On Dulles: Although I wouldn’t travel far with him, he’s at least no reactionary–and I can appreciate somebody who falls anywhere on the spectrum if they really listen to the other side of things. This was written, I might have mentioned, in preparation for class discussion of Dulles. As to his pedigree, it is worth noting early influences, but the man’s almost ninety years old and a cardinal: I’m sure he’s thought through such things for himself by now.

One point on Avery Dulles: He is the son of John Foster Dulles, a Secretary of State for Eisenhower, and the nephew of Allen Dulles, a CIA Director (both were founders of the CIA and NSA). John Foster Dulles once said: “There are 2 kinds of people in the world: the anti-communist Christians, and the others.” Bear this in mind as you read Avery…

Also, please check a blog that a friend and I started: The WereMenno. We hope to get some good theopolitical discussions going.

While it may sometimes be helpful to prioritize love over dissent, I also find it useful to bring the two together in my understanding of God’s vision for shalom. As I understand the biblical concept of shalom it is wholeness in all things. My mentor and teacher Noel Moules is a shalom evangelist who often talks with excitement about ‘mishpat’ which means “putting everything right”, but is usually translated as judgement. If dissent is an attempt, albeit frail and human, to put things right then it is an inextricable part of God’s vision of wholeness and completeness for the world. This framework would be deeply challenging for the institutional church because it would force it to take the voices of those on the margins as seriously as they do those in the center.

If you’re interested in reading more, Noel has written an article called “Gentle Footfall: Seismic Hope” for the Green Christian magazine that discusses his theology of Shalom and how it relates to care for the earth.

Ang: Thank you, this is wonderful—better said than I could have hoped to (and better than I, in fact, did). The more we can see prayer and peacebuilding in light of the other, the more faithful will become both practices. I would only say that I think it’s worthwhile to maintain some distinction between the two, just because I’ve too often heard certain circles equate justice and peace work with prayer—to the point where they no longer need really ask help, really sing praises, really sit in the silent power of the Lord the giver of life. Were this the ‘Young Catholic Faithful’ or something, I might try to emphasize the other side of things, but Anabaptists have usually been better at peacebuilding than at contemplation.

Katie: Thanks for the good reminder of the difference between our visions of the church and their real lives and habits. As I say, I’m only any good at speaking theologically. Note, though, that my final call (which is more questionable for the Catholics I wrote this to) is for a positive (just not a glorifying) account of dissent, and not even Dulles suggested a negative account. While it’s certainly true that few institutions have ever dealt well with internal dissent, it’s equally true that dissenters are at least as often destructive as helpful. Especially in the church, if there’s anything like a deposit of truth or faith which we inherit and are charged to pass on, dissent cannot be reckless.

I’m still going to go with what Tim had to say on dissent in the global context except I think it applies within the church as outside of the church.

“While I agree that dissent has its limits and that it can become an idol, I think we have to keep in mind the broader global context in this discussion. As long as their are countries where dissent is criminalized and repressed, ambivalence to dissent is complicity with that repression.”

While dissent within the church isn’t likely to get you thrown down a well (or other physical harm), the powers-that-be in the church don’t tend to hand out sparkly star stickers for internal dissent. Instead they react by censuring, expelling, silencing, “disciplining,” and generally throwing up boundaries.

We all like to think of our churches as the non-conformist Body of Christ that cries for justice and peace. We love to think of our Anabaptist forebears as righteous martyrs that would rather die on the pyre with a tongue screw than cede our faith to the institution of the church/state. Unfortunately, sometimes our own Anabaptist institutions become the ones doing the oppressing to those within. Before we feel too ambivilant or negative about dissent within the church, I think we need to do some power analysis to make sure we aren’t being complicit to injustice inside or outside of the church.

There is, yet, another question the discussion sparked for me. I would agree that prayer is peacebuilding—I would also argue that at times peacebuilding is prayer. Thinking over the last few months, and in particular, the time I spent in West Africa this summer, my most powerful moments of prayer occurred during moments of peacebuilding. After spending time with former child combatants at the Liberian refugee camp, where “disillusioned” “hopeless” and “burned out” do not even begin to describe the state of my heart; after all, how does a generation who has only known war, who has only known some of the most severe forms of violence—who have spent the last decade of their lives carrying out that violence—find transformation, love, and hope? That was the American speaking. The boys, however, maintained a sense of hope and joy. They got out the jembe’s (literally translated jembe means “come together”) and began drumming and dancing. It is a power I have never felt before. And it was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. Peacebuilding here, was prayer. The same could be said of women holding the hands of their perpetrators in Liberia, walking them from exile into their communities—singing spirituals. Or in a totally different context, the overthrow of Marcos in the 80s in the Philippines happened during a mass demonstration—with Filipino’s singing, dancing, and giving gifts of cigarettes/flowers/and chocolates to the soldiers driving tanks, stopping them in their tracks. Peacebuilding is prayer—and it is, indeed, a Divine gift.

If I may make a theological response to your comment, though (it’s the only kind of response I’m any good at making): even here, dissent cannot be first or most fundamental. As Karl Barth says, the Yes of God’s gospel precedes the No of God’s judgment. This renders God’s judgment no less severe, but always subsequent–confessionally rather than chronologically speaking–to the proclamation of God’s joyous light of glory. So we don’t go around preaching dissent but rather the love of the Christ who has conquered sin and death. We don’t go around supporting dissent per se so much as we act under the true authority and power of the risen Christ (which proves all other powers penultimate). Maintaining this priority makes worship an indispensable dimension of peacebuilding, and suggests that part of ‘getting out there and doing something about it,’ at least for the Christian, is getting down on your knees to pray.

Thanks for this immensely helpful comment. I’ll slightly modify the post to show its location.

The whole postmodern paradox of no recognized authority and nothing to rebel against is fairly limited in global terms. The vast majority of global citizens know full well where the authority and power lies in their communities. And they also know the feeling of powerlessness in trying to change “the way things are.” So I guess the challenge I would have for those who idolize dissent is to get out their and do something about it where it matters rather than just sticking a snide bumper sticker on their SUV, Lexus or 20-year old Toyota.

Sorry if I’m turning into a one-trick pony here. I’ll try to shake it up with a different sort of post soon.