Conversation Peace, Part 3
This is the third of three in a set of posts looking at characteristics of transformational conversations that point to reconciliation. The first post gave more context and looked at truthfulness, while the second post looked at openness. If you want even more context, check out two earlier posts exploring the pitfalls and possibilities of conversation in this interactive medium. And by all means, feel free to join in.
The first two characteristics we looked at, truthfulness and openness, are important if we are to pursue conversations that reconcile instead of divide. Yet neither is sufficient on its own. Truth can be as much a weapon as it can be a destination, and openness can easily become smothering. That’s why this final characteristic is so vital to ensuring that our otherwise well-intentioned interactions don’t completely miss the mark.
Humility
Earlier, I said that I thought we could turn discussions or even debates into journeys towards truth. In order for that to be possible, we first need to admit that we seek truth, we do not hold truth. Not completely, anyhow. Not even close. At best, we ”know in part” or ”see through a glass, darkly.”
Most importantly, as truth seekers we have to admit the possibility that we may be wrong. And in this medium, that can be harder than it looks.
Kristen wrote a post months ago that has stuck with me. I’m going to quote a whole bunch of it, because she states the point I’d like to make so beautifully. Kristen starts by talking about a conversation with a friend:
But at one point, one of the friends made the comment, “Of course I think I’m right. I believe what I believe because I think it’s correct. Everyone thinks their own opinion is right, or they would not believe it.”
Well, that’s certainly true up to a point. But much can be said for the way you hold those “right” beliefs. Much can be learned from the way we talk about and act on our beliefs.
I hold many of my beliefs loosely. I used to be so steadfast and certain about what I believed. Now, when I think back on the arrogant way I assumed I had it all figured out, it makes me blush. I guess that makes me a little more humble lately. Most of the time, it makes me want to listen to people really carefully, listen more than I talk, and ask more questions than I make dogmatic assertions.
Even as I hold my opinions that I believe are “right”, I still know that I have so much to learn. I hold my opinions lightly, knowing that I may change my mind a few years down the road.
I think it’s more important to treat people with love than it is to hold the right answers. I do know that I will always try to fall on the side of mercy and grace rather than judgment. I hope God will too, for my own sake at the very least.
Holding our beliefs loosely encourages us to listen, to love, and to look for opportunities to learn. Holding our beliefs loosely allows us to meet each other on a journey, rather than me imposing the journey on you as I stand rigidly on what I think is truth.
This last point is critical to the very idea that conversation can be redemptive. I opened this discussion with N.T. Wright’s declaration that believing in the resurrection means that “we’ve got a job to do.” As inspirational as I find those words to be, I think we need to be very careful with this. In our conversations, I think that Christians need to guard against the idea that we have what others need. Not that the life, death and ideas of that crucified peasant don’t have the power to transform lives. I have every hope that they do. But, to put it bluntly, I’m afraid that many Christians don’t realize just how arrogant that attitude can be.
If we are to seek transformative conversation, then it can’t come from this place of arrogance. As Heidi said in a recent ripple, it begins “in our own hearts when we’re willing to be vulnerable and open and admit we don’t know everything.” If we are to make a place in our own identity for others, it must come from a place of brokenness. It requires that we pray Mother Teresa’s prayer: “May God break my heart so completely that the whole world falls in.” And as David James Duncan points out, that might mean making room for zealots. And Samaritans. And even (gasp!) people who espouse Intelligent Design.
One last thing. I don’t think this means that we cannot write passionately or boldly. I don’t think this means that when we are challenged, we cannot defend our ideas. I think that humility allows for us to challenge each other. But it has a lot to say about how we do so. There’s a difference between being passionate and being dogmatic. There’s a difference between being bold and being blindly arrogant. And there’s a difference between defending and being defensive.
And now...
Well, now it’s your turn. Those of you who have been waiting to weigh in until I finished the series, feel free to speak up.
