Natalie Burris

A consequence of "men are people, women are women"

When a Christian man discusses theology or the church, to men at least, his gender disappears. He is simply a neutral human being pondering God, hermeneutics, etc. 

But when a Christian woman discusses theology, her gender often becomes front and center. To many, she is not a human being pondering theological or eccelesiological matters, but rather her woman-ness takes precedence. The common assumption is that she has some sort of feminist or otherwise non-"neutral" bent to her thoughts.

Dianna Anderson recently wrote a great post about this phenomenon. Like many women who are interested in theology, Dianna often felt dismissed and "expected to exist apart from and without my womanhood in order to participate in those abstract discussions." She continues:

By my very existence as a woman in theological studies, I insert gender into a discussion that has been previously dominated by a homogenous group of straight, white, cisgender men – men for whom questions of gender and patriarchy were not relevant or pressing in their lives. I, by the very act of being a woman existing in the theological realm, frequently bring to the table a different perspective that is colored by my gendered existence.

Unfortunately, by allowing this experience to play a part in how I approach theology, I am told that I am playing identity politics, that I am failing to participate in the abstract, that I am inserting subjectivity into a previously objective realm.

Dianna points out that a man's objectivity and neutrality simply do no exist. 

I believe this illusion of men-as-people, women-as-women is a huge hurdle for Christian women who want to engage in conversations about theology and the church. Over at the excellent blog Women in Theology, Julia points out the speech patterns of many women who speak up. A graduate student in theology, Julia shares:

I wished someone had told me earlier in my graduate career to stop commenting in class like a girl.  When “girls” ask a question in class, they preface their inquiry with a qualification like, “This may be a basic question but…” or “I’m not really sure, but it seems to me…” or “Maybe everyone one else got this, but…”

Julia frames the issue as self-sabotage and lack of self-confidence, but I also see a woman's hesitancy to speak confidently and with authority a product of our culture. Many white U.S. men do not feel the need to use self-effacing hedge words; rather, they are comfortable in their own already-represented, established skin. I see this in the courtroom all the time.

When I was an undergraduate student, an anthropological study of gendered speech patters in a non-U.S. culture opened my eyes to the way in which language creates and reinforces gender roles. English-speaking (white) men tend to be more direct in speech, as compared to women who use "hedge words" like "well," "sort of," "maybe," "perhaps," etc. English-speaking men also tend to interrupt more often and are more successful at changing the topic of conversation. A look at Malagasy language (in Madagascar) reveals that women use direct and open speech, a behavior that is a sharp contrast to men. Women are known to be more straightforward, while men tend to use "hedge words" and subtleties.

Sadly, the U.S. church is no different than the broader U.S. culture. A few weeks ago, John Piper reinforced our culture's persistent view that women's voices should be minimized. Piper gave the go-ahead for Christian men to stop reading a commentary written by a woman if her femininity was too present. Rachel Pietka likened Piper's views to nineteenth century oppression of U.S. women, during which time women had to minimize their physical presence and remain seated if they spoke out in the public (read: white male) sphere. Rachel notes that Piper encourages the belief "that men have a God-given right to employ forceful, in-your-face rhetoric, both to each other and to women." Women, on the other hand, should keep their voices indirect and impersonal.

The "consequences" of women having a voice in the church is not limited to the conservative branch of the U.S. church. The different ways in which the progressive Tony Jones and Rachel Held Evans are treated, for example, is quite revealing.

Rachel is one of the most gracious and patient U.S. evangelical voices online and in print. She writes with confidence, does not "hedge" often, and is a competent, intelligent woman who discusses theology and the church. Despite the fact that she takes great pains to act charitably and respectfully toward those with whom she disagrees, Rachel is often accused of making a mockery of Scripture, and has really ticked off many white male evangelical gatekeepers. In contrast, Tony Jones has a very abrasive, dismissive, and often petulant voice online. He is often not gracious toward his critics - see Exhibit A and Exhibit B.

Yes, Tony is criticized by the same camp that criticizes Rachel. But imagine if Tony were a woman. I am certain that the response to his writing would be wildly different. Or, imagine if Rachel behaved the way Tony acts. Many baseline responses to Rachel are that she is shrill, emotional, and polarizing -- or even a manipulative Delilah. Imagine the outrage if Rachel were to respond to a commenter with a brusque "bullshit", or were as combative as Tony is in his blog posts and comments section. 

