What makes for a successful Row House Forum?
Well, my co-conspirator Ned reminds me often of the original bar set in 2000 when we launched The Ivory Tower: A Common Sense Forum on Arts & Culture:1
At least 6 people must be in attendance, including us and the speaker!
And that still holds true, so long as the overall atmosphere of the event is, for the sake of this column, permeable.
That is, people should walk away sensing they were welcomed, given something to chew on (literally and figuratively), and had some fun connecting with others.
If you were at our April Forum on St. Patrick featuring Graham Dennis, you’d have to admit there was a lot to feel good about: an enlightening talk by an engaging speaker, great food and coffee, and even a troupe of Irish step dancers in the lobby.
It helped to have a sold-out crowd of which at least ten folk were first-timers. We definitely leaped over the success bar!
Still, I’m always scratching around for something that’s harder to quantify, even harder to generate.
In conducting public theology exercises for the common good, I’m aiming for that sweet spot where anyone feels invited into the conversation and where a bridge is built to commend Christianity in the most winsome and penetrating way.
Occasionally those stars align, and I walk away feeling that we gave our audience (and Lancaster city) a gift, not just by what was said but by how it was said.
Allow me to be very honest about two Forums in recent memory where the stars shone brightly, albeit in various misaligned ways.
One I’ll call The Rally, the other, The Fiasco.
Most of you reading this will find it curious, perhaps, that I found The Fiasco more closely fulfilled our mission than The Rally, which on the surface appeared to be entirely successful.
Who were the speakers? I’d rather not say. Plus, it’s not my point here. With a little sleuthing you can find out.
First came The Rally.
It was a huge success in the eyes of most in the crowd, who resonated with the speaker’s approach to culture. He was an adept Christian thinker with a crest-riding book on the history of postmodern thought and his critique of it.
He spoke with clarity and a fair amount of modesty. His Q&A time was vibrant, smart, and respectful. Most of the audience agreed with his presuppositions and came away with a greater sense of confirmation that yes, in fact, we live in “strange times” (taken from his opening line).
His rhetorical approach was deductive. That is, he started with his premise that progressive culture is strange and expounded on its causes: the breakdown of traditional institutions, a preoccupation with the First Person (self), and the powerful influence of technology.
His remedy? To recover sanity in all of these areas along a traditional Western understanding, the very worldview he presupposed is under grave attack.
About 70 attended. Great numbers, that. No one got their nose out of joint, nor did anyone challenge him. I wish I had, though.
I found his deductive approach problematic and felt he did more to quash dissent and discussion than enhance it.
One young woman in particular was visibly distressed by his approach and wanted desperately to leave, but her seat would’ve made her exit obvious. I’ll come back to her because she’s the key to my evaluation of these two Forums.
Then came The Fiasco.
The lecturer, equally PhD-ed and engaging, relayed his viewpoint with passion. He happened to be on the opposite pole from the previous speaker’s take on culture.
He was bitingly critical of fundamentalism and would line up with a more progressive camp of Christianity. Our mission of engaging current culture with ancient faith can handle such variation and nuance.
He gave every indication of approaching his topic academically, even inductively (starting with observations and leading to a conclusion).
His main point of how conservative ideology feeds propaganda that leads to political idolatry was spot on, and his examples of how that works in evangelicalism went right for the jugular: Creation science, white privilege, and red states.
Early on he asked, “Are you with me?” To which the audience largely responded affirmatively.
What they meant was, “Yes, we’re tracking with you.”
But he seemed to take it as an entree to critique some sacred evangelical cows with an emotional fervor that seemed to counter his stated approach. This took me off guard, and I wasn’t the only one.
Even some who tended to agree with his critique of marriage complementarianism, for instance, remarked that his inflamed rhetoric didn’t serve him well.
He conducted the Q&A as he might an undergraduate classroom: directly, with animation—punchy, in fact. (I actually find that approach more educational, but I’ve got thick skin).
His Forum ruffled a lot of feathers. One guy left in the middle and didn’t return. I found out later it was only to use the bathroom.
So, which Forum was more successful: The Rally or The Fiasco?
If we’re trying to be as permeable and welcoming as possible to a public audience, I feel that we missed the mark with The Rally. The atmosphere created by the author made it difficult for anyone with a contrarian point of view to feel at ease in the room.
The young woman I mentioned earlier had come at the invitation of her parents. I caught up with her in the lobby to thank her for coming before she bolted. Wiping tears, she confided, “I’m so angry! I disagree with everything he said.”
It was clear she hadn’t felt welcome at what seemed to her a session of confirmation bias, and being a kind soul, she chose not to stir the pot. I felt horrible for her, so I hugged her and thanked her for coming. Her boyfriend stood at her side, cool and silent as ice.
Her parents, active Christians, took the time to hear her and reconnect as best they could later that night.
It’s no success when one dear soul feels like they’re up against the ropes getting sucker-punched for over an hour.
Could her revulsion have been avoided? Most certainly.
If you want to sell a bicycle, you offer a test ride on one that fits the customer. You don’t offer a racing bike to a granny. Or a squat, cushy trike to an elite athlete.
The speaker’s deductive approach, though a legitimate form of rhetoric, requires an audience to buy into a premise for the sake of argument.
He asked way too much of someone like her. Most young people, especially if they’re in post-evangelical mode, can’t buy into “we’re living in strange times.” Many think we live in increasingly equitable, safe, and enlightened times.
This speaker could’ve started there, building a bridge. Instead, he rallied the troops.
I think back to other Row House speakers who challenged current worldviews with a lot more nuance, imagination, and welcome: Esther Meek, Dru Johnson, and James K.A. Smith.
Each of these, and so many more, created an environment where anyone would be emboldened to ask a question.
As far as fulfilling our mission of publicly commending Christian faith in word and deed, I’ll take The Fiasco any day over The Rally. Why?
The room at The Fiasco was full of people with divergent opinions who were given the opportunity to dissent and challenge each other honestly and civilly.
The dialogue wasn’t always pretty. In fact, it got hot. But as I said in my opening remarks that night:
It’s okay if our discussion gets hot, but light is better than heat.
The light came through the heat. Our audience had a lot of access to our speaker, who graciously continued the conversation at a pub afterwards. No harm, no foul.
His Forum succeeded, imperfectly, at encouraging permeable communication, something our culture needs today more than ever.
In my next column I’ll unpack the rhetorical package a bit more and explain why we tend to chose speakers and topics that aren’t as controversial as the two I describe here.
The famed progenitor of The Row House, Inc.