A few days ago I said something stupid, possibly even offensive, and it got me thinking about a disturbing bandwagon that most of us, from time to time, jump on and ride.
On Tuesday I had the privilege of speaking about my book at the behest of the Friends of the Albany Public Library. From what I could tell, the “book talk†was well received. During the Q&A, someone raised an issue that I hear a lot: how can you look to the Christian faith for insights on dialogue when the history of Christendom is littered with war, oppression, complicity in genocide, etc.?
It’s a compelling question, and the moment I heard it, I wanted to express my solidarity with the questioner—that I too am horrified by many acts perpetrated in God’s name. What I said was something like “I make no apology for my fellow Christians and the things they’ve done.â€
Somehow, in my head, the phrase I make no apology meant I will not even try to justify or rationalize—in other words, the acts were horrible and I admit it. Later, back at home, I searched some online dictionaries for the phrase and found that it’s used for saying you’re not sorry about something. Yikes.
It gets better. The talk was being recorded. It’s slated to play on public access TV all week.
In the grand scheme of things, this is probably no big deal. Even the event organizers said so (they hadn’t noticed). But now imagine that someone wants to ruin me. He could conceivably edit that little clip, send it to any media who care, and post it on Facebook. I would look like an idiot, or worse.
Is this starting to sound familiar?
We do this all the time with our celebrities, our elected officials, and others in the public eye. They get their words tangled, it comes out badly, people catch it on their smartphones, it goes viral, and the outrage begins.
In that outrage, for some reason, we make a critical error: we assume that the clip in front of us represents the entire picture of what happened, context included. That’s an error for at least two reasons:
- We have no idea if the person on camera honestly misspoke. Public speaking is a weird phenomenon: you’re focusing on what you’re saying, how you’re saying it, how the audience is reacting, how much time you have left, what you can cut from the speech to make up time… Try to juggle all those thoughts and not make a single verbal mistake.
- We have no idea what the person said before or after the offending clip. It may have changed the meaning substantially. We may not even know the setting for the quote, or the intended audience, or other key contextual details.
Does that mean every speaker should get a free pass? Not hardly. I listened to Mitt Romney’s 47% quote in full context, and it still sounded bad.
The problem here is not so much judgment as it is the rush to judgment. We owe it to ourselves, to the offending speaker, and to the spirit of dialogue to inquire carefully into the context before we decide what the quote says, if anything, about the person behind it.
We all screw up. Stupid things fall out of our mouths. Sometimes they do in fact reveal our venality or sin or prejudice, and it’s important to fess up to it. Sometimes “I was misquoted†is a cheap excuse. But sometimes it’s true. Let’s get in the habit of checking it out before rushing to judgment.
Seems spot on and timely, my wife and I have been talking and contemplating this very thing! As I was reading this blog another aspect came to mind, which is that many 17th Century Quakers believed in using words only when it was necessary or when they had a sense that God was giving them words to speak or write. Have you ever heard of a book called “Let Your Words Be Few” by Richard Bauman? I’d be surprised if you had, it’s pretty obscure but still available I think. It’s a scholarly look at a rare cultural experiment that I’m doing what I can to implement in my life. But, to be real I dont think I’m even close to radical as they seem to have been. Nevertheless because of this calling I’m not able to give prepared speeches. As a matter of fact, even when I’ve been weak and wrote some things down to say the paper I wrote them on is never available when its my time to speak. This has happened a bunch of times. Something always happens so that I can’t find the paper so I am forced by the Holy Spirit to trust that the right words will be presented to me in right time and right rhythm. The spirit has never let me down.
What a wonderful practice, Stuart. It brings to mind the Desert Fathers and Mothers of the Christian tradition, who lived mostly in solitude around the 3rd or 4th century and tended to be very taciturn, speaking only when necessary. I seem to recall that Quaker Sunday meetings are like this too, right? One only speaks when feels moved by the Spirit? Goodness knows, we could use a huge dose of this in our public square.