Monday, November 26, 2012

Vulnerability in Christian Discourse: Pluralism and the Reign of God


            Citing and sourcing from John Howard Yoder, Romand Coles says in his essay “The Wild Patience of John Howard Yoder,”
I would even guess…that all forms of such invulnerable privileging of one's own church and community, no matter how internally dialogical and differentiated, no matter how generously "for the nations" they seek to be, no matter how much they eschew practices of warfare—will, finally and in spite of themselves, slide toward postures against and at war with outsideness as such (Coles, “The Wild Patience of John Howard Yoder,” 307).

            A stance of invulnerability in dialogue between faiths, churches, denominations, and communities produces “outsideness” regardless of intention. A vulnerable stance within the church is fruitful for discourse and growth, whereas narrow methodologism is a hindrance to conversation and development. Yoder has shown this in his writings, and I will be citing his thoughts on shared axioms between church and otherwise and the give and take therein, working in the reality of pluralism, and God’s constant movement and eschatological victory in history.
Give and Take
            In his essay “Walk and Word,” John Howard Yoder says, “The worst form of idolatry is not carving an image; it is the presumption that one has – or that a society has – the right to set the terms under which God can be recognized” (“Walk and Word,” 89). Yoder rejects Constantinian methodologism – that any group of people can reject Biblical realism; that any community sees themselves as having the corner on the market of God’s revelation of God’s self to the world. Yoder advocates for a vulnerable give-and-take between communities. Coles says, regarding Yoder, “He interprets the binding centrality of the lordship of Christ as the opening of dialogical relations between the church and the world in which giving and receiving is possible, nay probable, in both directions” (Wild Patience, 307). Yoder believed deeply that discourse can and should happen between secular and Christian communities, and that both had moral truth to offer the other. The church should have a stance of receptive vulnerability. Jesus is the Lord of all the earth – not just the church. To refuse to seek middle axioms between the church and world is to doubt the reality of Christ as Lord of all. Coles says, again sourcing Yoder, “In recent centuries, many Christians, waking up to the violence wrought by their own a priori condemnations of non-believers, have sought to cultivate more charitable relationships with those outside the church” (Wild Patience, 305). These charitable, open relationships open the gates of dialogue and growth and cut off violence and ostracizing toward non-believers. Yoder explicates this reality:
Assuming that our position is the correct position, we must recognize that it has often been represented inadequately or even unfaithfully, by persons whose claim to represent it has therefore decreased its credibility, including ourselves. Sometimes these inadequacies were mere human frailty… Other times (e.g., empire, paternalism, sexism, the abuse of office, racism), they were worse than that, and call for outright condemnation and for repentance in the full sense of the term (Yoder, “Patience as Method in Moral Reasoning,” 120).

            The church, historically, has had need of condemnation, reconciliation, and shaping. To trust only in itself as a structure to self-correct is dangerous and destructive, and ignores the moral middle axioms that exist between the church and the world, which the world had the ability to name and enforce.
Pluralism and Reformation
            Harry Huebner says in his essay “The Christian Life as Gift and Patience,” “Just as Yoder rejects the notion of a fundamental starting point derived from the work of abstract reasoning, so he rejects the ultimate unification of all knowledge. There is no fundamental rational starting point and there is no ultimate rational ending point either” (The Christian Life, 27). Christian thought has experienced significant reform in the past, and likely it will again. “Although we have good grounds (if we have adequately studied a matter) to believe that in its main lines the things we are sure of are worthy of that assurance, we must always keep open spaces where sometimes our ignorance and at other times our sinfulness will have kept us from seeing all the truth” (Yoder, “Patience” as Method, 120). Christian thought must remain vulnerable; significant periods of being closed off to outside thought will lead to the possibility of the prevention of necessary reformation. God is constantly working in history; vulnerability will allow God’s processes to move freely through the church. “In the "perennially unfinished process" of reaching back to discern scriptural accountability, the church cultivates a "readiness for reformation": an expectation that, "the Lord hath yet more light and truth to break forth from this holy Word"… that the church ought to move through history as "a continuing series of new beginnings" (Coles, Wild Patience, 313-314, quoting Yoder). The church, as a structure, is fallible. By default, the church should remain self-critical and open.