Backed by the U.S. culture and church's belief that Men Are People, the objective neutral against which all Others are compared, Tony can employ as much forceful, in-your-face rhetoric as he wants, with impunity. But women who dare discuss theology with confidence, be careful not to poison the conversation with your feminist bent...lest we be deemed silly women.

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Conservative evangelicals' persecution complex and same-sex marriage

Despite being one of the largest voting blocs in the most powerful and wealthy nation in the world, American evangelical Christians often have a penchant for framing themselves as a persecuted minority.

Recently, several events made me wonder if this persecution complex would again rear its ugly head. The Supreme Court heard oral arguments on state and federal provisions prohibiting same-sex marriage, a notable British evangelical revealed his support for monogamous same-sex marriage, and two Republican senators announced their support for same sex marriage.

As if on cue, The Gospel Coalition and a less prominent blog, SBC Voices, published posts (replete with logical fallacies) last week by presumably straight, white, middle-class men that frame conservative evangelicals as persecuted for their belief that being gay is a sin.

Kevin DeYoung's post at The Gospel Coalition, Three More Thoughts on the Gay Marriage Debate, concedes that the turning tide does not necessarily spell disaster for the more conservative wing of evangelical church. However, DeYoung argues:

[A]ll the cultural arguments for “tolerating” gay marriage are not-so-thinly veiled arguments against the supposed bigotry of those who hold to a traditional understanding of marriage. What do you think the equal signs all over Facebook mean? They make a moral argument: those who oppose gay marriage are uncivil, unsocial, undemocratic, un-American, and probably inhumane.

If you believe homosexual behavior is wrong and gay marriage is a contradiction in terms, you are fast becoming, in the public eye, not simply benighted but positively reprehensible, like the last slave owner who refuses to get on the right side of history. I understand that Christians tire of the culture war, but it’s not a battle we started, and if (when?) we lose the debate on homosexuality we will lose much more than the gurus of tolerance let on. 

Dave Miller's essay at SBC Voices, Dealing Redemptively with the Hate and Intolerance of the Left, describes conservative evangelicals who believe being gay is a sin as "hated, misrepresented, [and] treated intolerantly".

It is baffling to me that many conservative evangelicals consider being labeled an intolerant bigot to be on par with the treatment that our LGBT brothers and sisters endure. People -- many of them teenagers -- are killed, beaten, and/or bullied simply because they identify as LGBT. A gay teen was set on fire and died after sustaining significant burns in 2012. A bullied thirteen-year-old committed suicide in 2010. LGBT youth are significantly more likely to attempt suicide as compared to their straight/cisgender peers.

Conservative evangelicals, your hurt feelings for being called a bigot and for being viewed as reprehensible, your frustration with seeing the "equal" signs on Facebook, and your losses in the so-called culture war are nowhere near the pain inflicted upon many in the LGBT community. It's disingenuous to use terms such as "bigotry" to describe others' treatment of you. It's disingenuous, in the face of soaring hate-crime statistics, to stomp your feet and claim that you are truly the group who is hated and treated intolerantly.

I don't see conservative evangelicals in the U.S. being set on fire, abducted, and beaten for their belief that being gay is a sin, so please, cool it with the persecution rhetoric.

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"Me too:" an affirmation for Rachel Held Evans

Dear Rachel,

I hadn't gone to church in awhile, much less read my Bible. I was done with gatekeepers decreeing who was in and who was out. But last year, with John Piper's proclamation bidding "Farewell" to Rob Bell, I jumped back into the fray. Perhaps it was Bell's courage to question the evangelical establishment, or his critics' shrill response, but I no longer wanted to give up on my faith. I found an amazing online community of Christian bloggers, who shared my struggle with the contemporary North American evangelical church. I even found a local church and joined the community there. 

One of the most grace-filled, honest, and articulate bloggers I found during this time was...you! You're deftly able to communicate what many of us spiritual refugees and internally displaced persons feel. You've amassed a much-deserved readership because your writing resonates so well with a lot of people's experiences. I often find myself remarking, "Me too!" in response to your posts.

Growing up as a young woman in the Southern Baptist church, I too experienced the Bible being used as a weapon against me and my calling. I too have been accused of being a “bitter, angry woman” intent on destroying the Church with my “radical feminist agenda.” And I know I'm not alone. That's why your writing has been such a valuable ministry to women like me (and men, too) who have been wounded by the church and whose questions have been shot down with appeals to concepts such as "inerrancy" and "complementarianism." I'm sure I'm not the only wanderer who's been encouraged to return, and who joins the chorus of "Me too!"

