Last night, my five-year-old daughter stuck her finger in my chest and told me in a roar I didn’t think her dainty frame was capable of producing that she’d prefer someone other than me be her father. To quote part of her response to my refusal to buy her the latest volume in the “Rainbow Fairies” series, “You’s the meanest daddy in the whole wide woold” (Grammar is tough enough when apoplectic and she has trouble with her r’s.) I was informed in no uncertain terms that as soon as we got home from the local Barnes and Noble where this encounter took place she’d be packing up her Build-A-Bear and little brother (evidently the only “nice” one in the family) to go looking for a friendlier place to call home. While some of the patron passers-by may have found the sight of thirty-five pounds of fury pounding her diminutive digit into the chest of her 250 pound father a bit amusing, I felt embarrassed and disheartened—embarrassed because not every patron was amused by her theatrics… disheartened because in spite of my best efforts my attempted “intergenerational dialogue” had failed. No matter how intently I listened, how deftly I reasoned, or patiently I responded to my little girl’s impassioned cries of injustice there would be no convincing her there must be at least one daddy somewhere meaner than me.
While I can use all the parenting tips I can get, this little anecdote isn’t related here in hopes of eliciting advice from smarter or more seasoned dads on how not to be bullied by a kindergartner. I share it here because just before that daddy-daughter pseudo-dialogue I’d been thinking about my place in this other “inter-” dialogue I’ve been asked to join in. For despite the honor of being deemed worthy by others to contribute, I fear my chances of becoming a successful inter-faith conversationalist on this site and elsewhere are even worse than my figuring out inter-generational dialogue and how to keep little fingers out of my chest.
Perhaps telling you about myself will explain what I mean. I am committed to the finality and ultimacy of Jesus Christ. I believe it is my vocation as a Christian to witness at all times to Christ’s forgiving, cruciform beauty in prayer-filled hope that all those within eye- and ear-shot of an always imperfect witness might nonetheless be captivated by Him and thereby be drawn into salvific relationship with Him. And so I wonder: Is State of Formation really looking for a dialogician like me who prays pre-, post-, and sometimes mid-dialogue that by God’s grace some future encounter with his interlocutors will be intra– rather than inter-faith, that is, when at least some part of a dialoguing me is thinking “wouldn’t it be great if these guys became Christians?”
If that were not enough to make me fret over my dialogical credentials, there’s also the fact that I’m a clergyman in a denomination with no clergywomen and which—on the basis of a uniquely inspired, even “inerrant” Bible—teaches stuff like “homosexual acts [and some heterosexual ones to boot!] are intrinsically sinful.” I mention these last bits not because I spend an inordinate amount of time talking or think about them—I’m critical of those in my own circles who do—but because, from my cursory perusal of the biographies of other contributors to this site, it seems that a fair number from across the spectrum of (non-)religious traditions find a degree of common ground in their mutual commitment to a family of causes that include things like “women’s-” and “gay-rights” advocacy. The scare quotes in that last sentence and this one highlight the difficulty of cultivating a space for striving toward “social justice” and the “common good” when the shape of justice and the content of the good are precisely at issue. I could go on with my little introduction but I think you get the idea.
Now, perhaps some of my readers will suggest I simply call a quits to the futile fretting about my place in a conversation like the one being forged here—“join in and see what happens already!” Maybe my anxiety about being ineffective, left out, or ignored evidences the lasting psychological damage inflicted on a chubby twelve year old version of me always getting picked last for the kick ball team. Or maybe, these amblings are me being cautious and asking on the basis of limited but real experiences what the price of admission is to an interreligious dialogue like this one—that is, wondering whether a certain extra-religious or pan-religious monologue will hover above what aims to be an inter-religious dialogue.
Not that all my interfaith experiences have been bad or reductive—in fact, in future posts I hope to discuss a particular kind of text-centered dialogue between Jews, Muslims, and Christians that I and many other Jews, Muslims, and Christians find deeply enriching, formative, and conducive toward what some fairly large groups of otherwise fairly different people count as a common good. Moreover, it is my understanding that by engaging a new generation of scholars one of purposes of State of Formation is, if not to see to the (re-)formation of the state of interfaith dialogue, at least to see it develop in new and surprising ways. And I am all for surprises—for me, expecting surprises is part of what faith in a living and personal God entails.
