A Seminarian’s Word: The power of a name: Ingroups,outgroups,and canonical imagination

It has become increasingly clear that an insidious binary logic, an “us” versus “them” mentality, pervades our world. Such thinking frames life as a zero-sum game in which a win for one person, community, or nation equals another’s loss. We see others as threats, suspect, and to be feared. Moreover, we have few resources for universal flourishing, experiencing the shalom of God’s creation. To the degree that the church adopts this dualistic vision, we risk unnecessarily limiting ministry opportunities to the homogenous populations that currently comprise our congregations. I would like to suggest that the way local churches narrate the identity of “outsiders” both forms and deforms their presence in the world. After exploring the power of the names we ascribe to others, I will recommend a few canonical practices as a modest place from which we may begin to subvert the harmful consequences of binary logic.

Miroslav Volf suggests that a problem of identity and otherness underlies many of the world’s cultural conflicts. At its root, conflict often signals humankind’s unwillingness to allow the other to exist as other. ¹ Groups narrate their differences (real or perceived) with symbolic language, justifying practices of exclusion. Volf categorizes these exclusionary practices according to a four-part typology: elimination, assimilation, domination, and abandonment. ² By way of illustration, consider how his classifications may apply to the current American context.

Elimination—as other, persons or people groups forfeit the right to exist. Outgroup stereotyping and derogation become especially prominent during times of war, acting as justifications for the violence of armed conflict. For many Americans, prolonged campaigns in the Middle East constitute the backdrop in which Middle-Eastern Muslims (often not carefully distinguished from terrorist groups) represent the “other” regarding conflict, nationality, race, and faith.

Assimilation—others are allowed to exist on the condition that they cease to be “other” and become like us. Thus, Americans often expect immigrants to adopt English as their primary language, stop wearing distinctive cultural clothing, and ultimately dissolve into the melting pot that is the United States.

Domination—others are allowed to exist as long as they remain a clear and powerless minority. As demographics in this country continue to shift, anxiety and fear are rising among formerly dominant classes, races, and religions who feel that the hegemony they once enjoyed is being threatened.

Abandonment—others forfeit not the right to exist, but any claim on our concern or aid. On a national level, some Americans are fighting to disallow entrance to our country, communities, or homes for refugees fleeing nations devastated by war and religious persecution. Locally, wealthy Christians and congregations are leaving the impoverished populations of inner cities and relocating to the suburbs.

Within this context, Christians are charged with offering accurate descriptions of the world. If we are to remain faithful to our calling, we must carefully examine the formative (and deformative) influence of how we narrate the identity of the “others” around us.

In the book From Nature to Creation, Norman Wirzba demonstrates the moral power of naming with the following illustration. Imagine someone shows you a plant that you cannot identify. If she tells you it is a flower, you will likely want to smell or protect it. Conversely, if she informs you that the plant is a weed you may wish to exterminate it. Names, independent of any change in the material shape, color, and fragrance of the flower/weed, “evoke a whole series of associations, feelings and expectations.” They tell us something about what things are for and directly influence what we do with them. Therefore, “how the world is named and narrated … is of the greatest theoretical and practical importance because the way we name and narrate the world determines how we are going to live within it.” ³ To name is to exercise moral power. If this is true with plants, it is also true with people.

Like Adam in Genesis 2, we find ourselves embedded in a world of language and things. To navigate this life, we must name the things and individuals around us. It is important to understand that the names we assign to others will affect the way we treat them and the kind of relationships we enjoy. Language is neither neutral nor value-free. Our words do not merely describe some “external” reality. Rather, they exist within that reality and impact its concrete shape. For example, identifying someone as “friend” opens up possibilities of interaction, mutuality, and care (i.e. friendship), whereas designating someone as “stranger,” “foreigner,” or “enemy” may disallow the possibility of a relationship altogether. Names have material ramifications, so the church’s use of language to narrate the identity of others is not inconsequential.

Various dynamics influence the ways people describe the world, some of which may be subconscious. Social Identity theorists have shown that social groups are important sources of an individual’s sense of self. ⁴ Their research has connected group identity to ingroup bias, outgroup discrimination, stereotyping, and even infrahumanization (i.e. perceiving others as less than human). ⁵ Thus, although there are numerous mitigating factors, ingroup members tend to see themselves in a positive light and view outgroup members more negatively. Moreover, group members see themselves and others in light of exemplars (both positive and negative) rather than on an individual basis. In other words, we are prone to judge ourselves by our best intentions and achievements while stereotyping other groups according to the worst among them. The church is admittedly more than a mere social group, but she is not less. Christians too are prone to the potential pitfalls of social identity bias. Therefore, it is imperative that churches discipline their vision to see the world truly and make right judgments.

When congregations identify outgroup members as such, they evoke certain feelings, associations, and expectations that directly shape how they interact in the world. For example, consider how churches speak of non-Christians. In many theological circles, there is an expectation that such people are bound for hell. Does this assumption not affect the way Christians interact with non-Christians? I think that it does. For me, damnation (i.e. identifying another as bound for hell) represents the ultimate sacralization of exclusion by ascribing it to God. A short but fateful step separates the belief that God will ultimately exclude certain persons and the Christian’s exclusion of these same individuals from the life of the nation, community, church, or home. The danger is actualizing in the present what may only be an eschatological possibility.

