“Since the dawn of time, humanity has wrestled with the question of…well, you were there, so you already know.”

Behind her bifocals, she rolls her eyes as she sinks back into her chair. “Look, what I’m saying is, just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“I get that, Grandma. The point I’m trying to make is, you might believe something is true, and that’s fine, believe what you want, but that doesn’t mean it is or isn’t the truth.”

I close the door to her refrigerator and make my way back to the living room with two glasses of tea, handing her one as I find my place on the couch. “There’s a difference between facts and opinions and I’m saying that everything must be one or the other.”

“So if I say the sky is blue and you say the sky is green, that’s just your opinion, right?”

“Uh, yes and no. I could honestly have that belief. Maybe I’m partially color-blind. But that doesn’t make it the truth. If I don’t actually believe it’s green, then I’m either lying or being difficult on purpose. If I say Jimi Hendrix is the best guitar player and you say Eddie Van Halen is the best guitar player, those are opinions.”

“Well, obviously,” she sighs, “I’m not as dumb as you look. There’s Guinness World Record Books if we want to know who the fastest or strongest or strangest person is.”

“Exactly. That’s a good example of truth. Compare it to movies. We can say Avatar made the most money or Shawshank has the highest IMDB rating, but that doesn’t make either of them the best. That’s all opinion…and a lot of people might share the same opinion, but that doesn’t make it true.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Grandma says, the tone in her voice beginning to show her frustration. “I believe in God and Jesus and Heaven. It’s my truth. Even if you don’t have the same truth doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“Actually, that’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s still only your opinion until it can be backed up with consistent evidence and examination by others.”

“So if all the scientists in the world come together and say the Bible isn’t true, I’m expected to believe it?”

“Well, no. That would be like saying if all of the priests in the world come together and say the Bible is true, should I believe them? Now, if the skies open up and a Hindu God comes out – or if someone invents a time machine and goes back to biblical times – then we might consider that good enough evidence to consider it the truth.”

“Then, by that logic, if the sky opened up and the God of Abraham came down, what I believe isn’t my opinion, it’s the truth.”

“Yes, at that point, it would be. That may even be the case. Maybe you are right, I don’t know. Until the day comes when that happens, we’re going to have to say that there is a truth, but no matter what we say, it’s still just an opinion until it can be proven.”

“Now hold on a minute. If I believe it’s going to rain today and you don’t believe it will, and it does rain, you’re saying what I believed before it rained wasn’t the truth then, it was opinion?” She peers at me over her iced tea as she takes a long sip from the glass, thinking she’s stumped me.

“Not quite. When we define these terms, ‘truth’ and ‘opinion,’ it’s sort of like how we say the sky is blue or green. There’s only one truth, regardless of what people believe. Let’s say it doesn’t rain. Then your opinion was just that. Would you say it’s a lie because your belief was wrong?”

“Of course not!”

“Then by that logic, it wouldn’t be fair to call what you believed would happen is the truth until it’s proven. After it rains.”

“So you’re not going to believe that God exists until you get to the Pearly Gates or unless he proves it?”

“For me, that’s probably true. I can’t say what I’ll believe in the future, but I have no reason to accept something as truth without evidence. That doesn’t mean you can’t or shouldn’t believe whatever makes you feel good.”

“I’m getting what you’re saying, so the Earth is round or water is made up of hydrogen and oxygen molecules, that’s truth, but the Holocaust was bad or politicians all lie, those are opinions, right?”

“That’s the basic idea. The Holocaust is a good example because no matter how many people agree, it can’t be scientifically proven to be bad. At least, not yet. Maybe someday science will quantify badness and goodness. As far as the politicians, many do lie. In fact, probably all of them have lied at one time or another in their lives, so we could call that technically true, but to call it the truth would be an overgeneralization, it implies that all politicians lie all the time. Or, I should say, that’s what I infer from it and what I presume the intended meaning to be.”

“Here’s my next question for you: since I can’t actually see the Earth from space and I don’t have a microscope to look at water, why should I believe that this is the truth just because other people say so?”

“You’re right, that should be looked at critically. Maybe it’s fake, like the moon landing. This video I was watching talked about ‘good basis’ for distinguishing truth. I suppose that the basis for believing something is rather subjective, but if I can look at photos and videos, hear people speak who have observed these things for themselves and am not provided any similarly credible evidence to the contrary, that would pass my ‘good basis’ test. If you want an example of beliefs that don’t pass that test for me, but apparently do for others, a few minutes on Facebook should give you enough information to contrast.”

“Oh, yes. You should see my friend Alice. She thinks her essential oils will cure cancer. I even saw that she was taking that horse dewormer instead of getting a vaccine. That just doesn’t make any sense!”

“Exactly! Because she’s not forming a good basis of fact to back up her beliefs.”

“Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll still go to church, but I get that it’s something I believe, not the truth of the universe – yet. What do you want for dinner?” She asks, getting up and making her way to the kitchen.

“You make the best meatloaf, Grandma.”

“Well, that’s just your opinion,” she winks.