Archive for category: Musings

The first step that led to my commitment to listen to the pain of others came when no one was willing to listen to my pain.

It was in the summer of 1993 when I was called into the office of the President of Messiah College (PA) and was told that my services as Vice President for Academic Affairs was being terminated immediately because of my “lack of deference to the President and Board of Trustees.” From my perspective, the reason for my being fired  was that my collaborative leadership style was diametrically opposed to the command-and-control style of the President and Board.

A bruhaha resulted amongst my faculty. In an attempt to calm the troubled waters, the Board solicited the services of a mediator, who, I was told, talked to a lot of people, but never talked to me.

How could that be since it was my firing that led to the turmoil? The pain of being fired was amplified significantly by the fact that this mediator was not willing to listen to my side of the story; not willing to listen to my pain. I had been silenced.

But then, much to my surprise, I found a Trustee who was willing to listen to my pain. Or, more accurately, he found me.

That happened one sunny morning a few months after my firing when this Trustee, who was not involved in the decision to terminate my employment, showed up, unannounced, at my door in Dillsburg. His first words to me were “Harold, I want to hear your side of the story.”

These few words were a marvelous gift. Finally, a person in authority invited me to share my pain, with a commitment to listening. I cannot find words to adequately express the joy this kind gesture brought to me. Although it did not change the outcome, a sense of peace washed over me. It was something like coming across an oasis on a desert journey. As he left my home that morning, I knew that, at long last, because I had been listened to, I had been loved.

Since that experience over 26 years ago, I have aspired to listen to the pain of others, primarily by means of attempts to orchestrate respectful conversations among Christians who have strong disagreements about contentious issues. The reason that listening to the pain of others is foundational for navigating such disagreements is that if you are willing  dig beneath the surface to uncover the reasons a person has taking a particular position on a given issue, you will often uncover a deep experience of pain, amplified by an unwillingness on the part of others to listen to that pain.

For example, there are many Christian members of the LGBT community who have experienced the great pain of being rejected by their families, friends or churches, or who have been relegated to second-class citizenship by being silenced within the Christian institutions or organizations, such as some Christian colleges, with which they are associated. And this pain of rejection or being second-class citizens has been amplified many times over by the refusal of other brothers and sisters in Christ to first listen to their stories of pain and then refusing to listen to the ways in which they also aspire to be faithful followers of Jesus.

Stories of heartbreaking pain now fill the airways; stories that make my story of pain pale by comparison. Precipitated by the brutal murder of George Floyd by policemen in Minneapolis, we hear, once again, of the police brutality, racism, discrimination and unjust inequalities in areas such as housing, health care and educational opportunities that cause considerable pain for black Americans. The root of many of these abuses can be traced back to the founding of our nation because of America’s original sin of slavery.

So, are there any lessons that we will finally learn? Three possibilities come to mind, all related by the common need to listen well to the pain of others.

First, as politicians struggle in the quest for adequate legislative responses to this persistent abuse of black Americans, they must not just talk “about” the problems that black Americans continue to experience, they must talk “with” black Americans, and the place to start that conversation is to listen to their stories of pain. For the last few weeks, peaceful protestors across the country have been pleading with the political class: “We need to be heard”; “You need to start listening  to our pain.” This plea has come not just from black Americans, but also from  Americans of various races and ethnicities who stand in solidarity with members of the black community.

Secondly, for those politicians and citizens who claim to be followers of Jesus, they need to be reminded of the central call of Jesus to love others and the pivotal truth that you don’t love someone who you have silenced. If you truly love someone, you will want to listen to their stories of pain. Creating a safe and welcoming space for someone to honestly share what is on their minds and hearts. including their stories of pain, is a deep expression of love.

Thirdly, I share a recommendation to those readers who have been following on this website my various attempts to orchestrate respectful conversations among those who have strong disagreements, based on a change I would now make in my “Trump conversation” if I could do that all over again.

A good aspect of my Trump conversation is that I did not allow the four Trump supporters and four non-Trump supporters to jump directly into the fray by laying bare their disagreements. Rather, we started our conversations by “getting to know one another” in a non-confrontational way by addressing questions like “Why are you here?”; “What do you hope to get out if this conversation?”

I had hoped that my conversation partners would respond to these questions by drawing on their personal stories. But few of them did so. I should have been more directive in my instructions for this initial session together. For those  readers who may decide to replicate my Trump conversation or who would like to initiate a small group conversation about any other contentious issue, such as endemic racism, I recommend the following Leading Question for your first session: What aspects of your personal story, including your experiences of pain, draw you to this conversation? And initiators of such conversations must include as conversation partners those for whom the issue is not theoretical; those whose life stories will reveal the great pain they have experienced.

