By Rebekka King, Middle Tennessee State University
Context
At Middle
Tennessee State University, I have inherited a course on Western Religions
(Judaism, Christianity and Islam), which is a 4000-level or senior course.
While at most universities a course that purports to be an overview of the
so-called ‘Abrahamic’ traditions would be listed as a first- or second-year
course, this course’s listing as a senior level course means that I strive to
straddle two pedagogical imperatives. First, I want to teach adequate material
or data about religions, so that the students have a sense of the traditions
themselves; however, because the course is a senior-level course, I also want
to equip them with a theoretical apparatus with which they can think critically
about religions. In addition, the reality of living in the “buckle
of the bible belt” means that many of my students come to class with very
clearly defined assumptions about what religion does (particularly Christianity,
which is my area of specialization).
I’ve divided this course into three units: Text, Tradition, and Imagination. For this blog post, I would like to reflect on an exercise that I use to teach tradition in regards to Christianity. Along with providing an overview of Christian ritual practices, I want the students to consider language as one of the primary locations of Christian practices. Thus, I draw from my own disciplinary home, the Anthropology of Christianity, and have the students discuss Christian language ideologies and notions of sincerity and performance. More precisely, I want the students to think about larger questions concerning what we think language does—that is, its communicative capacities.
Assignment
In preparation for the assignment, we consider Joel Robbins’ article, ‘On Not Knowing Other Minds,’ which among other things helps the students to think about the ways that we understand language and Western culture. The crux of Robbins’ piece suggests that the idea that we can or should be able tell what other people are thinking based on what they do or say is related to particular cultural practices and not necessarily universal.
I’ve divided this course into three units: Text, Tradition, and Imagination. For this blog post, I would like to reflect on an exercise that I use to teach tradition in regards to Christianity. Along with providing an overview of Christian ritual practices, I want the students to consider language as one of the primary locations of Christian practices. Thus, I draw from my own disciplinary home, the Anthropology of Christianity, and have the students discuss Christian language ideologies and notions of sincerity and performance. More precisely, I want the students to think about larger questions concerning what we think language does—that is, its communicative capacities.
Assignment
In preparation for the assignment, we consider Joel Robbins’ article, ‘On Not Knowing Other Minds,’ which among other things helps the students to think about the ways that we understand language and Western culture. The crux of Robbins’ piece suggests that the idea that we can or should be able tell what other people are thinking based on what they do or say is related to particular cultural practices and not necessarily universal.
In addition, since many of my students are not
familiar with liturgical traditions in Christianity, I have them attend a
service (or watch one online) at a local liturgical church in order for them to
begin thinking about the diverse ways that language is employed in Christian
practices. I lecture briefly on the differences between language ideologies:
referential language (that is the idea that words can signify objects and
experiences) and constitutive language (the idea that words can make something happen,
including enacting some sort of ontological change).
Class
Exercise
“Hand me your pen,” I will say to an unsuspecting
student in the front row.
I follow up with a question to the rest of the class: “what
did I do there?” A chorus of “you took his pen” usually ensues, and with a bit
of prodding we come to the conclusion that I have made that particular student “penless.”
In other words, I transform the student into a “penless individual.” Somehow
the words themselves made the student into a different type of person (one
without a pen). This is an example of language that is constitutive: my words
did more than just express my own desire for a pen, they transformed the
student into a new type of being.
From there, I then proceed to declare various students
united in holy matrimony. For extra bonus points, I will marry myself to a
piece of technology (this year I developed an intimate relationship with an old
overhead projector, which served as a continuous reference point for students
when we talked throughout the term about ontological boundaries). After
performing the various marriages, I have the students discuss whether or not
they are actually married. It doesn’t take long for the students to uncover the
reasons that they are not married are my lack of authority to actually marry
them and the social space in which we are located is not one that has been entered
with expectations of the performance of a marriage ceremony. Marriage it seems
is more than words.
At this point, we discuss what language does for evangelical
Christians. Much of the evangelical mind, relies
on an understanding of language as referential (think, for example, or biblical
literalism). Again, the ‘bible belt’ works to my advantage here, and I am able
to draw on the knowledge from my students regarding Christian conversion
language and its assumed transformative potentials.
My intention, ultimately, is to have the students see
how Christian notions of language and conversion (which many of them take for
granted) are intertwined as simultaneously referential and constitutive in the
Christian consciousness. Why does saying/thinking that one is “born again” make
someone born again for evangelicals? What do the words do and what do they
signify? And what are the
ontological consequences of a worldview that allows language to hold that kind
of power?
In so doing, I try to draw out from the students
Christian conceptions of the ways in which words serve to mediate interior
experiences that are often contingent on the assumptions we make about
individuals as moral agents. I use examples from contemporary Christian culture
that disrupt these assumptions: Ted Haggard is a good
example, although this year only a handful of my students were familiar with
the Haggard case, so I will likely have to wait for another unfortunate fall
from grace by an authoritative figure in the future.
Evaluation
As mentioned above, I have several pedagogical aims
that come to the forefront in evaluating my students that reflect my desire for
students to both acquire information and engage the theories we have looked at
in class. Most importantly, I want them to be able to apply the theories to new
data, especially data that doesn’t fit a neat definition of religion. So while
I teach them to think about language in the context of a particular variety of
evangelical Christianity that permeates the American South, I also want them to
transpose those ideas into other, non-religious discursive spaces.
PJ Harvey’s anti-war ballad, “The Words That Maketh
Murder,” (click
here for lyrics) is a great way to think about what words do and how
authority is invested in particular individuals and institutions. This year I
used this song on a unit test to evaluate my students’ abilities to think
critically and creatively. The test included the usual definition questions and
short answer questions intended to determine whether students had done the
readings, attended lectures and studied, but the final section of the test—featuring
Harvey—was meant to take them to the next level.
I asked them a number of questions that corresponded
to some of the larger themes from our class, including describing the language
ideology that this song presumes. The great thing about this song is that there
is no right or wrong answer. Clearly, a song that provides a narrative in which
words make murder can be seen as
constitutive, but if one steps back from a literal reading from the text
(itself a referential act), one can begin to see that Harvey’s larger critique
of British institutions (a point which is perhaps reinforced more so in the
video than the lyrics) also could be seen as evoking an interpretive practice that
falls within the realm of the same referential assumptions that evangelicals
make about language and human subjectivities. A critique of the critique
reminds us that Harvey herself is encapsulated by the very forces she subverts.
It’s also a pretty great song.
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