Your nose looks a little different this new year

These last few months, thanks to all sorts of fun yet time-consuming activities, have not been a blogging season for me. To be sure, there are a number of half-baked drafts on my hard drive; none of them, however, seem worth sharing at this point. Good thing this isn’t my job.

I came across something exciting last night, however, leading me to turn this particular post around in under 24 hours. The thing that excited me was a bit narcissistic, but oh well this is a personal blog and that is bound to happen from time to time.

The exciting thing came from a snippet of a book blending youth ministry practice with social construction theory, one which I have been reading these past few weeks (emphasis added):

Let’s face it: our readings of Scripture are deeply biased. Biases are not necessarily good or bad. They are like noses; we all have them. But just like the noses on our faces, they can be difficult to see. When we do not recognize our biases in reading Scripture and treat them as ultimate truth, we eliminate others’ biases. This limits new forms of understanding and manufactures division that hinders relational growth.

— Brandon McKoy, Youth Ministry from the Outside In, p.156 – 157

This got my attention, because I used the same “nose” metaphor in my senior-thesis-turned-e-book that I published earlier this year, The Virtue of Open-Mindedness: An Essay (see excerpt below). While this may be a case of wit’s all been done before, I think McKoy and myself are both sufficiently influenced by Gadamer to say that this is a pretty neat case of language being shaped by tradition. Besides, coming up with the same language as someone more learned and experienced than myself is a reassuring sign that I might be on the right track (I had a similar realization last year with Barbara Brown Taylor).

Granted, McKoy talks about biases, while I talk about prejudices, but we are talking about essentially the same thing. For those of us who are card-carrying members of the human race, our understanding of the world is fundamentally finite. Rather than trying to know everything from all possible perspectives, the remedy to this so-called problem is hardly a remedy at all but rather the way the world should have been from the beginning: that we develop trusting relationships with people who see things differently than us — so that we may be corrected, humbled, and inspired.

I don’t like to drum up gloom, but initial reports suggest 2013 has been the year of suspicion. Congress is in deadlock, ethnic tensions seem anachronistically high, and our private lives and personal information feel compromised. In the political economy of 2013, trust has been a more precious resource than gold or oil or even bitcoins.

For Christians, our churches continue to divide, using certain verses as cleaving knives. What sadness.

Emergent problems require innovative solutions, yet tradition (and the corresponding wealth of wisdom) has been held hostage by those who fear change. The guardians of tradition, whoever they may be, need to let go of the false notion that tradition is unchangeable and static. Every belief or ritual or symbol they hold so dear was, after all, an innovation of it’s own back in the day.

I am droning on (I guess that is something else that happened in 2013), so let me get to the point, which is hardly a point but more of a New Year’s challenge.

  • Looking back on 2013, how has your metaphorical nose (your biases, your prejudices, etc.) been changed through experience or through relationship?
  • Looking forward on 2014, what can you do to take care of your metaphorical nose — regardless of whether you think it is awkward or perfect or something inbetween?
  • Looking forward on 2014, what can you do to take care of others’ metaphorical noses — in a way that does not induce shame or hostility?

While you reflect on those questions, go ahead and read this excerpt from The Virtue of Open-Mindedness: An Essay (for context, this part of the essay is reflecting on the July 2013 verdict of the George Zimmerman/Trayvon Martin trial). Afterwards, feel free to share your reflections in the comments section.

It seems shameful to have prejudices, although prejudices are as normal as the noses on our faces. Many are awkward, to be sure, but that is no reason to hide them. Yet, shame is precisely what our culture encourages. We like calling people out: “You’re insensitive!” “That wasn’t politically correct!” “What a moron — I’m going to call out your bigotry on the internet and get a bunch of like-minded people to share my content!”

Calling people out makes us feel enlightened, like we stand on the moral high ground. For the truly oppressed, calling out an oppressor may feel like the only shred of dignity they can get in the fight.

But, if I dare say it, it is when we cover up our prejudices that they are most likely to erupt in violence. Like an algae bloom in stagnant water, our faulty prejudices are most threatening when they are not constantly being exposed and stirred and moved and challenged.

And so, we don’t magically need fewer prejudices. We need more safe places to sound stupid. We need to be compassionate people in both correcting and correction, with whom wrong answers are opportunities to practice humility instead of shame.

By the way: for this weekend only, the Amazon.com gods are letting me offer The Virtue of Open-Mindedness: An Essay at the reduced price of FREE. You might as well download it to pad the new e-reader you got for Christmas, or send a copy to that one uncle who wouldn’t shut up about religion or politics during holiday dinner.

For that matter, I’m still reading McKoy’s book, but I can already say I strongly recommend it for any youth minister with a social sciences/philosophy bent. Check it out here.

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Your nose looks a little different this new year

4 thoughts on “Your nose looks a little different this new year

  1. What better time to read The Virtue of Open-Mindedness than a three-week Christmas break? I really enjoyed reading your thoughts (as well as the thoughts of other thinkers- can’t say I’ve read too much Gadamer) on this subject. I particularly enjoyed your coined vice of open-unmindedness- I think that framing a virtue between two opposite vices really helps to clarify where we as humans go wrong when we are trying to pursue a characteristic that we uphold as good. Those who denounce aggressiveness may instead err on the side of passivity, both of which have their own downfalls, although it can be hard to see at first so long as we are fleeing from the vice that has caused us personal pain. And I’m also glad that your conclusion isn’t cut and dry- there isn’t a formula to lead us down a simple path to open-mindedness, which may lead to some messiness and struggle along the way, but I’m sure in the end that it is worth it.

    1. Veronica — really glad to hear you found time to read the essay! Thanks for sharing what stuck out to you, and I hope you my thoughts springboard some original thoughts of your own in relation to some of the work you’re doing (or ideas you’re wrestling with) in your own life.

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