It is indisputable that Christianity, as practiced by the institutional church, is thriving in the global south (centered in Africa, Latin America and Asia), where the majority of Christians now live, and is declining precipitously in the western world, especially among those many millennials in America who now designate their religious affiliation as “none.”

Given that reality, Wesley Granberg-Michaelson, in his excellent book Future Faith, calls Christians in the Western World to listen carefully to their brothers and sisters in Christ in the global south about their views regarding the Christian faith that are at odds with dominant Western Views.

I heartily agree with Granberg-Michaelson’s call for such careful listening on the part of those of us who inhabit the Western World. At the same time, a careful reading of his book points to the need for a two-way conversation open to the possibility that residents of these two worlds have much to learn from each other. Granberg-Michaelson calls for this two-way conversation when he indicates his “hope and trust that it [his book] may start a conversation” (4). In what follows, I will elaborate on four elements of such a needed two-way conversation pointed to by Granberg-Michaelson, concluding my consideration of each element with a proposal for a specific “leading question” to get the conversation started.

ME FOR THE COMMUNIUTY OR THE COMMUNITY FOR ME: Granberg-Michaelson  accurately points to the excesses of individualism in America where an inordinate focus is on the rights of individual members who “then make agreements and social contracts for how best to preserve those rights” (111). As an extreme expression of such individualism, Granberg-Michaelson points out that Ayn Rand “took individualism to such extremes that selfishness became a virtue, dismissing altruism And self-sacrifice and advocation a radical laissez-faire capitalism free of any government interference” (112, 113).

What is clearly missing from such hyper-individualism is recognition that “we are social beings, and collectively we decide – through various political processes – how best to secure the rights of all who belong to a shared community” (111,112). And to talk exclusively about “rights” is to ignore the possibility that “rights” and accompanied by “responsibilities” toward other members of the various communities in which we are embedded.

Granberg-Michaelson accurately notes that “when Jesus calls people to follow him, he calls them into a community and not to private individualistic fulfillment” (114); and he, therefore, expresses appreciation for the fact that “Non-Western cultures … often begin with the primacy of the community, stressing the values of belonging and mutual relationships” (49).

But Granberg-Michaelson also notes the potential excesses of a focus on community that contradicts the fact that, in addition to being individuals, we are indeed individuals. He notes in particular the extreme of Marxist ideology which “declared that all supposed individualism was an illusion since the real destiny and circumstances of working people were completely controlled by those who owned the means of production” (112).

In light of the above, it appears to me that “me for the community” or “the community for me” is a false choice in the sense that both statements contain some elements of truth, but neither statement captures the whole truth.  It is not “either/or,” it is “both/and.” And, as for all both/and positions, the primary need is to create a proper “balance” between two positions that become untenable when taken to their extremes (it being my belief that the extreme views in both the western world and the global south are out of balance).

So, if it is the case that voices from the global south that focus on “me for the community” are more in accord with the teachings of Jesus than voices from the western world that focus on “the community for me” (on which both Granberg-Machaelson and I agree), there are non-extreme elements of  truth in both foci that need to be acknowledged and integrated into a coherent whole.

It appears to me that Granberg-Michaelson agrees with my plea for such integration when he suggests the need for “a healthy political dialogue between the primacy of individual freedom and the responsibilities of upholding the common good  of society” (112).

In that spirit, the first “leading question” that I suggest should be discussed in a two-way conversation between Christians in the western world and Christians in the global south is: What is the relationship between my Christian responsibilities as an individual and my Christian responsibilities as a member of a Christian community and other communities?

RATIONAL OR SUPERNATURAL APPROACHES TO KNOWLEDGE: Grandberg-Michaelson describes this contrast between predominant views in the western world and the predominant views in the global south as follows: “Western, Enlightenment culture placed a priority on the mind’s ability to know truth through rational thought and inquiry. … Non-Western cultures often assume that supernatural forces, both good and evil, are the means that unlock knowledge and truth” (50).

Once again, I believe this is a false choice. My elaboration of this belief will not draw extensively on Granberg-Michaelson’s book (although I encourage you to read his helpful insights). Rather, I will draw on the results of my struggles with this apparent dichotomy over many years, which I have reported on in a number of my past writings As you will now see in summary form, my search for a both/and position will embrace elements of both western and non-western thinking.

