Gadfly's Muse

Time for White People To Shut-up?

{View from Kent Manor Inn Pier, Eastern Shore, MD]

Some thoughts arising from reading Cobus van Wyngaard's article, "Whiteness and Public Theology: An Exploration of Listening." (LINK To Article).

Certainly South Africa is not the United States.  The religious, cultural, political and social histories diverge at many key points.  I suppose, in a broad view, they have this in common:  they each are facing a continued struggle to answer how the races can live together, not only peaceably, but with mutual respect and contribution to the social good when there has been a history of racial injustice present.   With that said, van Wyngaard's article has relevance to Christians here in the U.S. for he addresses the issue in terms of a "Public Theology."

I find the thought intriguing.

First he introduced me to some insights regarding the "public sphere."  It is within this "sphere" that "public discourse" happens.  In other words, when people seek to influence the directions and thoughts of the wider society, they do so within a generally accepted but not clearly marked, forum.  In our country we have the media, the journals, public debates, conventions, the internet, etc. etc.  Public "conversation" about important topics is carried on in the "public sphere" which is understood in this way.

What Wyngaard points out is that even with physical "access" to the "public sphere" there are shades of discrimination (both positive and negative) that determine whether communication between the participants is actually possible.  To use a ridiculous example: if an individual dressed as the Supreme Wizard of the KKK was to put forth his ideas on how the races should coexist, it would not get much of a hearing within the larger community, no matter whether what he said made sense or not.  Wyngaard says that we must be aware that just this kind of subjective "value-assignment" is going on in every conversation and that there is often a "racial" presupposition at work.  In South Africa, according to him, not every voice is treated equally and those who are white are given an initial assumption of value with the possibility of being proven wrong, while those who are black are given an initial assumption of being less valuable with the possibility of being proven wrong.  He says that this discriminating attitude shrinks the true range of the "public sphere."  Public conversation, under this influence, always reduces down, in the long run, to debates among white voices.  The blacks gradually despair of participation in "public" conversation and thus move to confrontation in order to be heard.

This construct is interesting to me though I think it a bit too neat.  Human interaction and social discourse is far too complex to reduce down to such simple terms though I think this analysis does make a contribution.  It's something we, especially we Christians, need to keep in mind when we participate in conversations both public and private.  If there truly is no "Jew nor Gentile, Male nor Female,..." in the Kingdom of God, then we must guard against taking note of "person" more than taking note of what the person says.

Wyngaard then goes on to explore the question of whether or not it is time for White folk to essentially shut-up.  On the basis of this analysis of public conversation, he is open to the idea that a black person cannot get a fair hearing if a white person is speaking.  He wonders if it might be constructive for White people to give over the public conversation to the black community so that they may work out how to influence the social order toward a more equitable formation.  This idea boils down to this:  we have had this exclusive privilege in the past, is it time for us now to accord to the black community that privilege - at least for a time?

He, of course, does not say that white folks should be entirely silent.  They are to make their own contributions but outside the limelight if you will.  It is his thought that white people should concentrate on listening for a season.  Listening is not a passive activity.  It includes inquiry and a desire to understand.  As a scholar, Wyngaard knows what it means to "listen" to the words of an ancient text speaking from a foreign cultural environment.  The reader has to actively pursue understanding before he can discuss what the text says with some degree of confidence.  Wyngaard's thoughts move along this line.

Again, there is some merit here.  Again, I wonder if it is too simplistic in its formulation.  As virtue is not confined to any one race, nor found in greater abundance in one over others, neither is sin so confined.  There is no reason to expect that an all-Black public conversation would yield any greater fruits of wisdom, insight or understanding than an all-White one.  Just as a broadly white power structure would tend to promote white interests and vest white individuals with some structural advantages other races do not automatically receive, so a broadly black power structure would do the same for blacks.  This idea begs the question of whether or not, implicitly, it assumes that the suffering of injustice automatically vests the sufferers with a comparative virtue that will carry over when the roles are reversed.  History certainly has not given any hint that we should expect such.  Post revolutionary France was just as miserable in its social conditions as it was under the monarchy.

The bottom line which I take at this point is simply this.  The definition of the public sphere and how it can function in a not so "public" manner was very illuminating to me.  Also, the insistence on "listening" is well taken.  These are areas where Christians, by our very confession, ought to be leading by example.  We should be a listening community.  We should be a listening community as were the Bereans, working hard to make sure we understand precisely what we are hearing and then, without guile, bringing what we hear before the judgment seat of God's Word and seeking, through the Holy Spirit, to see how we are to respond.  

This can be uncomfortable, for we may discover that we too have been guilty of subjective listening, and for that we should repent.  What possibilities might open up, I wonder, if Christian whites and Christian blacks, both undertook that same stance?

I'm Certain About That....

[Image: Severn River Bridge, Annapolis, MD, Feb. 2105]

It has been a little while since I last posted. A few folks have noticed and graciously indicated they would like to see some more, so here goes.

