1. Chinese architecture
One of the features of the Chinese worldview is the prominent place given to the family. While it finds particular expression in Confucianism, the family has always been at the centre of the affections for the Chinese – even before the time of Confucius. This comes out in all kinds of ways – but one of the unusual ways that it shows itself is in the architecture of homes in ancient China.
Architecture of course varies from region to region, and depends on geography and climate. But before the modern era one of the most common styles of Chinese architecture was the compound home (known as 四合院, shieyuan). These compound homes are still very common in parts of rural China, and can still be seen in older sections of cities such as Beijing.
2. Family and outsiders
The Chinese compound home was a network of four buildings that are all built to face inward to a central courtyard, and with a the backs of the buildings forming a wall. And this network of interconnected houses would house a whole extended family.
The smaller courtyards in the corners would be used as gardens, kitchens or places to socialise. But the focus of all these houses – and their occupants – was inward, towards the central courtyard. All of the homes open inwards – and not outwards. And the backs of all these houses created a wall, providing privacy and protection against the outside world.
You will also notice that the entrance is often situated off to one side. Those who visited the compound home did not have direct access the family’s central courtyard – visitors entered through a courtyard, and were received in a kind of waiting room. It was only the household that had access to the rest of the complex.
And so you can see the layout communicated very strongly that family was on the inside – and on the outside was the rest of the world, including the rest of the people in the village. Outsiders would be received politely – but the focus of your community and your concern was your extended family, and the rest of the world didn’t matter so much.
3. Older and younger
Compound homes were laid out along the cardinal points of a compass – and family members invariably occupied certain buildings based on their position in the household.
In an extended family, the head of the household would have the house to the North. Then the eldest son and his family would have the house to the East. The younger son and his family would live in the house to the West. And finally any grandchildren or servants would live in the building to the South.
Because China is situated North of the equator, buildings to the North would have received the most sunshine on its front during the day – and the sun would have shone obliquely. By contrast, buildings that face East or West would have received lesser sunshine – but when they did, the sun would have shone directly into into the eyes of its occupants. And buildings that faced North would have received the least amount of sunshine throughout the day.
What comes out quite strongly is the strict hierarchical arrangement of the household, with the head of the household having the most desirable house, then the eldest son with the next most desirable house – all the way down to the least. And so what we end up with is household being arranged in a way that reflects the idea of family built on filial piety, where younger defers to older.
4. Ancestral spirits and wandering ghosts
One of the features of the Chinese idea of family is that it is much larger than the Western idea of family. So far we can see that the household includes the extended family – but there is actually much more than that. The Chinese idea of family also extends to include the spirits of the ancestors (see previous post). And the place of those ancestral spirits in the family is also reflected in the architecture.
In many compound homes, a room in the main house will be set aside for ancestor worship. This room would house the spirit tablets, but instead of this room being stuck away in the corner of the house, it would often occupy the central room of the main house. And this central room would be the focus of the household’s devotion to the spirits of their ancestors.
Notice that even the living head of the family would not have pride of place in the main house – the head of the family would himself defer to the spirits of the ancestors, both in his worship, and in the rooms he occupied. He wouldn’t take the central room for himself – that would be reserved for the ancestors.
And so the picture that we get is of the family being thought of as one long chain, from younger to older, from living members to the spirits of dead ancestors. And of individuals being merely one link in the long chain, always showing reverence to those above them on the chain, whether they are living members – or the spirits of the ancestors.
But while this covers the spirits of the family, there are other spirits as well… In most compound homes you will also notice that a small structure or screen, either on the outside or inside of the main entrance. This is called the spirit wall, or the spirit screen. I’ll write more about the Chinese belief in ancestral spirits and ghosts in another post, but for now the belief is that ghosts can only go in straight lines, and not around corners. And so a spirit wall or spirit screen was thought to prevent wandering ghosts from seeing into the family home and entering to cause mischief.
These ghosts were not spirits of the ancestors, but were spirits of other people, whose families had neglected to perform the proper ceremonies, leading to their spirits becoming ghosts wandering around the countryside. And the spirit wall was designed to keep these outsiders well away from the realm of the insiders.
And so on the one hand you can see that the spirits of the ancestors are given pride of place in the compound home. But on the other hand, the ghosts of others are kept well away with barriers, in much the same way that the walls of the compound home formed a barrier against outsiders.
5. Insiders and outsiders
Architecture is never neutral. Architecture always says something about our values. Whether it is the steeples of Gothic cathedrals, or the simplicity of Puritan meeting houses. Whether it was the government apartment block, or the Chinese compound home – architecture always tells us something about what we love and value and fear.