The version of this apparent dichotomy with which I have struggled has focused on trying to make sense of the relationship between a Christian  saying I have acted in a certain way because it reflects my rational understanding of what the Bible teaches and a Christian making some experience based assertion that sounds like  “I did that because God told me to do it.”

The latter assertion based on intense religious experience suggests that there can be a “supernatural” source of knowledge based on personal religious experience that is not the result of rational deliberation. Granberg-Michaelson notes that this belief is particularly pronounced in the Pentecostal Christian tradition, where preachers see their “purpose” as “not so much to expound well-reasoned theological truths as it is to incite an intensity of spiritual experience” that “grip[s] one’s whole being and all the senses” (93)

My response to this apparent dichotomy may surprise those readers who know that my formal education is as a scientist. Scientists attempt to capture that portion of reality that is amenable to investigation using the scientific method of testing hypotheses about the nature of observable phenomena. That is an exercise in rationality.

But it is a gross expression of human hubris for a scientist, in his/her role as a scientist, to assert that the portion of reality that the scientist has the method to investigate captures all of reality. Such a narrow view of the scope of reality (called “scientism”), may indeed be true, but its truth, or not, cannot be ascertained using the method of the scientist (that is a “metaphysical” question that I believe (contrary to much scholarly opinion) philosophers/theologians can investigate – which is a topic too complex to address here).

So, I believe there are aspects of reality that are not subject to any scientific or other modes of rational inquiry. And such mysterious aspects of a broad view of reality could include some very strange things, including even “literally hearing a voice from God” (which is how some biblical passages are interpreted); even though I  have never heard such a voice and I believe that, even if such a voice could occur, that is not  the primary means by which God communicates with Christians as to what they should do.

This all points to a possible connection between rational and supernatural approaches to knowledge. I do not take any claim to special knowledge based on reported human experience at face value. Such claims are not self-authenticating. Many atrocities have been committed for years by Christians claiming a direct “experiential pipeline to God.” Any such claim must be tested against adequate understandings of teachings in the Bible as to what does and does not foster God’s redemptive purposes; which “testing” is a form of rational inquiry.

In light of the above reflections, a second “leading question” that I suggest should be discussed in a two-way conversation between Christians in the western world and Christians in the global south is: What is the relationship between rational and non-rational claims as to how to live well as a Christian and how can one evaluate such claims?

BELIEFS BASED ON CHRISTIAN VALUES OR CUTURALLY BASED BELIEFS

Given my own efforts to orchestrate respectful conversations among Christians relative to human sexuality issues, on this website and in the book Respectful LGBT Conversations that emerged from that online conversation, I found Granberg-Michaelson’s chapter on “Defeating Divisive Culture Wars” (163-190) especially compelling; helping me to add two new dimensions to my view as to conversations needed regarding this contentious issue.

As a context for the first new dimension, Granberg-Michaelson notes that while such conversations about human sexuality must include consideration of issues like biblical interpretation, which must be “honest” about “the diversity of faithful biblical interpretation” (175), and scientific knowledge (both elements of the conversations I have orchestrated about human sexuality), there are two prior dimensions that need to be addressed: “honesty about faith and culture” and “honesty about the role of politics in the church’s discernment of moral issues” (175). In this section, I will briefly consider this first prior dimension (savig the second dimension for the next section).

Granberg-Michaelson’s accurate claim is that “attitudes in the church toward same-sex relationships are invariably shaped by cultural contexts in any culture. Advocates may sincerely  believe that they are resting on the ‘Bible alone,’ but the Bible is always translated, interpreted, and understood through a particular cultural context. That is true for every Christian” (175-176).

To illustrate this point, Granberg-Michaelson notes the cultural influence on the positions taken relative to same-sex relationships by most of his Korean Christian friends: “Most of my Korean Christian friends … are opposed to any acceptance of same-sex relationships. They also are shaped by a culture where family honor and fidelity to one’s clan is huge value. Transgressing traditional familial expectations form one’s parents, grandparents. relatives, and even ancestors comes with a formidable cost. That doesn’t settle whether the views of my Korean friends are right or wrong, but simply recognizes that those views are held within a cultural context” (175). Grandberg-Michaelson then goes on to describe how “The same is true for African church leaders” (175).

It appears to me that those of us in the western world do not feel as beholden to maintaining fidelity to the views of those who have come before us regarding same-sex relationships (and other moral issues) as Granberg-Michaelson describes for his Christian friends from Korea and Africa. We appear to be more open to exploring the possibility that those who have come before us “got it wrong.”

