Making People Objects

The issue is not about "people objects", but about how we make people into objects. The point is, people are not objects - we are not concretely representable things, with distinct borders or boundaries, who can be reduced to a certain set of essences. Instead, we are relational beings, or even 'becomings'. And yet, at a most fundamental level, we reduce one another into objects for the sake of convenience: not only our 'enemies', whom we more understandably reduce to a set of negative characteristics, but we even do this to an extent with regards to people we respect - they become a set of characteristics we respect, even if one of those characteristics is "having depth"! My point isn't that we should rediscover some proper sense of woolliness in our appreciation of each other, for there certainly are things to be said about one another; but the point is that there is always more to be said. Relational be(com)ings are not complete. Ok, perhaps the same is true about objects - in a sense - because nothing is perfectly constant in an ever changing world. But this truth is more pronounced with regards to human beings. We should not, therefore, reduce people to "the thief who did a particular bad thing", as though divorced from all the unknowns which constitute the person concerned. I might suggest, as a Christian, that Jesus' injunction not to judge others is the epitome of this observation ... and yet there is a sense that Jesus himself does objectify people at times (for he is not an idealised object himself, but a person on a journey, constituted by relationships with other messy people). For instance, is it an objectification to speak of "the poor" and "the rich", as though they are disembodied groups neatly sitting in opposition? Of course, there are clear examples of each, but we must also open ourselves to the complexity of the inter-relatedness, without belittling the purpose of the apocalyptic dichotomy: there remains a use for "them" vs. "us", to highlight the inequalities, the ways in which "they" (or is it "we"?) oppress and belittle "us (or "them"?) We will always do some objectifying, even necessarily, but the point is to recognise and edit it.

The Inescapable Christmas Orgy?

Every year it's said, and every year it happens again. How come? It's not even as though it is religious people alone who make the point; most conscious people are aware that commercialism has done something negative to Christmas, and that far from making it a happy time, it is a very stressful time. Of course, it's all very well for people to complain about it if they/we are among those wealthy enough to participate in it without too much hardship - the more pressing point concerns those who are stressed and depressed because things are such that they cannot even participate in it, while they remain surrounded by images and crowds which make it perfectly obvious what it is all about: presents! So it is rightly often said that "Christmas = debt" for many normal people, something which should shame the culture we take for granted ... but the point is, even though we can identify the crass superficiality and poorly disguised money-making orgies of the High Street, and even though we can deplore the stress the whole package causes us in terms of expectations, yet we still do it. Nothing seems to indicate more clearly Walter Wink's observations about the Powers: see how we remain in the thralls of something bigger than ourselves, even though we know the right thing is to head for a much simpler festival. Something takes hold of us at the corporate level (in both senses of 'corporate'!!), which Wink believes has a spirituality of its own. Perversely, the nativity narratives actually give us the key to unlock and dismantle this treasure chest approach to the Christmas 'season'; for while Emperors and Governors and Kings get on with their dirty business, the real action happens where there is "no room", in an animal trough, a simple manger. This is no justification for Christian self-righteousness, however, as though Christmas should embrace Victorian romanticism plus a 'superior' sense that we are now the victims keeping alive the true flame! Instead, the nativity narratives invite something more subversive than romanticism and pride: commitment to the margins, to those who poke at and unpick the enormity of the Powers. And yet, it remains so difficult not to buy more than we can eat and more than we need.

