As a cultural anthropologist, people often find what I do very interesting. They like to hear about my time in the Philippines or subsequent travels to “out of the way” places. But even though it is interesting, many still think it is not terribly relevant.

I’ve come to believe that anthropological knowledge is more than interesting—for the Christian, it is imperative.

We can often see the benefit of anthropology for missionaries; but what’s the relevance for “the rest of us”? The fact is, most evangelical Christians now live outside of North America or Europe. They are not to be relegated simply as subjects of mission, but our brothers and sisters in Christ. Understanding what God is doing in these places is not about “them,” it is about us—the global church. Sure, we can live “good” Christian lives with no knowledge of other Christians whatsoever, just as we can come to a saving faith by simply reading Romans and nothing else. But God desires that we would know the richness of His Kingdom (Eph. 2.7), not just the minimum.

Moreover, increasing numbers of people are in contact with “cultural otherness,” whether through short-term service trips, or among cultural minorities in the U.S. Can we demonstrate love to people if we aren’t even sure how to communicate? A big hug and using first names are good ways to tell Midwesterners they are loved, but for a Christian in Zambia, or Hungary, or China, what is that big hug going to mean? More importantly, are we equipped to find out?

Most critically, anthropology has long held to the dictum that only in understanding others, do we understand ourselves. White Northern Americans are no less steeped in culture than the brown nomad living on the plains of the Sudan. Even our understanding of God’s revelation is inexorably linked with our cultural context. Wheaton alumnus and anthropology major Billy Graham ’43, Litt.D ’56 once said that if he could go back, he would have gotten a Ph.D. in anthropology to understand race relations and inequality in the United States. (When students ask what to do with a major in anthropology, I love saying that it can lead to a career in worldwide evangelism.)

Understanding the relevance of anthropology to the whole church is coming slowly in Christian circles. Only five of 115 schools in the Council of Christian Colleges and Universities (CCCU) offer a major in anthropology. But when a student leaves my class understanding that the U.S. church is culturally unique, but not perfect; knowing why we should learn from those who, though they are culturally different from us, are still our Christian siblings; and realizing that culture is part of God’s design, not a consequence of sin—I know again why He brought me to Wheaton.

Dr. Brian Howell, Assistant Professor of Anthropology, holds a Ph.D.from Washington University in St. Louis and joined Wheaton’s faculty in 2001. He specializes in global Christianity and has published work from his research on Baptists in the Philippines in various journals in addition to presenting it at international conferences. He is often asked to address student groups on topics such as cross-cultural ministry, gender, and popular culture. He and his wife, Marissa Sabio, have three children. (Wheaton Magazine, Spring 2005).

Mark Lewis

As the lights dimmed to black in Arena Theater’s last play of 2005, the audience was left with the image of a young couple gazing at one another across a divide, their future together suspended in the distance between them.

Discussions following this production, The Cover of Life, by R.T. Robinson, have been engaging. What happens to that couple? It seems that the playwright does not intend us to know.

Furthermore, as the director of the play I was committed to creating a final image that would leave all of us squarely in the middle of the question.

Why? I am sometimes asked why so many of the plays we produce in Arena Theater do not resolve neatly, or sometimes even positively. Why not offer our audience encouragement by doing plays that offer more definitive resolutions? Are we trying to discourage or frustrate the faithful friends who come to support our work?

No, nothing could be further from my intent in choosing and directing plays. But I am fervent in this belief—”theater” operates or works most powerfully at the level of our shared and ongoing questions. There is immense value in evaluating a play not only by what message or moral it might offer, but also by the quality of the questions it leaves us asking.

So much of what we call “entertainment” is not meant to affect us in this way. Questions, if there are any, are beautifully crafted to resolve completely. One can practically know what time it is in an hour-long television drama by the story’s proximity to its resolution, which is usually very simple. When we are fed a steady diet of this type of ending to a story, what becomes of our ability to trust God in a world where endings so often seem, from our human perspective, to be unresolved or ambiguous?

