The past four years of my life I have stifled and shunned almost every opportunity to make myself appear more intelligent, at the risk of appearing stupid or slow in some cases. I was reminded of this on Tuesday as we discussed our definitions of prayer in one of my classes, an exercise in futility I thought. In answering a question, I took a longer than comfortable silence to respond, so others jumped in with their own ideas.
Often the way that we approach each other (self-proclaimed Christian or not) in academia is a thinly veiled attempt to push our own intellect and intelligence into the limelight. Instead of listening to where someone else is going with an idea, or looking into the background of an idea, we immediately attack it for what it is or is not, bombarding the situation with semantic nonsense and philosophical jargon incommensurable to most.
Reading an article "Recognizing Agonistic Respect" refreshed for me the notion of charity as a necessary aspect of rhetoric and debate. Instead of simply using another's fallacies to smugly and bombastically pad our own ideas and beliefs, we actually value what the other person has to say and recognize the thinking that they have done. Someone else isn't stupid because they believe something different than you--in fact, their worldview just may be more cogent than yours.
Treating others with respect and projecting our own ideas tactfully should not be novel ideas, but from what I have been witnessing lately among Christian scholars, it is a rather novel idea.
When I was in senior high, I was confident in my ability to tear apart anyone's argument and make them look idiotic. Still when people speak, I can pick out logical fallacies and inconsistencies--but acting on that confidence requires tact, something that I am not confident with all the time. In the interest of others, I have remained silent through much of my post-secondary career. This is because I realized one summer the power of words. I recalled the older girls in elementary school, bullying me and forcing me to eat dirt, calling me names. I recalled things that people said to me in anger that I cannot forget. It was then I made a point of remaining silent when I knew that I could inflict damage on someone--either their ideas or their character. Because it was only my pride and broken little heart that wanted to break other people's little hearts.
As with other things in my life, the Buck Stops Here. I will be the weakest link in the chain of emotional oppression, of broken marriage, of addiction and abuse, and I will break the chain.
And another thing: because I realized the power of words, I wanted to make positive change--I knew that summer that I wanted to write. In writing, I can take the time to be tactful, and I have all the time to say what I mean, and I suppose, mean what I say.
Comments (4)
this blog is beautiful and humbling-and i have always respected you for these reasons.
I really appreciated this post.
One of the most beautiful and exhorting posts I've ever read.
Especially when I was an instructor I struggled with imparting knowledge and skills to the student in a loving way. I always tend to focus on performance, results, accuracy and that sort of thing rather than relationship. April Lanigan taught me a lot about relationship at the airport and friends like you and Diego taught me heaps about the importance of relationship outside of the airport. It's very encouraging to see someone creating positive change.
Days like this I miss three hills. I miss you too pal. Tell Aaron I miss him too next time you talk to him. Frig. You got any plans for next year?