree, or a stone, but a man in the fullness of his human nature.
Yet man is also distinct from the horse, the tree, or the stone because he finds in himself specific characteristics with which he alone is endowed. These characteristics both set him in opposition to the other beings in nature and isolate him from them. He alone can speak, can build houses, invent complex tools, and he alone practices a religion. It is impossible to confuse him with any other animal.
Through all his history, man has been thinking over this oddity, which makes him unique in the universe and partly takes him out of this nature in which all other animals are immersed. He has tried to understand what in him had caused this rupture, this setting apart.
The constant tradition of mankind has recognized that this difference, rightly called specific, came from his reason. True, man is an animal like the horse or the fox, but he is a reasonable animal, endowed with will and liberty.
What man has above and over other animals is mind, intelligence, and reason.
Reason is not merely a particular part; it is especially what makes man as such, what establishes him as a man in his species. We cannot define man without taking this essential element as our starting point. Thus, man’s development is essentially related with reason, and will be radically distinct from all other animals.
Hence, the aim of human life cannot consists in breathing, eating, and sleeping because we have all these in common with plants or animals, and consequently they could not be the proper task of man as man. The aim of human life cannot either be limited to sexual intercourse, in spite of what many of our contemporaries seem to think. Sexual reproduction is also common to us and to plants and other animals, and as such it cannot be a specifically human activity.
Of course, it is not a matter of doing away with the fact that man breathes, eats, drinks, sleeps, or has sexual intercourse: this would be impossible and foolish. There is in us a vegetative part, which we have in common with plants and an animal part common to us and other animals. Yet these vegetative or animal actions cannot characterize man as man, except to the extent of saying, for instance, that he is neither a turnip nor a horse.
The aim of human life cannot either consists in seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching, or in imagining and remembering, or lastly in moving around and stirring. These activities are not despicable, but we must bear in mind that man is not a wolf, a toad, or a lizard, but a man.
As a rule, the life of a living being is revealed by the operation that is more specific to him than any other and towards which its main inclination drives it. The life of plants is defined by nutrition and generation. Animal life is defined by sense and movement. Man’s life is going to be defined by his characteristic faculty, i.e., reason.
When, like other living beings, he tends to become what he is, man is not content with being a plant, or even a mere animal, but he must assume the reason that is in him. To be a man is not first of all eating, sleeping, seeing, hearing, experiencing pleasures, etc. It is to bring about the reign of reason in himself and around himself. This is becoming a man: to bring to full completion this nature of reasonable animal which is his, “animal rationalis,” and to develop the virtualities of his essential faculty: i.e., reason.
However, as we have said previously, it is not a matter of annihilating his bodily part and making him an angel. Man is not pure reason or subsistent intelligence in itself. He carries a spark of spirit in a frail bodily and sensitive vessel. Consequently, he must develop harmoniously the whole of himself: body and mind, matter and reason, to become fully the reasonable animal he is by nature. This harmony will only be achieved when his dominant faculty, reason, will establish its reign over all his own nature.
Thus man’s end consists in accomplishing man’s task, a task which is nothing else than the highest and most human of man’s activities and brings man to fulfill completely his own specificity, i.e., the activity of reason: “Creavit Deus hominem ad imaginem suam; ad imaginem Dei creavit eum.–And God created man to his own image: to the image of God he created him.”
This last consideration, though for us Christians it is a certitude contained in Revelation, can be confirmed by what follows.
Anthropologists and prehistorians do speak to us of the homo sapiens, i.e. of the “wise man.” But this can be conceived only by comparison with a sapientia, a “wisdom” and an activity of the reason which both characterizes and defines man. Without reason, it is impossible to distinguish between man and the other animals even for sciences that are often so materialistic. Education–from the Latin educere–has no other objective than to “bring out,” to help a being endowed with a mind to get out of the purely animal condition. From the beginning man possesses an intelligence that enables him to see beyond matter, to turn to a higher world, and to discover the causes and the explanations of things. His truly human development will be achieved in so far as he will accomplish this project inscribed in its very nature.
Some even claim that the word “anthropos,” which means man, might be a combination of ana, which means above, and of tropao, meaning to turn. This etymology may not prove to be exact, but at least it is enlightening: man is really the animal turned towards the things above, towards the spirit.