            In reasoning together in the Spirit, the vulnerable church can remain clarifying and attentive. The church may be able to see what was previously invisible as revealed in a pluralistic setting. Yoder sees hope, not despair, in pluralistic discourse:
Pluralism as to epistemological method is not a counsel of despair but part of the Good News. Ultimate validation is a matter not of a reasoning process which one could by dint of more doubt or finer hair-splitting push down one story closer to bedrock, but of the concrete social genuineness of the community’s reasoning together in the Spirit (Yoder, Walk and Word, 83).

Christ’s Ultimate Victory
            “When Christians cease to engage outsiders with receptive generosity, they cease to let the church be the church, they lose sight of Jesus as Lord” (Coles, Wild Patience, 307). The church is called to trust that God is in control of history and will achieve ultimate victory. The church is bigger than the visible earthly structures. Yoder talks repeatedly about the idea that – specifically pacifism – is not rooted in efficacy; just because something is not seen as effective in every earthly situation does not mean that it is not a part of God’s cosmological plan. Victory was achieved in the cross of Jesus Christ, and that is reality in which we live. It is not up to the church to manipulate or decide the direction of history. “According to Yoder, the faithful witness of the church involves giving up the Constantinian assumption that it is up to us to guarantee that history comes out right” (Huebner, How to Read Yoder, 108). Our place in the moral direction of history comes in our obedience to the One who is truly sovereign. Yoder calls this the “”apocalyptic” patience of waiting in hope” (Patience as Method, 123).
            Yoder says, in a nerving way, “The only way to see how this will work will be to see how it will work” (The Priestly Kingdom, 45.)  The history of narrow methodologism has shown that preoccupation with “making it work” has proven to do just the opposite, often resulting in clear atrocities only visible in hindsight. To be open and vulnerable, naming Christ as Lord of all, is to be open to reformation, correction, and righteousness.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Faith and National Conflict: A Comparison of the Christian Church’s Role During Apartheid and the Rule of the Third Reich


This is an essay I wrote for "Nonviolence and Christian Faith in the 20th Century." The historical narrative is interesting... what is more interesting is the implication it has for today's church. 
          
“Hitler had ‘called on the Germans to fulfill “the mission appointed for them by the Creator of the Universe”’ (Mein Kampf). Similarly, Dr. Malan as Prime Minister had seen Afrikanerdom as the ‘creation of God’ and Afrikaner history as ‘the highest work of art of the Architect of the centuries.’”[1] There is deep-rooted commonality between the situations in Nazi Germany and Apartheid South Africa. In addition, the Christian church of the times responded and was present in each respective situation in comparable ways. In this essay, I will explore the areas of the church’s involvement, effect, and influence. First, I will discuss the presence of national churches that commonly supported the oppressive regimes in Germany and South Africa. Next, I will consider the church factions that opposed the ruling governments. Third, I will focus on each government’s resistance and tyranny over the opposing religious groups and their efforts to remain wholly powerful. Last, I will examine the aftermath of each situation: how the churches responded once the oppression was over.
National Churches
South Africa
The churches in South Africa fell into three categories comparable to those in Nazi Germany: a minority, faithful to the Word of God and working against the stream of government policies; a silent group condoning these policies or refusing to recongnise political sin; and finally those who ‘distort the Word of God’ turning the Gospel into ‘a theological appendage to… the Government’s nationalist ideology’.[2]
            The vast majority of the Christians in South Africa did not oppose the status quo instituted by the Apartheid government, at least in any visible or actionable way. This was an historic product of the marriage of Afrikaner Nationalism and the DRC. “Given the extent to which Afrikaner nationalism was nurtured within the womb of the Dutch Reformed Church, its policies both needed and received its theological sanction. Racial segregation… was decreed to be the will of God.[3] This policy has its roots in a religious conference in 1857 that officially allowed segregation.[4] As for the Afrikaner people, “many of its leaders studied in Germany in the inter-war years, and were inspired by the visions of racial purity and divine vocation that gave rise to Hitler’s Nazism.”[5] The combination of these forces – the national church and the Afrikaner people – led to not only apathy, but also a driving force behind the policies of Apartheid. The Bible was used as a cornerstone for Apartheid, especially the story of the Tower of Babel: God would punish those who sought racial unity; God desires separation.[6] Even those who disagreed found themselves conforming. “The English-speaking white-controlled churches, although less directly involved in politics, adopted a complaining but essentially passive mode of relating to the established culture of white power, economic privilege and the disruption of human fellowship which was an integral part of apartheid.”[7] Their adherence and complicity with the policies of apartheid were a kind of fuel in the apartheid engine.
