Voices: Christian unity and the problem of rhetoric

The rhetoric we use is often what determines whether we as a church, a denomination or a nation will remain united or descend into chaos.

Leaders and everyday people alike can use their words to construct a positive vision for the future and to build relationships of mutual affection and understanding. They also can use their words to harm one another, with mutual destruction as the result (see Galatians 5:13-15).

But how do we choose our words wisely, especially in a world awash in competing ideologies? How do we evaluate the rhetoric of others, especially when the relational bonds that make such evaluations possible have become so frayed?

The many faces of rhetoric

Aristotle famously presented rhetoric as the practice of persuasion. This is still a useful definition of the art. But rhetoric does far more than persuade those with whom we disagree.

Indeed, persuasion often is not the most important function of rhetoric. As I understand the term, “rhetoric” refers to the logical, emotive and other characteristics of an act of communication.

This means rhetoric is not just about how we construct our arguments. It is about how we present ourselves in the midst of an act of communication, how we frame the event or issue under consideration, and how we propose to address any conflicts caused by that event or issue.

As this definition suggests, the rhetoric we use has a wide range of social functions. Sometimes, we do not frame our conversations in a way that would persuade bystanders, much less those with whom we disagree. Instead, we frame our communications to reinforce the self-understanding and boundaries of the group to which we belong.

At other times, we communicate in a way designed to build solidarity with another individual or group. And there are even darker uses for rhetoric—ways of using our words, gestures and tones of voice to achieve ends related to our own power, prestige or pleasure.

All this talk about rhetoric may feel a little wonky, but it actually is quite practical. Each of us in our daily lives use rhetoric to communicate to others our perceptions of reality, to build relationships with others, and to organize like-minded individuals and institutions for action.

The problem of rhetoric

It matters, though, how we use rhetoric. David French, Arthur Brooks, Russell Moore and many others have urged Americans in general, and Christians in particular, to lay aside our culture’s obsession with caustic rhetoric instead and to embrace a more empathetic and collaborative approach to disagreements.

This instinct is well-founded (Romans 12:14, 16a, 17-20). As I argued in Restoration Quarterly in 2010, Paul’s preference for “mild” rhetoric is entirely in keeping with his understanding of what it means to be human and his understanding of the church.

Moreover, Brooks rightly has asked how the command to love our enemies (Matthew 5:43-48) should influence our public discourse, and his answer has been that “civility” is too low of an aspiration for those who want to honor Christ in their public life.

The fly in the ointment is Jesus. The same man who commands us to love our enemies demonized—almost literally—his opponents (John 8:33-47), used dehumanizing rhetoric (Matthew 12:34; 23:33), and created stereotypes he had to know did not apply to everyone in the groups he critiqued (Matthew 23:13-33).

Are we supposed to respond with gentleness to those we believe are erring (1 Timothy 5:1-2), or are we supposed to rebuke them harshly (Titus 1:10-14)?

A closer look at the rhetoric of Jesus

A closer look at the rhetoric of Jesus can help us make sense of the quandary in which we find ourselves. There are three observations we ought to make.

First, Jesus did not use his rhetoric to bully the weak. He did not stroll into brothels or synagogues and start bloviating about “whores” and their customers (tax collectors?). He spoke to and against those who had the social influence and political capital to stand up to him. He pointed out the ways they had betrayed the influence given to them, distorting God’s word and denying their fellow Israelites the dignity they needed to thrive as children of God.

Second, Jesus did not use his rhetoric for his own benefit. Like the prophets before him, he spoke truth to those whose power insulated them from conviction—at great risk to himself. More to the point, John’s Gospel is emphatic in its portrayal of Jesus as one who went out of his way to minister to vulnerable individuals. He used his words—and his works—to protect the weak, to heal the broken and to comfort the grieving.

Third, Jesus was consistent in his application of his critiques. That does not mean he always directed rhetoric toward his followers that was just as harsh as what he directed against his opponents—though we should remember his rebuke of Peter in Matthew 16:21-23. It does mean he would not allow his followers to get away with things for which he criticized his opponents.

Indeed, he insisted his expectations of his followers were superior qualitatively to those that had been laid on the people in the past (Matthew 5:17-48).

The way forward

In fairness to French, Brooks, Moore and others of their ilk, none of these leaders is suggesting we ought to back away from saying things that need to be said. Indeed, both David French and his wife Nancy have paid dearly for their commitment to be fair to opponents and their willingness to speak prophetically to the church. We need more people in Christian leadership willing to display this kind of magnanimity infused with honesty.

Still, I understand the impatience some Christians have with the plea for a gentler, humbler rhetoric. Justin Giboney recently has expressed the value of forthright criticism and called for a more tolerant attitude among Christians for pointed rhetoric. Perhaps I resonate with Giboney because, like him, I often have been “more opinionated than informed.”

Ultimately, though, I do not think the antidote to the church’s disunity can be found in rhetoric. I prefer an approach one of my student’s called “diplomatic frankness.” I think it runs less risk of harming vulnerable people, and I think it gives us a better chance of being understood properly by those we wish to correct or critique.

But as Giboney’s story illustrates, even rather pointed criticism can be productive in the context of a relationship characterized by mutual respect.

That is what the church is supposed to be. But too often, conflicts flare up because people no longer believe those with whom they disagree have their, or Christ’s, best interests at heart. And sometimes, they aren’t wrong.

That is what makes Jesus’ rhetoric so revealing. It shows he was a man of his word, he cared about those God placed under his influence, and he practiced what he preached. His character shaped his rhetoric, to be sure, but it also was displayed in his rhetoric. In the end, it was his character that held the Christian movement together and empowered it to change the world.

As we seek to heal the fractures in our churches, denominations, communities and nations, let us imitate our Lord’s example. Let us double-down on love, assume the brotherhood or sisterhood of our critics until they indisputably prove otherwise, and do everything possible not only to live at peace with one another but to be a source of joy and peace for the whole church.

Wade Berry is pastor of Second Baptist Church in Ranger and resident fellow in New Testament and Greek at B.H. Carroll Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.