Dr. Joan Faber McAlister

Talk on Fundamentalist Dialogue  

July 27, 2008

First Unitarian Church of Des Moines

            In 1999, a new student organization at Drake University started holding Christian worship services on campus.  Although these events (called ALIVE), were small at first, they grew until they were drawing over 200 students a week.  Christian students started to give evangelical speeches in my classes, and Jewish and gay students started asking me what faculty were doing to ensure that Drake didn’t become a hostile environment for them.  Some complained that ALIVE was like a cult: aggressively recruiting first year students, enforcing strict policies about dating (members had to get permission to court one another), and warning those who missed services that they would be shunned and might even go to hell.

            In 2007, I attended a summer workshop for faculty about the spiritual needs of young adults.  The leader argued that the success of ALIVE on campus spoke to needs we were failing to meet and showed us research about the significance of the college years as a time of spiritual, as well as intellectual, self-discovery.  According to Marcia Baxter Magdola, author of a study on young adult education, the twenties are a period when people start to move from a “formulaic” to a “foundational” basis for belief and morality.  Formulas are dictated by early authorities, but foundations are developed through a transformative process of self-creation.  Educators need to support this journey of self-discovery, rather than just substitute one authority’s formula for another.  By making religion and spirituality taboo topics in the classroom, we were hindering an important part of our student’s development (most of whom were in their twenties or would be by the time they left Drake).  And we needed to find ways to address the topic without forcing our own religious and moral formulas onto students.

            I had dealt with controversial topics in my teaching.  I taught sex-guru Annie Sprinkle’s speech, “40 Reasons Whores are my Heroes,” I had open discussions about the politics of the “N-word,” I had come out as bisexual on campus and gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender students felt comfortable coming out in my classroom.  But religion?  That was scary.  I’ve spent most of my life in public schools, where the separation of church and state justifies a secular curriculum.  And I had my own painful history of falling into and out of doctrines—I had seen firsthand that religious differences can tear people apart.  Also, I’m no theologian.  Wandering outside your area of expertise is a good way to make a fool of yourself in academia.  So teaching a course on religion seemed too risky.  Which is why I did it.

            I had been asked to teach a course on politics to help student become more “engaged citizens,” but I didn’t want to just teach about voting or campaigns.  I wanted to deal with what motivates people to vote, to attend protests, to become activists.  Religion provides this kind of motivation, and Christian Fundamentalism has recently been very active in American politics, so I thought that was a good way to link religion and politics.  I called the class Engaging Fundamentalisms, hoping we would struggle with two important questions for citizenship and spirituality:

What is fundamentalism? and What would it mean to engage with it?

For a textbook, I chose Sharon Crowley’s Toward a Civil Discourse:  Rhetoric and Fundamentalism.  Crowley argues that two ideologies, Christian Fundamentalism and Liberalism, are in the midst of a hegemonic struggle—they are battling over which system of beliefs will attain hegemony, or become the obvious, natural, and unquestioned common sense of American culture.  Christian Fundamentalism insists on the inerrancy of the Bible, aims to preserve traditional morality, and anticipates a coming apocalypse when true believers will be taken bodily into heaven. Liberalism embraces equality, freedom, tolerance, privacy, reason, and the rule of law (notice if either list sounds like common sense to you).

What makes it so difficult for these two ideologies to engage one another is that Christian Fundamentalists use revelation, faith and biblical interpretation while Liberals rely on empirically-based reason, and factual evidence to argue.

Crowley also claims that fundamentalism should be defined as an attitude rather than a specific set of values, one in which the desire to maintain deeply-held beliefs at any cost makes opposing views unworthy of consideration.  With this definition, it was clear that both Christian and Liberal fundamentalists were active in American politics—and fundamentalist attitudes don’t make for productive engagement.

            Crowley argues that Christian Fundamentalism is a threat to American democracy: Biblical inerrancy prevents deliberation by casting non-believers as enemies, traditional morality preserves inequalities (especially between men and women and heterosexuals and everyone else), and belief in a pending apocalypse can encourage passive acceptance of social and ecological horrors, as well as aggressive foreign policies instead of diplomacy—destruction and war can be a sign that heavenly ascension is near. 

            But Crowley also sees dangers in Liberalism: it devalues appeals to tradition and emotion, it is intolerant of the “irrational” (which can include any cultural practice that did not originate with wealthy white male educated Europeans), it tends to rank individual rights over community needs, and it cannot provide a complete moral orientation (rationality is not a sufficient means of distinguishing right from wrong).

           

            This critique of Liberalism (beliefs that form the basis American political and educational institutions) was so alien that students had a hard time “getting” it.  During one class discussion, Frank, an avid debater, asked: 

“I know it’s difficult, but how would we go about telling a Christian fundamentalist that he’s wrong?  I mean, how could we take apart his worldview without having him write us off as an enemy?  I have this friend that I really want to mess with.” 

 

I told Frank that I didn’t blame his friend for refusing to get into a “debate” with him—if you’re so sure he’s wrong, you’re not trying to engage him—you’re trying to convert him!

