On Needing Critics - from Life Itself

For too long in the Christian community, "love" and "unity" mean a fear of conflict, a fear of disagreement, a fear of criticism, a fear of plain speak and direct talk. "Humility" means not saying what you think, and not standing up too firmly for what you believe in. Those who do speak up, then, supposedly have intentions to wound and to divide, and are quickly written off as arrogant.

Part of the problem is not the spiritual side of things, but a wanting educational system where everyone is right. We've never learned how to develop and support and defend our stances and opinions, and as a result most of us really are tossed to and fro  by the waves and carried about by every wind. Christian or not, it's a lack of critical thinking skills and civil discourse skills. Too often, though not always, the only ones left to speak up then truly are arrogant, brash, flippant, belittling.

Watching Life Itself, Roger Ebert inspired me. Too often we see critics as the pretentious intellectual snobs that too easily approve certain things (that are often unpopular) and disapprove of others (that are often popular). They seem to do it to please themselves and their pretentious friends, and there is no real connection with the average consumer. They do it out of narcissism; they love their opinions more than the art and take pleasure in cutting others down. But Ebert seemed different; he seemed to have a real concern for the average person, a real concern for the art, a real concern for the director, and a real concern to make things better. He wasn't a critic to criticize, it seemed he was ultimately a critic to exhort and admonish.

He seemed to detest Siskel, and the feeling was mutual. The way they argued with one another and judged films was not only frank, it was rare in our day where everyone's right, everything's amazing, and no one knows why. But they always backed up what they said, they challenged one another, they hung in there, they stuck together, and ultimately they were both better for it. What they did together was stronger than what they could do apart, and the consistent mutual challenge steadily improved their craft. There were plenty of moments they hated one another, but it seems as though ultimately, they learned to treasure one another.

Ebert did the same with film directors. Though not a director himself, it was almost as if he mentored them. He cheered for them and encouraged them and made them better. He took heat for befriending directors: how would he maintain an objective voice? The reality was just the opposite: he criticized even his friends when it was deserved, and men like Scorcese talked about how valuable that was. They listened, but only because he knew what he he was talking about and because he was a friend.

What if we in the church could experience the same thing? What if we could talk straight and not be afraid of it? What if we pushed one another toward excellence? What if we challenged each other to be the best we could be? What if we hung in there with one another, determined to make it work, hashed it out, kept talking, kept explaining, kept defending and supporting? If it were housed in love and commitment and in gospel-centered unity, and if it were received with listening ears and truly humble spirits, just maybe it would actually make us better.

I'm afraid we too easily shun the critics. But if they've got intentions like Ebert's, I'd say we just might need them. 

I've never been a big follower of Ebert, but I've read plenty of people thanking and praising him. I'm ready to join.