And for centuries in China, what was being worldlessly communicated every single day through their architecture was the exalted place that the family held in the affections of the people. It communicated an idea of family that includes extended family members, and even had a place for ancestors from the past in the family compound. A kind of family that was strictly ordered along Confucian lines, both for the living and the dead.
Architecture is never neutral. Architecture always says something about our values. And in this case, architecture communicated that family was central – and everything else belonged to the outside world.
“But look at the context,” said Max, turning the Bible around for his friend to read. “It’s clearly not talking about you.”
“I don’t know…” says his friend, shifting uneasily in his chair. He seemed unwilling to even look down at Max’s Bible. “I’m no expert in reading the Bible. Who can say we are doing it right? But I feel that this is what God is saying to me…”
You might have had several conversations that went just like this over the years.
Ever wondered what’s behind this kind of conversation? Ever wondered what drives this approach to Scripture?
2. Scripture is both a human and a divine document
Our conviction is that Scripture is both a divine word, as well as a human word. And this conviction influences how we end up reading Scripture.
Because we believe that Scripture is a human word – this means that we read it using the normal tools of exegesis for understanding a human document such as a newspaper, a letter, a textbook. We read it in context, we observe how the author builds his argument, we look at the logical flow of the passage.
But because we believe that Scripture is also a divine word – this means that we read this word as having a unity that comes from one divine author, and we submit to it as being God’s truth.
This conviction that Scripture is both human and divine is based on exegetical grounds. Exegetically, we can see that human authors did write the books, and their humanity is reflected in the writings. We can clearly see that this letter was obviously written by Paul to Corinth. Yet exegetically we can also see that these human writings are treated as coming from God (eg. 2 Peter 1:20-21, 3:16).
But this conviction is not solely based on exegetical grounds – it is also based on theological grounds. What is true of the Word of God when he comes in the flesh, is also true of the word of God on paper. As you can see in the following diagram, our Christology (doctrine of Christ) actually parallels our doctrine of Scripture.
Just as Jesus is fully man and fully God, so too is Scripture fully a human document and fully a divine document.
3. Scripture as human document, and Scripture as a divine document
But not everyone reads the Bible with the conviction that it is both 100% a human word, as well as 100% a divine word – and this influences what they do when they read the Bible.
The following diagram outlines three approaches to the Bible. Firstly the conviction that it is a human document, secondly the conviction that it is both human and divine, and thirdly the conviction that it is a divine document.
Among Western liberals the tendency is to approach the Bible as an entirely human document. An interesting, and at times inspiring historical artefact which we shouldn’t feel obliged to follow today – but which can shed light on the devotion of others in the past, and which might be a useful resource for our devotion today.
But in contrast among some Eastern believers there is a tendency to approach the Bible as an entirely divine document. While newspapers, letters and textbooks are read in the normal way, the Bible falls into a special category which is not read that way.
In some instances regular believers are hesitant to interpret Scripture for themselves, and instead rely on more spiritual people to interpret it for them. And in other instances interpretations are based not so much on the context and logical flow of the passage – but on the impression that is left on their heart, from being in communion with God.
This of course fits in well with Watchman Nee’s approach to spirituality (see previous post). He disparages the ‘carnal’ resources of exegesis in favour of the more spiritual approach of communing with God, where God who is spirit speaks directly to our spirit.
This approach is called the devotional hermeneutic. It will tend to ignore the context and the logic of the passage, drawing applications out of a passage that might be personally uplifting – but which the author never intended, and which misses the main point of the passage.
Ever had one of those strange conversations with fellow Christians where you couldn’t work out why the context and logic of the passage weren’t driving their interpretation? You can see that it actually stems from the conviction that the Bible is a divine document – and so is exempt from the normal ways in which we read human documents!
1. Human nature
One of the most important areas in which Confucianism exerts an influence on the faith of Chinese Christians is anthropology – that is, what we believe about the nature of human beings.
Our anthropology is important because what we think is the nature of people influences all manner of things: it influences how we preach to people, how we do evangelism, how we believe people grow as believers. And so it’s important for us to get our anthropology right!
In this post we’re going to consider the anthropology of Confucianism. We’ll do this by firstly considering Confucius himself, before we also look at Mencius and Xunzi, two significant Confucian writers. This will give us a good handle on the kind of things that are in the philosophical background for those influenced by Confucianism.
