The Dialogue Venture

Posts Tagged ‘Jesus’

Nicodemus, who had gone to Jesus before—and who was one of the Pharisees—asked, “Our law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing, does it?” The Pharisees replied, “Surely you are not also from Galilee, are you? Search and you will see that no prophet is to arise from Galilee.” (John 7:50-52)

If you think the state of civil discourse has reached an all-time low, this story may surprise you.

Allow me to introduce the cast. Jesus was from Galilee (hence the reference in the passage above). The Pharisees, a Jewish sect, emphasized rigorous adherence to the law that God had given to Moses, as well as to the traditions that sprang from it. Nicodemus, a Pharisee himself, had visited Jesus early in the gospel of John to hear what he had to say.

Previously, the Pharisees—who were offended by Jesus and worried about civil unrest among his followers—had sent guards to arrest him. It backfired: the guards came back awestruck, saying, “Never has anyone spoken like this!”

From here the story could go one of two ways. Hearing the guards’ new perspective could inspire curiosity. Maybe, the Pharisees could think, it’s worthwhile to talk with Jesus. They could see if his ideas shed a new light on their beliefs. Perhaps, through dialogue, an exchange of views might draw them both closer to God.

That’s one way. The other, alas, is all too familiar to us: dig in, protect our position by insulting the other side, reduce thoughtful positions to bromides that obscure more than they clarify. This is what happens, for instance, when pro-life adherents call their adversaries “baby killers,” or when pro-choice advocates incessantly trumpet “a woman’s right to choose.”

That’s the way the Pharisees go in the gospel account. To the guards, they say, “Surely you have not been deceived too, have you?…the crowd [of believers in Jesus], who do not know the law—they are accursed.” When Nicodemus tries to put the idea of a fair hearing before them, they insult him too, dismissing him with a one-liner.

As always, let me offer a caveat. Any of these positions may hold truth. “A woman’s right to choose” is a factor worth considering in the abortion debate. Maybe the fetus is a baby. Perhaps there is no mention of a Galilean prophet in the Hebrew scriptures.

The problem is that the advocates of these positions assert their position and stop there. That cuts off the possibility of exploring for a deeper truth. If the fetus is a baby, does it too have a right to choose? If we can’t determine when babyhood begins, what then? If the scriptures are silent about a prophet from Galilee, does that mean it can’t happen?

Questions like these—when we ask them of each other—help us probe deeper, uncover more truth, and become more empathic with those who disagree. Insults and repetition block our way.

Even two millennia ago, the dynamics of dialogue and polarization were at work. Ultimately, I think, this is encouraging news. It means our divides never go away—but neither does our desire to reach across them.

If you haven’t had the pleasure of reading Tom Ehrich, you’re in for a treat. An Episcopal priest and church wellness consultant, Tom writes prolifically about the meaning of Jesus, the state of the church, and the nature of spirituality in the 21^st century. His daily writings, available through www.onajourney.org, often stop me in my tracks with their insights.

This past week, he published the following essay, which speaks volumes about the need to understand the whole story. In dialogue, this means gently probing well beyond the other person’s initial opinions to get to the whys. When we do that, we can at least start to appreciate her perspective, whether or not we agree. That appreciation fosters trust, opens the dialogue to deeper levels, and enables us to build bridges across whatever divide confronts us.

Tom makes the point about “understanding the story” particularly well, so allow me to share his essay with you. I’ve reprinted it here with his permission.

Understanding the Story

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” (Luke 15:1-2)

At a Perkins restaurant in Lincoln, Nebraska, the hostess was struggling to keep pace with Sunday business. Incoming patrons and outgoing bill-payers were grumbling. Wait staff let her flounder.

Later, on board a flight to Newark, our flight attendant was having an equally bad day. She stormed down the aisle, gave sarcastic answers to the usual questions, and seemed to enjoy bumping elbows.

I was dealing with my own fatigue and transition, of course, and wanted only to push on toward home. I turned away from the attendant and kept my grumbling to myself.

I’m sure there was a story behind these bad days, just as there was a story behind my fatigue and wanting to retain a retreat’s warm glow. If we could know each other’s stories, we would be less likely to bristle and fire back.

Luke described a common situation. One group felt offended by another. In this case, it was the pious resenting sinners. But it could have been anything: new neighbors, new boss, immigrants, young people behaving differently, the pedestrian who glowers at you and seems ready for a brawl.

The Pharisees and scribes weren’t motivated to understand the tax collectors and sinners coming to Jesus. In the same way, early Christians condemned the Jewish establishment without understanding their resentment.

Jesus told a parable, because he did understand both groups. He understood the resentment of the elder brother—descendants of Abraham, much oppressed and yet faithful to their God—who obeyed the rules and now saw the father’s grace fall on a disobedient son. He understood the prodigal—sinners who should have known better—whose headstrong ways landed him in trouble and sent him home in shame.

I believe God understands our stories. God knew why a hostess at Perkins couldn’t perform her job this day, and why a flight attendant chose this day to snap at a Hindu passenger for requesting a snack without meat.

God knew I was making a difficult transition: leaving behind a wonderful retreat and deep connecting with men of Nebraska, and returning to worries and duties.

In telling this now-famous parable, I think Jesus was saying to us, Take the time to know each other’s stories. See the other’s point of view, even if it strikes you as hateful. Know why the whiner is whining, the aggressor is attacking, and the child is crying.

As others reach for weapons to fight back, take a moment for the ambiguity of parables. Don’t just bristle—as I am wont to do—but imagine the story. Better yet, ask to hear it.