I’ve long been a fan of history. The first paper I can remember writing was on World War II. History was one of the majors I came out of college with, and wrestling with the relationship between history and faith was (is) difficult, formative work.
On Sunday, I listened to an interview with Lonnie Bunch, Secretary of the Smithsonian, by Kristen Welker of NBC News. Discussing U.S. History on our 250th anniversary, Bunch offered his vision for what the Smithsonian offers to a nation in polarized times.
“…Americans, we look for simple answers to complex questions. The Smithsonian gives you ambiguity. It helps you understand complexity, nuance, subtlety, debate. And I think that that’s a major contribution. If you could help people feel comfortable with ambiguity, then you could help a nation move forward.”
I couldn’t agree more. When I was in seminary, I struggled mightily to align what I had been taught about our faith with what we knew historically about Biblical times. Over the years, I realized that the simple, literal faith I had received didn’t serve me well. Learning to live with ambiguity, or what others might call ‘mystery,’ was a necessary step forward in my faith journey.
A day after the interview, I was saddened but not surprised to see the White House release a report accusing the Smithsonian of “radical, activist ideology.” While I don’t have the time or knowledge to discern the veracity of all of the report’s complaints, I see the same desire for simplicity, this time with a nationalistic edge. Such a desire undermines scientific inquiry and can lead to the minimization, suppression or erasure of things that don’t fit the pre-conceived narrative.
This problem isn’t one owned exclusively by any political party. Whenever we allow our ideology to drive our desire to understand history, we risk cutting ourselves off from the reality of what we seek to understand.
For example, just as there is a temptation to paper over past harms we have done as a country in some nationalistic fervor, we can also overlook and undervalue the efforts of our forebearers when we judge them solely through the lens of today. Few heroes of the past can stand such scrutiny, just as few parents come out well when evaluated by their teenagers.
History is complicated. So is faith. We keep reaching for simplicity anyway: a clean verdict on our ancestors, a clear sorting of history’s villains and victims, a perfect nation or one that is irredeemable. Bunch’s vision of the Smithsonian, like the seminary classroom I once sat in, offers something less comfortable. Room to not be sure.
Discomfort isn’t a flaw in the process. It might be the only honest way to a truth that liberates.