2. Confucius – silence on human nature
Confucius (551-479 BC) taught his disciples very clearly about the use of rites to train oneself to become a virtuous man. As he went about doing this, his focus was not at all on theoretical questions such as original nature of humans. Instead he concentrated on practical questions such as how one perfects oneself. In 1.15 of the Analects, we find the Confucian metaphor of carving horn, sculpting ivory, cutting jade and polishing stone – metaphors that describe the process of perfecting oneself. In that string of metaphors, the important factor is the process of caving, sculpting, cutting and polishing – processes which are equivalent to learning and observing the rites.
But what did Confucius believe about that original nature of humans? did he believe that we are originally good in nature? or that we are originally evil? It’s not clear what Confucius thought, as this was one of the areas that he remained quiet about. Here is a famous passage from the Analects:
Tzu-Kung said, Our Master’s views concerning culture and the outward insignia of goodness, we are permitted to hear; but about Man’s nature (xìng, 性) and the ways of heaven he will not tell us anything at all.”
Analects, 5.12 (tr. Arthur Waley).
As a result, there is great debate among scholars, with some finding slender threads of support in the Analects for one position or another (eg. Analects 6.16-17). But really, the closest Confucius ever seems to get in talking about nature are passages such as this one:
The Master said, “By nature (xìng, 性) , men are nearly alike; by practice, they get to be wide apart.”
Analects, 17.2 (tr. James Legge).
Even in this passage you can see that his focus is very squarely on practice – and not on nature. And so when it comes to human nature, the consensus is that Confucius never really gave a solid answer, but simply left the question open.
3. Mencius – the goodness of human nature
After his death however, the question of man’s nature became a point of debate between the disciples of Confucius. One of the foremost disciples of Confucius was Mencius (372-289 BC), who believed in the essential goodness of human nature. He believed that humans become evil when they fail to develop that potential, or cultivate what goodness there is. He taught that the seed for the virtues (such as benevolence, righteousness, propriety, knowledge) are already inside us at birth, and only need to be encouraged.
The feeling of commiseration belongs to all men; so does that of shame and dislike; and that of reverence and respect; and that of approving and disapproving. The feeling of commiseration implies the principle of benevolence (ren); that of shame and dislike, the principle of righteousness (yi); that of reverence and respect, the principle of propriety (li); and that of approving and disapproving, the principle of knowledge (zhi). Benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and knowledge are not infused into us from without. We are certainly furnished (duan) with them.
For Mencius, virtue was not a far-off goal to journey towards, but the home (or ‘tranquil habitation’) to which a person is to return:
To say—”I am not able to dwell in benevolence or pursue the path of righteousness,” is what we mean by throwing one’s self away. Benevolence (ren) is the tranquil habitation of man, and righteousness (yi) is his straight path. Alas for them, who leave the tranquil dwelling empty and do not reside in it, and who abandon the right path and do not pursue it!
In 6A.8 Mencius makes use off the analogy of a mountain that was once covered with luxurious trees – but which is now bare because people from a nearby town constantly cut down its trees, and by the constant grazing of sheep and cattle. He comments that,
People, seeing only its baldness, tend to think that it never had any trees. But can this possibly be the nature of the mountain? Can what is in man be completely lacking in moral inclinations? A man’s letting go of his true heart is like the case of the trees and the axes. When the trees are lopped day after day, is it any wonder that they are no longer fine?
The point he is making is that like the tree-covered mountain, humans begin life as essentially good persons, and it is only by exposure to bad examples that a person turns bad. Yes, if you look at people now they appear bad – but that is not their original nature.
How then can a person be made restored to his original goodness? Here Mencius picks up on Confucius’ thought much more explicitly, believing one can perfect oneself through proper education. Here is Mencius again, carrying the metaphor of the mountain further:
Hence, given the right nourishment there is nothing that will not grow, and deprived of it there is nothing that will not wither away.
For Mencius, the rites (li) were the means by which humans preserved and further cultivated that goodness that already resides inside of them.
4. Xunzi – the evil of human nature
However Mencius was not the only one who attempted to fill the void left by Confucius. In stark contrast to Mencius, another disciple named Xunzi (312–230 BC) believed that human nature was essentially evil. He lived and taught just after Mencius, and explicitly interacted with Mencius’ belief in the essential goodness of human nature.
Mencius states that man is capable of learning because his nature is good, but I say that this is wrong. It indicates that he has not really understood man’s nature nor distinguished properly between the basic nature and conscious activity.
Xunzi taught that humans are born with natural instincts – evil ones – that, if not guided and controlled, led to bad behaviour and social disruption. He writes unequivocally that,
Man’s nature is evil; goodness is the result of conscious activity.
The nature of man is such that he is born with a fondness for profit. If he indulges this fondness, it will lead him into wrangling and strife, and all sense of courtesy and humility will disappear.