Like so many evangelical women, I've faced hurtful accusations when I push back against the status quo. Sometimes I don't have the words or the grace-under-pressure to articulate what I believe. And many other people in the church who are not white straight men fight a similar battle. Thankfully, you do have the ability to speak so clearly when others are still tending to their wounds and can only offer a quiet "Me too."

What a great example you've served to those of us who get frustrated, and who often fight the urge to respond with biting sarcasm. You've lived out how a gentle answer turns away wrath, avoiding harsh words that stir up anger. 

At one time or another, I've faced criticism too. Mine is nowhere near as public, but it stings nonetheless. And I've faced the assumption that we women don't know what we're talking about. That's why I want to offer encouragement, and who better to borrow from than St. Paul? 

Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love.

Fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel.

Let your gentleness be evident to all.

Fight the good fight; finish the race; keep the faith.

 

_____________________________

Read more from people sharing how Rachel has influenced their thinking or writing, or link up your own post at love is what you do.

Systems, privilege, and the "Top 200 Church Blogs" list

The Church Relevance blog recently compiled a list of the "Top 200 Church Blogs," which raised concerns over the overwhelmingly white, straight, and male nature of the list. The mechanics behind the creation of the rankings are a great illustration of systems and privilege. 

Critical race theory does an excellent job of exposing racism in social systems and groups. This field's most basic tenet is that race is an integral part of social organizations, and racism is an  institutionalized, ingrained feature of social systems. Critical race theory holds that everyone in a social system furthers that system through social practices, reproducing the power and prestige of the system. Those with the most power and prestige are the most privileged, which means they have the most advantage over others, even if this advantage was passed down through generations. (For more on privilege, check out Dianna Anderson's great series, starting here.)

Systems (including religious, legal, and academic systems--and even the blogosphere) tend to be affected by inertia. Most systems, by their very design, are resistant to changes to their usual state. This means it is exceedingly difficult to push against the norms inside the system. The system itself does the work for the privileged individual.

With discrimination, for example, an institution can be raced and gendered in ways in which the institution appears to be race- and gender-neutral, but in reality is dominated almost exclusively by white men or other groups who enjoy privilege. The system works in such a way that the institution discriminates on behalf of its individual members against women, LGBTQ people, and people of color, while favoring white, straight men. The individuals themselves do not have to be racist or sexist in order to perpetuate inequality. In fact, most participants in a system would vehemently deny that they intend to focus exclusively on white, straight men. They are nice people for crying out loud!

For instance, when Kent Shaffer at Church Relevance describes his efforts to compile a list of "top 200 church blogs," he points to seemingly objective measures, such as Alexa Rank and Google Page Rank. While Shaffer acknowledges that his criteria are flawed and subjective, the mechanics behind creating the list reveal that those who have power and prestige will continue to have power and prestige. The "system" reinforces, reproduces, and perpetuates itself, the "system" here being networking and influence of white, straight, Christian men. Claiming to look at the blog-world in a purportedly "neutral" way, using traffic and subscription numbers, masks the fact that one group of people holds the most power and prestige in Christian blogging. One does not have to be a blatant racist, sexist, or homophobe to create a list consisting almost exclusively of white, straight, Christian men - the system works it out for you.

To fight this inertia, I hope one realization that results from rankings like these is that people with the most power and prestige must make a conscious effort to ensure that the voices of women, LGBTQ people, and people of color are heard. If you are a white, straight, Christian man, please take a look at the blogs you read and the people you follow on Twitter. Do they look like you? Take a look at the books you read on theology and ministry. Do their authors look like you? If so, would you be willing to join with me and fight the inertia?

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Mohler and the threatening papyrus fragment...

One of the more intriguing news items this week is the discovery of a fourth-century papyrus fragment that suggests that Jesus had a wife, or at least that some early Christians believed that Jesus had a wife. The fragment also suggests the existence of a woman disciple.

When I listened to NPR's segment on this exciting revelation, I got the first hint of conservative Christians' reaction to the suggestion that Jesus may have had a wife and a woman disciple. Barbara Bradley Hagerty pointed out that "the reference to a female disciple goes to the heart of a worldwide debate about the role of women in the church." Darrell Bock, New Testament scholar at Dallas Theological Seminary, made sure to minimize this new finding:

It's a small, extremely fringe, light text with no context, and so to think about doing something about a tradition simply on the basis of, of that kind of a text, it's making a change on the basis of an asterisk.