This points us to another “leading question” that should be discussed in a two-way conversation between Christians in the western world and Christians in the global south: For any given moral issue, what is the effect, if any, of the previous positions that Christians in our culture have taken relative to that issue on our understanding of Biblical passages that address that issue?

BELIEFS BASED ON CHRISTIAN VALUES OR POLITICAL AFFILIATION

A second dimension that I should have paid more attention to in my online conversation about human sexuality is embedded in Granberg-Michaelson’s accurate claim that there is a need for more “honesty about the role of politics in the church’s discernment of moral issues” (175).

Granberg-Michaelosn wonders out loud about “why it came to be that relationships between gay and lesbian persons took center stage as the key ethical concern consuming the attention, energy, art ofand focus of much of Christianity in the United States” (180).He accurately asserts that “Part of the reason was simply politics – specifically American politics” (150), noting that “When the Religious Right emerged on the US political scene, traditional ‘family values’ became a rallying cry for support, including opposition in general to affirming the rights of gay and lesbian persons and specifically against any possibility of same-sex marriage being legalized” (180).

Granberg-Michaelson concludes by asserting that “it was not a process of careful biblical reflection, deep theological study, or discerning cultural analysis that primarily motivated the churches’ unending focus on the ethics of same-sex relationships. Instead this was fueled by those who adopted this as a calculated political strategy in the US electoral process” (182).

Once again, as in the above section calling for honesty about cultural influences on Christian beliefs, Granberg-Michaelson is not addressing the question of whether the position of the Religious Right is “right or wrong.” Rather, he is rightfully calling for honesty as to the significant role that politics plays in America in shaping the beliefs of Christians about same-sex relationships.

At this point a reader may ask “What is the problem with letting your political affiliation inform your beliefs about same-sex marriage or any other moral issues?” The problem arises when Christians uncritically embrace the position taken by their political party without asking whether that position actually comports with Christian values. My painful experience in orchestrating some local conversations about public policy issues is that too many Christians embrace the views espoused by their political party without “digging down deep” into their Christian values to ascertain whether the position of their political party fits with those Christian values. As Christians, our positions on public policy issues, and everything else, should be based on our understanding of Christian values.

My knowledge of politics in the global south is almost non-existent. So, I am not in a position to reflect on the influence of politics, if any, in the various countries in the global south on views regarding same-sex relationships. My educated guess is that this influence is significant. But whether that is the case or not could emerge from a two-way conversation between Christians in the western world and Christians in the global south around the following “leading question”: What role has your political affiliation played in shaping your views about same-sex relationships (or any other moral issue) and to what extent do these “politically shaped” views comport, or not, with your understanding of Christian values?

Well, as those who have been following the postings on my website know, I am always seeking to formulate some good questions that can be starting points for respectful conversations among Christians who have strong disagreements about contentious issues. Inspired and deeply informed by Granberg-Michaelson’s excellent book Future Faithl, my reflections above suggest four “leading questions” that I believe could be good starting points for future conversations between Christians in the western world and Christians in the global south.

Richard Mouw, President Emeritus of Fuller Theological Seminary, points to the rarity of Christians combining deep convictions about their beliefs with gentleness and respect toward those who disagree with them in a fascinating and disturbing reflection on the many sermons he heard during his boyhood days in a Christian Reformed Church in New Jersey on the last two sentences in 1 Peter 3: 15.

 … Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.  But do this with gentleness and respect … (NIV)

Richard’s observation, expressed in a meeting we both attended, was that he had heard many sermons on the first sentence, but he has no recollection of ever hearing a sermon on the second sentence.

This radical example of the penchant of many Christians to tear biblical passages out of their context (within the same verse, mind you) points to the rarity of the combination of commitment and openness. Here is my own elaboration.

The first sentence from 1 Peter 3:15 suggests that Christians should be prepared to state their beliefs with clarity and conviction. That reflects strong commitment to one’s Christian beliefs. So far, so good! But the oft-neglected second sentence suggests how a Christian should state her strong convictions; with “gentleness and respect.” For me this exhortation to be “gentle and respectful” means that at the same time that you state your Christian beliefs with clarity and conviction; you are open to listening to the contrary beliefs of others and then talking respectfully about your agreements and disagreements.

In this day when many Christians succumb to the scourge of tribalism, an us-versus-them mentality that asserts that “me and my people” (e.g., my particular church or Christian tradition) have the truth, the whole truth and nothing but truth about the issue at hand, and “those other folks” possess very little, if any, of that truth, it is all too easy for Christians to embrace commitment, but to eschew “openness.” The rarity of this combination of “commitment” and “openness is the main obstacle to Christians embracing and learning from Christians who worship in “other” churches or Christian traditions.