He is born with feelings of envy and hate, and if he indulges these, they will lead him into violence and crime, and all sense of loyalty and good faith will disappear.
Man is born with the desires of the eyes and ears, with a fondness for beautiful sights and sounds. If he indulges these, they will lead him into license and wantonness, and all ritual principles and correct forms will be lost.
Hence any man who follows his nature and indulges his emotions will inevitably become involved in wrangling and strife, will violate the forms and rules of society, and will end as a criminal.
However Xunzi believed that it was possible for humans to be transformed through observing ritual practices (li), so that harmony rather than disorder would prevail in the world. According to Xunzi, these ritual practices served to restrict and control human appetites and desires that rage within ourselves, giving them their proper, orderly expression.
In several places Xunzi makes use of the analogy of how a bent piece of wood may be straightened, or how a piece of metal may be sharpened, as a way to explain the role of this moral education. He writes that,
A warped piece of wood must wait until it has been laid against the straightening board, steamed, and forced into shape before it can become straight; a piece of blunt metal must wait until it has been whetted on a grindstone before it can become sharp.
Similarly, since man’s nature is evil, it must wait for the instructions of a teacher before it can become upright, and for the guidance of ritual principles before it can become orderly.
If men have no teachers to instruct them, they will be inclined towards evil and not upright; and if they have no ritual principles to guide them, they will be perverse and violent and lack order.
You can see that in line with both Confucius and Mencius, Xunzi also acknowledges the place of education in training a person to become good.
On first glance, it can seem as though what we have here is a debate about human nature that is similar to the debate in Western theology between Calvinism and Arminianism. After all, within Confucianism we seem to have two poles of opinion: one which holds to the essential evil of human nature (Xunzi), and another which holds to the essential goodness of human nature (Mencius).
However it’s important for us to note that this is not really the case. Because both Mencius and Xunzi believe in the perfectibility of the person through means of education. While it is true that Xunzi teaches that human nature is evil, he still believes in the essential rationality of the person, and the ability to choose that which is good. In Xunzi’s thought, evil resides in our passions – but it does not touch our mind.
Here is a contemporary assessment of Xunzi’s teaching about the mind. Notice how the mind is able to choose to do good:
By stressing that human nature is evil, Xunzi singled out the cognitive function of the mind (human rationality) as the basis for morality. We become moral by voluntarily harnessing our desires and passions to act in accordance with societal norms. This is alien to our nature but perceived by our mind as necessary for both survival and well-being.
Tu Weiming, “Confucius and Confucianism”.
By contrast, Reformed Christians believe that the Bible teaches that our will, and even our thinking is affected by the fall (eg. Romans 1:21ff), and so unregenerate people are unable to choose to do good. In theology, this is referred to as the noetic effects of the fall and makes essential the work of regeneration.
And of course Mencius’ understanding of the goodness of humans is clearly at odds with the Bible’s understanding of the fall. Far from being ‘naturally good’, passages like Genesis 6:5, Psalm 51:5 and Romans 5 argue for a much bleaker assessment of the human condition. Mencius’ position actually shares similarities with a Christian heresy called Pelagianism.
Therefore while the poles of thought in Confucianism might seem to be analogous to the differences between Calvinism and Arminianism, it is actually more analogous to the differences between Arminianism and Pelagianism.
This means that the philosophical background for those influenced by Confucianism may actually lead to a tendency towards Arminianism at best – and Pelagianism at worst. Because historically, these have been the classical categories for understanding human nature.
Could this account for preaching and evangelism which only addresses the will? rituals that highlight human decision making? Could this account for preaching styles that holds up moral examples for people to follow?
In any case, it highlights that, at the very least, in discussions about Calvinism vs Arminianism, we won’t simply be contending with exegetical questions. We will also be striving against a long-standing, historical commitment to the ability of the mind to choose to do good…
In a previous post I wrote about the the doctrine of the mean (中庸) and how it might influence Chinese Christian leadership. This is one part of the overall Confucian worldview, and significantly influences how leaders conduct themselves. Here is a key passage that speaks about it:
The Master said, “There was Shun: He indeed was greatly wise! Shun loved to question others, and to study their words, though they might be shallow. He concealed what was bad in them and displayed what was good. He took hold of their two extremes, determined the Mean, and employed it in his government of the people (執其兩端，用其中於民). It was by this that he was Shun!”
Doctrine of the Mean, 6.
Rather than giving themselves to extreme positions, the superior man holds to the mean (or middle position). And the virtuous leader makes use of this in the exercise of his governing.
