Cynicism as Relational Apathy

“The opposite of creativity is cynicism.” – Esa Saarinen

This Lent, I’ve put some things under the microscope of personal introspection. The central question I’ve put to myself has been this; “You (me) can conceive and articulate a relational way of being and knowing, but how well, if at all, do you (me) embody it?” This is quite honestly an over-intellectualized way of asking myself how well I put flesh on the great commandments.

One thing that has emerged during this reflective process has been a serious critique of cynicism. That’s right, cynicism. The default posture of the post-boomer Gen X culture. As I have thought about it over Lent, cynicism has shown itself to be non-relational, and at its worst anti-relational.

Cynicism is primarily a response to assumption about an other. Chronic or habitual cynicism is a choice to relate to assumption rather than what is actual. Cynicism is satisfied with reductions of others. In this way, it dehumanizes the other. Its why we love parodies and satirical humor. It lets us off the hook for having to truly know an other as a whole person.

Cynicism is also a stand against having to trust. I believe this has much to do with the fact that trust involves risk. To be fair, the post-boomer generations have many legitimate reasons not to trust. However, I believe we need to consider the consequences of our collective inability and unwillingness to trust. Without trust there can be no relationship. Relationships require self-giving and vulnerability. Cynicism is a posture that protects against having to be vulnerable — against having to take any risk in relating.

“What is a cynic? A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing” -Oscar Wilde

These are all things I have observed in myself, and they are all things that do not jive with my relational understanding of God and reality. Of the things that stand in the way of embodying a relational posture, cynicism is chief among them. As a self-avowed postmodern, cynicism betrays a cognitive dissonance in my own perspective. A cynic categorizes others in a truly modern fashion. What’s more, its hyper-individualistic in the sense that its categories are based on subjective assumptions about others. In many ways its a narcissistic ritual of self-righteousness. Its easy to be a cynic because you never have to leave your world to face reality.

As a follower of Jesus, cynicism is an even greater affront to the ethic of the kin-dom, and the movement of God toward us in self-giving love. Had God been cynical, we would have been written off a long time ago. Had Jesus embodied that cynicism, he would have been one more self-righteous activist who pleased some and alienated others. That’s not the good news we find in our collective narrative. What we do find is a God who is willing to be vulnerable to the point of being present and then murdered. What’s more, that kind of self-giving, risk-taking love is unable to be conquered. It is eternal. In Jesus we see that such a relational paradigm involves pain, loss and disappointment, but on the other side of all of them is a resurrection. A new life. A new beginning.

As I have critiqued my own cynicism during Lent, I have reached some distillations for myself.

1. I cannot trust in a resurrection reality and be a cynic.

2. I cannot relate to others who are not like me and be a cynic.

3. I cannot embody the great commandments and be a cynic.

4. I cannot, with integrity, consider myself a postmodern follower of Jesus while at the same time categorizing others according to a hyper-individualistic template. That’s just not pomo-cool.

5. I cannot truly work for the redemption of ALL things and be a cynic.

“I prefer credulity to skepticism and cynicism for there is more promise in almost anything than in nothing at all.” - Ralph B. Perry

This has broad reaching implications for those of us post-boomer folks who find ourselves serving churches and running into challenges. In transitional contexts marked by collective anxiety, uncertainty, and emotional gridlock, cynicism is a handicap and perpetrator. It will prevent a good leader from imagining a way forward that includes everyone, and will thwart one’s ability to patiently persevere. Cynicism will serve its own needs rather than what is right for the community of faith as a whole.

While asking questions and carrying a measure of existential doubt are assets in the process of discernment, they are not equivalent to a cynical approach to others or even systems. If we desire to be the creative re-imaginers of today’s church for tomorrow, we’ll need to give up our cynicism and courageously engage the diverse range of others in our churches. Especially those whom we “assume” stand in our way.

Conflict: Distraction or Calling?

You may be aware that many of our beloved congregations are gripped with a sickness unto death. You might be a staff person in a church like that, or a lay leader. You may be sitting through meetings where one side demands you make changes now, and the other side wonders why “these people,” refuse to be assimilated into our way of doing church. You might be navigating the waters of congregational distrust of the staff, and/or vice versa. You might wonder why church folk can so quickly forget the greatest commandment when it comes to speaking to, or about, a fellow member who sees things differently from them. You might have a church where no one has been challenged to do anything, so they all have plenty of time to tell you how to do it. You might be in a church that has lost so many members that they’ve begun clinging to a nostalgic image of the past and are unable to see a better future. You might be a staff member in a church because its the best paying gig you could land, but you’d rather go out and start a “cool” church. You may think that institutions are irredeemable and plagued with bureaucratic incompetence. You might be getting phone calls from members complaining about so and so. You may have received an anonymous letter this week. You might have just gotten home from a business meeting where people you’ve never seen on Sunday showed up and voted down a controversial project or amendment that would open the church to new possibilities and/or people. Perhaps you can’t sleep because you decided to make a stand in support of a gay couple in your church and the deacons called a special closed meeting to discuss your future.