Before suggesting a strategy for overcoming this obstacle, I will reflect on what I consider to be three root causes of the rarity of effectively combining commitment and openness: a denial of diversity in Christian belief; a desire for prominence and power; and a lack of humility.

Diversity in Christian belief has been prominent since the early days of the Christian church and it is here to stay. Many Christian historians have documented this truth. As Catherine Breckus and Clark Gilpin have cogently pointed out, failure to acknowledge this truth is often driven by a tendency to consider “manyness” a failure and, therefore, to falsely identify your “own part” of the entire Christian tradition “with the whole.”

… Christians usually identify “manyness” as a failure. Christians believe that in the ideal world, the tradition is supposed to be singular, and rather than confronting its plurality, they have usually chosen to identify their own part of it with the whole (American Christianities: A History of Dominance and Diversity, 4)

One major obstacle to combining commitment and openness is the denial of “Christian diversity” that considers “manyness” to be a failure.

A second major obstacle is the tendency for some Christians to submerge or marginalize those from other Christian traditions to maintain prominence and power. It appears to me that some Christians avoid engaging those from other Christian traditions, or those who hold differing beliefs about a given issue, for fear that if they are given a voice, the result could be a diminishment of the current dominance of our tradition, or our particular beliefs about the issue under consideration, or the respectability or prestige or support that our Christian organization has?

In conversations I have had with some prominent Christian leaders related to my focus on giving a voice to everyone and  creating a safe and welcoming space for the expression of disagreement (and from similar conversations that other people have reported to me), I have been saddened by a pattern in responses that in effect asks “What will our constituents or supporters think if that find out we are even talking about such a controversial issue?” Is such a response guided more by adherence to values such as cultural acceptance, admiration, prestige and power than commitment to foundational Christian values like love, courage and the quest for truth? I respectfully suggest that these prominent Christian leaders failed to dig down deep to foundational Christian values?

A third obstacle to combining commitment and openness is a lack of humility. That will take some explanation since the Christian virtue of humility is often misunderstood.

It has been my experience that elements of my biography deeply inform my beliefs, as do other elements of my social location, such as my gender, my race, my sexual orientation and my socio-economic status. The beliefs of someone who disagrees with me about a given issue may be deeply informed by her differing set of particularities that may enable her to see things that I miss; just as my unique particularities may enable me to see things that she misses. And since we are both finite and fallible human beings, we cannot claim that either of our partial glimpses captures the full truth on the matter, as only fully understood by God. In addition, I can be blinded when I succumb to the temptation to sin by thinking “it’s all about me and those who agree with me.” As scripture teaches, we all “see through a glass darkly” (1 Corinthians 13:12).

It is hubris; a gross failure to exemplify an appropriate attitude of humility for me to assume that I have a God’s eye view of the truth about the issue at hand. It takes genuine humility for me to express my beliefs with clarity and conviction while acknowledging that the contrary beliefs of another person may help me to refine my beliefs; possibly improving them, and possibly even correcting them.

Note that such humility does not mean being wishy-washy about your beliefs. Rather, it involves you holding in tension that very rare combination of embracing and expressing your beliefs with clarity and deep conviction at the same time that you publicly acknowledge that you may have only a partial, truncated view of the “whole truth” and you may even be “wrong” about some things.

Both Ian Barbour and Richard Mouw have given eloquent expression to the nature of this rare combination. In his book Myths, Models and Paradigms, Barbour proposes the following definition of “religious maturity.”

It is by no means easy to hold beliefs for which you would be willing to die, and yet to remain open to new insights. But it is precisely such a combination of commitment and inquiry that constitutes religious maturity (136).

In his splendid book Uncommon Decency, Richard Mouw draws on Martin Marty in highlighting the importance of “civility” in living out this rare combination of commitment and inquiry, calling for a “convicted civility.” 

One of the real problems in modern life is that the people who are good at being civil often lack strong convictions and people who have strong convictions often lack civility … We need to find a way of combining a civil outlook with a “passionate intensity” about our convictions. The real challenge is to come up with a convicted civility (12).

Openness to the beliefs of others without commitment to your own beliefs too easily leads to sheer relativism (I have my beliefs, you have yours; end of conversation). Commitment to your own beliefs without openness to listening to and respectfully discussing the beliefs of others too easily leads to fanaticism, even terrorism. (As C. S. Lewis has observed, to which past and recent world events tragically testify, “Those who are readiest to die for a cause may easily become those who are readiest to kill for it.” – Reflections on the Psalms, 28): One of the most pressing needs in our world today, is for all human beings, whatever their religious or secular faith commitments, to embrace, and hold in tension, both commitment and openness; giving living expression to “convicted civility.”