Here is another quote, this time from the Analects where James Legge translates 2.14 as:
The Master said, “The superior man is catholic (周) and not partisan (比). The mean man is partisan and not catholic.”
Analects of Confucius, 2.14.
The idea here being that the superior man doesn’t take one particular side, but is able to be friendly and conciliatory and understanding of all sides. This is seen as a virtue – the virtue of being zhong (中). In the Doctrine of the Mean, this is spoken of as a “friendly harmony.”
Therefore, the superior man cultivates a friendly harmony, without being weak. How firm is he in his energy! He stands erect in the middle, without inclining to either side. How firm is he in his energy!
Doctrine of the Mean, 10.
It’s important to note that it is not seen as cowardice to avoid either position – it is actually seen as virtue to see all positions, and to be ‘catholic’ (周).
2. The Doctrine of the Mean in conversations
Today what I want to do is flesh out what this looks like in conversations, and hopefully shed light on some of the strange conversation dynamics you might come across in Confucian-influenced cultures. Because it could well be that what is driving your conversation partner is actually the Confucian virtue of zhong (中)!
Notice what happens in the following conversation. In these conversations, there is a conflict between the blue people, and red people. They are at two extremes. But notice what happens when a green person speaks to them…
The green person identifies that there are two extremes – but doesn’t want to take either position. Just like Shun in Doctrine of the Mean 6, this green person has identified the mean and now adopts it as his position. And it’s a position that does not ascribe any real blame to anyone – in this case, it’s just a matter of miscommunication.
But on hearing this moderate response from the green person, the blue person is startled. Why can’t this green person see what is clearly going on? And so they press their case a second time.
The blue person wants to argue the green person over to his side – but for the green person, there is no virtue in that. Instead it is actually virtuous not to hold either position. It is virtuous to remain in the middle, exhibiting the virtue of being zhong (中).
Notice also that when pushed further, the green person now begins to assign blame – and it’s to the one who is arguing forcefully. He is the one who is seen to be causing trouble. Frustrating for the blue person – but it makes sense within the Confucian worldview.
Notice now what happens when the green person goes over to speak to the red person. In a similar way, the red person puts forward his view, painting the situation in polar extremes. How will the green person respond?
The green person responds in the same kind of way – he notices the extremes, identifies the middle position, and adopts it – which appears conciliatory and virtuous. And once again, it’s a position that doesn’t assign blame to anyone – he affirms that both parties have a good heart.
However it’s not always the case that your conversation partner will take the middle position. And it has to do with whether you ‘belong’ with them or not. If they think you don’t ‘belong’ to their group, then you are essentially seen as an outsider – and they will play the Doctrine of the Mean game with you to be virtuous. But if you are seen as an insider, then you already belong in their eyes, and they will not feel compelled to play the Doctrine of the Mean game. Instead they will feel free to echo what you feel.
In this scenario notice how the dark red conversation partner doesn’t feel the need to identify and embody the mean. And it’s because they already belong. They are already part of the group.
This also means that the way in which someone speaks to you can also tell you a lot about how they see you – whether as an insider, or as an outsider to their group.
This dynamic could mean that adopting a more moderate position yourself in conversation might lead to quite different outcomes. In the following conversation we are back to the conversation between the blue person and the green person. But this time the blue person identifies with what the red person says. However the green person is smart enough to identify that there are two extremes at play – and the position the green person adopts is much more helpful.
3. Differing values in conversation
This dynamic may help explain what is going on in otherwise strange conversations. It could be that conflicting values are at play – on the one hand the arguing for and scoring of logical points, and on the other hand the identifying of the middle ground and embodying the virtue of zhong (中). And so you may find that conversations become less about rightness, and more about position. And you may find that discussions are concluded less on evidence, and more on moderation.
Should the virtue of zhong (中) play the determining factor in the making of decisions? should it subvert the place of evidence and good argumentation?
From the Christian point of view, I don’t believe so. Because ultimately the form of revelation given to us does not discount evidence and good argumentation, but instead has a good place for it. Paul is at pains to lay out evidence for the resurrection (1 Cor 15). The apostles are careful in their argumentation in the letters. The apostles went to the temple courts and reasoned with those who would listen (Acts 17). The form of God’s revelation to us shows that good reasons and sound thinking do take pride of place.
At a supporting level the Confucian Doctrine of the Mean does alert us to the relational aspect of conversations. It’s not just a matter of winning the argument – but of winning over the other person. And so in this regard it’s interesting to see how Paul’s strong command to stop the false teachers in 1 Timothy 1 is paired with his strangely quiescent encouragement in 1 Timothy 4 to win over his detractors by his exemplary manner of life. It doesn’t negate the public directive in chapter 1 (and even in chapter 4 he is to “command and teach these things” v.11) – but at a supporting level Paul is aware of the power of personal example.
