Even Fundies Don't Come in Black-and-White
By David L
Rattigan
As fundamentalists, we
inhabited a world that was clear-cut and black-and-white. You were
either saved or unsaved, on God's side or fraternizing with the Devil.
Moral choices were a straightforward matter, because the Bible 'plainly
says' x, y and z, and what could possibly be left to do but simply
believe it and do what it says? There was little room for ambiguity in
our world, because God had written everything down for us in ink on
paper.
Eventually, however, we
bravely left behind the security that the world of fundamentalism
offered us, and we chose instead the uncertainties and complexities of
real life.
If you're still at that
place in your journey where even the slightest suggestion that a
fundamentalist might have some redeeming features makes the hair on your
back bristle, feel free to pass on what I'm about to say. I mean that
sincerely. Maybe this isn't something you're ready to think about at
this stage in the exodus from fundamentalism, and that's fine. If not,
continue reading.
Some of us, ironically, can
continue with something of that black-and-white way of thinking when it
comes to looking at our fundamentalist past, or more specifically,
fundamentalists themselves. Let's not forget that despite their
ideology, fundamentalists are first and foremost people. And
people -- real, live, flesh-and-blood, honest-to-goodness human beings
-- don't come in black-and-white. Even fundies don't come in
black-and-white.
Jesus told a story about a
Samaritan. (What's that, you heard this one already?) The real surprise
for Jesus' listeners was that the one person who stopped to help the guy
on was a good-for-nothing Samaritan. They were the lowest of the low,
scum of the earth. Even Jesus apparently let his tongue slip once when
he called a Samaritan woman a 'dog'. That was just the way things were
in those days. Labelling and stereotypes were commonplace. Indeed, it
was the accepted way of identifying and relating to other people.
Now, I think if Jesus had
been talking to the Southern Baptists, he might have had a gay
Episcopalian be the one to stop on the road. It'd be the Bible College
Professor and the Megachurch Pastor and the Chair of the Southern
Baptist Convention who'd be the ones to walk by. That'd shock the hell
out of the Baptist crowd. Heh.
But I've also a suspicion
that if Jesus were talking to a bunch of ex-fundamentalists, it might
have been a parable about how a gay Episcopalian were the one who lay
beaten and bleeding on the road, and the only person who'd stop to help
him was -- wait for it -- an out-and-out fundy. The Liberal Bishop would
walk by, followed by the Democrat, and then the Human Rights Activist,
all pretending not to see, until along comes the least of all creatures,
the Bible-Basher. And he's the one person to stop and, for all his
stupid ideology, tend to the man's wounds, give him a bed for the night
and show him the love and care everyone else walking past that night had
denied him.
Hang on, did I just say
that?
It's easy to forget that
the real problem is ideology. Ideology makes people do things and say
things, and to that extent our problem is with people, yet still at the
root of it is ideology. While the fundamentalist mindset and agenda may
be black-and-white, I want to suggest that a person, a human being, is
more than the sum of her ideology, and that goes for fundamentalists as
much as the rest of us.
It'd be silly to deny that
while I've totally rejected fundamentalism, I've known many
fundamentalists who have been a blessing in my life. While
conservatism makes me baulk, I have had and do have friends who
are conservatives, and have been an encouragement and support to
me. There are the fundy friends who shoved cheques into my hand and left
groceries at my door when I was practically on the breadline as an
unpaid associate pastor. There are those who've taken time to send me a
word of encouragement when I most needed it. There are those with whom
I've spent many happy hours into the evening laughing and joking, not
because of our fellow fundiness, but because of our common humanity.
I've connected with people who happen to be fundies, despite rather than
because of their fundiness. I'm not about to pretend it doesn't happen,
even if that's the temptation when we first break free from the bonds of
fundamentalism. We are more than the sum of our parts.
Ever see that movie As Good
As It Gets? It's one of my favourite cinematic parables of grace. In the
film, three very different, conflicting characters gradually learn to
recognize the humanity in themselves and in each other. The biggest
surprise is that by the end of the movie, we've even recognized the
humanity in Melvin (Jack Nicholson), a fear-driven and offensive recluse
on the wrong side of bigotry. Indeed, the surprise is that, as in the
story of the Good Samaritan, it turns out Melvin is the one who's there
to give the 'gay neighbour' a helping hand when his friends have all but
ditched him.
I think if I as an
ex-fundamentalist am to avoid ever becoming like that I left behind, I
must begin by doing what I never did as a conservative: Looking for the
humanity in others. To the extent that ideology is manifest through
human actions, it's inevitable that in the battle against abusive and
destructive ideologies, we find ourselves in conflict with other people.
But do we sometimes forget that at root it's an ideology we oppose? Do
we deny the lessons of our break with conservatism, forgetting that
human beings rarely come in black-and-white? Could we, for all the hurt
and pain of our religious past, accept that sometimes humanity trumps
ideology, and the fundy turns out to be the good Samaritan?
©
David L Rattigan 2005