Theater is intended to land differently—to leave a different kind of impression. It relies absolutely on writing that demonstrates honest conflict springing from opposing points of view. If a play is to succeed, these opposing views must be brought to life by actors advocating honestly for their character’s choices.

Additionally, theater demands that an audience struggle with its own presuppositions. Unlike film or television, where a camera focuses our attention for us, we decide where to look and whom to incline to. We may disagree completely with a character’s point of view and the actions it leads her to, but a good play asks us to lend our attention to that character’s story, and to consider it, for better and for worse.

Hamlet says, “The purpose of playing was and is…to hold a mirror up to nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image.” We need to be open to seeing our image in both parts of that mirror if an experience in the theater is to fulfill its potential to reflect and challenge us.

Wheaton Magazine (Autumn 2005)

“Tell us your impression of the U.S. Is there anything that strikes you?”

As a visitor from “Old Europe,” I am often asked this kind of question. Actually, I have seen very little of the country. I’ve only caught a glimpse, through the Wheaton window.

What I have glimpsed, however, may be worth mentioning. I have been struck by the amount of self-deprecation in current discourse (not within College bounds necessarily), having heard and read a lot of self-critical talk, concerning American ways and values, especially “individualism,” and, in Christian circles, concerning evangelical tradition, or lack of tradition.

Self-criticism is praiseworthy—one hesitates to criticize it! Self-demeaning, to some extent in all cultures, and in some cultures hyperbolically so, it belongs to polite demeanor. It oils the wheels of social exchanges. Since every human group or institution tends toward inflated images of self, often bordering on idolatry, correction is salutary.

Individually and collectively, the ability to acknowledge weaknesses and faults reflects maturity. Combating pride, the ever-present enemy, is always timely-for pride disguises itself as loyalty or gratitude. (Remember the account in Luke 18:9-14. The Pharisee’s thanksgiving met the outward expectation of religious life, and yet, he did not go home justified.) But cannot self-criticism itself become a disguise? When we criticize our tradition, don’t we secretly feel that we thereby raise ourselves above what we censure?

We say “we,” and mean “they.” Of course, I realize that this boomerangs on me just now. Intellectuals in our societies, as they disparage established orders, often vent their frustration and resentment for not wielding power. (Nietzsche was not wrong on all counts.) Blaming the status quo, of which one is a part, relieves hidden anguish and projects the subject’s existential discomfort onto the world. An upcoming generation conveniently makes room for their own ambitions, brushing predecessors to the side. Not waiving their claim on the estate, they become “self” critical. In any case, as a general phenomenon of perception, attention is always drawn to what does not work properly, thus fostering exclusively negative assessments, and failing to honor that which is praiseworthy.

What are the marks of sound self-criticism? Balance and nuances, and recognizing that which is valuable and must be maintained—these are hopeful signs. Slogans or catchwords, conformity to fashions, ready-made generalizations, are all red signals. Critics are open to suspicion that keep enjoying the benefits of what they condemn. If it is truly self-criticism, it will entail some concrete steps of action.

The heart, however, is so crooked, “deceitful above all things,” that discernment ultimately belongs to the Lord, the Lord alone (Jer. 17:9). His Word is the “critical” (kritikos) agent, to which only we will turn for true and healing criticism (Heb. 4:12).

Dr. Henri A. Blocher, Wheaton’s Gunther Knoedler Chair of Bible and Theology, was born a Frenchman in Leiden, Netherlands. He studied at Gordon Divinity School and in Paris and London. He has taught in the Faculté Libre de Théologie Evangélique, Vaux-sur-Seine, since its founding in 1965, and currently chairs the Fellowship of European Evangelical Theologians. His books include In the Beginning, Evil and the Cross, and Original Sin. He and his wife, Henriette, a psychologist, have three children and seven grandchildren. (Wheaton Magazine, Autumn 2004).