Resources

Dean J. Johnson, Ph.D. Peace & Conflict Studies Assistant Professor of Philosophy West Chester University of Pennsylvania Silence, guilt and fear are obstacles to justice and democracy. My white brothers and sisters, we have often let the fear of breaking the rules of certain types of discourse trap us. Too often we let fear immobilize us and we remain silent. Let’s take for example the fear of talking and teaching about race as a white person. We believe the discourse of whiteness that says racism and the struggle for racial justice are not white problems and/or that whites are...

Roger Nam At first glance, the public restrooms at the Sogang University Graduate School of Theology look just like the restrooms on any seminary campus in America. But as I approached the men’s room, I saw a paper sign taped to the wall, identifying the restroom as “for professor usage...

One of my earliest experiences was my first day at school in Bradford, West Yorkshire, in The United Kingdom. Sitting in what was the equivalent of the reception or the beginner's class, I suddenly felt an intense pain in my right arm. I turned around to find that I was being bitten by this White boy sitting next to me. When I asked him why he had bitten me, he said "I wanted to see what colour blood you have. My nan (colloqualism for Grandmother) says that you coloured people have different blood to us." That incident,  when I was 4 years old, has stayed with me. The actions of that young White boy were based on the assumption that I was somehow different to (and less than) him. As I am writing this piece the news is awash with the disturbances in Ferguson, Missouri, where an unarmed Black man was shot dead, killed by the police. While the two events are separated by over 40 years, they are linked in the casual disregard many White societies still have towards Black people. The teachable moment that arises from any casual observation of the latter event, which in my case is informed by the former, is that of subjectivity. What does it mean to be a subject?  What does it mean to be a human being endowed with the capacity to create self meaning and to generate worth and 'somebodiness' in the world? The converse of being a subject is to be an object. Objects have no intrinsic meaning in and of themselves. Meaning for an object is given to it, not from within, like a subject, but from without, by external forces. To treat a subject as if it were an object, i.e. with no intrinsic worth other  than what is given it, is often named as "objectification." For a human being to be treated as if they are an object means that they are considered by others as having no intrinsic meaning or value in and of themselves. Therefore,  they can be treated as others so decide. So I could be  bitten with little thought given as to whether it was right, justified, or how I might feel. More crucially, for the purposes of this blog, it also means that an unarmed Black man can be shot and the burden of responsibility be placed on the moral character of the objectified Black youth and not the White, armed police officer. One of my all time heroes is the South African freedom fighter, Steve Biko.  Biko was an advocate of "Black Consciousness," a sociopolitical movement committed to enabling Black Africans in South Africa to reclaim their innate subjectivity. For Biko, it was imperative that Black people rediscover what it meant to generate their own internalised self meaning and definition of self that transcended the objectified impositions of White racists. Biko was murdered in 1977. In the 37 years since then much has changed. There is a Black man in the White House.  Something that would have been considered impossible in 1977. And yet the dehumanising forces that give rise to objectification sadly remain. Black people continue to be treated as objects and have their innate self worth and claims to dignity and even life trampled upon and transgressed. The challenge for theological educators is one of preparing our students to both deconstruct and transform the objectifying tendencies of White hegemonic systems, in order that the innate subjectivity of all people, including Black people, can be acknowledged.  The life, struggles, and ultimately, the death of Steve Biko reminds us that disinterested  knowledge for knowledge's sake is a luxury we can ill afford when faced with the death dealing forces of objectification.  Theological education must be transformative and committed to the human flourishing of all peoples.  The people of Ferguson, Missouri and beyond deserve nothing less. This model of theological education is one that is embedded in both the pedagogical processes and the subject-content of the curriculum. In terms of both pedagogical and subject-content, it is the concern to bring the wider world and the lived realities of human subjectivity into the classroom and the teaching moment. I have constantly asked of students "How does the human subject impact upon the intellectual theories and frameworks we are addressing?" So in classes on say "theological reflection" or "Christian formation", the question becomes "How does gender or other issues of power impact what we notionally believe it means to be a Christian?" The point I am trying to get them to see is that incidents such as me being bitten back in the late 1960's, or the shooting of an unarmed Black man in Ferguson in 2014, or the death of Steve Biko in 1977, do not just fall from the sky. They don’t arrive fully formed. They are constructed. They have their antecedents in the myriad ways in which power and the negative hermeneutics of difference lead to destructive forms of objectification, which in turn, give rise to a continuum of violence. Sadly, the highly charged political agenda I am outlining for a transformative mode of theological education has found very few takers. The continued push for a non-committed, seemingly neutral, process of teaching and learning still holds sway and far too much education operates as if the incidents impacting Ferguson, Missouri do not exist. We have a long way to go.  