Yet in Christianity this never gets in the way of speaking the truth, and having discernment in church matters. In Christianity there is truth that exists irrespective of the positions people hold. And in Christianity we are never meant to exemplify zhong (中) – but instead to choose. To choose gladly that which is good, to love fiercely that which is good, to proclaim passionately the one who is good.
In imperial China district magistrates were placed all over the empire in order to administer the realm. Their position combined both judicial and administrative roles – and as such, these local magistrates collected taxes, settled disputes, tried criminal cases and ensured public order.
But because of the very size of the empire, these local officials held considerable power in their area. By and large, their word was law. And so if you had a problem with your district magistrate – if you felt they were corrupt or abusing their authority or levied unfair taxes – who could you go to?
Nevertheless there was an awareness that local officials were not always going to be fair and impartial in the exercise of their duties. And so if a citizen felt that they could get no justice in their part of the kingdom, they had one recourse open to them – and that was to petition the emperor directly through the petition system (xinfang, 信访).
Petitioners would travel from the countryside to the court of the emperor and present their petition before him as a last resort. It could be the case that the official in your village was corrupt – but at least the ruler, the one endowed with the mandate of heaven, at least he would have the fairness to hear your case. At least he will have the power over the local official to bring you justice.
And the place where people with grievances would go to present their petition? That is known as Tiananmen Square (天安門). That is the significance of Tiananmen Square for the Chinese – traditionally, it is the place where you would bring your complaint before the emperor.
While it has its origins in imperial China, the petition system was revived in the 1950s under Communist rule as a means for people to make suggestions, find redress for their grievances against local authorities, and highlight corruption. The modern xinfang system includes a whole network of petition bureaus in provincial centres, and the idea is that people can seek help at the local level, and then at the provincial level, before heading in to the capital. They may do this through emails, calls, and faxes, or meet an official in person. And today many petitioners still travel from the countryside in order to have their grievances heard.
Because there are implications for local authorities when groups of people petition at higher levels (shangfang, 上访), this practice is actively discouraged by local authorities. Large signs have been spotted in the countryside warning people against “illegal petitioning” (see below). Hard men loiter around railway stations to identify and waylay people from the provinces who are coming in to the capital to petition the government. And petitioners who do eventually make it to the capital often find it an unbearably slow process.
It is a sign of desperation that people pursue the petition system. But for a man who has unjustly lost his livelihood due to some corrupt dealings, or whose only child has been killed by a careless official, this is often their avenue of last recourse.
It is interesting to reflect that the ancient xinfang system reveals an awareness that local officials may still be prone to moral failure, and consequently the need to build a kind of check against the abuse of authority. Much of Confucian society is predicated on the essential goodness of humans – yet here is one instance where that is not the case.
At the same time it also reveals an overwhelming trust in the uprightness and willingness of the ruler to step in and act justly. One can see that this reflects the doctrine of the mandate of heaven (tianming, 天命) – that the ruler alone is entrusted with a divine mandate to rule. And as such, there is the implicit trust that he will always be right, and can do no wrong. That is why the petitioner appeals to him – and not a jury of his peers.
What it also reveals is the strong awareness of injustice, and a yearning for justice, even if it means going against cultural norms – leaving one’s village, going over the head of the local official, creating trouble in the capital… We are built to want justice. However it is doubtful that petitioners always got the justice they sought after – both in ancient and in modern times.
Despite our longing for justice, and the structures that we build – both ancient and modern, Eastern and Western – it is a reality that evildoers sometimes do escape justice on this earth. Often they dine well, often their sleep is untroubled, and often they die a comfortable death. Despite our best efforts, justice is often elusive. This is the harsh reality that Asaph so hauntingly gives voice to in Psalm 73:1-14.
For those who long to see justice done, the news that there is a judgment after death can in fact be welcome news. This is partly why the message of the New Testament is such good news. Because it is good news that there will one day be a righteous judge who cannot be corrupted. It is good news that there will be a judge who sees every hidden act, and who will judge the world with justice (2 Timothy 4.1).
In the end it will be the Son of God – and not the Son of Heaven (tianzi, 天子) – who will bring us the justice we have longed for on this earth.