In an early ripple, Brandon asked a few questions that might be a good place to start:
What does renewal look like? Does it mean communication that is persuasive? That is, is transformational communication right because it gets people to agree? I suspect your answer to that will be no. But, then, what does it mean to “bridge the gap"�
What say you?
9 Ripples from “Conversation Peace, Part 3”
Kristen says:
September 2, 2005 at 9:09 pm
Ummmm...can we still be friends if I fail miserably in this area from time to time? Even if your answer is yes, don’t go read my latest post. I had a really bad day. Sigh. I’m sure that I’ve ever felt convicted by something I’ve read on the internet- so the first honors of that go to you, zalm!
Ehhh, I’m not such a good person...yet…
Maybe there’s still hope for me, though. If I can feel guilty.
zalm says:
September 2, 2005 at 10:09 pm
On the one hand, that’s the highest compliment you could pay me for these posts, Kristen. But on the other hand, it makes me a little sad, because I realize all the more how conflicted even I am about this.
First of all, I have to come out and confess that I already read your post and it made me laugh. You wrote something I’ve written in my head many times, especially over the past year. Whether the fact that I’ve never published those thoughts is the better part of valor or if it’s because I simply didn’t have the uterus to do it is quite the mystery.
Second, I fail miserably in this area, too. If you had been within earshot of me when I read the President’s joke about Trent Lott’s house this morning, you might have been surprised at some of the words I know.
And I can’t begin to tell you how difficult it’s been to hoist a standard by which all can judge me. Then again, perhaps that standard is already pretty damn clear.
But finally, even though I think this is (to use a phrase that we both love) the way of grace, I’m not sure how much I actually want to follow it most of the time. For someone like me whose native tongue is biting sarcasm and who uses comedy as a defense mechanism, well, let’s just say it puts quite a cramp in my style.
Somewhere in here, there’s a place for outrage. Somewhere in here, there’s a place for anger. There has to be. Somewhere in here, I really hope that there’s a place for comedy and even satire.
I just can’t say I know where that is yet.
That was the long answer. The short one is that, yes, we can still be friends.
Kristen says:
September 3, 2005 at 9:10 am
Whew. I was just going to write back this morning and ask you if you thought there was ever a place for outrage- that was my exact word. I think that there is, too- but I need to think through it much more. We know that Jesus displayed outrage at times- and even some name-calling- but then I always come back to the thought in my head, “Yes, Kristen, but he’s GOD. And you most definitely are not.” When is outrage appropriate? How should it be expressed? And I feel very strongly that outrage is not a place we should visit for long, even in the most justified circumstances.
Thanks for both the long and short answers, and again- it’s been wonderful to read and think through these posts.
Brandon says:
September 4, 2005 at 7:09 pm
Hmm...the place for outrage. (And here’s where I ask you not to read MY last post). I have to hope there is one. Because, sometimes, I’m fucking pissed about things. And, to the degree that catharsis works, I have to hope that it’s okay to express those feelings.
I wonder if, perhaps, a blog sometimes can fill multiple roles. In one mode it’s a place that serves as a forum for the kind of peaceful and reconcilitory conversation you describe here, Zalm. On the other hand, I wonder if sometimes it can be a forum for other rantings. Even, I wonder, if the electronic community has a bit more grace for something labeled under the banner ‘rant’--it’s almost as if you can express yourself more fluidly and openly under the banner ‘feeling driven’ than you can under the banner ‘reason driven’.
Maybe that’s an important dichotomy. Feelings vs. Reason. I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive. Though, it’s rather the culture to rely on reason and to think feelings are a second class motivator. A motivation of the weak. The poor in spirit rely on their hearts and not their heads.
I think that it’s not only important to do what you say, Zalm, and communicate with virtue in our conversations, but also to allow for others (and to allow one’s self) to communicate their feelings, sometimes strong, about the things they’re writing about.
I don’t have any good answers, I suppose. Just conjecturing along.