One of my earliest experiences was my first day at school in Bradford, West Yorkshire, in The United Kingdom. Sitting in what was the equivalent of the reception or the beginner's class, I suddenly felt an intense pain in my right arm. I turned around to find that I was being bitten by this White boy sitting next to me. When I asked him why he had bitten me, he said "I wanted to see what colour blood you have. My nan (colloqualism for Grandmother) says that you coloured people have different blood to us." That incident,  when I was 4 years old, has stayed with me. The actions of that young White boy were based on the assumption that I was somehow different to (and less than) him. As I am writing this piece the news is awash with the disturbances in Ferguson, Missouri, where an unarmed Black man was shot dead, killed by the police. While the two events are separated by over 40 years, they are linked in the casual disregard many White societies still have towards Black people. The teachable moment that arises from any casual observation of the latter event, which in my case is informed by the former, is that of subjectivity. What does it mean to be a subject?  What does it mean to be a human being endowed with the capacity to create self meaning and to generate worth and 'somebodiness' in the world? The converse of being a subject is to be an object. Objects have no intrinsic meaning in and of themselves. Meaning for an object is given to it, not from within, like a subject, but from without, by external forces. To treat a subject as if it were an object, i.e. with no intrinsic worth other  than what is given it, is often named as "objectification." For a human being to be treated as if they are an object means that they are considered by others as having no intrinsic meaning or value in and of themselves. Therefore,  they can be treated as others so decide. So I could be  bitten with little thought given as to whether it was right, justified, or how I might feel. More crucially, for the purposes of this blog, it also means that an unarmed Black man can be shot and the burden of responsibility be placed on the moral character of the objectified Black youth and not the White, armed police officer. One of my all time heroes is the South African freedom fighter, Steve Biko.  Biko was an advocate of "Black Consciousness," a sociopolitical movement committed to enabling Black Africans in South Africa to reclaim their innate subjectivity. For Biko, it was imperative that Black people rediscover what it meant to generate their own internalised self meaning and definition of self that transcended the objectified impositions of White racists. Biko was murdered in 1977. In the 37 years since then much has changed. There is a Black man in the White House.  Something that would have been considered impossible in 1977. And yet the dehumanising forces that give rise to objectification sadly remain. Black people continue to be treated as objects and have their innate self worth and claims to dignity and even life trampled upon and transgressed. The challenge for theological educators is one of preparing our students to both deconstruct and transform the objectifying tendencies of White hegemonic systems, in order that the innate subjectivity of all people, including Black people, can be acknowledged.  The life, struggles, and ultimately, the death of Steve Biko reminds us that disinterested  knowledge for knowledge's sake is a luxury we can ill afford when faced with the death dealing forces of objectification.  Theological education must be transformative and committed to the human flourishing of all peoples.  The people of Ferguson, Missouri and beyond deserve nothing less. This model of theological education is one that is embedded in both the pedagogical processes and the subject-content of the curriculum. In terms of both pedagogical and subject-content, it is the concern to bring the wider world and the lived realities of human subjectivity into the classroom and the teaching moment. I have constantly asked of students "How does the human subject impact upon the intellectual theories and frameworks we are addressing?" So in classes on say "theological reflection" or "Christian formation", the question becomes "How does gender or other issues of power impact what we notionally believe it means to be a Christian?" The point I am trying to get them to see is that incidents such as me being bitten back in the late 1960's, or the shooting of an unarmed Black man in Ferguson in 2014, or the death of Steve Biko in 1977, do not just fall from the sky. They don’t arrive fully formed. They are constructed. They have their antecedents in the myriad ways in which power and the negative hermeneutics of difference lead to destructive forms of objectification, which in turn, give rise to a continuum of violence. Sadly, the highly charged political agenda I am outlining for a transformative mode of theological education has found very few takers. The continued push for a non-committed, seemingly neutral, process of teaching and learning still holds sway and far too much education operates as if the incidents impacting Ferguson, Missouri do not exist. We have a long way to go.

