Binary thinking is the butt crack of the body of Christ. Yes, I’m being cheeky, but the reality is that our Christian faith gets sucked into the bottom half of a sagging belief system sort of like when a person wears granny panties with skinny jeans. Every time the body of Christ tries to move in a new direction, the friction forces a rather uncomfortable tension that can quickly ride up the backside of our communities of faith.
These high levels of tension occur during seasons of stress, anxiety and fear. It is in these challenging times when the fabric of our Christian faith becomes hard to wear — especially in a world that tells us difference is bad and conflict is wrong. Right now, we live in a world where our individual faith is being forced to dress in black and white, right or wrong, and even liberal or conservative clothing often purchased via highly provocative social media ads.
Erica Whitaker
So, here comes the big “but.” But our faith cannot grow, let alone breathe in the binary crevasse of this black-or-right, white-or-wrong way of thinking. Yes, you read it correctly. Black or right. White or wrong. Confused? Join the club.
We are living in confusing and infuriating times that pigeonhole our perspectives with a distorted binary mentality, blurring our perception of the “other” when it comes to “those people” — you know, those people we love to hate, the folks who think differently, live differently, believe differently. These are the other people whom we would prefer leave our churches, communities and country, for Christ’s sake. These are the folks we wave goodbye to with snarky jabs like, “Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you.”
But before you get your knickers in a twist, let me redress two inflammatory words.
Binary. Binaries are an aspect of Greek philosophy, an either/or way of thinking that puts thoughts, beliefs and practices into opposites. A binary approach is a dualistic mentality that forces everything into this or that categories, often labeled white or black, right or wrong, us or them, and dare I say, Democrats or Republicans.
One example of this binary philosophy is found in the mainstream religious beliefs of heaven and hell. The Greco-Roman toga-wearing philosophers from Jesus’ day went all commando on their afterlife philosophy concerning eternal places we Christians label “heaven” and “hell.” These ancient, secular “Zeus and Hades” divine locations have shaped our Christian beliefs and thoughts on the immortal soul.
“This soul train seems to be stuck with a one-way ticket to either heaven or hell.”
But this soul train seems to be stuck with a one-way ticket to either heaven or hell. There are some faiths that believe you can pick your train and some believe that God already has given away all the golden tickets. But either way, there are only two ways. Up or down. Saved or damned.
At the end of the day, no matter where you might sit on this topic, we all can agree on one thing. There is a third space outside of heaven or hell, a place called here and now. This is a space in-between, the third planet from the sun, the ground of being that brings both your thoughts and my thoughts together in relationships somehow holding human tensions of disagreement, difference and, yes, even unity. Unity that never requires conformity.
The next wedgy of a word has ironically left stains on the “whitey tighty” beliefs and practices of our Western world.
White. What does “white” actually mean? For a scientist, white is the appearance of all colors held together at once. For writers, white is the blank document with the flashing curser waiting for words and wonder. For good ol’ Gospel hymns, white is the image of purity, salvation, washing the soul whiter than snow. For government paperwork, white is a box many choose to check to identify their race or ethnicity. For racial justice activists, white comes along with oppression and supremacy. For a color you can’t wear after Labor Day, white is a heavy word fashioned with an assortment of meanings.
As an Irish-American woman who often classifies herself as white, I can easily get my panties in a wad over terms like white privilege, white supremacy and white theology. These days the word “white” can cause some to feel dirty, gross, guilt ridden and downright wrong.
“These days the word ‘white’ can cause some to feel dirty, gross, guilt ridden and downright wrong.”
On my best days when I practice the art of differentiation, I can imagine, if only slightly, how non-whites, people of color, especially those labeled Black, might have felt and continue to feel because of social burdens of skin color. But on my worst days, I spew out my anger or my apathy onto anyone who doesn’t agree with my perspectives, align with my opinions and above all affirm my individual biases and righteous beliefs.
However, white is not wrong. White is technically a misused term that a biologist would say has no connection whatsoever to skin color or genetics. White is not wrong or right, it simply is. However, today “white” is a term that holds a basket full of laundry folded and placed into societal dressers called privilege, power and even oppression. But just because you identify as white does not mean you can’t wear the word well.
“Those of us who wear white in America can transform the word and even the world around us.”
Those of us who wear white in America can transform the word and even the world around us. A good place to start is understanding where we have been taught to sit in society. When wearing white, we were all told we needed to sit in certain places, you know the social seats that wouldn’t leave stains behind. But the problem occurs when these clean seats always fill the spaces in the top tiers of institutions — power positions within schools, communities and governments.
For centuries in the United States, if you were white you got the prime seats, leaving the bleachers and the nose-bleed sections to non-white wearers. Today, wearing white requires a psychological shift, a sharing of space and perspective along with a willingness to sit in uncomfortable places beyond our binary thinking. This is a place in our faith that has been hidden from the light of God’s love for far too long.
Erica Whitaker serves as senior pastor of Buechel Park Baptist Church in Louisville, Ky. She is an avid reader of science, religion and God-knows-what and also enjoys writing fantasy novels. Erica is currently working on a Ph.D. through the International Baptist Theological Studies Centre at the Free University of Amsterdam. She and her husband, Josh, live in Louisville with their two four-legged children, Fred and Lucy. She serves on the BNG board of directors.