Germany
            In 1933, “a movement to unite the regional churches into a national Reich Church was gaining support. Different factions were maneuvering behind the scenes to select the first Reich bishop and seize the leadership of the various regional churches in the first national church elections.”[8] This would have been a uniting of twenty-seven denominations of regional churches; a Nazi-istic “people’s church.”[9] The Nazi government realized the threat that would be posed by a divided, diverse church separate from the regime. They sought to cripple this potential threat at the onset. Several dissenters responded to this intimidation, including Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who said to “his friend Erwin Sutz.. “the most sensible people have lost their heads and their entire Bible.””[10] The German church had mostly conformed in spite of its long-held beliefs. “In a word, they are blamed for seeking to defend the Church’s existence as an institution at the expense of their doctrine.”[11] Later, in 1939, the German Christian Movement “issued the Godesberg Declaration, which said, “Christianity is the irreconcilable religious opposite of Judaism.” The declaration also announced the establishment of the Institute for Research into and Elimination of Jewish Influence in German Church Life.”[12] This would result in the “de-Judaization of ecclesiastical life” and “purify” the church.[13] The churches remained quiet as a whole, as they were not the targets of religious persecution to the extent the Jews were and desired to remain in this “freedom.”[14] What was happening to the church (and in fact, the country as a whole) was clearly unprecedented, and as a result, the church was ill-prepared to respond in any sort of holistic, unified way.[15]
Opposing Church Factions
South Africa
            Several events led to the need for and creation of an opposing church body in apartheid South Africa, which was soon embodied as the Christian Institute. Individual prophetic messages were given against the actions of the apartheid government. “A major example of this was the condemnation of apartheid and criticism of the DRC made in 1958 by the somewhat acerbic Anglican Archbishop of Cape Town, Joost de Blank.”[16] This was a precursor to further small uprisings and criticism of the oppressive regime. As small factions began forming and officially protesting the government’s actions, “the state responded with arrests, treason trials, repressive legislation and police action, most notoriously at Sharpeville on 21 March 1960.”[17] This was the starting point for formal and intentional church action. “The Sharpeville massacre also pushed the church out of its rather limp-wristed opposition to apartheid, forced it to focus on its own theological shortcomings, and led it to engage in over two decades of in-depth ideological critique of Christian nationalism, apartheid and racism.”[18] These events were preludes to the creation of the Christian Institute in 1963.[19]
            At the formation of the Christian Institute in 1963, Beyers Naude, the Moderator of the Southern Transvaal Synod of the NGK, was named Director.[20] The Christian Institute existed “’to bring together Christians of all denominations into Christian fellowship to work for greater justice for all citizens of our land’; it was to ‘give a more visible expression to the biblical truth of the unity of all Christians, all believers.’”[21] It was an attempt to bring together people of varying ethnic backgrounds in common goal. The model was “discussions, analysis and then service.”[22] At the onset, there were no well-defined goals, only ambitious theories and desires.[23] In 1969, one well-defined project was born, called the Study Project on Christianity in an Apartheid Society (SPROCAS). It was
an elaborate, but imaginative, attempt to provide facts and analysis which might serve as the basis for informed critical judgments on public and church policies… it was hoped that when white South Africans were provided with more information on the injustices wrought by existing policies, and offered a range of alternative policies, they would be prompted to take a vigorous stand against apartheid.[24]
            Though the institute was eventually banned, the church continued to play a large role in the resistance against apartheid. Christians played a dominant role in the United Democratic Front. “The SACC, under the successive leadership of Desmond Tutu, Frank Chikane and Beyers Naude, became a key leader of both Christian and popular resistance to the regime.”[25] In 1985, the Kairos document was published. “It was a powerful theological statement against apartheid and the security state, but also against the failure of the institutional church to be engaged in the struggle for justice.”[26] The Kairos document was a watershed response to the previous and continuous failures of the church enumerated b the SPROCAS Church Commission in 1972: “The attitudes and motives of the members of the Church reflect an ideological captivity which seriously inhibits the possibility of its fulfilling its mission in South African society… for the most part the life of the Church reflects the prevailing social and political attitudes of the country.”[27]
