So, how are pastors going lead in ways that will overcome or at least balance out the influence of a talk radio and media system that seem in these times to have greater influence over how people make meaning in their lives than the church, especially when considering that these sources have 24/7 platforms while a church experience is once a week for an hour or two?
What is a church leader’s level of responsibility to push back? Is the axiom “I cannot teach anyone anything, I can only get them to ask questions” perhaps the best approach?
If the division of our times is not going away by itself, how are pastors to lead in ways that bring angry, victimhood-oriented, self-proclaimed deplorables back to the love of Christ? -Bradley P. Bauer, Andover Newton DMin 2016
Right before Christmas, our neighbors kitty-corner across the street had a fire in their kitchen. Emmett, the dad, tried to make doughnuts. When a fire started on the stove, he attempted to douse it with water, and the grease from the pan splattered the flames into a full conflagration. No one was hurt, but the kitchen was a mess, and of course the smell of smoke was overpowering. Merry Christmas! Stuck in the house, unable to cook, smelling charred plastic, and feeling like an idiot? Yeah, that was 2020 for you.
The moral of the story is that you can’t fight fire with fire, and sometimes you can’t even fight it with water. You fight fire with that which will actually put out the fire. Arguing with an upset and angry person by throwing reason, facts, and information at them is like throwing water on a grease fire. So the question is, “What actually douses anger to the point where ideas can be meaningfully exchanged? What is the pastor’s role and responsibility in that exchange of ideas we can only achieve when the temperature is lowered?”
You are right to point out, Brad, how mass media is making ministers’ work more difficult. Whereas a talk radio host can say awful, inciting words in a windowless room from behind a microphone, pastors actually have relationships in their communities that are two-way streets. Mass media benefits when tribalism thrives, as people seek out their channels of choice to find words with which they agree. One side-effect of the ease with which people can find their tribes is that they are getting much worse at sticking with actual conversations, where they can’t grab the remote and tune out the moment they become uncomfortable. My prayer is that ministers can play a role in teaching people anew how to disagree but then stay in-relationship with one another.
One of my spouse’s favorite axioms is, “Anger is a mask for fear or sadness.” When we encounter an angry person, we are wise to take a moment to ask ourselves what they’re scared of, and what are they afraid to lose? To do so makes no excuses for the angry person if their anger is coming out in ways that cause harm, but rather it deprives the fire of some of its oxygen. Ministers have a dual role of caring for individuals and keeping communities together. A lower temperature makes both of those responsibilities easier.
But easy isn’t everything. We often hear that ministers are called to speak the truth in love. Here’s the “truth” part: pastors are trained and employed to describe the world as seen through the eyes of love. Their job is to make theological sense using the framework of the Gospel. Here’s the “love” part: ministers tell the truth, even to those who don’t like what they’re hearing, while remembering that those who might be flat-out wrong ideologically deserve our our compassion and care. Jesus was awfully kind to those who didn’t like what he said, and I say “awfully” because doing so can feel like a terrible responsibility. Even with the ones who eventually killed him, Jesus never met hate with hate.
Of course, the temptation will be to just let the fire burn itself out. Angry people often come across as bullies, whom Michelle Obama defines in her memoir as “scared people trapped inside scary people.” Bullies are best avoided and ignored. If tranquility were the only goal for a community, then ignoring the angry one would surely be wise. In a Christian community, however, the purpose is more than that. Christian communities exist to practice our religion, worshiping God and encouraging one another to make the world more like God envisions it to be. Therefore, the pastor’s job is more than conciliatory passivity; ministers sheepdog a community in the direction of love that the shepherd, Jesus, showed us.
So back to your question, Brad: how does a pastor provide an alternative voice to those that fan flames of self-righteous anger? Here are some dos-and-don’ts I’ve learned through my fair share of experiences trying to minister with and to angry people:
- Don’t attempt to fight fire with fire, trying to “balance” lies with truth. Try to find common ground in shared values, like the importance of respect, and the goal of increasing love among human beings, and start there.
- Remember your role: pastors aren’t politicians, and they aren’t secular teachers. Their job is to make spiritual sense of the world around them. Don’t abdicate that responsibility, but do use the tools of the trade — relationships, conversation, preaching, writing, prayer — to describe reality as seen through the eyes of love.
- Don’t use the talk radio host’s playbook, using your pulpit as a weapon. You have a platform that parishioners don’t, and that’s a privilege to be handled with care.
- As you suggested, Brad: asking questions and listening help to turn down the heat. Caring about the whole person, not just that person’s wrong-headed ideas, does too.
- Humor can defuse a tense situation, as it reminds both in the conversation that they are mostly the same. After our neighbors’ fire, I brought them a box of doughnuts from Dunkin’. It was a risk, as I don’t know them all that well and hoped they’d think it was funny. Thankfully, they did.
In his book My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies, Resmaa Menakem makes a distinction between “clean pain” and “dirty pain.” Clean pain happens when we clear the air, speak the truth in love, and cleanse the metaphorical wound that results when we hurt each other. Dirty pain is the kind we feel amidst chronic injustices with which we try to learn to live, but which fester over time.
Every minister I know can relate to feeling damned if we do (confront those whose ideologies are bad and wrong) and damned if we don’t. Damned if we do because conflict is awful and draining, and because congregations have a lot more power over pastors than one might think. Damned if we don’t, because the dirty pain we experience when stuffing down our prophetic witness chips away at our ministerial identities. So if we’re damned if we do, and damned if we don’t, which road do we choose? My prayer is that I learn to choose clean pain and remember that the cost of dirty pain isn’t worth it.
Clergy are in the meaning-of-life business. False narratives about life’s meaning are gaining too much traction. It’s time to get back to business.