Do we Christians often avoid engaging those from other Christian traditions, or those who hold differing beliefs about a given issue, because we lack that measure of humility required to acknowledge that our finitude and fallibility beg us to engage in conversation with other finite and fallible Christians having differing views of the truth, so that together we may gain a better approximation to the full truth as only understood by God?

Overcoming these three obstacles will be difficult in an age where many Christians have succumbed to the scourge of tribalism. Assuming that by God’s grace these formidable obstacles can be overcome, or at least ameliorated, is there a practical strategy for effectively combining commitment and openness when engaging with those “others” (Christian or otherwise) who disagree with you. I close with a strategy suggested by Richard Mouw

Based on his extensive experience with inter-faith dialogues with Catholic, Jews and Mormons, Mouw has provided excellent advice on how to signal to your conversation partners your openness to listening to their contrary viewpoints as a first step in your conversation. He used to jump right into the fray, telling the other person, in no uncertain terms, why she “is wrong,” which only led to defensiveness. Now he starts by saying to the other person, “help me to understand what it is you believe [about the issue at hand] and your reasons for believing that.”

Mouw found that this way to start the conversation “softens the heart.” As the writer of Proverbs says (15:1), “A soft answer turns away wrath.” I have some first-hand experience that testifies to the wisdom of this way to start a conversation in my many recent attempts to orchestrate respectful conversations about hot-button issues. It is wise because when the other person realizes that you are genuinely interested in understanding what she believes and why she holds to those beliefs, she will often reciprocate, leading to the quest for mutual understanding; which, hopefully, can lead to the trust needed to begin sorting through disagreements in the hope of finding some common ground, or, if that doesn’t happen, at least illuminating remaining disagreements sufficient to enable ongoing conversation.

THE DIFFERING CHALLENGES FROM POSTMODERNISM AND TRIBALISM

Postmodernism is a complex movement that defies an easy description. But one discernible aspect of the movement is to call into question the “universality of Truth.” As the argument goes, we all have our socially constructed views about the “Truth” relative to the matter at hand; but there is no “Truth” (with a capital “T”) that transcends our individual or group “truths” (with a lower-case “t”). This leads to an easy relativism; you have “your truth,” I have “my truth”; there is no point in talking about our “differing truths.”

I spent 40 years serving in the academy, where the merits and demerits of Postmodernism are hotly debated. But since my “retirement” (of sorts), in my attempts to orchestrate respectful conversations regarding contentious hot-button issues, especially political issues, with men and women on main street and the men and women sitting in church pews, my primary challenge has not been postmodernism; it has been quite the opposite.

In brief, most persons outside the halls of institutions of higher education are not conversant with the academic debates regarding postmodernism. And in my many conversations with them, not once have I heard anyone call into question the “universality of truth” that is called into question in Postmodernism.

Quite to the contrary, most of the people I have engaged with in  northwest Iowa hold to the “universality of truth” with a vengeance, by which I mean that whatever hot button issue is being discussed, they believe, with great emotion and passion that there is “Truth”  relative to that issue, and, furthermore, if you want to know what that Truth is, just ask them.

In brief, the challenge I have experienced again and again in engaging such persons is their belief that relative to the hot button issue they and those who agree with them have the Truth, the whole Truth and nothing but the Truth and “those other folks” who disagree with them do not possess one iota of that Truth, and in its most pernicious form they believe that because those “other folks” are completely wrong, they are evil and need to be demonized. Those “other folks” can be those who attend another church, or those who worship in another religious tradition. those who claim no religious commitment, or, in the political realm, those who belong to that other political party.

Therefore, my experience in the trenches of political conversations in northwest Iowa, especially in numerous conversations I have had about the need for comprehensive immigration  reform, the main challenge has been “tribalism,” an emotionally based “us-versus-them” mentality that believes that me and my group (our tribe) has the complete Truth about the issue at hand, and, therefore, there is nothing to be gained from engaging  “those other folks” in respectful conversations about our disagreements. (the same conclusion reached in Postmodernism, but for a different reason).

The lesson to be learned from this first segment (of three) of my Musing is the need to know your audience. The challenges you may face when attempting to orchestrate respectful conversations about strong disagreements in the academy will differ from those you face on main street or in your church (although, as I will only hint at in my third segment, the “place to start” in addressing these differing challenges may be similar).