Such is the true meaning of the famous saying of Antiquity, which expresses their moral ideal: Sequere naturam–follow nature. It is obviously concerned with the reasonable nature of man, which must be followed to find true happiness, i.e. the full achievement of man himself.
At first sight, concrete and material achievement might seem to be the main objective of human reason. Just as the bird has a beak and the fish fins for their survival, man would have reason to ensure his survival. For instance, in the eyes of the philosopher Bergson, intelligence, which he belittles for the benefit of what he calls “intuition”–“this kind of intellectual sympathy”–is meant for what is steady and practical and, consequently, is essentially turned towards the fashioning of tools and towards survival.
Yet it is a serious reductionism thus to limit intelligence to a practical function. For first, we observe in man an inquisitiveness, a thirst for knowledge quite independent from the practical applications which may flow from it.
In his book Life Everlasting, Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange writes:
Thus the child’s mind grows on a series of whys: Why does the bird fly? Because it is looking for food (its goal and purpose). To fly it needs wings (instrumental cause). Its nature requires wings (formal cause). It dies because it is composed of matter and hence corruptible.
Now these raisons d’être, these sources and causes (final, efficient, formal, material) are accessible to reason only, not to sense and imagination. Reason alone knows the purpose as purpose…all this is inaccessible to the animal, but easily grasped by the child.
As for animals, turned as they are towards practical action and the pleasures of the senses, they find their satisfaction in material goods. If you give grass to a horse, or meat to a dog, they do not desire anything more. But man does not live by bread alone or by other material goods, for he is turned towards knowledge and his heart is troubled, as St. Augustine so well expressed it, until it rests in a knowledge capable of satisfying him. As Aristotle says at the beginning of his Metaphysics, “By nature, all men desire to know and understand.”
The real achievement for man resides in the knowledge of the real sought and possessed for its own sake and in the satisfaction of the desire to know that is inscribed in the very heart of his nature. The real is nourishment for his mind, just as food is for his body. Intelligence is made to know the real, just as lungs are made to breathe.
A lion cannot feed on grass; it will end up dying of starvation. Man cannot either feed exclusively on what is sensitive or on practical action; he would end up by declining and undergoing an inner death. He is made for truth!
Indeed, the fact for the mind, for the intelligence, and for the reason to know the real and to grasp it fittingly is called truth. In its first meaning, truth is indeed “the adequation of the intellect and a thing”: what the mind grasps, perceives, and understands corresponds adequately to what the thing is in fact.
To know the real through reason is strictly tantamount to knowing the truth: the two words refer to the same reality. When we say that man is characterized by reason, that the proper object of this reason is to know the real, and that man’s development consists in the full use of his reason, hence to know the real more and more, we eventually say one thing: “Man is made for truth.”
Now, nature does nothing in vain. It made cows for grass, and grass for cows. It made loam, water, and sun for the plants and the plants for loam, water, and sun. It made the gazelles to be food for the lions and the lions to rid the herd of sick or wounded gazelles.
Likewise, nature has made man for truth, for the knowledge of the real. This tendency, which belongs to man’s essence, cannot be thwarted; it cannot fail to be achieved; it cannot fail to reach its goal without man himself ceasing to be a man. Hence, when he uses his reason correctly, man can really and ordinarily reach efficiently the truth for which he is naturally “programmed.”
Answers to Objections
Before our conclusion, we must now answer the objections raised against the possibility for man to reach the truth.
We have seen that man, a reasonable animal and a being defined firstly and essentially by his intelligence and his reason, is made for truth just as the fish is made for water. And since nature does nothing in vain, it is essentially possible for man to reach the truth even if in fact, for all kinds of reasons (laziness, weakness, lack of time, etc.) some men do not reach certain truths, or do not reach them by themselves. There are men who do not understand mathematics, yet man in general, or mankind as a whole, understands mathematics. The books written on this subject are sufficient proof of this.
