More Usual Suspects

A review and disability-oriented response to Beth Allison Barr, The Making of Biblical Womanhood: How the Subjugation of Women Became Gospel Truth. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2021.

At the start of a graduate school class titled “The History of Christian Doctrine,” the professor apologized for the title, saying that “doctrine” probably sounded dull. The class wasn’t, thanks to his guidance, but it’s a reminder that whether we like it, whether we find it exciting or dull, history is there, whether we like it or not, especially when it’s full of surprises that we’d prefer to forget. And as this book’s historical survey of a theological topic progresses, we find out that there is much that’s been forgotten, thereby tilting the view that many have of this history. 

As I would tell my history class, let’s begin at the beginning: the origins of patriarchy. Barr starts with the story of a church that refused to hire a man as church secretary. He was in need of employment and had the desired skills. The reasoning had nothing to do with ability and everything to do with the idea that a man was above such work.

Behind this “reasoning” is a cultural history: as agriculture emerged, so did structured communities, along with designations of rank and status, marking some people as more worthy—whether of authority, certain kinds of work, or other elements of social identity. As cultures develop, such notions often are conflated with religious belief, and over time, become a hermeneutical standard, a move over time that is generally with the loss of their origins. Generations of students, including myself, have written about the imago Dei and social structure and now Barr joins us, noting that patriarchy was a result of human sin. It exists, but is not God’s desire.

A careful reading will reveal that many biblical passages and stories undermine, rather than support, patriarchy. The Torah has many provisions for an inclusive society, one that doesn’t promote rank and status. And then there’s Paul—a survey of history shows that in the early and medieval church, his writings were hardly ever used to support the status quo. Paul was writing to teach early Christians to live counter-culturally in their Roman world, and how to resist the patriarchy of the day. (With serendipity in “full” mode, the Alban newsletter of July 18,2022 notes, “In Scripture, we can see the connection between behavior and culture when we reflect on the Apostle Paul’s comments . . . . a transformative vision for a Christ-centered culture by advocating for new ways of behaving within the Christian community.”)

Abetting our assumptions about patriarchy are vagaries of translation. Few people read the preface to translations. If one did, they would learn that King James sought to support male, royal authority—and many recent translations refer to maintaining that tradition. Many modern Christians thus hear in Paul a masculine authority, such as wives should “be subject.” Paul’s original audience would have heard a command to love as Christ did, to efface the self, and not to regard the family as a vehicle for personal gain.

Compounding these assumptions, we are reminded that translation is not a science and not literal. So readers often lose track of who is speaking and who is addressed. Moreover, the letters we have are one side of a chain of correspondence. Paul is often addressing what was happening (i.e., “women be silent”) and reacting in disbelief (“What!”) to offer correction. As Barr points out, Paul had reason to challenge such accretions: “In a world that didn’t accept the word of a woman as a valid witness, Jesus chose women as witnesses for his resurrection” (87). It should also be noted that Paul describes himself as a mother, much as Jesus did, and mentions women prominently among the leaders of churches.

Many translations have also wreaked havoc on gender. Inclusive readers are hardly a recent invention: in the first chapter of Genesis, a human (inclusive gender) is created, אדם ('adam). This was rendered in the Vulgate as homo/hominem (an inclusive gender term) and then as man in English. At that time, "man" was gender inclusive, but over time, it was often taken to apply to males only.

M. I should probably not venture into the hopefully unintentional hypocrisy of those who tell us that “man” is inclusive but then act as if it’s “male” only. An example of this is 1 Timothy 3:1–13, where the Greek uses non-gender-specific terms, but many English translations use a series of male-specific pronouns—none of which are in the Greek text.

Aside from the gender concerns raised in this book, I am (unsurprisingly) interested in the parallels to the argument that prevailing views are accepted as cultural foundations, and in turn used to justify theological positions. This is part of what lies behind Theodore Hiebert’s ideas that we have misunderstood God’s diversity due to mistranslation and cultural assumptions.