Articulating Church, Class and Mission

Hopefully I'm not stupid enough to imagine that class determines everything, or that 'churches' can be neatly defined in terms of the socio-economic class of their memberships; and yet I firmly believe that class continues to be at least one of the factors, one of the determinants, which contribute to the nature or "groupthink" of any community, churches included. Take, for instance, the research into "growing churches": research which identifies "successful" churches in terms of those best able to articulate their faith and to cultivate church programmes explicitly designed to introduce other people to faith, and advertised as such. "Middle class" churches are not only at a distinct advantage if this is the game we must play "to do well", but I would suggest that middle classness almost defines such "growth" - not that "working class" people and churches cannot be part of similar developments, but churches in "working class" areas which reflect such developments are perhaps bucking a trend, and may be even being quite "middle class"?? I don't mean - at all - that inner-urban churches must define themselves "only" in terms of practical, social concern kinds of things, either as though those things are less important (they're clearly not!) or as though such churches can't do "thinking" and "articulacy" too! But what working-class contexts surely suggest is that Christian "good news" is much more rounded than the business-model of articulation-led mission. If a church works hard to include someone who might not be included in any other group, then that is at least as valuable as a church's evangelistic programme, because it is a real sign of good news. Working class communities are often better at this ... but often the "middle class" pressure to "succeed", to be "viable", means that a church itself will not value such inclusion as they ought to, hoping instead to "grow". If only, instead, each church could "be itself" with as much integrity to its story of good news.

Telling a progressive story confidently

It's a challenge. Something about the liberal disposition makes it very difficult to escape from reticence. Even though in some respects there can be an air of arrogance and presumptuousness around the religious liberal (like me), nevertheless the greater feeling is one of reticence - I/we get so caught up in the provisionality of things, that sometimes I/we fail to make definite claims; we become embarrassed about the evangelical certainty which sometimes looks like idolatry, as though a human being can pinpoint "the truth" with as much clarity as is apparently claimed. So the challenge is to offer 'a big story', a meta-narrative if you will, which speaks in progressive terms - about peace, social justice, equality, the provisionality of knowledge, the plurality of reality, the quest for reconciliation - but without degenerating into a debilitating relativism. The point is to say, 'Yes, we do have good news, we do believe that our faith can make a difference, we do believe that a faith community has a real and radical contribution to make to the compassionate transformation of the world, yet we do not make our claims imperialistically ...' Where this will differ, perhaps quite fundamentally, from the meta-narratives of religious conservatives, is in terms of the historical debates: what are the foundations of belief? what do we believe were 'the big events' of our faith, which foster our ideological commitments today? Of course, though, from a progressive viewpoint, it is not about asserting that I know what was historical, but that does not mean we can avoid the debates - and we can dare to say that we are not so sure that particular readings of history are coherent or appropriate. This need not make us arrogant; it suggests we want genuine dialogue between faith, history, science, etc. And here I stand, confidently.

A Hopeful Reminder: each lonely butterfly

The last few blogs of mine have been a bit gloomy and questioning - how can faith be set free? how can we address the knowledge inequality? how can we address the gender politics of faith and church etc.? So I return to the first posting on this blog, the explanation for the blog's name, where science's "chaos theory" and theology's "kairos" come together; a reminder of the idea of the lonely butterfly causing a hurricane in another part of the world, or perhaps of a lonely butterfly contributing to the downfall of apartheid ... or something else today. I do get anxious about the churches, our struggle to address the big political issues, our difficulty to see the world of faith in terms of strategies for dismantling systems of domination. But I should remind myself to be hopeful. We're not alone. We have anti-racist butterflies on our side!

Knowledge Inequality

It's another area of injustice, which can feel as deep and problematic and oppressive as the inequality between the economically rich and the economically poor. If it is true, as I believe it is, that the economic inequality is at the root of so much of the world's conflicts and dilemmas - ranging from the conflicts over finite natural resources, corruption in governments, and the life-chances of people growing up in so-called "sink estates" - then it is possible that there is truth in this claim: that the 'knowledge inequality' between those who have benefited from education to a further extent than many others, may equally be a cause of real conflict and strain. But just as the economic inequality is a problem for the rich as well as for the poor, so the knowledge inequality is a problem for the so-called knowledgable - there is a sense in which it can operate like a burden. Let me explain - thinking especially about a church context. I've only been in church ministry for 4 years, but from very early on, it was evident that there was a real gap between the 'theological knowledge' of the academy, scholarship which had been around for decades, and the knowledge of most people in churches. And it is the responsibility of a church's leaders. But still after 4 years it remains the case. So have I failed to pass on what I have been taught? Even things as basic as the authorship of the 4 biblical Gospels, or some general level of appreciation of church history ... it's often just not there. But let me be clear - I'm not attacking people for their ignorance, but the 'system' of churchy-ness and ministry which fosters this inequality. And it does matter, because it gets in the way of honesty between leaders and members; it gets in the way of honest discussion about mission priorities; it gets in the way of personal and corporate spiritual development, as well as engagement with a thoughtful world. (Incidentally, I'm aware that such 'knowledge' is by no means the be-all, and that people have other kinds of knowledge which matters at least as much; but in terms of getting to grips with our story, who we are, what our purpose is, these issues are essential.) So what are we to do about it? A small discussion group, which gets scared by certain things, doesn't seem to be enough ... so how do we address the knowledge inequality?

