Yesterday I posted an article on Facebook. The article spoke of a priest in San Francisco who had recently chosen to bar girls from altar service in his parish. Anyone who has ever met me (or read pretty much any post on this blog) knows that I would feel ALL THE FEELINGS about this. I posted the article, with an accompanying snarky remark, and pretty soon got some sympathetic and gratifying comments and likes. Whee! But I also got a comment from a recent DePaul graduate, who offered his understanding of what he called “the REAL rationale” behind certain priests’ or bishops’ choice to limit altar service to boys.
WELL! “Real rationale,” indeed! As if my interpretation of the rationale expressed were some silly fluff of fantasy! That deserved a response if ever anything did. I immediately responded in a defensive stance…in a huff, if I’m honest. I harrumphed a bit, and flexed my ecclesiological muscles a bit more, and used some pretty strong words. I’m not saying my points weren’t valid, but they were voiced pretty aggressively. In so many comment battles online, such words would have led to an explosion of vitriol from lurking trolls and aggrieved readers with axes to grind. However, Mr Alumnus chose to take the road less traveled by, and it made all the difference. In a civil and friendly, even convivial way, he listed out a number of questions he had in response to my thoughts. The questions seemed honest and made in good faith–that was the assumption I made anyhow. And lo! Here was a perfect opportunity to hash out some of my thoughts on the role of lay women in the Church, with a mind for precision, knowing I was going up against (albeit friendly) opposition. Bully for me! I spent far too much time in my response, and loved every second of composing it. My sparring partner thanked me for my response, and returned with more questions of his own. By that time I had to go to the gym, but I fully intend to continue this conversation.
I share this story in light of Jon Chait’s recent article in New York Magazine on the perils of a politically correct culture, and the myriad responses that have been exploding onto the Interwebs since its publication. Chait speaks passionately about the threat to free speech that our current climate of checking privilege and radical inclusion imposes upon us all. Many left-wing journalists have pounced on this article and torn it to bits, accusing Chait of raging white privilege, and looking down their noses at his perception of his own victimhood at the hands of advocates of culturally marginalized populations. Some others have taken a more balanced view: yes, Chait is an entitled jackass, but there is such a thing as too much “tone-policing,” in which those not speaking the most current culture-sensitive parlance are ostracized as pillars of the patriarchy and cast into the outer darkness. Few have ventured out to actively side with Chait’s stance, although the one article I did find that supports him wins the award for Best Title: The Persecution and Assassination of Jonathan Chait as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of the Intertubes Under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade. The author is an entitled twit, buy I’ve gotta hand it to him–he’s got a way with the words.
Reading all these passionate screeds made me pause to wonder…is it even possible for us to assume good intent? The Internet certainly doesn’t want us to; civil, sane discourse in which people might actually learn something doesn’t work particularly well as clickbait. New York Magazine knew exactly what it was doing when it published Chait’s article, and exactly the response they would get. It’s exciting, and provocative, and stirs up all kinds of comments from all sides, which means more views, which means more ad revenue. But from an ethical and intellectual standpoint, is it effective journalism? And from a theological perspective, is it just? It’s the easiest thing in the world to pick a fight online; to sustain a thoughtful dialogue is a lot harder.
I hate to be the Pollyanna here, but does anyone even stop to consider the question of intent? Is an assumption of good faith at all on offer in contemporary journalism? I’m not talking about being polite, or allowing things to pass, or cloaking one’s passion for justice in neutered, bloodless prose. I’m talking about considering the humanity of the writer in question, and wondering if they might actually be coming from a place of care and passion too. Could we keep the passion, without abandoning Christian charity?
I don’t want to sound hysterical, but events of late have highlighted the potential consequences of the dehumanization of both those who read and those who write. I’m not about to sport a “Je Suis Charlie” button, but neither am I going to dispute the unimpeachable importance of free speech. My love for Pope Francis notwithstanding, I respectfully disagree with his recent statement that faith should not be subject to mockery or satire. History has shown time and again that religion, just like any other human institution, is vulnerable to corruption and injustice. It’s not morally supportable to be restricted from speaking out on behalf of justice, no matter what the context. However, I do believe that it’s quite possible–and potentially quite effective–to create works of satire that criticize injustice while maintaining a respect for humanity. The issue for me isn’t the subject matter, but rather the recognition of the humanity behind said subject matter.
It seems like this question of freedom of speech just keeps going on and on. I actually do relate to the complaint that those who aren’t totally up to snuff on the latest parlance of inclusive language risk being run out on a rail by advocates for the marginalized or oppressed. But the answer to that problem cannot be to simply do away with inclusive language and stop trying for a more all-embracing worldview. Privileged populations often marginalize, and even bully. But if the first line of defense is to shut down dialogue, that’s no good either. There has to be a better way, of correcting with respect and love even as we assert a zero-tolerance policy for injustice, that assumes at least some measure of good intent and plays to such intent to effect an actual change of heart, rather than simply an exhilarating rush of self-righteousness. Such rushes never changed the world, or changed people’s minds. But I actually believe Christian action could.
So I’m a Pollyanna. DEAL WITH IT.