            Other students had a hard time with Crowley’s critique of Christian Fundamentalism, seeing her as biased in favor of Liberalism.  On a midterm evaluation of the course, Jonny (a Christian) wrote:

Crowley is so full of crap its hard to keep my brain from crawling out of my ears in disgust.  But I don’t hold that against the professor.  Her lecture is the thing that helps my understanding.  No bias.  Just facts.  It has taken me from zero understanding to some.  That’s good.  Also, knowing the word hegemony makes me look REALLY smart.

 

I was a little dismayed that a student would say I was unbiased.  In my lectures, I often gave them a feminist critique of Christian Fundamentalism and a feminist critique of Liberalism.  “Even-handed” might have been a better description.  I was trying to make them see that “objectivity” is a Liberal concept—one that can hide the biases that are there.  But as you can see, even students who were struggling with Crowley’s critique of Christian ideology were forming a good working relationship with me and the other class members (that they gave me permission to use their real names and quote them for this sermon tells you something about that relationship). 

            Despite their struggles, it was clear to me that the class was going well—we were getting along really well.  Maybe a little too well.  Sure, we’d had some moments of tension, like the time a member of the debate team advocating same-sex marriage suggested that his opponents might have some deep-seated phobias stemming from discomfort with their own sexuality…but everybody laughed and the debaters shook hands after it was over.

We really liked each other.  And so we were all a little too reserved about our personal views—afraid to expose the differences that could lead to conflict.  But could we really engage with one another if we never shared our histories and our beliefs?  I agonized over how much to invite students to reveal about their own spiritual journeys and how much to reveal about my own.

If I told them I was a queer/bisexual, feminist, vegetarian, lapsed Wiccan, Unitarian-Universalist with a soft-spot for Christianity, I had a pretty good chance of alienating at least some of them.  I might also be wielding my authority in inappropriate ways—turning my podium into a pulpit.  I had already had one student ask me if I thought she should change political parties, and another ask me if I thought it was odd he was getting married so young.  I wanted to support my students in their transformation from authoritarian formulas to self-discovered foundations.  And so I told students who asked for my opinions on their party affiliation or love life that I should not be considered an expert on anything other than the subject I was hired to teach.  And that they should filter everything I say (unless it concerns what’s going to be on the final exam) through their own critical thinking. 

Not embrace it, not reject it, but engage with it.

So, what does it mean to engage with a competing ideology?  What does it mean to engage with someone who is different, what does it mean to engage the “other’?

There are many meanings of the word engage, some of which seem particularly relevant.

To engage: 

To direct our full attention, to become engrossed:

he was engaged in reading for many hours

To confront; to meet in conflict:

they raised their swords and engaged the enemy in battle

To be intimate; to promise or pledge:

they were engaged to be married

To interlock and, together, move:

the gears engaged to turn the wheel

I asked my students to think about these meanings and also about what makes us afraid to engage.  What do we risk?

immersion, obsession

confrontation, conflict

intimacy, promises

entanglement, the possibility that you might move? that you might be amazed, transformed?

But teaching college students for over 10 years had taught me that there are also risks to disengaging.

To give your full attention:  Once, a particularly difficult student handed me a handwritten note, in the middle of my lecture.  Annoyed, I stuck it in my pocket.  Walking down the hall after class, I took it out and read:  “The third button of your blouse has come undone.”

To confront; to meet in conflict:  Early in my career, two students whispered throughout an exam.  I was reluctant to take their tests away so I let it pass.  Their matching tests and student complaints confirmed that they had cheated.

To be intimate, to promise or pledge:  A brilliant and talented student of mine began to behave erratically.  He seemed to be reaching out, but I was reluctant to bridge the professional distance.  His grades suffered and he was forced to drop out before he was finally diagnosed with schizophrenia and given medical treatment.

To interlock, to move: By obscuring my personal beliefs and political views, as well as those of my students, I had made it possible for all of us to avoid being pulled into the murky grey areas of moral questions (like abortion) that are typically defined in high contrast:  black and white.

This final risk is the one that made me want to force more engagement inside our class, so I raised the issue.  Nate, a skilled diplomat, offered a compromise:  he suggested we wait until the last day and then allow people guess the religious and political affiliations of class members—guesses that students could choose to correct or to let stand.  Since everybody seemed to like this idea, we tabled the issue.  In the meantime, were my students engaging with people outside the class?  They were…but with limited success.

1) The Palestinian student in my class, Aya, organized Drake’s first anti-war rally.  It had a great turn-out, but some students protested the protest by cranking up Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA” to drown out the speakers (I don’t think they knew what that song is about).  Unfortunately, the different types of protesters never actually talked to each other.

2) A group of my students did a public presentation about misrepresentations of Hezbollah in the American media that was really provocative.  But the only people who came seemed sympathetic and didn’t ask hard questions.