A GOOD POSTMODERN INSIGHT

I would like to “put in a good word” for a “soft version” of postmodernism (a friend of mine once called me a “soft postmodernist”). That begs for some explanation.

Whereas I reject a “strong postmodernism” that says that “Truth is a myth,” I believe there is truth in the postmodern assertion that our claims to knowing that Truth are socially conditioned., what has been called “perspectivalism.” Let me briefly elaborate.

As a finite, fallible human being, I do not have the mind of God that gives me access to “Truth” (with a capital “T”) about the issue at hand that may only be known to God  All of us human beings have only partial, fallible glimpses to that Truth, for as is taught in 1 Corinthians 13:12, we all “see through a glass darkly.” So, my partial glimpse of the Truth may differ from yours, reflecting my particular social location. Because of my personal pilgrimage, including my upbringing in a particular religious tradition, my socio-economic class, my gender, my unique experiences in life, I may see things that you miss. And, likewise, because of the unique elements of your personal pilgrimage you may see things that I miss.

Therefore, as we collectively seek to gain a better approximation to the Truth (as only God fully understands it) we need to listen to and talk respectfully to each other, so that we can learn from the particular insights into that Truth that emerge from our respective pilgrimages.

If I am right about that, this has potential implications for one element of how Christian scholars in the academy can engage non-Christin scholars regarding postmodernism (what I called the “Postmodern Opportunity” for “Christians in the Academy” in an article I published in the Winter 1996 issue of the Christian Scholar’s Review)

Briefly put, no one comes from nowhere. Every scholar, whatever his/her religious or secular worldview, has a set of beliefs about the nature of reality and his/her place in that reality, including a set of value commitments. The idea that Christian scholars and other religious scholars bring their value commitments to the academy while secular scholars are “neutral” is nonsense.

If I am right about that, then simple logic demands that all perspectives, religious or secular, should be “out on the table” for discussion on an “even playing field” in the academy.  In their conversations about postmodernism in the academy, Christian scholars should hold their colleagues to that logic.

THE FIRST STEP IN A WAY FORWARD ON MAIN STREET AND IN YOUR CHURCH

I believe that the logic behind my call (immediately above) for an “even playing field” in the academy, where all perspectives regarding postmodernism and its implication for having respectful conversations about strong disagreements can gain a “fair hearing,” is impeccable. But the reality in many institutions of higher education is that this logic is generally ignored; perspectives informed by explicitly religious convictions are generally not welcome. I will leave it to those serving at such institutions of higher education to struggle with how best to address that obstacle. But in the remainder of this Musing, I will outline a “starting point” that I have found, without exception, to be effective in my attempts to orchestrate respectful conversations about strong disagreements among persons on main street and sitting in church pews, just hinting at the possibility that this strategy could also be effective as a “starting point” amongst academics who disagree about whether perspectives informed by explicitly religious convictions should be given a hearing in the academy.

My proposed “starting point” for embarking on respectful conversations about any controversial issue is the first of 12 steps that I propose as a “Way Forward” in my recent book Reforming American Politics: develop personal relationships of mutual understanding with those with whom you disagree.

The priority of this proposal flows from something that Richard Mouw, President Emeritus of Fuller Theological Seminary, once said about a radical change that he made in approaching someone who disagrees with him. He used to jump right into the fray, telling that person why he/she was wrong, which only led to defensiveness. Now he starts by saying to the other person “help me to understand what it is you believe about this issue and your reasons for believing that.”

Richard found that this way to start the conversation “softens the heart.” As the writer of Proverbs says (15:1), “A soft answer turns away wrath.” I have first-hand experience of the wisdom of this way to start a conversation in my many attempts to orchestrate respectful conversations about hot-button issues. It is wise because when the other person realizes that you are genuinely interested in understanding what he/she believes and why he/she holds to those beliefs, the other person will often reciprocate, leading to the quest for mutual understanding; which, hopefully, can lead to the trust needed to begin sorting through disagreements in the hope of finding some common ground, or, if that doesn’t happen, at least illuminating remaining disagreements sufficient to enable ongoing conversation.

To take this proposal beyond the level of abstraction, let me cite a concrete case where my educated guess is that this quest for mutual understanding once yielded common ground in the U. S. Senate relative to the hot-button issue of immigration. The year was 2013, and a “gang of eight” senators, four Republicans and four Democrats, crafted a bill for comprehensive immigration reform that included BOTH a pathway to citizenship (likely proposed primarily by the Democrats) AND appropriate fines along that pathway as punishment (hence this was not “amnesty”) for those who had entered the country illegally (likely proposed primarily by the Republicans).