If what I state can only be understood and admitted by me because another is too different by reason of his origins, his cultural knowledge, his prejudices, and his temperament to understand and admit it, consequently, mankind is made of small independent “monads” living in parallel and incommunicable worlds. But this alleged incommunicability is denied by any human life, by any human society, and by all human history. What does the typical saying mean: “No one is supposed to be ignorant of the law” except that the law is precisely understandable by all? What is the meaning of contracts (of sale, of rent, of insurance, of labor, of marriage, and so on) which are the very fabric of our daily lives, if not that all men can understand them and agree on solid truths (some contracts are signed for tens of years or even for centuries)? What does teaching mean under any form it may assume, if not that a man can hand down objective truths to another who can understand him? Why do we discuss with our friends, our acquaintances, our co-workers, unless we have the spontaneous conviction thus to be able to share some truths?
Of course, differences of cultures, of temperament, and of history exist and partly color our judgments. Yet this is merely an accidental difference of secondary importance, whereas the human nature of reasonable animal is common to us all and is precisely the basis of the essential “communicability” of men between themselves.
Hence it is false to deduce the existence of a complete incommunicability that would prevent truth from circulating between men because of real but accidental differences between them. Such an incommunicability is only of secondary importance, whereas rational nature is common to all and is the basis for the essential communicability of truth between men.
If my memory serves me right, the second objection was that truth evolves essentially with time.
This idea is confronted with an insurmountable dilemma. If I affirm as true the proposition “Truth evolves with time,” I affirm that this proposition itself will evolve. Hence there will come a time when it turns into this new proposition: “Truth does not evolve with time.” But then the proposition “Truth evolves with time” will not have been able to evolve with time. In other words, the two propositions are contradictory: “Truth evolves with time” and “Truth does not evolve with time” would be both true at the same time. This is radical absurdity.
Funnily enough, to affirm that truth evolves with time is also a return to a very old theory. One of Aristotle’s main battles was precisely to fight the theory of evolving truth stemming from Heraclitus. In other words, one of the essential bases of experimental science (the most modern and that which rules all our life nowadays) consists in affirming that the laws of nature are absolutely immutable throughout time. For instance, research on the history of the cosmos would make no sense at all if the laws of nature ten thousands or a hundred thousand years ago were not exactly the same as today.
Likewise, when we read the ancient philosophies, we understand them; we either adhere to them or, on the contrary, we reject their statements (from the viewpoint of truth). Thus their truth of yesterday becomes our truth of today. The Renaissance, the merits of which are daily praised because it supposedly had taken us out of the “darkness of the Middle Ages,” was never anything else, according to a humoristic sentence “than the rejection of the Elders to glorify the Ancients”; in a word, it considered that the philosophers of the 13th century A.D. were further removed from the truth than the philosophers of the 5th century B.C.
To be sure, there exists an evolution for truth: when man, thanks to intellectual labor and his thought, goes from error to truth, or from a less-known truth to a better known truth. Conversely, through his laziness or by reason of outward circumstances (wars, natural catastrophes, etc.), man can go from a known truth to an unknown truth, or even to error. For instance, at the very beginning of the Middle Ages, because of the barbarian invasions, some truths known in Antiquity had been lost.
Yet, if the perception of truth by man can vary according to circumstances, truth itself continues to exist in a steady manner. Truths of the mathematical order are always true whether men know them or not. Hence, it is not because a truth is old that it is worthless today. After all, the North Star is as old as the hills, yet it nevertheless keeps on pointing to the north.
The third objection stated that truth corresponds to what is useful.
As we will see, the idea comes from an error concerning the hierarchy of goods.
The useful, indeed, is what has its value not in itself, but as a means to reach another end and another good which is obviously better than the useful good, since this latter is placed at the service of the former. Thus a car is a useful good for me which I use to reach a higher good than it, for instance, visit my parents, or go to work. Consequently, what interests me is not the car in itself, but that it enables me to reach the goal I truly want: a visit to my parents or my job. Now, precisely, truth does not have in itself the status of useful good, but that of end, of final goal, which places useful goods at its own service.
With his reason man seeks intelligible beauty, which consists in the apprehension of the order that rules the structure of beings and presides over their relationships. The aim of intellectual thought is the joy of admiring the beauty of the adequation of the parts with the whole, of the means with the end, etc.
This joy is as useless or as useful as that born of the contemplation of a painting or a landscape. Consequently, the knowledge of truth, like art and love, is for man an end in itself, not a means to reach something else and thus it is not a “useful” good.