In the realm of disability, we have a Gospel example: in John 9, Jesus converses with a blind man, treating him as a real person, and then tells those around that their notion that disability is the result of sin is all wrong. The extension of this story also illustrates why we need a social model of disability: the leaders refuse to acknowledge that the man is whole, and prefer to argue with his parents than to hear the man himself. (This does not exhaust the material available in this direction).

In a similar approach, Jenifer Barclay’s The Mark of Slavery argues that the legacy of slavery created much of the modern language of disability and influenced theological views which have survived even though slavery has not (at least legally). As our industrial-technical age has emphasized reading and similar technical competencies, society has singled out conditions such as dyslexia and some neurodiversity in a way that previous ages did not. This parallels a change of reading the λογος (logos) of John as “The Word” to be understood and given a fixed, specific understanding, one that departs from the classical idea of principle, grounds, reasoning, and patterns. In the process Barclay follows, these become stigmatized as disabilities rather than different approaches or understandings, and we lose much of the richness of the Gospel stories.

I also remember a remark from one person that in many ways, the oldest human disability is being female. It’s hardly surprising, then, that this book is needed--and that there is one more matter to address. In closing, Barr writes about the 1995 movie “The Usual Suspects,” which, near its end, has the line “The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.” She begs to disagree, saying that the greatest trick was convincing Christians that oppression is godly (172). As Matthew 23.27 reminds us, the harshest words of Jesus were to self-appointed guardians of privilege and rank, of systems that give some people power over others. 

Disclaimer: I borrowed this book from the Indianapolis Public Library, once again pushing some generously-compensated CEO toward having to consider whether he will have to cancel a subscription to heated car seats or something similar. A nice feature of electronic borrowing for people like me is that the book is returned automatically at the end of the lending period. 

 

 

 

Still marked

Still marked: a review and response to Jenifer L. Barclay, The Mark of Slavery: Disability, Race, and Gender in Antebellum America. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2021.

In 1857, a writer praised the New York Daily Times for teaching “coldly and calmly” the “indubitable fact” of white supremacy. As his opinion letter continued, he noted the need for “wardship” of those incapable of self-government, which included infants, disabled people, and people of color (J. Buford, “A Southerner’s Opinion of the New York Day Book,” New York Daily Times, 26 January 1857, 14).

The “indubitable fact” and its reach is a reminder of Douglas Baynton’s observation that, as a culture of “normal” was taking root, one response that might be heard was that one was not disabled and therefore ought not to be the object of discrimination—but not to challenge allowing discrimination.* At a time when many social institutions and assumptions were under scrutiny, various standards were emerging, with results that are still with us. Among these were supposedly Christian notions of sin as a contributor to difference. Although starting to give way to developing science and concepts of what was “normal,” prevailing notions held back from a clean break: judgments continued a long-standing practice of ascribing various aspects of disabling conditions to unrelated occurrences and then used them to justify oppression and inequality. In turn, such uses contributed to notions of disability as defective or abnormal instead of aspects of diversity.

Economics is the first topic covered. The author shows how disability has led to a presumption of lack of economic value. Under slavery, with its poor working and living conditions, accidents, and disease, an image of uselessness therefore became associated with disability. This idea returned in Nazi Germany to justify the murder of disabled people.

The next topic is medical advances, some of which led to what we now refer to as the medical model of disability, one which views differences as errors or imperfections to be corrected. The people involved were viewed as feeble objects of charity (have you seen a commercial or telethon lately that portrayed disabled people like this?), and provided ground for the view of slavery as a paternalistic “positive good” that took care of those unable to rise higher.

If you have seen one of those commercials or telethons, have you also seen presentations about how inspiring someone is because they have overcome the obstacles placed in their way by an ableist society? Also known as “inspiration porn,” such coverage is an almost-oppose to the portrayals of uselessness and pity, but they are just as dangerous. Rarely are the social and physical roadblocks noticed when praising someone for “overcoming” their disability.

In many settings, these attitudes of uselessness lead to subversion: slaves and disabled people gather unnoticed and largely unmonitored, engage in various kinds of aid, whether practical or creating a sense of stability and social togetherness in a liminal setting. St. Paul’s paradox of strength in weakness became a recasting of weakness as strength, transforming the classical trickster of myth into a powerful person with qualities of great spiritual strength. Disability is capable of being subversive when it gains attention. However, it’s generally minimized or shut out. Ever wonder why?