Cue Southern Baptist Archbishop Albert Mohler. Even before clicking over to his article on the fragment, I could already tell on Twitter that Mohler was on the defensive:  

@albertmohler

The real agenda behind "The Gospel of Jesus's Wife." It is the rejection of normative biblical Christianity. http://ow.ly/dQVOm 

In Mohler's panicked post, which exhibits a characteristic fear of non-evangelical scholars, he accuses Harvard Divinity School professor Karen King of "over-reaching." Delicious irony, indeed. Mohler himself seems to be over-reaching--and overreacting--to minimize the notion that Jesus could have had a wife or a woman disciple. 

Brian LePort rounded up some reactions to this discovery (including Bock's reaction), and no one seemed as riled up about it as Mohler. So why does Mohler use such dramatic language, like "sensationalism," "heterodoxy," and even calling King's work "an effort to replace biblical Christianity with an entirely new faith"? I am intrigued that Mohler feels so threatened by this tiny piece of papyrus, which is nowhere near conclusive proof that Jesus was married or had called a woman disciple. 

Perhaps I found the answer in Mohler's characterization of the "ambitions" that drive so-called heretic scholars' efforts to study ancient texts:

Feminists have sought to use the Nag Hammadi texts to argue that women have been sidelined by the orthodox tradition, and that these Gnostic texts prove that women were central to the leadership of the early church, perhaps even superior to the men. 

[...]

Professor King, along with Princeton’s Elaine Pagels, has argued that the politically powerful leaders who established what became orthodox Christianity silenced other voices, but that these voices now speak through the Nag Hammadi texts and other Gnostic writings. Writing together, King and Pagels argue that “the traditional history of Christianity is written almost solely from the viewpoint of the side that won, which was remarkably successful in silencing or distorting other voices, destroying their writings, and suppressing any who disagreed with them as dangerous and obstinate ‘heretics.’”

Although the evidence weighs heavily in favor of Jesus not having had a wife, Mohler's fearful reaction is telling. The suggestion that a woman disciple may have existed is threatening to Mohler's carefully-constructed "biblical, orthodox Christianity." Even if the evidence is scant, it seems Mohler feels he has a duty to dismiss an alternative theory of Jesus' life and ministry. It comes across as offensive to Mohler that a woman would be central to the leadership of the early church, perhaps even superior to men.

Perhaps King is right. The powerful have silenced those voices on the margin. In immediately and strongly dismissing the suggestion that Jesus may have had a woman disciple, Mohler places himself squarely on the side of the powerful, the side that won.

Privilege and silence of white "beyond evangelicals"

Encouraging things are happening within U.S. evangelicalism.  No longer solely aligned with Religious Right politicians, six-day creationists, anti-gay movements, and other conservative-leaning groups, many evangelicals are questioning the status quo.  We're concerned about the environment and poverty, and have moved away from a premilennial dispensationalism that disregards the now.  Rather than dish out condemnation, we've learned to be more willing to extend grace.  

Various labels describe these movements: emergent, missional, progressive.  Frank Viola chose the name "beyond evangelical."  I'm conflating several different strains here, but the general direction has been away from the evangelicalism that emerged in opposition to modernism.

While these developments are encouraging, I've noticed most progressive evangelicals are no different from their predecessors when it comes to race.  The heavy-hitters in these movements are white, and the privilege that comes with being white remains even in the new evangelical streams.

Efrem Smith often points this out, and I've shared how evangelicalism's growth was spurred by corresponding growth of white suburbia and its racist underpinnings.  If you follow Anthony Bradley on Twitter, he also provides great critiques of evangelicalism's whiteness, and Lisa Sharon Harper discusses the black-white divide here.

What most determines what progressive evangelicals believe or what they feel worth promoting is not their faith.  The dividing line is actually race.  

A great illustration of this color line is the death penalty.  Attorneys have meticulously researched the psychology behind jury selection.  Researchers have found that "similar religious beliefs can lead to completely opposite policy preferences among respondents of different racial backgrounds." Black evangelicals are more inclined to oppose the death penalty than white evangelicals, who are more likely to support it.¹ 

Although it's fair to say that most of these new kinds of white evangelicals have reconsidered their stance on the death penalty, to have a more consistent pro-life ethic, another illustration of the color line between white evangelicals, including the more progessive ones, and Christians of color is happening right now.  

Natalie Burris ‏ @natalieburris

Such a color line in my timeline re: Trayvon Martin. Who do you think is tweeting about his murder, who do you think has made barely a peep?