            At the onset of the creation of the Christian Institute, the founding members looked to the past for similarities to their current plight. “The similarities to the ‘Confessing Church’ in the struggle against Hitler’s Nazism were consciously explored.”[28]
Germany
            In 1933, scattered opposition to the Nazi regime within the church began to gather more formally. “The birth of the church opposition movement came from those traditional leaders who were appalled by the German Christians’ energetic overthrow of the familiar landmarks of church life.”[29] The main landmark that thrust the Confessing Church into existence was the racial discrimination found in the Nazi’s Aryan Paragraph. There were only a few who resisted this new legislation. “Not surprisingly, the German Christians favored adopting the state’s racial legislation and officially excluding “non-Aryans” from the pulpits and unofficially from the pews.”[30] Under the leadership of Martin Niemoller, carrying the momentum of an anti-Aryan Paragraph declaration made by Dietrich Bonhoeffer to the National Synod of the German Evangelical Church in Wittenberg, the Pastors’ Emergency League was established. Their pledge read: “To the best of my ability, I acknowledge my responsibility for those who are persecuted for the sake of this confessional position. Through this commitment, I attest that the application of the Aryan paragraph in the church is a violation of the confessional position.”[31] The Pastors’ Emergency League spent much of its time discussing semantics and details; their resistance was weak. As a result, in 1934, Karl Barth delivered a poignant lecture that served as a final statement denouncing the Aryan paragraph. His statement became a basis for the Barmen Doctrine that same year.[32]
            Hubert Locke, Director and Senior Fellow of the William O. Douglas Institute, says this regarding the Barmen Doctrine:
Throughout the two thousand year history of Christianity, there have been occasions in which one segment of the Church has found it necessary to declare other church leaders and their follower to be in grave error with respect to fundamental Christian teaching and belief. Such occasions have always been momentous in the life of the Christian community; in modern times, certainly none has been more so than that which transpired between May 29 and May 31, 1934 in the town of Barmen.[33]
The doctrine expressed that the church is not called to conform to the values and practices of the state and should not glean its ideology from state history, but only from scripture.[34] The Barmen doctrine went largely unheeded, and later led to the greater church’s confession in 1945 at Stuttgart.[35] This is in part because of the weakness of the Confessing Church. There was great division in the Confessing Church between its conservative and more radical segments, leading to differing ideas for action and doctrine.[36] And when war broke out, there was very little backlash from churches, even pacifist sects.[37] These opposing church factions were weakened not only by internal issues, but also by intimidation from the state.
Persecution/Intimidation of the Church
South Africa
From a part of the manifesto of the Re-united National Party in South Africa: “The National Party, anxious to stimulate active Christianising enterprise among the non-whites, will gladly support the efforts of mission churches. Church and missions, however, which frustrate the policy of apartheid or which propagate foreign doctrines, will not be tolerated.”[38] The regime understood the threat of opposition from the church and sought to silence it from the onset. The state began taking strange measures against clergy and Christian organizations, including arrests of those who spoke out publicly against apartheid, deportations, and random searches.[39] Though the Christian Institute was not large or overly influential, the state made priorities to discredit it.[40] Eventually, in 1977, the Christian Institute was officially banned by the state.[41] The regime was winning key ideological battles it seemed. Desmond Tutu expressed it this way: “Sometimes, when evil seemed to be on the rampage and about to overwhelm goodness, one had held on to this article of faith by the skin of one’s teeth. It was a kind of theological whistling in the dark and one was frequently tempted to whisper in God’s ear, “For goodness’ sake, why don’t you make it more obvious that you are in charge?”[42]
Germany
            When Adolf Hitler became Reich Chancellor in 1933, there was no established policy regarding formal relations between the church and state. But it can be inferred that Hitler rejected any form of Christianity that he knew or had known.[43] Throughout its existence, the Confession Church’s risk grew increasingly. Many were arrested (including Bonhoeffer’s famous arrest and execution). There were bans on travel and speaking.[44] After the start of the war, an illegal seminary was closed in Berlin.[45] Church properties were seized in the name of the need for auxiliary hospitals or miscellaneous needs of the Nazis.[46] The material existence of the Confessing Church was squashed, but the ideology and legacy of the movement lasted through the aftermath of the war and in to the confessional period.