In case you’re wondering, my daughter has not moved out. She, her Build-A-Bear, and little brother are still with us. In fact, forty-five minutes and a popsicle after the finger-sticking episode, she had all ten fingers folded in prayer thanking God for me as part of her bedtime prayers. Turns out I’m not the meanest daddy in the world after all and my failed attempt at intergenerational dialogue had more to do with encroaching-bedtime-crankiness than my lackluster fathering skills. But still, my questions about my place in this other dialogue remain. I suppose the only way to find answers is to take the above anticipated advice, jump on in, see what happens, and expect to be surprised.
PS—If future posts sound as whiny as this one, just give me a popsicle. I like grape.
Ben
Thanks for your post…and for the (implicit) reminder to treasure my two daughter’s current inability to label me “mean” or “nice.” I’m just plain ole’ “daddy” to them (currently 3 and 15 months), but I guess it’s only a matter of time until I’ll join you in being labeled the worst father in the world. Ha!
I think you raise some great points in your post and I plan on reflecting on some of them for my next piece. To answer your question (is there room for me?) I hope that we all would say yes…to do otherwise would be the very height of hypocrisy. By that I mean this: the entire reason State of Formation was launched was because many of us have been left on the outside of current interreligious dialogue. The established leaders have set the tone and, most importantly, determined who is and isn’t invited to participate. I’d like to think that our first act as “new leaders at a new table” wouldn’t be an extension of the very policies of exclusion that caused the need for our birth! We need representatives of all stripes or we’re in danger of becoming a worthless and archaic blog that is out of touch with current opinions, frustrations, and convictions. The more the merrier!
Enjoy your Thanksgiving with your kids. I’d bet if you gave them extra large portions of pie you’d quickly be labeled the world’s greatest dad in no time…
Thanks for the pie tip, Brandon… and for the rest of your reply. I look forward to your future post. I imagine there may be others wondering about their place in a dialogue such as this one — perhaps, oddly enough, some others with whom, in terms of an understanding of faith and human flourishing, I may well have little else in common.
And have a great Thanksgiving yourself!
Peace,
Ben
I, for one, am very happy to have you here, Ben! You may find it amusing, but I have some of the same concerns myself – a part of me certainly wants my interlocutors to take up a naturalistic perspective. Resisting the urge to proselytise is difficult for me, too. 😉
I’m certain we’ll have lots of discussion about those delightful “homosexual acts” you mention, and I am profoundly intrigued by the scare quotes you put around women’s and gay-rights (perhaps start here: http://goo.gl/ucPaN).
But we already have common ground: we both are cautiously enthusiastic about this endeavour, and I too often got picked last for football (although my problem was less I was too chubby and more the fact that I was, even very young, being singled out as potentially gay).
Let’s see where this goes.
Hey James–
Not amusing at all … as I responded to Brandon above, I kind of expected there’d be other folks, a fair bit distant from me on many other issues, with whom my anxieties might resonate.
And funny you mention the scare quotes … a longer draft included a little explanation of what was (not) intended by them– no more than that the phrases inside only take on meaning and get valorized inside a particular community with a particular story… certainly not the snarky or dismissive type of scare quotes.
Peace,
Ben
Hey Ben,
Thanks for the post. As a “mean daddy” myself, I am learning the difficulty of standing by one’s convictions. It is, I’ve found, easier for me to stand behind my convictions from the pulpit than it is seeing my face reflected in my daughter’s tears… but the latter (for me) strengthens the former.
It is fruitless to engage in interfaith dialogue with someone who is not firm in their faith. So the depth of your faith is a qualification, not a deficit, for interfaith dialogue. Personally, though, I cling to that oft cited Anselmian definition of theology as fides quaerens intellectum – faith seeking understanding (though something feels lost in that translation of quaerens). I have never ceased in my deep faith in John 14:6… but I continue to understand it in new (and increasingly literal) ways in and through my interfaith dialogue.