Yes, Twitter is anecdotal and unscientific.  But the radio silence from white evangelicals - even the more progressive ones - is disappointing.  White evangelicals yield a lot of influence, politically, economically, and in the media, enjoying massive amounts of privilege.  Invisible Children's recent "Kony 2012" campaign demonstrated that earnest, well-meaning, young evangelicals are capable of spurring world leaders to action and causing 100 million hits on a YouTube video.

 

But when the uproar over the murder of a black child, Trayvon Martin, goes viral, most white evangelicals are silent.  Despite adhering to a religion that came from the margins, many white evangelicals' privilege keeps them silent.  White evangelicals are oblivious to the invisible knapsack of privilege they carry around.  Most don't have to worry if their children will be shot when returning from the corner store.  Most don't even have to think about race itself.

Whiteness is neutral, the air they breathe.  White evangelicals can remain oblivious to the injustices that people of color face in the U.S.

Sadly, their whiteness, rather than their faith, is what informs their thinking.  Here's another take on the color line:

Blacks [...] support the death penalty less than any other major social group (about fifty-eight percent in the 1998 election survey), largely because they are keenly aware of the way in which capital sentencing values the lives of black victims and offenders less than those of their white counterparts.  More white conservative Christians would be likely to appreciate this flaw at the heart of the system if they interacted more with their black brothers and sisters. 

[...]

[M]any black leaders are skeptical of [white evangelicals' efforts to add black members to their churches]. In their view, such contacts have gone on for years, are largely symbolic, and have not increased white suburban evangelicals' concern about the situation of racial minorities or the needs of the inner cities.  Black leaders remark that whites want to form individual friendships with blacks, but that they balk at confronting social and political issues such as inequality in the economy and racism in the criminal justice system.²

Trayvon Martin's murder is a major issue in the African-American community.  It must hurt deeply to see a group as influential as white evangelicals not take initiative to spread the word, despite taking very energetic initiative recently to "make Kony famous."

White "beyond evangelicals:" if you haven't tweeted, blogged, signed a petition, or otherwise promoted the unjust circumstances surrounding Trayvon Martin's murder, I'm interested to know why.  As you can tell from the absence here on my blog, I've been busy, so I understand many simply don't have time to react to every current event.  But many are online all day, and many have smartphones.  

I also have a broader question: do you know any people of color?  If not, why not?  Do you actively make efforts to read or listen to perspectives from Christians of color?  If not, why not?

I'm curious about the general silence from my fellow white Christians with regard to Trayvon Martin. This silence should give us pause.  Let's examine whether our whiteness is the most important factor in our lives, rather than our faith in a subversive Christ.  And to white evangelicals who push against the status quo: let's keep pushing.

____________________

¹ Melynda J. Price, Performing Discretion or Performing Discrimination: Race, Ritual, and Peremptory Challenges in Capital Jury Selection. 15 Mich. J. Race & L. 57, 87-8 (Fall 2009).

² Thomas C. Berg, Religious Conservative and the Death Penalty. 9 Wm. & Mary Bill Rts. J. 31, 58 (2000).

Pro-life evangelicals and prior inconsistent statements

The Gospel Coalition blog recently rounded up some evangelical leaders' calls for civil disobedience. Requiring religious employers to provide health insurance that covers contraception (regardless of who actually pays for it), is effectively forcing pro-life Christians to violate their conscience. These evangelicals claim that some of the drugs to be covered are abortifacients.

Such violation of religious liberty will not stand.  These men, along with the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, are so concerned about human life that they will not tolerate even the most remote connection to birth control that results in the ending of even the most basic forms of human life.  Innocent, defenseless lives are at stake here.

Chuck Colson says he loves his country, "but I love my God more . . . I've made up my mind---sober as that decision would have to be---that I will stand for the Lord regardless of what my state tells me."  

Rick Warren so bravely proclaimed, "I'd go to jail rather than cave in to a govement mandate that violates what God commands us to do."  

Richard Land and Barrett Duke wrote an impassioned call to Christians to oppose this measure, which is an "affront to all people who are pro-life" (emphasis added).

I'm in my last semester of law school, and have been trained to impeach witnesses up on the stand because of a little something called a "prior inconsistent statement."  Our justice system is so concerned with the credibility of witnesses that we have carved out an exception to hearsay rules, which normally prohibit out-of-court statements, so that those words can be used against witnesses if they make previous inconsistent statements.  Once the witness is confronted with the inconsistency, she is impeached and her word is no longer credible.  

To me, Colson, Warren, and Land have lost credibility based on their prior inconsistent statements about their support of innocent, defenseless human lives and whether they would put the state before their faith in God.