Aftermath
South Africa
            Desmond Tutu says regarding the aftermath of the apartheid regime: “There were those who wanted to follow the Nuremberg trial paradigm… This, it turned out, was really not a viable option at all, perhaps mercifully for us in South Africa… Neither side could impose victor’s justice because neither side won the decisive victory that would have enabled it to do so.”[47] Since there was no military victor, the Nuremberg model would be nonsensical. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission instead sought a third way: “a compromise between the extreme of Nuremberg trials and blanket amnesty or national amnesia.”[48] Though the TRC process was unique and effective, it was not without its faults. “One of the most serious lacunae in the TRC process, one beyond the control of the Commission itself, was the failure of the majority of white South Africans to become involved or even approve of its work.”[49] There was a sense of shame, guilt, and scapegoating that many could not face in order to gain amnesty or participate in the process. DeGruchy says, “Blaming others and seeking ways to escape the pain and shame of acknowledging guilt often leads to self-destructive behavior, whereas recognizing and accepting responsibility for guilt, helps rehumanize both the perpetrator and the victim.”[50] There had to be outward confessions for reparation and reconciliation to be facilitated. Desmond Tutu urged this confession as well, especially of the national church that upheld the values of apartheid.
But then this Church [the DRC] that had upheld apartheid theologically for so long abandoned this position. It invited those it had previously persecuted, those who had witnessed prophetically, to its General Synod and apologized handsomely and publicly for all it had made them suffer. It was wonderful to see God’s stalwarts such as Beyers Naude being publicly vindicated and rehabilitated.[51]
Germany
            The Nuremberg trials were a large part of the aftermath of the Nazi regime, but there was significant part played by the church in urging and offering confessions of guilt. “The Stuttgart declaration was not simply an act of conscience. Persistent pressure by foreign church leaders for formal recognition of the German Church’s inadequate response to Nazism played a significant role.”[52] The Stuttgart confession expressed fault from everyone involved: blindness to injustice, blatant racism, nonresistance to oppression, and idleness.[53] The urgency of the Barmen Synod was not heeded. The guilty lament in Stuttgart was too late. It has often been explored as to why the German churches failed so horribly to step in. There have been many excuses and theories, but as J.S. Conway says, “What is not certain, however, is whether the Germans would have done anything had they been fully aware of the situation. The question raised by Pastor Maas of the Heidelberg Confessing Church is significant: ‘Was not what we did see and hear quite enough?’”[54]
The final confession in this period was at the General Synod of the Evangelical Church of Germany in Berlin in 1950, in which Martin Niemoller and others finally addressed the Jewish question, though the roots of anti-Semitism were not addressed.[55] The tenderness of these interactions remains today. In 1989, Desmond Tutu visited the Holy Land. He took a tour of the Holocaust museum in Jerusalem. Members of the media asked for his impressions. He said, “”But what about forgiveness?” That remark set the cat among the pigeons. I was roundly condemned… I was charged with being anti-Semitic.”[56]
Conclusion
            I have set forth here to bring about similarities and detailed contrasts between the church’s role in apartheid South Africa and Nazi Germany. The successes, missteps, attempts at reconciliation, and lasting hurt are attributes that Christians of modern history can look to for guidance. These situations were extreme as well as unique but yet retain the ability to be repeated in future history. For example, in modern times Desmond Tutu has condemned Israel for their treatment of Palestine, though he has received nothing but backlash and dismissal.[57] The lessons gleaned from the church’s roles in these regions of the world and time are timeless; they are entirely necessary to retain and practice the church’s commitment to peacemaking, justice, and freedom.


