Cancel Culture vs. Redemption Culture
I am a prime candidate for cancelation. In my teens I published my share of cringe-worthy, emotionally unintelligent social media posts (a couple of which went viral and which I’ve since deleted). I’m also a verbal processor, so I’m known to say things out of turn and out of context and definitely out of line with “woke” culture. Some of my political views are too nuanced to fit into the parameters of mainstream political correctness. While I’ve proudly held views that were popularly unpopular, I’ve also said and done things that have caused much more harm than good.
In different situations, I’ve been both an agent of, and a victim of, cancel culture.
Cancel culture is a form of modern ostracization that is largely, though not exclusively, conducted online. In most cases, it consists of public shaming and the denunciation of whatever behaviour has been deemed offensive. This public denunciation is then often followed by a boycotting of the “cancelled” person, with the intention of stripping away any power or platform possessed by the perceived offender.
In an interview with the New York Post, Dr. Jill McCorkel, a professor of sociology and criminology, said that cancel culture is a modern iteration of the age-old human practice of banishment, a practice inspired by the desire to enforce norms. However, McCorkel goes on to acknowledge that while cancel culture is quick to cancel, it is slow to forgive and quick to dismiss second chances.
It’s a common occurrence throughout our digitalized world, where people desire to use their voices for what they believe to be just.
When we are faced with genuine and intentional evil, “cancelation” isn’t necessarily inappropriate. After all, Jesus publicly denounced evil and directed people to revoke their support of movements and people who were harmful. But in this context, I am specifically focusing on the aspect of cancel culture that seeks to shut people down, without any desire for the redemption of the alleged culprit.
We live in a culture that is paradoxical. Pop culture revels in the idea of embracing your imperfections and being “real,” while at the same time viciously decrying any behaviour that is not perfectly aligned with the undefined, and often inconsistent, rules of political correctness and “woke” social justice. You can “be yourself,” but you must also fall in line with popular opinion. You can express your opinion but only as long as it aligns with a politically correct worldview.
As humans, we will mess up. We need space to work our way through the complexities of life. As humans, we know that we are prone to disagreement. Messiness and complexity is part and parcel of being human. And yet, cancel culture creates a societal dynamic where it seems impossible to be authentically human without running the risk of being judged with swift and rigid retribution. Cancel culture is like a minefield, designed to detonate in the face of human nature.
So what does this mean for us as people of Jesus? How do we respond to cancel culture as followers of Christ?
When Jesus walked on earth 2000 years ago, the culture He entered was also one of harsh retribution and “cancelation.” He entered a world where different religious factions rigidly enforced the Law of Moses and who “cancelled” people for not following the rules of Jewish religion (Mt 23:1, Lk 7:36). He entered a world where women were stoned to death for adultery and remarriage, even if their circumstances were no fault of their own (Jn 8:1-16). Jesus entered a world where tax collectors were scorned by their own people for doing the bidding of the Romans (Mk 2:15-17). He entered a world where lepers were banished from society to rot to death and where physical ailment was often seen as being a sign that you deserved punishment for your sins (Jn 9:1-12). Both ancient Jewish law and the laws of the Roman Empire were rigorous, often harsh, and had little room for leniency.
Into this harsh and rigid landscape, Jesus extended a hand of mercy. He denounced the religiosity of the Jewish leaders. He tenderly defended and forgave the adulterous woman. He invited those who were seen as “social pariahs” to be his closest disciples. He healed the blind and kissed the lepers. He helped a Roman officer who was part of the cohort that sought to kill Him.
Jesus didn’t come to cancel people for their sins or to denounce them for their weakness. He came to heal. He came to forgive. He came to redeem. He wasn’t bothered by the messy, sinful, politically incorrect foibles of the people He encountered, because He knew that He was God, and they were His *very* human children. The merciful example which Jesus set wasn’t just for Him. He showed his disciples—and therefore any of us who wish to follow Him today—to “pray for those that persecute and despise you,” and to go out of our way to show love to those who we consider our enemies (Mt 5:44).
However, amid His mercy, Jesus also brought justice. He taught that repentance was a prerequisite for forgiveness and that the ultimate purpose of His Incarnation was to die on the Cross for our sins, a sacrifice that was required by Divine justice.
In those moments in my own life where I should have been cancelled, I was also surrounded by a strong core of people who graciously corrected me and who forgave me despite my errors. I remember one particular time where I acted out of turn and a friend corrected me with grace and then swiftly forgave me. In the face of my error, this friend sought to build a bridge with me instead of burning one down. Her willingness to follow up her correction of me with an extension of forgiveness and friendship, led me to become open enough to actually change my ways. In the spirit of Jesus, this friend offered me the hands of both justice (by correcting me) and mercy (by offering forgiveness and friendship).
Mercy doesn’t nullify justice. Mercy offers forgiveness and extends love to the one who has done wrong, despite having the power to punish. If one looks closely at the mercy that Jesus extended to countless people in the Gospels, He didn’t just offer them mercy; His mercy was always followed by an invitation to come follow Him, and to enter into a life of radical love. The purpose of mercy isn’t to let “the bad guys get away with things” or to be “soft on injustice.” The purpose of mercy, as Jesus demonstrated, is to ultimately invite the “offender” into a life of truth, goodness, and beauty.
As I’ve reflected on how I do or don’t want to participate in cancel culture, the thought I’ve had is this:
I don’t want to participate in cancel culture. I also don’t want to create a culture of “laissez faire,” where injustice goes unchecked.
Considering the example of Christ, I want to be part of a culture that merges justice and mercy. A culture that is not just focused on denouncing real or perceived evils, but a culture that invites people into repentance and the merciful love of Jesus. A culture that acknowledges that disagreement and error are parts of being human and that sometimes the pursuit of magnanimous conversation is more humane than swift denunciation. Simply put, I want to be a part of a redemptive culture.
Redemption is where justice and mercy meet. Redemption admits that there was a wrong or a weakness, calls for just accountability when it’s needed, but then follows the justice with an invitation into a new life. Redemption is best friends with humanity, because redemption knows that human sin and they say stupid things and they tend to get entangled in harsh political disagreement. But redemption, embodied by Jesus Christ, doesn’t respond to this mess with retribution. Redemption responds by saying “Friend, your sins are forgiven. . . go, get up and walk.”
So let’s do it. Let’s bid au revoir to cancel culture and usher in the era of REDEMPTION CULTURE.
Read Part II below where we will talk about practical ways to build a redemption culture.