Rev. Dr. Mitzi J. Smith, Ph.D. Associate Professor of New Testament & Early Christian Studies Ashland Theological Seminary/Detroit Center One day in 2009 after President Obama took office, I walked into my Greek exegesis class at Ashland Theological Seminary in Detroi t and one of two white male students asked, “Dr. Smith, don’t you think we live in a post-racial society given we have elected a black President and here I am sitting in your class a black female with a Harvard Ph.D.?” I didn’t doubt my student’s sincerity. I’d like to think that he felt safe enough in that space...

Kate Blanchard (Ph.D., Duke University) Associate Professor of Religious Studies Alma College It’s late summer in North America. The days are breezy, the nights are cool. Students in athletics t-shirts and shower shoes shuffle around campus. Here in Alma the intermittent sounds of marching bands, coaches’ whistles, and bagpipes hover...

Ella Johnson, Ph.D. Assistant Professor of Systematic Theology St. Bernard’s School of Theology and Ministry I didn’t plan to bring it up. In fact, I had made a conscious decision to not talk about it. But, in the middle of class, I said something. I had to. I still wonder if I made the right decision. August 27 was the first day of my Theology of Church and Ministry class. I was prepared with a list of learning objectives I wanted to accomplish: introductions to the class and to each other; review of the course outline; overview of the scope...

I had already completed the syllabus. The required textbook, reading assignments, videos, and other class material already assigned. Matter of fact, I had already sent the syllabus out to the students so they could get an early start on the reading. Everything was done and after my trip to the National Summit on Race in Chicago, I looked forward to having at least a couple of weeks off before the school year started. Then Ferguson happened and I knew my syllabus had to change. This fall, I am teaching a class titled African American Religious Thought at Memphis Theological Seminary. The course focuses on the religious thinking and interpretation of African Americans—both within and outside of the Black Church or Christian tradition. The particular offering this semester focuses on published works of particular African American “theologians,” both of the systematic and public variety. In short, the class offers as a component, the religious thinking of both academic and lay theologians as they struggle to discern the sacred in and around their lives. I put particular interest on how theologies are constructed—thus creating what I have called rhetorical theology. For the class, I assigned the Oxford Handbook of African American Theology edited by Katie Canon and Anthony Pinn. Although pricey, (yeah, that’s another post) the editors offer 34 chapters—divided into 5 sections. Also, what is a huge bonus is that at the end of each chapter, the editors offer a “selected texts” section that lists books for further reading upon the subject covered in the chapter. This is good because the bibliography covers all of the major works within African American theological thought.  With my text in hand, all I needed to do was to create the assignments. I decided that since we meet only on the first Friday of each month during the semester (September-December from 9-5pm), each meeting, except the first, students would complete an assigned reading and offer a review and reflection that the student will present to the class. In addition, students will also select one book from the “selected texts” and submit a book review and reflection.  Believing that theology is contextual and must engage the public, I also added a blogging component to the class. I expect students to make at least sixteen (16) comments on any blog post on the Rhetoric Race and Religion blog throughout the semester. Students of course are encourage to write blog posts for publication, but do not have to submit posts. However, I do expect students to engage on posts, make substantive comments, and offer theological insights on their own. For the final, the student would write a theological reflection on any subject.  However, I added just one more component—all of the reviews and reflections must now focus on what I have called “The Ferguson Fiasco.” The issues and problems in Ferguson are reminiscent of the issues and problems in the late 1960’s when, according to Canon and Pinn, “ministers and academics took a public stand against injustice and demanded a re-visioning of life in the United States that took seriously the humanity of African Americans” (1). Back then, for many African Americans, the prevailing theology of the day did not speak for or to them. Today, many are asking for a theological response to the unrest and tensions in Ferguson. With this class, I hope to move it from a merely academic pursuit of theological inquiry and place student reflection within a context that begs for a theological response.