We can realize this a contrario by the fact that we spontaneously feel ashamed to find ourselves in the wrong or in ignorance, even if this error or this ignorance has few unhappy practical consequences. Likewise, a lie, even slight and devoid of malice, is spontaneously distasteful to us and damages our good name with others if it is discovered. This is quite simply because man is made for truth. Truth is not a mere useful means, but an end in itself, and to lack in truth because of error, ignorance, or lie is to miss partly the plenitude of one’s human nature.
However, it is not a matter of concealing a certain useful aspect of the truth. Indeed, what is an end in itself can, under another respect, be used as a means to reach another aim. For instance, mathematics, the knowledge of which is an aim in itself for man, can also be used as a tool for physics. Here we have a supplementary benefit over which we must congratulate ourselves (inasmuch as this science remains within the bounds of its own order and does not claim to bring everything down to the level of quantity), but which does not change the intrinsic nature of truth as being in itself an end for man and an ultimate aim. Likewise, to look at a painting and enjoy its beauty is an end in itself for the art student, but he can secondarily add the acquisition of a necessary knowledge to graduate.
This secondary use, this secondary usefulness, does not change the essential nature of truth, which is to be a goal and end in itself. In this sense, truth is “useless” because it is the very end of man and not a mere means to obtain something else.
Another objection tended to affirm that truth derives its meaning and value only inasmuch as it is the expression of personal experience and is conveyed with veracity.
This objection, quite common nowadays, is based on a confusion between two realities distinct in themselves, even if they should, as a rule, unite in the person who expresses himself: truth and sincerity. Truth is essentially the adequation of the intellect with the thing. On the other hand, sincerity is the adequation between the outer expression and the inner sentiment (in its broadest sense). I am in the true if my reason perceives what the thing is. I am sincere if my words express what my reason perceives.
Normally, truth and sincerity should correspond to each other, and if man was infallible and naturally upright, they would in fact always correspond. But in reality, it can happen that they are contradictory, because of error and of lie (or hypocrisy). If a man is in the wrong, he may sincerely express something false. If a man is in the true, but if this truth bothers him, he can lie to express something false.
To be sure, “personal experience” is an intimate reality that I can try to relate (to myself or to others) and which can become thus a certain truth when a mind is fitted for this reality by the knowledge it has of it. Given that “personal experience” is in itself and, as a rule, imperceptible to anyone but him who feels it, this truth can only be handed down by the sincerity of personal testimony. In this sense, sincerity is the basis of a part of human truths, those dealing with individuals’ subjectivity.
But truth, for the greatest part, is independent from people’s sincerity. Millions of men have been wrong and keep being wrong sincerely about absolutely indisputable truths. On the contrary, hypocrites and perverse people have been and are in the right for a certain number of things.
Last but Not Least: Protagoras
With his man who had become the measure of all things, with his truth identical with what seems to be so to each and everyone, with his acceptation of contradictory statements which are nevertheless both just as “true,” he has already shown us where this auto-destructive relativism leads: to carelessness, to sloppiness in thought, to the increasing collapse of thought and of man himself. Indeed, relativism is a mental impotency, the most efficacious and best tried method to ruin the mind and make it sterile forever.
Socrates, on the contrary, the healer of Greek intelligence, laid down his life to refute Protagoras. At the last moment, when he was waiting for the hemlock, he said of the sophists: “These people do not care to know what is true, but to manage to have their theses considered as true. As for you, believe me, do not busy yourself with what Socrates has said, but with the truth.”
Conclusion
We have reached the end of these few considerations about the existence of truth and our ability to reach it.
We will close with this sentence of Blaise Pascal, who said: “Man is neither angel nor beast; and the misfortune is that he who would act the angel acts the beast.” Being composed of both, man is made not only to drink from earthly wellsprings, but also and mainly to contemplate everlasting Truth. This is his end, i.e., his perfect achievement, his raison d’être on this earth, his perfection, and his eternal bliss.
St. John the Apostle says so quite simply: “Now this is eternal life: That they may know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.”
And I add this too: “Rejoice, ye humble, and exult, ye poor, for yours is the kingdom of God if only ye walk in the truth” (The Imitation of Christ, Bk. 3, Ch. 58, No. 10).
He that hath ears to hear, let him hear!
I thank you for your attention.
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