Enjoy this fresh piece from professor and pastor A.J. Swoboda, giving good wisdom for relating to a common historical objection to our faith. Have Christians oppressed others? Without a doubt. Is Christianity oppressive? Quite the opposite. -Paul
I sat at the front of the classroom, computer open, desiring to finish my lecture. Then the student finally blurted out what I could tell he'd wanted to say for the past hour:
"Here's my problem: Christianity is inherently oppressive. It forces people to become what they're not. It makes everyone feel guilty. It's just one big shame system. . ."
The class, full of pastors like myself, sat there silently, searching for what to say. I was proud he said it—even if I disagreed. It took guts to say it. They were painful words at the time and they're painful to remember.
Sometimes it's best for a professor just to move on and let things pass. Or at least take a five-minute bathroom break, even if it is the third one in the past hour.
Pastoring in a "post-oppressive" world
Leading churches is an increasing challenge in a cultural milieu that views religious systems like Christianity as oppressive. It's even more challenging when those within your own church (or classroom) see religion as more harmful than helpful.
But my student's important question stands: Is Christianity oppressive?
Personally, I've experienced little-to-no oppression in my life. I'm an entitled, privileged, middle-class, highly educated, American white dude with dark-rimmed glasses and tight jeans. It feels silly to think of myself as someone who could write on the topic of oppression. I've never experienced it to the degree so many marginalized and disenfranchised peoples in our world have every day they wake up.
To our post-Enlightenment, post-modern minds, any form of oppression is an unforgivable sin—even if other forms of morality or justice are overlooked.
Yet I still have something to say about it. The claim that Christianity is oppressive has cultural curb appeal. To our post-Enlightenment, post-modern minds, any form of oppression is an unforgivable sin—even if other forms of morality or justice are overlooked. Our culture prides itself in fighting the big, bad bully group that seeks to steal the voice from any marginalized person. And we should praise God for that. One of the healthiest aspects of a sensitive culture like our own, is that it reminds us of the value of every human being, in all our radical diversity, no matter what.
In that context, many see Christianity as oppressive. That is Christianity places a set of antiquated, thoughtless, unjust, even unwanted, moral burden upon innocent by-standers. Christianity ultimately forces people to act a certain way, be a certain kind of person, and give up certain kinds of activities that are really fun and enjoyable. Christianity, by these standards, is a kind of spiritual club of modern-day Conquistadors who continue to float their legalistic boats onto the sandy shores of innocent neighbors with bayonets and Bibles in hand to conquer lands and peoples.
Pastors are learning to have to do our work of preaching the message of the Bible to a people who are very sensitive toward any kind of universal claim. Our sacred duty is to a culture with growing skepticism—convinced that Christianity is intolerant, thoughtless, and at times oppressive of marginalized people and groups.
Doing good news badly
This makes preaching, evangelism, and proclamation difficult. How do we preach the Good News in a good way that's received as good news?
The truth is that even something good, whole, and true as the gospel can be manipulated in wrong ways to be oppressive.
The truth is that even something good, whole, and true as the gospel can be manipulated in wrong ways to be oppressive. Think that's crazy? Consider, for a moment, the words of Jesus. Jesus railed against the Pharisees who traveled all over the world to tell the story of their God. But they did it so badly. Jesus writes:
Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and when you have succeeded, you make them twice as much a child of hell as you are (Matt. 23:15).
Jesus reminds us of the hardest truth about oppression: Even the Good News can be shared badly. This truth wasn't lost on C.S. Lewis, who says in God in the Dock that even forces of good can be oppressive if they remove certain human rights:
My contention is that good men (not bad men) consistently acting upon that position [imposing "the good"] would act as cruelly and unjustly as the greatest tyrants. They might in some respects act even worse. Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under of robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber barons cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some points be satiated; but those who torment us for their own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience. They may be more likely to go to heaven yet at the same time likely to make a hell of earth. This very kindness stings with intolerable insult. To be 'cured' against one's will and cured of states which we may not regard as disease is to be put on the level of those who have not yet reached the age of reason or those who never will; to be classed with infants, imbeciles, and domestic animals.
His point? Even those with good intentions can oppress others with their goodness. Finally, we have a dark biblical reminder of this truth. In the biblical story of the Exodus, the people of God move from being rescued from their oppression in Egypt to, a few short chapters later, oppressing the Canaanites in slavery. Even those who have been freed can, and do, oppress others with their new founded freedom.
More important than being freed is what you do with your freedom? Does our freedom free others? And does the way we use and speak of our freedom bring freedom to others?