The Senate passed this bill, but it died in the house. Is it possible that this bill died in the House primarily because the intransigence to the Tea Party members of the House precluded the strategy of gathering a similar “gang of eight” members of the House to reach bipartisan agreement based on first having achieved mutual understanding?

This failure is an example of what I believe is the primary dysfunction in current American politics: a severe hyper-partisanship that has succumbed to the “tribalism” of believing that my party has the Truth, the whole Truth and nothing but the Truth about the issue at hand and “those folks” in the “other party” are totally devoid of any aspect of the Truth about the matter.

This raises a critical question: What is the primary cause of such political tribalism that fuels hyper-partisanship? My response is that it reflects a lack of “humility.” Let me briefly explain.

When was the last time you heard a politician or political pundit say “I may be wrong?” That is almost unheard of because it is considered a sign of weakness (when it is actually a sign of immense strength). It reflects a failure to practice “humility.

It is important for me to note what I do NOT mean by “humility.” I do not mean that you should be wishy-washy about your beliefs. No! You should be willing to express your beliefs with clarity and deep conviction, even passion, True humility means that at the same time that you express your beliefs with deep conviction, you are open to the possibility that you could be wrong about some of your beliefs and, therefore, respectfully listening to and talking to someone who disagrees with you could help you to refine your beliefs; possibly even “correcting” some of them. That combination of commitment and openness is a rare commodity these days.

By now you may have detected what some would consider to be a fatal flaw in my proposal: You cannot legislate humility. Harold, you are living in la-la land, totally out of touch with political reality, if you think that all of a sudden a large number of politicians and their supporters are going to exemplify the humility that is needed to even begin the conversation that is necessary to first attain mutual understanding on  the path to seeking some common ground.

I cannot ignore the force of that objection. It is because of that objection that I decided about 7 or 8 years ago to initiate a Respectful Conversation project on my website, www.respectfulconversation.net, the main focus of which would NOT be to talk or write, in the abstract, about the need for respectful conversation (as I am doing at this very moment), but rather to “just do it” (to borrow a phrase from Nike).

But, how best to just do it? You will recall the old joke: What are the three most important things about selling real estate – location, location, location. I decided that the best way to promote a “better way” (a “Christian way”) for public discourse was to model, model, model.

So, to make a 7 or 8 year old story short, The electronic conversations (eCircles) that I have hosted on my website, which featured conversation partners (usually two in number) who I knew to have strong disagreements about the given hot button issue, talking respectfully to each other about their disagreements and the subsequent  books I have published that attempt to capture the highlights of these eCircles are intended to “model” the respectful conversations that I call for.

Now, readers of this Musing will have to read the many electronic postings on some hot-button issues that appear on my website, or less onerously, read the resulting books to judge whether they model respectful conversations about hot-button issues. My opinion, no doubt biased, is that they do model respectful conversation to an admirable degree, with an amazing by-product, the actual uncovering of some common ground, which in my latest book meant uncovering some common ground relative to such hot-button political issues as  the role of money in politics, immigration, the disparity between the rich and poor in America and healthcare.

You may ask whether my attempts at “modeling” respectful conversations about hot-button issues will be “successful” in inspiring others to do likewise. That is not my first question. My first question is whether I am being “faithful” to my understanding of my commitment to being a follower of Jesus. By God’s grace, I am at least aspiring to be “faithful” to my understanding that, given the call of Jesus for his followers to love others, to provide someone who disagrees with you a safe and welcoming space to express that disagreement and then to talk respectfully about your disagreement is a deep expression of love (which is the underlying premise behind my Respectful Conversation project).

As to the possibility of my Respectful Conversation project being “successful” in inspiring others to do likewise, I hope and pray that all who profess to be followers of Jesus will “do likewise” because to do so is a deep expression of the love for others, to which Jesus calls his followers. But there are many persons who hold to other religious or secular faiths who are also committed to loving others. I hope and pray that they will also “do likewise.”

Having said that, however, I leave the issue of “success” in God’s hands. Claiming the truth of the Parable of the Mustard Seed, as recorded in Matthew 13: 31-32, I believe I am called to “partner with God” as God works to foster the Kingdom of God, on earth as it is in heaven, by planting tiny seeds of redemption. I view my Respectful Conversation project as a tiny seed of redemption that God has gifted to me. I can only envision a fruitful harvest through the eyes of faith. I entrust that harvest to God.