Works and Prayers of a Fils Prodigue

A question entered my mind as we were discussing “The History of Sexuality” by Michel Foucault in my Modern Criticism class. Our teacher was answering my question about the necessity of Foucault’s formulation of power. Essentially, power is not centralized, but has become a process, by which “force relations” operate within a specific framework or “strategy.” Thus, it is neither centralized nor law-centered, but is essentially diffuse (a point made by Spinoza previously, as my teacher pointed out). “Power is everywhere” and yet localized. And even “points of resistance” function within the bounds of the over-arching “strategy” of discourse, as toothpicks dropped into a bathtub might only make minor tears.

“Discourse transmits power” (although it also can lead to resistance), and this power is seen in discursive situations of all kinds: the confessor to penitent, parent to child, state to citizen, etc. Power is not transferred tangibly, nor is it lost in any sense — it is, in a sense, Monistic, because it exists at “innumerable points” and in countless “relations.” These points revolve around a particular “strategic objective,” or paradigm, which dictates their “tactical efficacy,” or ability to get something done.

To be honest, Foucault’s formulation of power does seem to be a fair observation of the ebb and flow of power in every day discourse, with its assertions and concessions. But the question I jotted down quickly in my paperback copy was “does prosylitization make humility impossible?”

And so I ask, in light of Foucault’s understanding of power as being chiefly extant in “force relations” between individuals in relation to an over-arching paradigm, can we remain humble and yet evangelize? When we attempt to evangelize, we immediately introduce a discourse of have and have-not; “I have the truth, and you do not.” Or, “I understand the truth we both know, while you do not.” This relation seems to have an intrinsic element of power over powerless, and yet, I think this may be a superficial assessment. Many respond as though this were the case, however, when approached by a religious individual. The common response is something like “who are you to tell me that? What right do you have? How is it that you have the truth?” We almost instanteously react as though a “force relation” was being instituted without our knowledge — I know I’ve reacted this way in response to some rather persistent Jehovah’s Witnesses (who actually came to my home). This same reaction is clearly seen in the audience of St. Matthew, who purports to show the Jews just how their Scriptures are fulfilled in Christ. This reaction to perceived condescension, this revulsion at the institution of an involutnary relation, is a ubiquitous response in the West (I cannot speak for the Orient). Nevertheless, does this mean that the Have cannot be humble in relation to the Have-Not?

I don’t believe this is so. According to St. Thomas Aquinas, humility of a true and virtuous sort is willful “self-abasement” based on a man’s awareness of his own limitations. Thomas Merton wrote in “New Seeds of Contemplation” that true humility was equal to true self-knowledge. It is by no means humble for a man to lie about himself — this “false humility” which feigns perpetual inability is neither Christian nor sane. Christ was never so humble that he couldn’t practice his carpentry. In the same respect, it can never be humble for one to feign a lack of knowledge. If I know Latin, it is not humble for me to say that I’ve no knowledge of Latin, being too dumb to acquire it. This is lying, and is a perversion of an otherwise crowning virtue. It is humble (honest) to tell you that I can teach you Latin, but not physics.

Having giving a cursive definition of humility, we can see that the evangelist is in no wise forced into pride by his institution of a “force relation” with another. While it does presume a sense of power, this power does not take a negative form, but a very positive form, as the one who loans you $20 has the power. Love, and subsequently humility, presumes an inequal distribution coupled with a desire to make it more equal. In the case of religious truth, which a religious individual would consider a great Good (leading to the greatest Good), it is not prideful for him to suppose that he holds a valuable good which he wants to diffuse to the masses. One would certainly not accuse Louis Pasteur of pride if he wanted every dairy farmer to understand and utilize Pasteurization!

Therefore, while the evanglist-evangelical does involve a transmission or surfacing of power in the context of a discursive relationship, it does follow that such a relationship would be necessarily negative or, in terms of virtues, prideful. In fact, a humble individual, being intimately acquainted with the truth of his own limitations, is in a much better position to transfer truth to other individuals. The individual who sees his own lack and the lack of his brother, and yet believes that he has the good which slakes that lack, would do his best to diffuse it as widely as possible. And in no sense does this involve an abuse of a “force relation” or pride.

[This is where the joy of having a blog really comes in handy -- because, I didn't really plan to write all this. But because I have a medium, I can follow these thoughts as far as I wish and be as absolutely nebulous and abstract as I so desire. Where else could someone write so badly? Because if I didn't make a firm decision to risk failure, that is, write poorly, I would never write at all. As Chesterton said, "anything worth doing is worth doing poorly."]