Our preaching of the Good News becomes oppressive whenever, wherever, however it is forced upon anyone. The gospel must be welcomed, not forced. Jesus doesn't stand at the door and knock it down; Jesus knocks. Big difference.
Chosen discipleship is submission, forced discipleship is oppression. And I'm never convinced of a God who forces anyone to worship. Only a false God, in my mind, would ever demand forced homage.
Do we need a nicer gospel?
The problem is that the gospel message contained in Scripture is actually really hard news too—it's the proclamation that we're freed to be enslaved to Christ.
The problem is that the gospel message contained in Scripture is actually really hard news too—it's the proclamation that we're freed to be enslaved to Christ. And, in that way, the gospel does oppress us; in a good way. We are slaves and we have a Master. It isn't bad oppression. The gospel is good oppression in the way a cast is oppressive—it invites painful restraint for the sake of healing and freedom.
Some, mindful of the cultural sensitivities of a post-modern person, would have us reframe the gospel to muffle the harder aspects of Christianity for the modern person. The rhetoric of these well-intentioned Christians is that we must embrace a "new" Christianity refashioned, remade, and purified of all of its supposed oppressive tendencies and policies. But isn't this just a new gospel?
Our problem is we haven't taken seriously enough the old gospel and the old Christianity we already have—the ones we actually need. The gospel is the engine that should continually challenge any oppressive tendencies the religion of Christianity has picked up over the years. Our challenge is to constantly be renewed by God's Spirit without thinking we have to pull the whole thing apart.
Human cultures, like religious communities, are the makers of the systems around them. At times, when those systems become corrupt, they must be taken apart mortar by mortar. But to pull the entire building apart might be misguided. Steven Coulmin's Cosmopolis suggests that modernity (and other grand narratives) sought to change the entirety of society by first demolishing it then starting from the ground up. He calls this "The Myth of the Clean Slate." Starting over from scratch was the intent of the Enlightenment and, by extension, modernity. But Coulmin argues that such a restart actually brings about violence, blood, and death. Miroslav Volf agrees with Coulmin's thesis. In "Soft Difference," Volf says, "But the notion of 'the clean slate' has proven a dangerous myth. During the French Revolution … we learned … that the slate cannot be cleaned and that in the process of trying a good deal of new dirt is generated—in fact, rivers of blood and mountains of corpses."
It is in trying to clean the slate, start over, to undo all that is done that the freed becomes the oppressor. We don't need a new gospel, we need a renewed way to talk about the gospel. We need to learn how to do the gospel of freedom in a way that frees and doesn't hurt. I suggest two ways to do the good news goodly.
Preaching good news goodly
So how do we preach this good news in a good way? Here are a few places to start.
1. Be aware that the good news can be shared badly
Every word has power—both good and bad. They have power to create, and power to destroy. The difference between those two, writes the great literary genius Madeline L'Engle, is the difference between the use of sex to make love and babies, and uses of sex which can lead to divorce and murder. Words, continues L'Engle, are like telephone lines—the very thing that brings us power to light a nightlight, iron our pants, and cool our unsalted butter is precisely the same power which can, when touched, fry us to death.
As someone once said, words make worlds and words destroy worlds.
Just because we're talking about the Good News doesn't mean we're preaching it properly. While the content of our discussion may very well be orthodox, the delivery of our message may very well be diabolical.
For those listening, the way in which you preach the Good News is a kind of good news in itself. If the way it is preached is done poorly, the message itself will be lost on your method.
2. Be convinced but open
There's a reason people flock to Universalist Unitarian churches—people are welcomed to bring their questions there. Now, of course the problem is once you've actually landed on a particular belief you may not be welcomed anymore. But these kinds of churches are safe places to deal with questions.
Being a witness is having an answer but being humble enough to wade through questions with others as they are asking them.
Being a witness is having an answer but being humble enough to wade through questions with others as they are asking them. The most unexpected curveball you can throw at a seeker is being okay with them not signing the contract on the spot—letting them walk away and think about something. Learn the lesson of the good professor: know your stuff but be humble enough to dialogue. Just because we know something, that should not entail an arrogance that ends good, hearty dialogue.
I close with the original question: Is Christianity oppressive? I'm not convinced it is. Christianity is not oppressive any more than floss makes our teeth bleed. In reality the real force and power that made one's gums bleed are the hands and arms behind the floss that exert their power to put a tiny piece of string between one's teeth.
The gospel is always a message that frees and gives us much grace. But the minute we begin to silence it's message of freedom, we become the oppressors.
A.J. Swoboda is a pastor, writer, and professor in Portland, Oregon. He is @mrajswoboda on Twitter.