As another example, one can reflect on how identifying someone as an “illegal alien” induces a multitude of implicit assumptions regarding that person’s race (non-white), character (law-breaker), “rightful” place (not here), etc. Most troubling, this kind of characterization is based on random historical accidents rather than the deepest theological truth of each person’s identity. Unlike the imago Dei (“image of God”), borders are not God-given with creation. Rather, they are temporary and permeable. One can think of how the nations of Europe were redrawn following the World Wars of the twentieth century, or how dramatically the border of the United States shifted one century earlier. Countries and their boundaries change constantly. Narrating someone’s identity with reference to such a fleeting and arbitrary standard obscures what is most decisive—every man, woman, and child is created, and therefore beloved, by God. If we do not keep this fact front and center, we risk perpetuating violence against God’s image-bearing creatures.

I do not mean to suggest that religion (Christian or otherwise) is the cause of the world’s violence. Making such an argument is difficult, if not impossible, and arguably unhelpful. First, the religious/secular distinction is dubious in itself. William Cavanaugh persuasively argues that the separation between religion and secular society is more a construct of the modern West than an accurate description of the world “the way it is.” For him, attributing violence to religion suggests unfairly that so-called “religious violence” differs in kind from secular violence, while at the same time obscuring and justifying the ubiquitous violence of more mundane, “secular” life (e.g. conflicts for the sake of nations, flags, freedom, oil, etc.). ⁶ Second, there is always a possibility, if not probability, that religious justifications for violence are a secondary phenomenon used to support worldviews and ideologies that are already hostile. ⁷ Nevertheless, although we cannot simply blame religion for violence, we can examine the ways religious communities are implicated in violence and attempt an intervention. I offer the following canonical practices as suggestions for reforming the narratives of our local churches.

Narrating darkness inside and light outside

Groups often see negative behavior by outgroup members as dispositional (or internal) while dismissing similar behavior by ingroup members as accidental (or external). Additionally, they are inclined to view both insiders and outsiders as more homogenous than is the case. Christians must guard against both proclivities as distortions of the truth. Happily, the church has a robust lectionary resource for combating intergroup misrepresentation—namely, the Bible. Scripture is full of sinful believers and faithful outsiders. To mention only two, David is paradigmatic of the former, whereas the Good Samaritan exemplifies the latter. With John, we must accept that “if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:8). We also must be humble enough to recognize, with Christ, the centurion who has greater faith than all of Israel (Matt 8:10; cf. Luke 7:9). The line between good and evil does not separate “us” from “them” as much as it runs through the center of every person’s heart. ⁸

Narrating the creator’s love and the creature’s limit

Narrating damnation within history is inherently problematic. First, we must realize that the “world” (defined as that which is opposed to God) cannot be a final designation because God created a good world for good (Gen 1). As fellow creatures of God, every human person is an equal. Our Creator loves us all. The opposition between Christ and the world “is just one moment in a drama of redemption. It is not eternal, but points to a history of the one world which God made and will deliver from the evil spirit that possesses it.” ⁹ Christian monotheism disallows any possibility of metaphysical dualism. There is only one God for all humankind, and this God has not abandoned God’s creation. Therefore, our neighbors can never be godless in the sense that God is not for them. We cannot speak of our neighbors except for within a context of God’s love and desire for reconciliation. Dorothy Day used to talk about the “mystical body of Christ” in which all people are potential members. Day’s language is particularly relevant to the church’s practice of narrating identity because it refuses to obscure the created goodness and final possibilities of every human person. No person is ever less than a potential member of the body of Christ.

Second, we must concede that we are not omniscient narrators. Repentance and transformation may yet happen in the future, or they may have already taken place without our knowledge. The divine Author’s relationship to any one character is not necessarily transparent or accessible to others. Moreover, from our perspective, the end of the story has not yet been written. There is no reified identity for believers or non-believers this side of the Day of the Lord. Neither self-assurance nor judgment can be anything other than provisional (and hopeful!) before God speaks the final word. Until then, it is too early to narrate final conclusions.

Learning to discern the body

Finally, in 1 Cor 11:29, Paul admonishes the church at Corinth for its failure to “discern the body [of Christ].” There were divisions among them because they were identifying themselves as rich and poor rather than one in Christ. If our congregations do not practice discerning the body, we risk doing violence to that body by dismembering and excluding its various members. Immigration issues are not just national disputes; they are Body of Christ issues. Similarly, racial and socioeconomic divisions are Body of Christ issues. There are often brothers and sisters among the groups we so easily exclude. Furthermore, even non-Christians are potential members of Christ’s body.

If our identity as Christians is secure in Christ, we have no need to fear the other. Perfect love casts out fear, and Jesus’ life, crucifixion, and resurrection have liberated us from the slavery of the fear of death (1 John 4:18; Heb 2:15). Difference need not necessitate exclusion, hatred, or violence. Every neighbor is a possible brother or sister, someone with whom we hope to be friends. In fact, friendship is one of the most potent forms of Christian witness. Isolation and exclusion also send powerful messages, but they say nothing of the Christ who came that we might be reconciled to God and, in God, to one another. If we learn to narrate identity rightly, we might be able to love our neighbor not as “an abstract ‘everybody’ but [as] … a fully embodied ‘anybody.’” ¹⁰ In all of its particularity, humankind is only ever the Father’s good creation, quickened by the Spirit, and reconciled by the Son. Even in enmity, humankind is beloved.