Missionary work no longer commands the
cultural respect it once did. Indeed,
missionary work is often grouped together with other forms of cultural and
colonial imperialism, and derided as an insensitive imposition of foreign
culture, one rooted in a lack of appreciation for the self-evident values of
the indigenous peoples. In a word, who
do missionaries think they are coming into another person’s home and telling
them that everything there needs changing?
The charges (at least in the Protestant West) retain some tinge of
credibility, in that the missionaries’ proclamation of the Gospel was indeed often
accompanied by their concurrent desire to “civilize the Natives”—i.e. to make
them (for example) rather less African and rather more English. The eschatological nature of the Church and
her Gospel were not well served by the fact that often missionaries flew a
European flag over their mission station and were in fact funded by people in
Europe who had more to their agenda than the simple saving of souls. In coming at length to reject the paternalism
of the colonializing power, people in these nations often came to reject the
missionaries which sent them, along with their Christian Faith.
We
see such an understandable approach in the distinguished Nigerian author of Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe, pictured above. As
interviewed first by the Canadian Broadcasting Company in 1994 and now
re-released, the author spoke as follows:
“Really, being a Christian, being educated in the things of the West…one
really shouldn’t be any those things…the history of Africa is such that our
business should be to restore what was lost…We betrayed [Africa]…my father, for
instance, who became the first generation Christian, he abandoned the faith of
his fathers…We were led into accepting that what our forefathers, our ancestors
have done throughout the millennia was somehow misguided and that somebody else
who had come from afar can straighten us out. That he has the way, the truth,
and the life, and that we have been sunk in blindness. That’s an outrageous thing to accept.”
Mr.
Achebe was no angry firebrand. In fact
he said in the same interview that he found many good things in Christian
culture. He spoke softly and with the gravitas acquired over a lifetime of suffering
and experience. I mention him
specifically because he gave articulate expression to what multitudes of others
are saying rather less softly and articulately.
What are we to make of his views?
Is the very concept of missionary work outrageous, a form of ideological
imperialism?
Any
fair assessment must begin by agreeing with at least some of Achebe’s
critique. Especially in the English
missions to Africa, one must admit that missionaries, despite possibly the best
of intentions, have often acted as the instruments of colonialism and foreign
nationalism. In C.S. Lewis’ memorable
phrase (from his essay, Religion and
Rocketry), “‘Gun and gospel’ have been horribly combined in the past.” Very often missionaries gave the impression,
or even proclaimed boldly, that pretty much everything was wrong with the
culture of the people they were trying to convert, and that all of the people
from that culture who died before the coming of the missionaries were now in
hell. This, I suggest, is not only poor
theology, it is also stupid strategy.
Telling a person that their grandpa and grandma are now burning in hell,
but that they can avoid their company if they renounce everything their
grandparents held dear is (not to put too fine a point on it) a hard sell, and
would scarcely be characterized by its hearers as “good news”. The Great Commission cannot adequately be
paraphrased, “Go into all the world and tell everyone that they are damned unless
they become like you.” But it often
formed the starting point for many missions. Fortunately, (as Fr. Michael Oleksa points out
in his excellent book Orthodox Alaska),
the East has at least sometimes taken a more nuanced and sensitive approach
than the classical West, one that can show greater appreciation for at least
some of the “pagan” practices. A better
theology (and a better strategy) will stress primarily how the Gospel fulfills
all that was good in the hosting culture.
It will look for points in that pagan culture which can serve as a kind
of praeparatio evangelica, just as
the Law served such a praeparatio in
a Jewish context.
But
Mr. Achebe’s point concerned not just the ham-fisted methods of the
missionaries, but rather the underlying assumptions of all mission work per se, and as such he might not have
been much more sanguine about Orthodox missions than he was about Anglican
ones. Is it really true that saying a
culture had been misguided for millennia, and that a visitor can tell them in
what ways it needs fixing is outrageous?
The
first thing is to see that the original cultures from which the missionaries
came were as at least misguided for millennia as the cultures to which they came.
That is, unless one is a Jew, every person
on earth came from an ancestral culture which was once misguided. Take the first Greek Christians for
example: at one point, they also had to
accept that what their ancestors had done throughout the millennia was somehow
misguided and that somebody else who had come from afar (namely the Jewish
apostles and their successors) could straighten them out. Mr. Achebe’s view is quite reasonable if all
religions are equally valid, wonderful, saving, and if they all produced the
same spiritual fruits and eternal results.
Being a Western-educated man, he doubtless found this easy to believe,
as well as nationally congenial. But
this is a presupposition, not a fact—and a presupposition, one may add, with
little real evidence to sustain it. But
anyway, if polytheism is not legitimate diversity, but dangerous idolatry, then
his reason for indignation falls away.
The missionaries came offering what they said was a cure for a fatal
disease. If the Nigerians to whom they
came in fact had no such disease,
then the missionary project was indeed outrageous. But what if they did have the disease?
The
Christian worldview says that with the tiny exception of Israel all the world had
the disease and was sunk in blindness, sin, labouring under the tyranny of
death and the devil. God’s light came
into that darkness like the point of a sword, striking the earth at once
particular place—Jerusalem in the midst of the Holy Land—and radiating out from
there. Certainly God had not left
Himself without a witness (Acts 14:17), but left His fingerprints throughout
the world, so that His eternal power and divine nature could be clearly seen
(Romans 1:20). But despite this, the
world mostly ignored Him and turned to idols, exchanging glory for corruption,
and sinking further into death. The
divine cure consisted of remaking the world, creating a new nature, a new
humanity, one freed from sin, guilt, and mortality. God created this reality in His Son—in Him
the world was renewed and recreated; in Him the powers of death had been pushed
aside and banished; in Him eternal life and incorruption had entered the
cosmos.
The
nature of this cure dictated the nature of its diffusion and spread. Eternal life and joy were all found in
Jesus, crucified and risen from the dead, and these powers could flow into us
if we united ourselves to Christ. Then
His nature and life, His sonship and glory, would become ours as well. But how could people the world over becoming
united with Christ apart from missionary endeavour? “How shall they call upon Him in whom they
have not believed? And how shall they
believe in Him whom they have not heard?
And how shall they hear without a preacher? And how shall they preach unless they are
sent?” (Romans 10:14-15) Missionary
work, at his apostolic heart, is not about the ascendency of one culture over
another (the Church’s refusal to require circumcision was proof enough of
that); it is one starving beggar telling another starving beggar where to find
bread. If, as Mr. Achebe would contend,
the world is not starving to death
spiritually, then all missionary effort is indeed useless ecclesiastical
tomfoolery. But the fact of spiritual
starvation seems clear enough. In fact,
the really outrageous thing would be to deny it.
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