[1] Peter Walshe. Church Versus State in South Africa: the Case of the Christian Institute. London: C Hurst & Co Publishers Ltd, 1983, 98. Author’s italics.
[2] Peter Walshe, Church Versus State in South Africa: the Case of the Christian Institute. London: C Hurst & Co Publishers Ltd, 1983, 98.
[3] John W. DeGruchy, Reconciliation: Restoring Justice. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002, 32.
[4] Hugh McLeod, ed., World Christianities C. 1914-C. 2000. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006, 395.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Ibid., 396.
[7] Peter Walshe, Church Versus State in South Africa: the Case of the Christian Institute. London: C Hurst & Co Publishers Ltd, 1983, 6.
[8] Wolfgang Gerlach, And the Witnesses Were Silent: the Confessing Church and the Persecution of the Jews. Edited by Victoria J. Barnett. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2000, 19.
[9] Matthew D. Hockenos, A Church Divided: German Protestants Confront the Nazi Past. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004, 15.
[10] Gerlach, And the Witnesses Were Silent, 25.
[11] John S. Conway, The Nazi Persecution of the Churches, 1933-45. New York: Basic Books, 1968, 45.
[12] Stan Meyer, “Hitler's Theologians: The Genesis of Genocide.” The Apple of His Eye. http://www.appleofhiseye.org/Whatdoyouthink/HitlersTheologians/tabid/923/Default.aspx (accessed May 1, 2012).
[13] Gerlach, And the Witnesses Were Silent, 183.
[14] James Irvin Lichti, Houses On the Sand?: Pacifist Denominations in Nazi Germany. New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 2008, 33.
[15] Conway, The Nazi Persecution of the Churches, 1933-45, 331.
[16] Walshe, Church Versus State in South Africa, 8.
[17] McLeod, World Christianities C. 1914-C. 2000, 396.
[18] Ibid.
[19] Walshe, Church Versus State in South Africa, 8.
[20] Ibid., 30.
[21] Ibid., 32.
[22] Ibid.
[23] Ibid., 33.
[24] Walshe, Church Versus State in South Africa, 92.
[25] McLeod, World Christianities C. 1914-C. 2000, 398-399.
[26] Ibid., 399.
[27] Peter Randall, ed. Apartheid and the Church: Report of the Spro-Cas Church Commission. Johannesburg: Christian Institute of South Africa, 1972, 18.
[28] McLeod, World Christianities C. 1914-C. 2000, 397.
[29] Hockenos, A Church Divided, 19.
[30] Ibid., 20.
[31] Gerlach, And the Witnesses Were Silent, 45.
[32] Ibid., 72.
[33] Hubert G. Locke, The Barmen Confession: Papers from the Seattle Assembly. Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen Pr, 1987, x.
[34] Shelley Baranowski, The Confessing Church, Conservative Elites, and the Nazi State. Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen Pr, 1986, 57-58.
[35] Conway, The Nazi Persecution of the Churches, 1933-45, 332.
[36] Hockenos, A Church Divided, 16.
[37] McLeod, World Christianities C. 1914-C. 2000, 265.
[38] Brian Stanley, Missions, Nationalism, and the End of Empire. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2004, 54.
[39] Walshe, Church Versus State in South Africa, 46.
[40] Ibid., 173.
[41] Ibid., 221.
[42] Desmond Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness. New York: Doubleday, 1999, 4.
[43] Conway, The Nazi Persecution of the Churches, 1933-45, 1.
[44] Gerlach, And the Witnesses Were Silent, 143.
[45] Ibid., 192.
[46] Conway, The Nazi Persecution of the Churches, 1933-45, 255.
[47] Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness, 20.
[48] Ibid., 30.
[49] John W. DeGrucy, Reconciliation: Restoring Justice. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002, 190.
[50] DeGrucy, Reconciliation, 2002, 191. Author’s italics.
[51] Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness, 185.
[52] Hockenos, A Church Divided, 77.
[53] Gerlach, And the Witnesses Were Silent, 227.
[54] Conway, The Nazi Persecution of the Churches, 1933-45, 332.
[55] Gerlach, And the Witnesses Were Silent, 229-230.
[56] Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness, 267-268.
[57] Ibid., 268.