In 2003, when the Bush administration was preparing to pre-emptively invade another country, many evangelical leaders offered their support, or at least helped justify, this military action, which resulted in over 100,000 documented Iraqi civilian deaths.  When allegations later surfaced that the U.S. military was using an especially heinous form of torture on prisoners of war, some evangelical leaders again stepped up to help justify torture.

Chuck Colson reasoned that "if a competent authority honestly believed that [torture] was the only way to get information that might save the lives of thousands, I believe he would be justified."  Yes, this is the same Chuck Colson that you just read about above, who proclaimed that while he does love his country, he wouldn't let his state get in the way of his stand for the Lord.  

Rick Warren, in 2008, performed some post-hoc rationalization for the Iraq invasion, despite the Bush administration's later-disproved reasons for invading in the first place: "whether or not they found weapons of mass destruction in Iraq is beside the point."  Yes, this is the same Rick Warren who valiantly rails against a government who makes us violate God's commands.

Richard Land stated in 2006 that the Iraq war "was just; I think it was one of the more noble things we've done."  Yes, the same Richard Land who, as we saw above, so passionately protested against government action that is an affront to people who are pro-life.

None of these men offered such an unequivocal statement in support of innocent, defenseless human lives when the U.S. decided to invade Iraq and later sanction torture.  No one called for civil disobedience when reports started pouring in of civilian deaths, or of the U.S.'s best and brightest being blown up by roadside bombs, or of those same best and brightest being driven to suicide once they're home, or of the estimated 900,000 Iraqi women who are now widows.

Such duplicity disgusts me.  I know no one is perfect and that stances change, and I'm certainly not claiming to be perfect.  But such pompous calls for civil disobedience simply make my stomach turn.  I can't help but think of the death and destruction in Iraq that was abetted by some U.S. evangelicals.  The juxtaposition doesn't sit well with me, and I have a feeling it doesn't sit well with many other people in my generation.  

If you want to make valiant, impassioned, public calls to put your faith in God before your obedience to the government, at least be consistent.  Because if not, even an inexperienced law student would have you impeached on the stand in a heartbeat.

Wheaton problems, evangelical problems

It wasn't until my senior year at Wheaton, in 2005, that my friends and I signed up for Facebook.  "Status updates" weren't yet an option.  Twitter wasn't even launched until after I graduated from Wheaton.  This means that my peers and I didn't have an instant social media forum to share our opinions.

Even in our oh-so-ancient pre-Twitter era, we still found a way to communicate, converse, and share opinions on campus, but I bet the advent of smartphones and easily-accessible social media has dramatically changed how information flows in such a tight-knit community.  One such change is students tweeting during chapel services, using the #chapeltweets hashtag.

Each February, usually in honor of black history month, Wheaton has a chapel dubbed "Rhythm and Praise," in which students (of all backgrounds, but the majority are black) lead a "gospel-style" worship service.  Keep in mind that the college is overwhelmingly white, with very few students of color.  Last Friday, some white students sent out a series of racially insensitive and derisive tweets during this particular chapel.  Noah Toly, an urban studies professor and director of the Urban Studies Program, summarized the tweets here.

My heart is heavy for the students who led worship that day.  I can't imagine how painful it must be to know that your fellow Christians take your worship style lightly, or wish for a return to business-as-usual. 

As I'm no longer on campus, I don't want to portray the events incorrectly.  However, I did want to comment on many white students' and alumni's responses I've seen online.  What may seem like an isolated incident at a Christian college reveals, to me, a bigger issue within white evangelicalism as a whole.  One white professor thinks we should be quiet about the incident, because "talking it out" sometimes piles on to the hurt.  One presumably white alum sees nothing wrong with stating a preference toward "traditional" worship styles.

White evangelicals have a complicated, uncomfortable history with our black neighbors, and we don't come to a historically-neutral table.  Christian Smith has asked believers to "stop excluding, dismissing, discounting, and ignoring other Christians" who don't belong to their own "in-group."  Speaking of in-groups, many white evangelicals have created an "insider" culture, with our own unwritten grammar of conduct and nuances of cultural idiom.  

There is absolutely nothing wrong with a preference for a European or white U.S. American style of worship.  But when we white evangelicals convince ourselves that our worship services, music, preaching style, and other aspects of church life are simply "neutral" or "traditional," we effectively shut out Christians of color, even if excluding others is not our intent.  When Christians of color point out how hurtful it can be to "joke around" about a particular worship style--even when the comment was made with no harm intended--a defensive response only makes the wound grow deeper.  

