CHALLENGES OF "CROSSCULTURAL" COMMUNICATION
A Response to C. Norman Kraus

John D. Roth

I want to preface my response to the article by C. Norman Kraus with a clear word of appreciation for Norman’s lifetime of teaching, reflecting, and writing on a wide variety of theological topics relevant to the life of the church. Like many others in the church, I have benefited greatly from Norman’s creative and insightful approaches to biblical interpretation. Even though I have significant questions about the conclusions he draws in his article, I hope that my respect for Norman’s commitment to the biblical text and the Anabaptist-Mennonite tradition is clear.

I also want to affirm Norman’s attentiveness—in his reference to a proposal I have made regarding Mennonite political engagement—to the clear distinction between a moratorium (a word I very consciously have not used) and a sabbatical. The language of moratorium, whether the debate is over politics or homosexuality, can easily suggest some form of conflict avoidance; a sabbatical, as Norman rightly notes, is an occasion to suspend normal activities for a season to reflect more carefully and to prepare for reengagement. His argument for a "Sabbath" of self-examination and prayer makes good sense to me.

I also appreciate Norman’s effort later in his article to outline some of the ethical parameters for sexual behavior that he regards as being "pretty clear in the New Testament," along with his call for greater clarification about the difference between "faithful dissent" and "heresy" in regards to the church’s teaching position.

These are important considerations that have sometimes become blurred in our conversations regarding homosexuality. Clarifying these positions should help to address some of the concerns moderates and conservatives have had about the larger assumptions that seemed implicit in the arguments of those advocating a shift in the church’s understanding of marriage.

My critique of Norman’s statement will focus on only three points, though a longer response could easily address other issues as well.

(1) Partisans in this debate would do well to practice a "rhetoric of empathy"—especially if they are hoping to actually persuade those who disagree rather than simply rallying like-minded people to the cause. In other words: How would my arguments sound to the person who is most in need of my wisdom?

With that in mind, I encourage Norman to reread his opening description of the "Current Situation" with the same sort of nuanced sensitivity that he calls for the church to model during the sabbatical conversations. This section strikes me as a very broad-brushed caricature of those people in the church who have raised questions about the merits of redefining marriage to include same-sex unions.

Among examples of Norman’s broad brush are these: "rigid authoritarianism of the literal biblical text as a control mechanism"; "fear as a motivation for action"; "a ‘faction’ imposing its political clout"; "taken its clues from the political ‘fundamentalists’ in the current culture wars"; an imposition of "the traditional cultural paradigm of hierarchical male dominance"; and so on.

Although Norman does not absolutely equate these descriptions with those Mennonites who have resisted the GLBT movement, the "guilt by association" is unmistakable. The insinuation, of course, is something like this: "We are reasonable and principled in our faith commitments . . . they are cultural assimilates driven by motivations of power and self-interest." It would be very easy (though grossly unfair!) to describe GLBT advocates using a similar set of caricatures.

One could dismiss Norman’s position, for example, as one more predictable consequence of the sexual revolution in the West; or as a front for the "Hollywood leftists" playing out a hedonistic version of modernity that makes an idol of individual autonomy and our cultural obsession with sexuality and the body. Yet I am certain that framing the argument in such loaded language would not be helpful in promoting the sort of "Sabbath" conversation Norman is advocating.

A rhetoric of empathy—arising from genuine commitment to conversation—would challenge us to be more sensitive in our language. We must think rigorously and speak with clarity, but let’s not lose sight of the fact that these conversations are truly "crosscultural" in nature and that caricatures of the Other rarely lead to higher trust or better understanding.

(2) A similar caution, I think, is in order regarding Norman’s call for a new approach to biblical interpretation. We are all inclined to challenge the Other to adopt an "empathetic stance and a willingness to admit that we may have incomplete information. . . . " (This is good counsel, in my judgment, on virtually all matters of Christian conviction.) But such admonitions are plausible only to the extent that the people issuing them are also genuinely ready to adopt such a posture.

Some of the language that follows in Norman’s argument—such as "not more redundant exegesis of the text"—doesn’t necessarily bode well for a climate of mutual trust and respect regarding biblical interpretation. The question all of us need to ask is this: would I—not my conversation partner—be genuinely open to new understandings? Or is the point of the sabbatical really to create a rhetorical space for convincing the Other of the merits of my own hermeneutic?

These are difficult questions. All of us who care about crosscultural or ecumenical conversations must keep asking them of ourselves.

(3) Finally, I think Mennonites and other Anabaptist-leaning Christians need to engage more seriously our understanding of how ongoing discernment is ultimately related to ethical clarity, both of which the Anabaptist tradition has valued. For the party of movement, the appeal to open-ended (endless?) group conversation makes eminently good strategic sense, as does a strategy of keeping one’s issues highly visible on the collective agenda.

At what point, though, does the community have an ethical right—perhaps even an ethical obligation—to say something along these lines: This is a topic about which discernment has happened, and the verdict, at least for this moment in history, is in. While individuals are certainly free to keep insisting that the discernment has not yielded the right result (or has not happened in the right way, or has not been effectively communicated, etc.) at some point the group at large must legitimately be freed to move on to other priorities.

Let me suggest a parallel example: In my many conversations with mainstream Mennonite congregations on topics related to the gospel of peace, I have heard countless arguments challenging the Mennonite position on pacifism—some of them crude, some poignantly personal, some highly nuanced. I appreciate the freedom people feel to raise such questions . . . and I welcome them. Yet I regard my personal calling at this moment in the church’s history as one of defending—as winsomely, graciously, and vigorously as possible—Anabaptist-Mennonite teachings on biblical pacifism.

To be sure, pacifism is not an airtight logical, ethical, theological, or biblical position. But it is a teaching central to longstanding assumptions about what it means to be a Christian in the Anabaptist-Mennonite tradition.

I want to be part of a church that is capable of considering counter-arguments. But I don’t think we should be devoting endless amounts of our collective time and energy to hear people in the Anabaptist-Mennonite orbit making public appeals in favor of the Just War theory.

At some point, we simply have to say, This is an ethical conviction that shapes our core identity. In the fullness of God’s providence, we could be wrong. But a congregation that formally, publicly, and unilaterally declares itself to be in favor of Christians serving in the military has, in our judgment, declared itself to no longer be part of the Anabaptist-Mennonite heritage.

I think if you asked Anabaptist-Mennonites about it right now, a significant majority would likely say something similar about homosexual marriage: This is no longer a topic we are ready to keep high on our congregational or denominational agenda. Our teaching position is clear: Congregations or pastors who choose to take formal, public stances in opposition are, in effect, choosing to disassociate themselves from the understanding of the larger community.

Perhaps the time has not yet come for the church to conclude this about the question of homosexual marriage. But it would be helpful to hear from Norman whether such an understanding is ever appropriate for a denominational body and what criteria would be relevant in determining that moment.

I’m grateful to Michael A. King, to C. Norman Kraus, and to the other contributors to this issue of DreamSeeker Magazine for the opportunity to engage in this "conversation about conversation." I look forward to reading the full range of responses.

—John D. Roth, Goshen, Indiana, is Professor of History, Goshen College; and Editor, Mennonite Quarterly Review.