Bonding versus building: two ways to organize

I felt my usual scorn toward conservative Never Trump pundits named David soften as I realized that it is progressives who have influenced them, and we should take that as a W.

I am sort of proud of the fact that David French now knows I don’t like him. I highly doubt he thinks of me as much as I do him (I’m sure he doesn’t read my blog, but I’m a regular reader of his columns), but at least, for a moment, the man knew that I wasn’t buying what he was selling.

One of the issues I have with David French revolves around how I think he cosplays as a compassionate conservative Christian, but still, in his heart, holds deeply harmful views about women and queer people specifically. In his latest column for the Times, French asks his readers if they were raised in a church that “fears the world” or “loves its neighbor.” A friend posted the column, and I wondered out loud, “I wonder which kind of church French thinks he's been supporting?”

To be sure, French’s theology has been a deeply painful part of my life, and so I do hold it in contempt. I’m not quick to call French an ally because he still hasn’t changed his fundamentally bigoted views. But, his opposition to the harshest version of his theology, (and, perhaps more to the point, of Trump himself) is worth lauding, as much as it pains me to say it.

The Times’ other conservative David recently penned a column that shocked me to the point that I emailed someone in my congregation the column (subject line: “Broken clocks, blind squirrels, etc.”, and wrote one line in response to it, “Brooks is right.” My interlocutor playfully responded, quoting me back to myself, and wrote, “I may have to frame this Email.”

In this particular column, Brooks was writing about how now may well be the time to organize civic uprisings to stop Trump and potentially broadcast a more positive alternative. Shocking to hear this from Brooks, but a welcome addition I suppose. Brooks even ends his column quoting Karl Marx, an absolutely astonishing course of events.

I’ve read David Brooks for years and not found much agreement with his writing. Like French, his sudden change of heart in the face of Trump frustrates me because he helped sow the seeds that we are now collectively reaping.

Moving on from conservative New York Times’ pundits, though, I see a similar pattern in myself. The obituaries and columns remembering the life and legacy of Pope Francis portray him as an inclusive and compassionate Pope, one that changed how his predecessor’s governed the Catholic church. I’m Mennonite, so I’m not even close to Catholicism, but I read them with some degree of reverence. But in the back of my mind, I remembered even Pope Francis’s casual use of homophobic slurs.

But I guess that gets me to the heart of my own ire with French, Brooks, and Francis. They aren’t all the way there, they still have myriad problems with their theologies and politics, but what does their progress mean? As an observer, one far to the left of any of them, do I see their evolution as progress or do I remember where they are flawed more?

We’re in a moment in human history where the answer to that question is important. I think it’s important that we remember the fullness of who we all are. And yes, that includes me, in all of my flaws. But I also think it’s important to see our growth and celebrate it. So in face of fascism, I’ll take any allies that I find along the way including David French, David Brooks, and Pope Francis, even if all of them hold a theology and a politics that still excludes me.

Rather than being led by them, I want to honor the progressive Christian movement in how it has influenced them. Despite their contempt and resistance toward pluralism and progressivism, these forces have moved them in a positive direction. Progressives should then celebrate their movement as a victory, if a limited one.

While it’s important to name where they are limited, it’s important to also note their progress. It isn’t that our tent has grown to include bigots; those particular pundits and influencers have grown to be included under the tent. They aren’t the leaders of the movement, but they are evidence that our movement works and has influenced them. I highly doubt they would credit progressives for their growth, but that shouldn’t stop us from seeing our own influence here. And it should be a call to keep going. Every prophet is hated in their hometown, as Jesus says, but eventually our influence shows up. And we should celebrate it when it does.

Obviously, the politics and theology that Brooks and French planted, particularly, have come to impact them negatively. So it’s not as if their change-of-heart was particularly surprising, but what I am grateful for is that they’ve turned to people they’ve been critical of for solutions.

The pain they caused is serious and shouldn’t be dismissed. I probably won’t ever think of them in a way that erases their bigotry. Nor will I consider them my closest allies or among those who influence me. But perhaps French’s embrace of a church that loves its neighbors will move him to love his queer neighbors. Maybe Brooks’s embrace of civic uprising will lead him to repent of when he expressed contempt toward campus and civil uprisings. And perhaps the legacy of Pope Francis will be a more welcoming Catholic Church.

I know my softened heart may be labeled as soft or selling out. I’m ready for that feedback and, frankly, I understand it. Part of coming of age is finding your people, finding your community, and dwelling with like-minded people that can give you the space to tend to your wounds and feel appreciation, validation and celebration. Movement-building can lead to safe places in a world that is dangerous. The bonding we may experience in political solidarity is valuable, but it’s not the end goal.

The other side of movement building is organizing for a better future. Building a movement means welcoming people, despite their flaws and growth edges. Not only does this allow us to humbly accept our shortcomings, it gives people a chance to be a part of something bigger than they are, and perhaps change and grow in other ways.

I won’t hold my breath for these pundits and leaders to completely metamorphosize, but then again, I didn’t think I’d ever grow old enough to hear David Brooks quote Marx. I’m not sure I’d ever hear French preach a Gospel against the culture-war-saturated one he preached for years. And I didn’t think I’d hear a Catholic Pope express compassion toward queer people. Sure, they all have more growth to do. And so do I. And as we all welcome the chance to grow more fully into who God has made us to be, I want to welcome others along the journey and also take the victories that I can.