Nicole says:
September 4, 2005 at 8:09 pm
I was really struck by your comment:
Reminds me of while I was reading for class today, and the author of the article reminded Evangelicals that we need to remember that salvation as well as communion with God happens because of God’s work in a person’s lives, or our own lives, not because of any initiative of our own.
I think that I need to be reminded to express gratitude rather than feeling God has commissioned me to change the world, Christianity, my Church, or even my next door neighbor. Really, our job is to seek Him...and if we do that ferverently, maybe he’ll use us to do work in someone’s life. And what an honor that is.
That’s about the only reminder that keeps me from becoming a totally arrogant fool all the time. Just most of the time.
zalm says:
September 5, 2005 at 3:09 am
Thanks for joining in, you three. I’ve had a pretty tough time writing much of anything these past few days, so I’m probably not going to respond to your thoughts and questions as well as I’d like. But I’m just one part of this discussion, so I think that’s okay.
First of all, I realize that this was all a little manifestoish, and I want to walk back from that a bit. We all have our reasons for writing what we do on our sites and engaging in these types of conversations. And I’m not trying to condemn or invalidate any of those reasons. I offer this as one of many ways to go about our writing and discussions, and I hope that it’s something that might stay with people in the same way that Kristen’s writing stayed with me.
You’re right, Brandon, to say that this might be a place to seek catharsis. And I recognize the value in that. But I think we need to do so with our eyes fully open to just how self-indulgent that is. That’s no great surprise, I suppose, since these sites are by their very nature self-indulgent. But nonetheless, while we might feel better after going off in our anger, we most likely harden people’s existing defenses and change very little.
Can rants like that actually lead to change? Sure. Sometimes it takes a provocative piece to get conversation flowing at all. And I’ll readily admit that I’m constantly moved and challenged by strongly worded arguments and passionate diatribes.
But if it’s discussion that we’re interested in, if we desire to seek truth together in something that vaguely resembles community, I’d argue that change and reconciliation will only result to the extent that those participating in the discussion are willing to move beyond the ranting to pursue truth together in an open, humble fashion.
Hmmm… that was longer than I expected. Maybe I’m getting my mojo back.
I think we should keep talking a bit more about Kristen’s question regarding how we should express outrage. I wrote about a part of the answer to that a little while ago in response to something Caleb wrote. But there’s definitely more to be said than that. I’m just not sure what that is quite yet.
And I haven’t even gotten to Nicole’s comment yet. Sorry, but sleep’s a-calling.
Brandon says:
September 5, 2005 at 8:09 am
P.S. I tried to track my latest post back here...but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what the trackback URL was. Perhpas you can clear this up for me, Zalm, but anyway, this post was long, but clearly an outgrowth of our conversation here.
The Ethic of Outrage
zalm says:
September 6, 2005 at 3:10 am
I needed a day off and a change of pace. I’ve got a frighteningly full day of work tomorrow, but I’ll try to get to some additional thoughts and responses later.
As far as trackbacks go, there’s a link in the tiny, tiny type in between the actual post and the start of the comments. WordPress doesn’t make it terribly obvious, though, does it? Hmmm… When I’ve got some tinkering time, perhaps I’ll try to put it somewhere a little easier to spot.
Kathryn says:
January 15, 2006 at 7:01 pm
I am just so touched by the conversation I have witnessed here. I “googled” the words transformative conversations and got your site here. I am working to bring dialogue to my small community here in BC to in some way head off the potential for a terrible rift in our community over a potential development. I ask myself the questions you pose here often--questions about the danger of hubris in thinking (or believing with too tight a grip) that I’ve got something others need. these ideas of grace, redemption, broken-openness, utter vulnerability and willing to fail, to fall...how do I live with this? how do I offer this as a possible way for us humans to be with each other, with out hubris, naivety, or seeming to be patronizing, or some awful combination of all three?
Well, I mostly just wanted to say, what a beautiful stream of conversation you have started here, whoever you are and where ever you are. The way you are with each other on this site, the way you engage with your ideas, gives me hope…
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