Anthropology professor Brian Howell, who was extremely influential during my own time at Wheaton, explains that a seemingly neutral statement or preference can still perpetuate hurtful racism, even if the person who makes such a statement or has such a preference isn't a racist:

When someone listens to gospel music and declares it "disorganized," (true example from #chapeltweets), he may just be intending to say that he doesn't know where to look; there's a lot going on; he is confused. At the level of intention and reference, nothing racial there. But indexically there are some layers here. Mind you, the performance in question did not involve people forgetting the lyrics, bumping into each other, or not knowing who should step up to the mic. At that level it was orderly. But it was more complex than some other (European based) forms of music. To call it "disorderly" is to make a comparison. To what? To "orderly" worship. To "normal" worship. To "white" worship. 

On a broader scale, I wonder what white evangelicals could learn from this teachable moment.  Perhaps we could realize that worship styles and church services are not race-neutral.  Worship and the theology that underlies it are rooted in a specific context, which includes race.  White evangelicals may not think our views about church or worship have a racial influence. We instead consider them race-neutral.  Only allowing space or only legitimizing white, suburban, middle-class preferences, then, can speak volumes. 

When it comes to worship, one of the most vulnerable times in the practice of one's faith, perhaps we should unpack our preferences and question our assumptions, as Dr. Howell mentioned.  What seems completely natural to one group of believers may have a different meaning for another.  At the foot of the cross, why would we make value judgments or insist that one's preferences are somehow neutral?  

What was there all along...

The next section in Christian Smith's The Bible Made Impossible deals with "A Historically Growing Grasp of the Meaning of the Gospel."  It provides a helpful tool for thinking about a closed canon.  Smith writes: "[T]he Christian church’s historically progressive understanding and working out of the meaning and implications of the gospel as mediated to us through scripture has never in church history been complete and is not now complete."  

The common evangelical belief is that the New Testament provides all we need to know theologically, and modeled how believers work out the gospel in a "particular sociohistorial context.  This does not mean the New Testament authors "understood and worked out all the long-term implications of the gospel for theological knowledge, human life, and society."  Later generations continued to develop the authors' theology in new ways.  It took over 350 years "to work out orthodox, catholic, christological, and trinitarian doctrines, which most evangelicals still affirm as theologically nonnegotiable today." I loved his description of this process, "theological wrangling."

"What was embryonic in scripture needed to develop and grow into a more mature theological expression of what was there all along."  Smith argues the New Testament authors had simply not "worked out the full implications" of the truth they so cherished, but which later generations of Christians have formulated.

Slavery is a prime example of this "unfolding."  The New Testament authors did not work out the gospel's moral implications for slavery.  This has caused many to reject Christianity, which is understandable.  I believe the doctrine of inerrancy keeps this stumbling block in place, ossifying what is supposed to be inchoate.  

Smith notes early Christians were, "like all humans, limited in time, place, and range of vision." For them, slavery was an unalterable fact of life.  The Gospel merely meant slaves should submit to their masters and masters should treat their slaves well.  But, the Gospel started planting seeds, "in the form of the then-radical idea that slaves and masters were equals and brothers in Christ."

For all Christians to unequivocally understand that the Gospel means the end of slavery took time and struggle--wrangling.  Today, all Christians look back and clearly know the truths of the Bible unfold in such a way that slavery is wrong.  The denouncement of slavery was not itself a teaching found anywhere other than in embryonic forms in the New Testament. But eventually all Christians grasped this truth by fleshing out the Gospel's ramifications.  Smith explains: 

[T]he total meaning of the gospel did not land on the apostles’ doorsteps the day after Pentecost, like a cognitive FedEx package containing everything the church would ever need to know, think, and believe until Jesus returns in glory. The apostles understood and preached the truth of salvation in Jesus Christ. But they did not know and teach the fullness of the many implications of that truth for doctrine, relationships, and society. That was a task given to subsequent generations of believers across church history.

He later describes this process as a "slow but ultimately revolutionary leavening of the gospel in human life," not overtly prescribed but nevertheless a valid result of New Testament teachings.  

Smith's use of slavery as an example, to me, highlights the necessity of decolonizing our faith.  Of course there were those who knew from the start that slavery was unequivocally wrong - slaves themselves!  And I'm wary of describing the process as slow.  Just as Martin Luther King Jr. warned against white moderates' desire to take the civil rights movement more slowly, I wouldn't want the gradual, historical unfolding of the Gospel to sanction a delay in ensuring the liberty for all at the foot of the cross.