3) Another student, Sara, gave a public talk on Christian Fundamentalism that drew an evangelical student.  She reported that, “When I explained to him that he was part of a densely-articulated belief system, he just got really annoyed!”

            I intended to have that final discussion Nate suggested, but with the papers, course evals, and exam prep, we ran out of time.  I’ll admit I was relieved.  But I also knew I had failed them by missing this opportunity.  Drake students are known for wanting to get off campus as soon as possible at the end of spring semester (who can blame them?), so it’s tough to them to spend time on anything unrelated to their final grades during that last week.  But I thought it was worth a try.  So I sent an email offering to come to our room 45 minutes before the exam to have this conversation.  I said all would be welcome, but attendance and participation were not required and would have no bearing on their grades.

Here’s what happened:

They all came.

Amazing.

Ok, I had brought pizza.  But still

amazing.

We started by having students make some guesses.

Three members of the class were amazed to be accurately identified as Christian conservative Republicans. 

The Palestinian student amazed the class by telling us that she was also raised a Christian.  Phillip, who rode his bike to class every day (even in deep snow) was amazed to be thought an atheist and an anarchist (I am not! he said.)

And I told them about me.  About my powerful conversion experience at the age of 12, my involvement with “born again” Christians as a teenager, my choice to attend a Christian college where I got an “A” in Old Testament history and where things fell apart for me during my second semester.  I became alienated in a place where evangelical and fundamentalist Christianity dominated.  Even when I felt certain that Christianity was the right path for me, I could not make the leap to the conclusion that there is only one right path—so I just couldn’t “get” the evangelical mission.  I also found fundamentalist morality incompatible with my feminism and my sexuality, and inadequate for my other commitments (like vegetarianism).  I went into a deep depression—the kind that many 19 year-olds don’t survive.  I left the school before the year was out and I never went back.

I asked them if there was anything else they wanted to know.  One of them asked:  so now, do you just do your own thing or do you belong to a church?

That was easy to answer:  yes.  I told them I was a Unitarian Universalist, a church where everybody does their own thing, a church where we agree to disagree, but commit to the same basic ethical principles.

Do you miss being part of a Christian church?” another student asked.  I said there is a special kind of spiritual charge, a sense of sacred space I feel when I’m in a group of people who all believe the same thing, passionately.  I used to love that feeling when I was younger.  But now, I really appreciate being in a group of people who have different views and beliefs, but respect and learn from each other. 

Engaging with difference can be a source of amazement and transformation.

Did we tap this source in my class?

For little while, we did give each other our full attention.

We had some mild confrontations and conflicts.

We became more intimate than your average college class, and there seemed to be an unspoken promise to listen to and respect each other.

When we interlocked in this way, did we move?  Were we really transformed?

On the final course evaluation, one student wrote: 

This class made me understand more points of view.  I know so much more now.  Maybe I know too much.

Did we now know too much about Christian Fundamentalism and Liberalism?  Did we know enough about how to engage, rather than just embrace or reject these ideological biases?  I will leave you with the final comments of two very different students, both trying to engage with our textbook and the issues it raises. 

Phillip (the not atheist/anarchist) wrote:

 

I do think that Crowley is less critical of Liberalism than she is of Christian Fundamentalism.  But I think she sees that the burden of seeking change falls (unfairly) on Liberals because they can more easily abandon portions of their belief systems than can Christian fundamentalists.  Since Crowley believes that the only way to engagement is through sacrifice by the Liberal side, she writes directly to them. I don’t think that is a bad thing, I think the bad thing is that (as she recognizes) there are only a “few paths” to take and these will be difficult.

 

Finally, an email from Jonny, who earlier complained that Crowley was “full of crap”:

I think Phillip is right, Crowley’s writing the book for Liberals and that’s what made it difficult for me to read, but that wasn't my only issue with her analysis. Crowley gives fundamentalists zero credit in this book. I understand the fundamentalist perspective and…(if pushed hard enough) self identify as a fundamentalist. Somehow I still have the reason and logic that Crowley seems to doubt anyone who grew up in this environment would have. I was homeschooled with a Baptist pastor father and I don't consider myself to be as closed as Crowley thinks. In my opinion, civil discourse must begin with both camps, not with either the Liberals or the Fundamentalists deciding to "reach out" to the other, but by both sides engaging. I consider myself to have that desire -- to meet people in the middle so that discussion, not argument and not (necessarily) persuasion, can happen.  The problem is that people like myself and other members of my family and many "fundamentalists" that I know are not even considered in her equation.  You probably don't have time to email me back about this but it's been weighing on my mind and I thought I should bring it up. I strive to be open-minded and understanding, empathetic and sympathetic. I think Crowley needs to see that there are other Christian fundamentalists like that too. Sorry this is so long, have a good day!

 

Attend.  Confront.  Pledge.  Move.

Amazing.

Amen/Blessed be.

 

 

Closing Words (At End of Service)

To Engage

To direct our full attention, to become engrossed

To confront; to meet in conflict

To be intimate; to promise or to pledge

To interlock and

together

move