Thus arises the author’s point that one failure of abolitionists who crusaded against slavery was not severing the link of racism and ableism behind social hierarchies (150). In an example of the “law of unintended consequences,” these anti-slavery arguments used ableist language to reinforce the need for perceived benevolent guidance, and outsider-directed care. This continued with speech about a deformed nation that reinforced a stigma of disability, and as noted, contributed to inspiration porn and obstacles today. Sympathy and derision went together to minimize and marginalize anyone who was different. Aided by the then-new art of photography, freak and minstrel shows worked with photographs of slave treatment to create sympathy without empathy or improvement for those in need.

Disability is also a “marker of hierarchical relations”— just as slavery, forged in distinctly racialized ways throughout the antebellum years—shaped and defined power dynamics. But what persists is not an end to hierarchies, but new paths of control. Disability continues to provide images and symbols of such control—a person perceived as successful has traits associated with bodily ability and seeks to reinforce such stereotypes. People whose bodies or minds do not match the standard are judged as unable, unintelligent, and irrational. They are shut out of inaccessible locations, forgotten when podcasts are not captioned, overlooked when their minds take a different approach, and only grudgingly granted an occasional presumption of competence. Still subversive, still a threat. Still marked.

 

* Douglas C. Baynton, “Disability and the Justification of Inequality in American History” in Paul K. Longmore and Lauri Umansky, The New Disability History: American Perspectives (New York: New York University press, 2001)

Disclaimer: I borrowed this book from the Indianapolis Public Library, promising to return it within three weeks, which I did, even though they no longer threaten to fine late returns. In this I was aided and abetted by borrowing it as a Kindle book, which is automatically returned.

 

The Valkyrie rides on Michigan Road

To many theologians, the root of sin lies in the notion of rank. This notion generates social structures that lead to stratification and stigma, as Isabel Wilkerson has shown—primarily in race, but applicable to most of our social institutions.

The arts are not immune to this, as noted by Rae Linda Brown in her biography of Florence Price. So it is hardly a surprise that Indianapolis gained notice for an ill-worded job advertisement that fueled suspicions of racial bias. Suspicions of such bias have lurked around the city for some time, especially since the museum began to levy admission fees for entrance.

Since history is there for us to learn from whether we like it or not, let’s look at some parts of this claim that proponents of the statement may not like. Yesterday marked an anniversary: on March 28, 1871, Richard Wagner lodged a complaint with his publisher over the publication of the Walkürenritt in a stand-alone version (you can see a short comment about this at my Facebook page). The idea of popular settings of just a few minutes extracted from a four-hour long opera that was the second of a series of four, and the same not being performed in the specially-built Bayreuth theater, was appalling to him.

It was not the first cultural fit thrown by culture snobs. In 1797, as deafness was creeping upon him, Beethoven scandalized the musical world of Vienna with his opus 11 trio, whose last movement is based on a popular song, “Before I go to work.” We don’t need to stop there: for one of many examples, think of the Renaissance composers who foreshadowed Sister Act by using the tunes of popular love songs as a setting for liturgical texts. Or King David, dancing in the streets, which also upset people (2 Samuel 6.14-22).

The old adage from Qoheleth, rendered in the Vulgate as nihil novum sub sole is, it would seem, a universal value (Ecclesiastes 1.9). So should we be surprised to see cultural snobbery rearing its head again? As Lawrence Levine details in his book Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy In America (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1990), the forces that seek to create an artistic hierarchy and enforce rules about it have long been with us. Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn reminds us that Shakespeare was well-known in early America and widely performed. And after The Bard, or between the acts, came the farces.

Post-civil war America was rapidly undergoing industrialization and social stratification. Income inequality soared as the wealthy channeled tax relief to themselves. However imperfect, the Founder’s ideals of egalitarianism found in the preamble to the Constitution seemed to fall by the side. In theological terms, the (sinful) human tendency to categorize and rank took hold. So it’s hardly surprising that some people decreed that the culture of immigrants and others of lower social standing was less pure than that of the winners of social Darwinism.