I wonder, though, does an exclusive Christian stance differ significantly from the atheist stance? It seems to be that both presume to know quite a lot about that which they reject. What does it mean to say that Jesus is a high priest in the order of Melchizedek?
Thanks for your comments, (fellow) meanie. You may be right about a kind of epistemological shape shared by some atheists and what you call “exclusive” Christians (though I might prefer something like “particularist” Christianity that while insistent on the uniqueness and finality of Christ does not necessarily include an insistence on excluding some creatures, at least when all’s said and done).
Though my post may give the opposite impression, my understanding of the finality and ultimacy of Christ has been enriched, even transformed, in my conversations and textual study with non-Christians.
The Melchizedek question sounds like good fodder for a future post.
Peace,
Ben
Ben….
First and foremost, let me say that my wife and I not only THOUGHT of you but specifically “channeled” you by name this evening as we fought through a full 20 minutes of crying as we (cruelly) refused to allow our daughter to eat french fries until she at least had a bite of chicken… ultimately we settled on a compromise and she ate a bowl full of pasta, then french fries.
Second, I’m actually pleased that you didn’t take the Melchizedek bait I laid… and look forward to your future post (I may produce one, as well… Incidentally, I have read Clark Pinnock’s Wideness of God’s Mercy, which may be (partially) what sparked the question).
Third… to say that Christ is ultimate and final seems to me to be superfluous and consequentially misleading. Is the Chalcedonian proclamation somehow deficient? (again, perhaps fodder for future posts!)
Finally, I think I am probably not alone in thinking that what you are doing in your post is a brave thing. Conviction of faith is (I think, sadly) frowned upon in our society these days… or maybe I just feel that way because of the community I am in currently- an academic community in which faith and conviction feels lacking – or even shunned. In any event, stay strong, stay bold, and don’t be dismayed when I profess my firm dissent – it’s only because I share your conviction and firm faith in Christ.
Oh, and like you, I am also studying for comps!
Brad writes: “I wonder, though, does an exclusive Christian stance differ significantly from the atheist stance? It seems to be that both presume to know quite a lot about that which they reject.”
I think this would be very fruitful to discuss sometime! Perhaps predictably, I think the answer is “yes”, but I think this might be a bone worth worrying =D.
Hey Ben!
So glad you’re here and raising these questions. I’ll be bringing it up later but I’ll say shortly now that exclusive truth claims, desire to proselytize, and profound disagreement have to crop up in any real, diverse, and useful inter-faith community, or it isn’t what it claims or hopes to be. Hope your children are well!
Hannah
Hi Ben,
Bravo on honestly sharing your heart and convictions here! One of the reasons I’m interested in Evangelical Christianity, the New Atheism, and Orthodox Islam, is that people who self-identify with these groups are often people of conviction who make dialogue interesting and provocative.
Have you read or considered Clark Pinnock’s “Inclusivist” approach in A Wideness in God’s Mercy: The Finality of Christ in a World of Religions?
Sincerely,
Ben DeVan
Thanks, Ben, for your comments and suggestion. I’ll take “interesting and provocative” when I can get it but will hope for reactions more robust!
I’m not familiar with the Pinnock you mentioned but will add it to my post-comp to-read list.
Peace,
Ben
Hi Ben,
I know I am late in the game in responding to your post, but I am new so I think I have a good excuse. I was really refreshed by your post and also am likely on the more conservative end of the SoF blogging group (though I tend to be on the more liberal end at every church I attend, so I am getting used to being the black sheep).
Anyway, would love to delve into some of those issues you raised more deeply. You also might be interested in my post on evangelicals and interfaith dialogue, a topic I ponder almost exclusively these days. As Ben suggested, Pinnock is good stuff, and you may also want to check out some of the conversation between evangelical and postliberal theologians going on (if you have not already).
Also, would love to talk with you about your program at UGA. I have a bit of an academic crush on Charles Marsh.
Sara
By UGA, I meant UVA.
Hi Sara, I work directly with Charles Marsh… Please let me know if I can be of any help.
Peace,
Kelly