A biography of Bernard of Clairvaux has been sitting on my shelves for several years and I have just never quite got around to reading it.  Bernard may be most well known among Evangelical Christians for his superb lyrics in the hymn "Jesus, the Very Thought of Thee."  (note: not everyone agrees he actually wrote the words but the sentiments are derived from him if not)  I knew a bit about him through my readings in Christian history and I knew that he, like his general contemporary Anselm, were sincere monks who preferred the contemplative life but were, as you might say, continually being dragged into the wider political events of the time, mostly because of their sheer competence.  Bernard, in his earliest years, was made an abbot of Citeaux and was called upon by various popes for assistance.  One of his theological tensions was his own life.  He taught the monks under him that their spiritual life should be one of "stay at home" in the monastery and yet he was continuously being called to travel to help other people in various crises.  I'm only just getting into the book but it has some promise.

In one of the opening chapters the author (G. R. Evans) writes of Bernard's concern for "certainty."  That's a subject that has long been close to my heart because it is under so much attack today.  "Certainty" today, as it was in seminal form in Bernard's day, is viewed negatively rather than positively by a broad spectrum of people across the entire nation.  Even in conservative Evangelicalism this negative view or suspicion is not only present, it is broadly promoted.  You hear it whenever you hear the phrase: "Doctrine Divides, Love Unites."  At the heart of this view is the idea that doctrine must not be held with "certainty."  To be "certain" about something involves a particular commitment to that thing.  In an age where "toleration" and "diversity" is promoted as virtually the "highest good", it is thought that such toleration should extend not only to accepting people of various racial characteristics but, also, of accepting the variety of philosophical and religious views that are in the social mix also.  As it is not only unseemly, but is now a crime, to speak negatively of another person's race or gender or sexual orientation, it is increasingly politically incorrect to condemn other world views also.

At the heart of this trend, as it was in Bernard's day, is skepticism ascendant.  The very fact that there are different views, even within Christianity, of what the Bible teaches, has bred a skeptical idea that none, or few, of the various views can be held "certainly."  This is very evident in the movement toward minimalism in creedal formulations.  Even churches with formal ties to such broad ranging creeds as the Westminster Confession of Faith, such as my own Presbyterian Church in America, are increasingly experiencing this trend.  The gap between the social culture in this country and the world of strong and comprehensive creedal Christianity is so marked that many church planters and pastors believe that mission, evangelism and even community are not possible if strong positions are taken concerning secondary doctrines (defined as any doctrine which is not "vital" to salvation).  What strikes me as interesting is that Bernard saw just such a problem arising out of the rise of the "schools" of his day as evidenced in the teachings of Abelard.

Bernard's position, which is close to my own, is that "certainty" is inherent in the faith act.  One may have "opinions" about which one is not "certain" and thus one acts provisionally based on those opinions, e.g. an opinion about a certain politician being better suited to an office than another.  But such "opinions" should not be confused with "faith."  Faith has more to do with realizing that some proposition IS TRUE!  It is the "certainty" of this thought that is transformative of human life.  If a person is not "certain" about an article of faith then one will not embrace it whole-heartedly and their faith walk will be hesitant and weak.  Thus, in my opinion as well as Bernard's, it is the duty of the Church to awaken its people to the "certainty" of that which the Scriptures proclaim to be true.  This requires study and the broad compass of scriptural instruction is not quickly digested.  But the growth in "certainty" is, to my mind, always the foundation for growth in Christian piety, boldness, perseverance and proclamation.  

Still we are told that "certainty" in a "few things" is surely the pathway for unity and thus broader acceptance and thus wider influence in the world.  There might be some truth to that if the Scriptures allowed it but such is not the case.  At the heart of the Christian faith is the fact that it is a "received" religion.  It is passed down and relearned in every age through the instrument of the inerrant and infallible Word of God.  At the heart of this Word of God is His Sovereign rights and privileges over the entire scope of man's endeavor, conversation and allegiance.  He lays claim to our love as His right and He claims our obedience as a fruit of that love.  And throughout Scripture, it is toward the fullness of Christian piety, a life dedicated to God, that one is to pursue and be sanctified and grow in piety.  His Word speaks to every aspect of human existence and calls for responsive obedience in each.  Thus, any minimalist Christian set of beliefs must start with the claim that the Bible is "True" and this claim must be held "certainly."  However, if this claim is held "certainly" it will not allow that certainty to be limited only to a minimalist set of propositions.  (This is inherent in the idea that God's relationship to man is covenantal in character, but that is for another topic.)  

Bernard saw this quite clearly and his hunger for warmth of love and devotion to God inevitably had corollaries throughout the range of human endeavor.  Though a celibate monk, he clearly saw that the lay life of the ordinary Christians were just as much a Christian "calling" as was the cloister.  He called upon the lay people who sat under his sermons, to hear what God's word said about their buying and selling, their marriages, their call to arms when necessary or their resistance to superiors who called them to obey orders which were counter to Scripture.  He had a very high view of a developed Christian Conscience and believed that this was a product of a devoted Christian life in whatever vocation a person pursued.

All of this fundamental, practical, pastoral theology is founded on the necessity of "certainty".  "Certainty" may start small, when a person is only being fed milk, but the movement to "strong meat" is inevitable when "certainty" in the basics necessarily expands the Christian consciousness to worshiping the God who is "in all and over all" things.

Perhaps the reason why the gap in our society between the committed Christian community and the cynical culture about us, is not because we are "certain" but because we are not "certain" enough.  If we were then we wouldn't be so lukewarm... and though the culture may not flock to us right away, they would "certainly" be more respectful.