Someone said it was a good year for cancelling. They may be right in that the number of moments in the Cancel Culture war seemed to have escalated in 2020; it feels like everyone jumped on the bandwagon. No doubt the movement has been fueled by three unique factors merging into a perfect storm. First, the toxic behavior of social media where people feel free to post their unhinged thoughts without fear of backlash. Secondly, cultural norms have and are shifting faster than our comfort zones can process. And thirdly, a pandemic that has forever changed our world. Whether you believe the pandemic is a real threat or hyped up fake news, the result is the same: we are in a very different place coming out of pandemic than we were two years ago going into the pandemic.
Cancel Culture is a form of group shaming, usually issued to a public person or company for decisions or actions that are deemed offensive (yea, I Googled it). One might say that the shaming is an attempt to reform behavior through pressure, while others admit it’s simply a political power-grab. While the term, “cancel culture,” has only recently been coined, the idea has been around for many years and both sides of the spectrum has participated in its game.
The summer I graduated from college, a movie about the life of Christ was generating a lot of buzz. Long before social media, televangelists and local preachers were urging viewers and churches to boycott The Last Temptation of Christ. I was trying to complete course work to graduate and get married so I wasn’t tuned into the debate. Later in the summer a preacher I knew was given an opportunity for a private screening with other community leaders to view the movie for themselves. Yes, the movie was controversial and undermined the gospel account of Jesus. However, he added his perspective, while the movie wasn’t good, its bad publicity will draw people out to see it for curiosity’s sake. Had Christians not drummed up such noise, it would have gone under the radar and bombed in the theater.
About a year later the Exxon oil tanker, Valdez, struck the Prince William Sound Bligh Reef, spilling ten million gallons of crude oil. The spill was the worst on record, ever. While multiple factors were in play to cause to spill, the captain and Exxon Company were deemed guilty of negligence. Cile and I decided to forgo purchasing gas from Exxon to protest the spill. Our weekly tank of gas did nothing to curtail the some 400 billion dollar enterprise.
When Disney decided to offer health insurance to LBGTQ partners, as if they were recognizing a benefit only for married couples and families, the Southern Baptist Convention pushed to boycott the company. That was in 1997 and today, after buying the rights to Pixar, Marvel and Star Wars, the threatened boycott was like flies being swatted by an elephant.
Yes, these are my experiences, but I’ve found both sides of the ideological isle use “cancel culture” in their arsenal. When deployed the tactic doesn’t work and often backfires in the process. On one side, those cancelled are viewed with sympathy or curiosity which draws more attention to them or their cause, while on the other side their personal lives are ruined: the punishment of public shaming is far greater than the original offence that ignited the shaming.
While the catchphrase, “cancel culture,” is not in the Bible, the theme is a reoccurring motif. And it doesn’t always unfold like we think it should. Cain kills his brother, but God chooses not to cancel him (Gen. 4:11-12). In fact, he protects him from being canceled (Gen. 4:13-16). Saul sins and God cancels his dynasty, handing the kingdom over to David (1 Sam. 16:1). Then David sins – arguably sinning greater than Saul – and God forgives David (2 Sam. 12:13). Paul tells the Corinthian church to expel than man sleeping with his father’s wife (1 Cor. 5:9-13). But when Paul wants to cancel John Mark, Barnabas will have nothing to do with it (Act. 15:36-40). It seems the Bible sends some mixed messages regarding Christians living with a “cancel culture.”
From a wider lens, the biblical narrative not only draws us away from the “cancel culture,” but gives us the means to counter it. First, embrace the imagery of pilgrims (1 Pet. 1:1; 2:1) by avoiding political baggage. Not only do we not belong or feel at home in this world, but every cultural battle has a political bent to it. Instead of the Gospel bending culture, the political culture bends the gospel to something palatable for us to taste. We can feel more comfortable with our surroundings. Secondly, make room for righteous reconciliation (2 Cor. 5:16-21). Because, at its core, the “cancel culture” polarizes people, pitting us against them or you against me. Thus, the Gospel becomes ineffective at either bringing righteousness or reconciliation.
Someone said it’s a good year for cancelling. I’m pretty sure sarcasm was dripping from their pen while they wrote it. In truth it’s never a good year for cancelling. But it is a good year when pilgrims promote righteous reconciliation.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)