As this happened, “the arts” became sacralized: something to be protected from the masses, who were provided with their own entertainment. And protest happened! Since its 1880 opening, New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art had been closed on Sunday, the only day which the average worker had off. After years of debate, the museum opened for the first time on Sunday on May 31, 1891. It was a small victory, although, like many, not full: in 1897, the director of the museum defended ejecting a plumber who tried to enter wearing overalls. More recently, in 2002, when a radio station frequency swap in Dallas would have restricted coverage of the city’s classical music station, some members of the council warned about making presumptions of who the listeners were. And now, the cycle is playing out again here in Indy. The museum has promised changes. Quo vadis?

Disclaimer: I bought Highbrow, Lowbrow while in graduate school and later apparently shared it with someone, and it never came back. So I used my notes and a library copy (which I returned on time) here. I have never been a member of the Indianapolis Museum of Art but did attend a few faculty development programs there, and often visited when it was free. 

 

The Devil of Details

One of the most challenging aspects of teaching history comes when students are half-listening (if they're listening at all) until a phrase passes their ears that produces a knee-jerk reaction. "Socialism" is one of these words. 

Some perspective on this term comes from the ostensible topic here, a book by Kenneth Barnes, Redeeming Capitalism (Eerdmans, 2018). Barnes outlines the history of economic systems, surveys both good and bad effects and developments, and suggests some theologically-based corrections to the way things are today (most of these center on restraining rampant greed). 

Along the way, he notes: "Since the end of World War II, and the beginning of the Cold War, one word above all others has been anathema to US politicians, socialism. Among the many reasons for this, perhaps the two most obvious are a general confusion about what socialism actually is and a widely-held conviction that socialist experiments in Europe and elsewhere have not been successful. Confusion over what socialism actually is may be traced to deliberate and, some might say, cynical attempts by its opponents to convolute Democratic socialism with it totalitarian Marxism" (83).

With the costs of being disabled, economic systems are always in the mind of people with disabilities. Hearing someone opine that wheelchairs are only around $300 (reality check: my last one came to $21,000, and we had to pay about $4000) should prove that. But economics, and Barnes, are also about what we value. Jesus of Nazareth stated that trying to serve both God and wealth would lead to cognitive dissonance (Matthew 6.24). The medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas argued that those who would raise the price of an item because of its advantage to the recipient commit a sin of deceit (Summa Theologiae 2b.77.1,4). The Archbishop of Canterbury, announcing that John Swinton's Dementia: Living in the Memories of God was awarded the 2016 Michael Ramsey Prize, stated that the failure to value people as something other than economic units was "one of the most profound failures of our society." 

A recently-concluded round of campaign commercials and reading this article from History News Network brought Barnes, my wheels, Aquinas, and Swinton together for me. 

It also reminded me of repeated efforts to get students to pay attention to that place where the devil lives--details. Or could we say, it's a reminder of the need for understanding history and practicing careful discernment (a.k.a. critical reading) of what we read. In this case, "socialist" has a variety of meanings and distinctions. It also originated in a particular historical setting, and, as is usual in everything from religion to politics, not all who claim the label or oppose it are using it accurately.

Being able to sort this out is one of the purposes of education (especially if you wish to distinguish "education" from "training," which I'll probably get into sometime). Before we proceed, I'll add that another purpose of education is learning to express what you've found in a clear manner. When I was in grad school, one day one of my advisors and I had a great conversation about students who responded "that's not what I meant" about their papers. It may be (and we can often figure that out) but it is what you told us!

I've seen a lot of memes lately that mention "socialism" but clearly don't have any idea what it's about.This is why I dislike the memes that are so prevalent on Facebook. Beyond their general inaccuracy and one-sidedness, they don't invite discussion, their purpose seems to be reinforcing one's pre-existing notions without thinking. But then, thinking is what killed Socrates.

Disclaimer: I borrowed this book from the Indianapolis Public Library and promised to return it within three weeks. I fulfilled that promise.