A recent table on the OMF Facebook page has stirred up a lot of interest – I’ve seen it reposted in multiple places (original post here). It compares the Western and Eastern worldview in a whole series of areas, and shows how both must ultimately be transformed by the gospel. Here it is:
In this post my focus is just on the blue and pink column (and not the green column). And I think that the table does a pretty good job – although I don’t entirely agree with some of the elements in the pink column. In particular, I think it doesn’t quite get it right when it talks about ‘community’.
It is true that Confucius himself was much more civic-minded in his teaching than the Confucianism that we see lived out today – “Within the four seas, all men are brothers.” And so much of his teaching was actually designed to ultimately influence the state as a whole.
However his focus on the virtue of filial piety had the unintended consequence of shrinking the circle of concern from the entire state, down to one’s own family/clan/village.
And so I’d suggest that the following modifications to the pink column might better represent the Eastern worldview:
To a Westerner, the Eastern perspective may seem highly community-focussed, in comparison to the individualistic West. And so it may look ‘communitarian’ – however by and large it is more correct to think of the family as being a person’s circle of concern. The Easterner is ultimately concerned about fitting in well into their family – rather than the fortunes of people who live down the road of their village (‘community’).
In addition, ‘family’ is thought of in quite a different way from how a Westerner would view family. Because we are not talking about the nuclear family unit of father-mother-children. We are talking about the extended family of aunties and uncles and grandparents. But more than that when the Easterner thinks about ‘family’ they are also talking about ancestors (in the past) as well as future descendants (who are yet to be born).
In the diagram above notice firstly what is included in the conception of ‘family’ in both East and West. On the left the focus is on father-mother-children (and grandparents, aunties etc. will still play a significant role) – but on the right, much more is included in the circle. And it even includes deceased ancestors and future unborn descendants.
Note also that what has primacy in both diagrams. On the left is the father-mother-children of one particular family unit (in bold) – but on the right, what is emphasised is the whole line of ancestors – of which I am just a small part. It is the family, considered as a long unbroken line, that has primacy.
It is because of this focus on the ‘family’ (rather than ‘community’) that family members may be very generous to others in the same family – yet distance themselves from the poor in their own village. It’s because of this that corruption sometimes takes the form of an government official only employing people from their own village, and passing over better qualified candidates from other places. And it’s because of this much larger conception of ‘family’ that a Chinese person might not make a fool of himself in public. Because it is one thing to face the disapproval of one’s spouse – but it’s another thing altogether to bring shame on both your ancestors, and succeeding generations of family members.
This orientation towards ‘family’ is massively significant in the Eastern worldview, and you can see that it actually touches many of the elements of the modified table. It influences one’s identity, how one behaves in society, what gives someone satisfaction – and even how one judges what is true!
However OMF’s table is very right to draw our attention to the green column. In the end it’s not a matter of Western or Eastern – but of transforming every corner of our lives and thinking and values in light of the word of God!
1. The interconnectedness of culture
The more I explore Confucianism, the more I am struck by the inherent interconnectedness of all its different parts. Yes we can tease out themes such as the mandate of heaven, or the role of rituals, or filial piety and discuss them in turn. However it is important to note that all of these things are deeply connected to one another – and it is almost impossible to change one part, while all the others remain unchanged.
This means that it is very hard for a person, brought up with a Confucian worldview, to replace only a few parts of that worldview – because it leaves his life essentially unliveable. If he does succeed to remove one part of his worldview, the interconnectedness of culture renders him unable to transact socially with confidence, unable to resolve conflicts properly, unable to assess himself reliably.
But not only that, that cultures are not just held by individuals, they are shared by many people in a community. And so one individual might change his understanding of how conflict is resolved – but unless everyone else in his community also experiences that same change of understanding, it means that he is unable properly resolve conflict when he is in that community. He will find that his understanding of his identity will not accord to other people’s understanding of his identity. His exercise of leadership will not be accepted by the rest of his society.
Imagine if we removed the role of the da ren (great man) from a community and instead insisted that everyone should relate to each other in a less hierarchical, and more egalitarian manner. This might be fine – but it also means that suddenly that community has no way to resolve conflicts. Because the role of the da ren was to speak to fighting parties and plead with them for the sake of his face, to stop fighting and get on with each other. The preeminence of his persona plays an irreplacable role in bringing a kind of resolution to what would be an otherwise intractable conflict.
Take also the example of gossiping. Imagine if we removed gossiping from a community and instead insisted that everyone should speak directly to the people they have problems with. Again that might be fine – but we have done nothing to help with the other person’s loss of face, and we lose the role that other people have in moderating the feelings of the complainant (“such a small thing, just let it go”).