Yet more on "1984" - Going barefoot

The telescreens, in Orwell's slightly prophetic satire, churn out all kinds of statistic and facts asserting the effectiveness of Big Brother's regime. One example is fantastic. The people are told how many boots have been produced, and it's always more than how many were projected to be made, showing that Big Brother's methods are even greater than their goals - though sometimes the records of earlier reports have to be revised (secretly) because the goals often exceed the outcomes, and such discrepancies between one reality and another aren't permitted ... but then comes the shattering thought of Winston, the hero: "Very likely no boots had been produced at all. All one knew was that every quarter, astronomical numbers of boots were produced on paper, while perhaps half the population went barefoot." And the people don't question it. It's a bit like globalisation, is it, with countless tonnes of commodities being overproduced while millions go hungry, but still the sheer gap between one reality and another remains awesome. What does it take, then, for those of us with shoes to put ourselves in the non-shoes of others? How might we take off our sandals before walking on the sacred space of other peoples? How can faith communities be at the forefront of this movement to engage with reality - not least, the all-pervasive challenge of inequality, with its morally compelling calls for transformation? After all, we don't live under Big Brother - no matter how much our satiricists might say we do, we remain free to make a real difference. While others go 'barefoot', we must then act.

I'm reading "1984" self-righteously! Help me!

George Orwell's book is exciting me - and I'm finding myself inhabiting its world, where a totalitarian regime, "Big Brother", does not merely host a few housemates for 13 weeks, but governs and monitors the lives of the whole nation. As Winston sees it, in the story, the only privacy he has is limited to the few centimetres squared inside his head! And even that is under threat, as the newly constructed language 'Newspeak' sets out to squeeze the number of words, so that Thought itself will be increasingly limited and confined. But I'm all too aware that this sharp political satire is giving me tools for criticising things outside of myself - the 'orthodoxies' to which other people are attached unconsciously; the way other people exercise "doublethink", simultaneously believing 'two contradictory opinions which cancel each other out'; the way the world outside of me directs its discontentment towards petty grievances rather than focusing on the larger evils of genuine poverty, prejudice and oppression. But might it be possible that I too am in the thralls of an orthodoxy which obscures me from particular oppressive realities? Might I too be complicit in doublethink, aware of my privileges but not quite committed to risking their end? Could it be true ...?

Anger Management?

On the day when World Trade Organisation talks have faltered, much to the concern of development agencies, an argument in our church's Bible Study comes to mind. Someone had complained that we're always being told how the world's poverty is "our fault" and we never seem to hear what we've done right ... Well, it's simple - it's because so much of the ongoing hardship of millions of people is because of the intransigence of countries which can afford to make changes but refuse to. So why was this person getting so worked up? It's because the miraculous story of the Feeding of 5000 people raised hard-hitting realisations: things can be done, Jesus expected them to be done, he got disciples involved in seeing them and in doing them, but still we don't like hearing it. I got angry in response - still aware that I don't do enough to follow through on the compassion that is evoked, but angry that such defensiveness can stand in the way of the need for a contemporary miracle. And what would the miracle be? Nothing but managing the anger so to direct it towards building a world in which hungry people are fed.