These are not easy days.

There are some things I am becoming more and more convinced of in light of these realities.

1. We cannot see congregational conflict as an intrusive distraction from the “true” mission of the church. The “true” mission of the church is relationships, and is deeply relational. We have been entrusted with the ministry of reconciliation. For most of us in traditional Baptist churches, that mission is primarily and in some cases singularly internal. Its the same dynamic expressed in the greatest commandment if we read it with a communal lens rather than an individual one. We can only love others (that which is beyond the church) as well as we love our self (the church). When we work on our own relationships as the church, we are ultimately working on those relationships yet to come in the future with new people.

2. A new metaphor would be helpful for cultivating new life within old structures. One that comes to mind is when they take old barges out to sea and submerge them to form new aquatic habitats or reefs. This may seem harsher than it is. The point is that life can come from old structures. This requires an ability to move beyond critique to adaptation and utilization of what one has to work with, even when it is not ideal. If we want to claim our God-given image, then we must be willing to speak/breath life into lifeless things–to begin with what we’ve got. Look at what was done with cosmic dust and dirt!

3. It is vital for us younger clergy to make the distinction between what are actual & legitimate criticisms of us, and what are projections of past disappointments and present disillusionment. Its not enough to be full of great ideas and innovative concepts. Nor is it enough to be articulate and organized. The most important element is to be known. First to yourself, and second to your congregation. Our significant challenge as Gen Xers and now Millennials is reconciling our own fractal selfhood. As products of the information age, we are walking conglomerates of sponsor identities. The truth is that many of us have yet to trust in God’s naming of us as “the beloved.” That leaves us lonely in the deepest parts of who we are. That loneliness can lead us to serve for our own egocentric and even narcissistic needs. When that loneliness is replaced with knowing ourselves as God’s beloved, then criticism will never be threatening. If its legit, we’ll be whole enough to admit we could do better or differently. If its a false projection we’ll see it as such and not defensively overreact. In all of this, we will be able to make space for others within our selves because that space is no longer cluttered with our fleeting attempts to feel loved & demand acceptance. The space that God-belovedness makes within us is the space we can invite others into — be they friend or foe, critic or encourager.

4. Everyone has been made in God’s image. Especially the people we have the hardest time loving. As critical and confrontational as Jesus was with the corrupted systems of power of his day, he sought the reconciliation of those caught up in them. Perhaps it is best if we admitted that just as an emergent posture is embodied, so too is a modern traditional posture. To that extent, then, our disdain of institutionalism and foundationalism, can never disentangle itself from a contempt for those who embody it. To argue binary separation on the one hand and deny it on the other betrays a cognitive dissonance within our emerging posture. Should we focus on the relational ethic that is inherent to our emergent posture, then we will never be able to justify writing-off that which is not us. They are us.

5. We must confess and repent from our sense of entitlement as newly emerging leaders and clergy. Much of our anxiety and frustration as young leaders in the church comes by way of our feeling entitled to having it our way now. Related to that is the expectation that it should come easily. Our high-speed broadband culture has formed us well, and not all of it has been good. Very few of us will survive this emerging reformation project so long as we expect things to go our way quickly with little pain, conflict, or waiting. Birthing new life is anything but quick and painless. Since our work is so enmeshed in human relationships, histories, and emotional systems, it will be slower, messier, and remarkably transformative.  It will require much more listening, and far less demanding its own way. Authentically, it will pay more than lip-service to hearing and receiving diverse voices.

There’s no doubt that church work these days can take a heavy toll on its leaders. Especially in Baptist churches where the modern theological and methodological structures worked so well for so long. Much of what we are called to do as leaders in this context is to comfort the grieving, garner trust, build hope, and create space for new life where we can. This is hard work, challenging work, frustrating work, but rewarding work. It is our work for our time.

My prayer for us is for self-reflective honesty, perseverance, and authentic commitment to an embracing relationality. In doing so, I believe we will be true to our God-given identities amidst emerging transitions, while being redemptively open and present to conflicting identities.