Making a change in one part of the culture (eg. the social heirarchy) has consequences for a different part of the culture (eg. conflict) – because all these parts of culture do not stand in isolation, but are connected with one another. Not only that, making a change in one individual causes difficulties for that individual if that same change is not also made in at least some others.
2. The problems it poses for conversion
Conversion, therefore, may often only take place at the superficial level of beliefs. “Instead of praying to Buddha, I now pray to Jesus.” “I have stopped offering sacrifices at the family shrine – I now bring my offerings to the church.” However there is no real change at the deeper levels of how leadership is conducted, how people present themselves to others, how conflict is resolved. There is no conversion of the values and desires of the heart. And instead these things often remain firmly rooted in the original culture, than in any biblical teaching.
Culture, therefore, is not something that we can pick and choose from – a bit of this from this culture, a bit of that from another culture. Because all the parts function as an integrated package – a package which has proven over the test of time to ‘work’. to be essentially ‘liveable’.
The interconnectedness of the elements of culture (such as, but not limited to Confucianism) means that the conversion of deeper elements of one’s worldview will often face great resistance. Conversion through piecemeal change rarely happens. Add a training package at church about leadership in order to change the leadership culture – and people will fall back to the leadership patterns that ‘work’. Add some Bible teaching about conflict – and people will default to behaviours that conform with the rest of their life.
What can sometimes happen, however, is that an individual undergoes a wholesale and radical conversion. In a short space of time all of his life is overturned. Not only does he now call Jesus his saviour, but in all his values, in his desires for his children, in his approach to his business and conversation and in how he deals with conflict and leadership – all of these things and more will suddenly come under the Lordship of Christ. In this case, a large and interconnected segment of culture is being overturned and challenged and replaced.
Imagine a piece of elastic – it can be stretched, and pulled this way and that – but that stretching never really influences the shape of that piece of elastic. It snaps back into shape very easily – the shape it has held for many years. In the same way challenges to just one or another part of culture by itself does not make a great difference. Because that renders that person’s life unliveable – and he will soon default to the original shape. What needs to happen is a wholesale change of all the parts, all at once – much like the heating and remoulding that a piece of elastic must undergo if it is to take on a new shape.
I once had a conversation with a minister of Cantonese congregation, and I asked him how it was that people in his congregation became Christians. How did conversion happen? does it happen all at once? does it happen gradually? His answer was that it was almost always gradual. People may become churchgoers and take on the external practices of Christianity, but he would often not be certain how truly converted many of them were – even after many years!
Now his experience may be unique – but I suspect the gradual conversion he described is much more common than not. However if it is true that gradual conversion is unlikely to produce true conversion due to the resistivity of culture, this seriously calls into question traditional evangelistic approaches among the Chinese. Missiologist Paul Hiebert warns that,
Public affirmations, warm feelings, and verbal decisions are not enough. There must be evidence of repentance, discipleship, and turning to God.
Paul Hiebert, Transforming Worldviews
Further on, Hiebert warns about the danger of a kind of ‘conversion’ that only involves taking on Christian behaviours and rituals:
Although conversion must include a change in behaviour and beliefs, if the worldview is not transformed, in the long run the gospel is subverted and becomes captive to the local culture. The result is syncretistic Christo-paganism, which has the form but not the essence of Christianity.
Paul Hiebert, Transforming Worldviews
What we need in such cultures then is not minor adjustments to the elastic of culture – for it will simply snap back to what it has always been, due to the interconnectedness of culture. What we need is a heating and remoulding of a person’s whole life including their behaviours, but also their values and desires and worldview – this is the kind of conversion that we want to see in people! Perhaps then in such cultures we should place a much higher emphasis on discipleship. So that churchgoers begin to see the implications of the gospel for all of life – how conflict is handled, how leadership is exercised, how one thinks of themselves in relation to others – before they think of themselves as converted.
What we also need is for a new and transformed community that reinforces and watchfully embodies not just Christian behaviours, but Christian values and desires and worldviews. And so perhaps we should also take much greater note of the phenomenon of ‘group decision making’ and ‘multi individual decisions’ which missiologists have noticed in group oriented societies. In these societies, missionaries seek to have the whole group make an initial decision for Christianity, while at the same time delaying baptism until individuals really do convert. These approaches take seriously the effect that social relationships have on individuals, and so perhaps they are better suited to cultures where the social group is more important than the individual, and where social values need to be overturned.
I mentioned before that Cantonese pastor who was doubtful about how many long-time regular churchgoers were in fact truly converted. It is great to see the growth in Chinese churches. It is great to see many people taking on Christian behaviours and Christian beliefs. But in the words of Hiebert, could it be that some have only “the form but not the essence of Christianity”?