But back to Smith - he cites a litany of verses to support this premise (in a...biblicist sort of way), but his point remains that evangelicals only apply the "working out" and "growing" verses individualistically. Rather than strictly personal spiritual growth, what if these verses addressed the church's collective understanding of the Gospel?  What if truth itself is developing, unfolding, and dynamic, like a mustard seed, or yeast spreading through rising dough?

Pervasive interpretive pluralism frames the Bible as the complete and final teachings on all subjects.  But let God-fearing, Bible-believing Southern Christians in the nineteenth-century U.S. remind us: failure to grasp a historically progressive understanding of Scripture results in support for one of the ugliest times in human and American history, undergirded by what appears to be the Bible's defense of slavery.  

If a developing, dynamic truth sounds uncomfortably close to postmodernism, most of us would acknowledge that denouncing slavery didn't require a radical postmodern turn away from "objective truth."  I still believe truth has roots, but perhaps we've got to keep watering seeds and wrangling, careful not to let the Gospel fossilize.  Or perhaps we should be more careful not to let our understanding of the Gospel ossify, lest we fail to see what was there all along.

Myopia now...empty pews later

Scot McKnight shared an observation yesterday from historian David Hempton about the evangelical awakening, an 18th-century movement that formed the basis for modern evangelicalism in the U.S. and the U.K. 

One of the prominent features Hempton noted about this awakening is that  “… most surveys have shown that the majority of the rank-and-file was female. … One does not have to burrow very deeply into the archives of Evangelical awakenings to detect the ubiquitous influence of ‘pious women’ over siblings, husbands, children, parents and friends..."

This observation stood in great contrast to Slacktivist's post, also from yesterday, about People Who Don't Listen to Women, specifically John Piper and the U.S. Catholic bishops:

[O]ne big problem with not listening to women is that there are several billion of them not to listen to. If you choose to ignore them, they may return the favor, but only for so long as you’re not actively harming them. Once your ignorance leads to harm, they’re likely to remind you, forcefully, that they do in fact exist and that they don’t in fact have to take your abuse.

[...]

A long history of not listening won’t be easy to overcome. And much of what the bishops are about to hear will be silence. The silence of empty pews. The silence of the empty spaces left behind by the women who used to belong to their churches.

Those women will leave because they’ve been told one too many times that they’re not wanted there. They’re listening, and they hear exactly what the bishops are telling them.

I agree - evangelicals and Catholics who marginalize women may soon find emptier pews.  But I would extend this even further.  Just as women revitalized the church in the 18th century, people of color in the U.S. and the global south are the next wave of Christianity.  Those who see no value in listening to minorities (and soon-to-be majorities) will be...left behind.

Eugene Cho explains:

Our nation is moving rapidly towards racial, ethnic, and cultural diversity, and American Christianity is bearing witness to these dramatic changes. Workplaces, congregations, conferences, and readerships are all changing to reflect this reality, but Christian leaders are lagging behind in attaining the cultural intelligence they need in order to navigate through this multi-cultural reality.

The old guard would prefer not only white women to remain silent, but also women and men of color. The whiteness of many movements who in fact speak out against the likes of Piper and the U.S. Catholic bishops demonstrates that a low "cultural IQ," as Cho calls it, is pervasive in many wings of the church.  I couldn't help but think of Andrew Walls' The Missionary Movement in Christian History, where he writes:

The exponential growth of the Christian faith in the African continent in the past century or so seems to me to raise the question whether this massive encounter with a new body of thought and network of relationships may not be as determinative of the future shape of Christianity as was the encounter with the Greek world. (xviii) 

Perhaps if we only read, interact with, and agree to learn from North American and Western European men, we're missing out on an influential and historical movement, and may soon find that our myopic behavior translates into empty pews.  Walls later discusses the difference between reading the Bible in Zulu in South Africa versus reading it in a "comfortable bourgeois congregation [who] meets in some Western suburbia" (15).  It makes me wonder if we would gain another perspective in our debates here in the global North about biblicism or gender roles, for example.  

Walls points out that "[t]heology in the Third World will be, as theology at all creative times has always been, about doing things, about things that deeply affect the lives of numbers of people" (10).  

Guardians of patriarchy and a white status quo, as well as those who work to keep women of faith from having access to health care: your theology deeply affects the lives of all women and of all people of color.  You may be winning the "culture war" now, but a church that continually marginalizes people based on their gender and race, either implicitly or explicitly, de facto or intentionally, will struggle to see another "great awakening."