I am looking forward to our class. I am looking forward to the discussions, the papers, reflections, and yes, even the disagreements. As I engage with students, I also look forward to being challenge by students and growing in my own theological beliefs and commitments. I look forward to this class because I do believe that Ferguson will give students the creative license to do and proclaim an authentic, meaningful and purposeful theology in the public arena.  Work Cited Cannon, Katie G. and Anthony B. Pinn (eds). The Oxford Handbook of African American Theology. Oxford Handbooks, 2014

Paulo Freire needs no introduction. His reflections on critical pedagogy and problem posing methodologies have dramatically shaped educational practice for decades. This recent volume, Pedagogy of Commitment, is a collection of interviews and short reflections that took place at the end of Freire’s career. They represent geographical diversity and local concern, occurring in Argentina, Chile, Nicaragua, Paraguay, and Uruguay. They demonstrate the breadth of Freire’s concrete engagement in Latin America, as well as the cohesive scope of his vision and its enduring relevance. There is a liveliness and energy conveyed in these informal or semi-formal occasions, and we get to see Freire’s lucid mind and compassionate concern at work in responding to concrete questions and practical problems raised by his audiences. Readers familiar with Freire’s work, particularly as expressed in Pedagogy of the Oppressed and Pedagogy of Hope, may not find new ideas in this collection. Furthermore, it will not make the best introduction to Freire’s thought for the uninitiated. Understandably, given the piecemeal and unsystematic nature of interviews, Freire’s ideas and guiding convictions are conveyed sporadically and sometimes indirectly throughout, in a way that might be missed by those less familiar with his writings. For those already acquainted with and inspired by Freire’s project, however, this collection remains worthwhile for a number of reasons. This book provides a valuable glimpse into Freire’s thoughts and attitudes at the end of his life and career. We see that his vision and project have not changed in fundamentals, although he himself has evolved. He admits to his growth in understanding patriarchy, for instance, and the need to move beyond gender exclusive forms of expression (88-95). He is all the more convinced that education is art, is an aesthetic process that should not be reduced to formulae or fixed frameworks (16-25). The relational and dialogical aspects remain paramount. We also see how Freire responds to later developments in world economics and geopolitics, such as the fall of Soviet socialism, supposed neoliberal triumph, and late capitalist order (33-40). Here his emphasis on hope becomes critical. Freire remains hopeful and all the more committed to resisting the effects of socio-economic and political processes that dehumanize society’s most vulnerable. The pragmatic nature of his engagement becomes clear. The increasing prevalence of technocratic and abstracting forces that excise the human element in education (and social life more broadly) mean a doubling-down of efforts to connect, relate, engage, and dialogue, as well as to foster a classroom context that equips students as agents of their own destinies. There is no postmodern turn to his practice, no sense of irony or contingency to the goals of liberation. For Freire, the onslaught of global capital means educators must fight harder. As the title of one of the more memorable and hard-hitting interviews conveys, “The Confrontation is not Pedagogical, but Political” (33). But the fight remains hopeful and a labor of love.             This volume provides a resource for encouragement and renewal of vision for educators influenced by Freirean pedagogy. It gives a glimpse into the life and heart of the man, near the twilight of his days but still full of passion, conviction, and hope. The book is full of choice pieces of wisdom and reminders of the significance of the cause and necessity of endurance.

It may seem premature to offer this blog at the beginning of an academic year, but the fact is most deans who are leaving office will have announced their departure from that role with a year's notice. If that's the...