Month: March 2021

In a rural Guinean village, a great chasm separates missionary from villager, not only with regard to economic issues but also in terms of basic cultural understanding of honor and shame issues. This case study explores the relationship between a missionary and her local friend and employee, and the difficulties in how to handle theft without casting public shame on the friend. It also examines the differences between the two cultures represented in regard to their views of honor and shame.

Her name was Mariama. I first met her the day we visited her West African village in preparation for moving there. Not long after my family was introduced to her village—where we would end up living for the next 15 years—she took me by the arm and gestured for me to follow her. So I did. She led me to the village spring and demonstrated that I should help her fill up her tub and help set it on her head. I interpreted this act as a gesture of acceptance and welcome, showing me customs of the women in her village. From that first interaction on her part, I decided to pursue a friendship with her.

Mariama became a friend to me in many ways. She was a willing and capable language tutor. She took me to her fields to see her hard work, letting me help her pull peanuts, pick peas, and encourage workers in her field as they planted rice. She confided details about her difficult marriage to me. She also introduced me to her family and friends and opened doors for me with many others in the village. In return, I gave her some lessons in literacy as well as exposure to the world beyond her country.

After about a year of living there, my husband and I learned that the mice in our village carried a hemorrhagic fever and realized that our baby was in danger of finding the rodent pellets that carry the disease while he crawled around our home. I was already feeling overwhelmed by the responsibilities of language learning, home-schooling, and daily living, so I asked Mariama if she would be willing to clean our floors on a daily basis. She was eager to earn an income for an hour’s work each day, so she began cleaning our home. Often we would have impromptu language sessions as she swept and mopped, or we would talk about important life issues while we did the dishes together. Mariama was my window into the workings of the village and the culture of these people. I was her window to the world beyond her village. She helped us when our house caught fire. We helped her with various financial and medical needs in her extended family. I shared outgrown clothes, toys, books, and food with her. She acted as intermediary for others who needed help we could offer.

We did not understand the intricacies of patron-client relationships in an honor-shame culture1 at that time, nor how honor and shame function. But in retrospect we see that as Mariama’s employers and friends of greater means we became her “patrons” and were thus responsible for the financial care of her and her family. As Westerners, we felt that we gave her a generous salary relative to the village’s standards. She, in turn, introduced us to people who could be of help to us or to whom we could offer help. She gave us honor in the village as her patrons (although we did not understand it at the time), and we gave her honor by choosing her as our particular friend.

The most important thing I shared with her was my faith in Jesus and my belief in the goodness of God. I encouraged Mariama to call on Jesus for help as one who loved her and wanted to help her. Gradually, she became more and more interested in Jesus, as she perceived his relevance to her life. I prayed with and for her and her neighbors when the chief encouraged others to take away land belonging to them, and the matter was resolved outside the courts within days of our praying. The group was grateful for our prayers and believed that God had given them justice. At one point, Mariama had an encounter with a “djinn” (a malicious spirit), and she told me later that although she was powerless against the whistling call of the spirit, she did have enough strength within to call on Jesus for help. Moments later a man was walking down the road near her and heard her distress, and he helped her into the village.

Though we helped financially with Mariama’s medications, occasional hospitalizations and surgeries, school fees, and rebuilding her house, we sometimes resented some of the additional requests (which felt like demands) she made of us. For instance, when one wall of her home collapsed, we gave her a generous amount to rebuild the wall. But rather than just rebuilding the wall, she had the whole structure torn down and rebuilt (considerably larger and nicer than before) and requested more money for new tin for her roof. We refused and explained that we had only agreed to a certain amount. She then borrowed the money from a relative and reroofed her home. A couple of months later she began to beg us for the money to repay the lender, who was threatening to take her to court.

Our limited cultural understanding caused us to think that the benefactor was only expected to give a portion of the requested amount, and the person asking for monetary help must go elsewhere for the remaining needed sum (or do without). We perceived the financial relationship as an agreement between two parties; a friendship, yes, but one we tended to compartmentalize from the requests. As I am now coming to understand the patronage system, we, as her friends, were expected to take care of her needs because of our friendship, not apart from it.

About fourteen years into our life in the village, we noticed that large sums of money began disappearing here and there. At the time we were holding a box full of cash for a church in a neighboring people group (as local banks were untrustworthy). It was out of these funds that we first realized a tenth had been taken. At first, we thought it was a coincidence. We could not believe that Mariama, our trusted friend, would steal from us after such a long and deep relationship. We tried to find some other explanation for the missing money. We started being more careful of where we kept cash. After some time it became clear that there was no other explanation. Mariama was the only person with full access to our house. She was often alone for short periods of time in the bedrooms as she swept and mopped. One day, when $500 USD of emergency money disappeared from my dresser drawer, we decided we could no longer employ her in our home.

There was some disconnect between our situation and a normal patron-client relationship in that we were outsiders; the “rules” were somewhat ambiguous for us, and we just had to feel our way along. One complication that played into the honor and shame system was a rumor circulating in the village that Mariama’s salary was more than ten times what she was actually receiving. Her extended family and friends were constantly badgering her for financial help. In their minds, she became the patron and they were now the clients. The reality, which everyone refused to believe, was that she was only slightly better off than they were. In fact, her leprous husband, an amputee, contributed nothing to the family but expenses, so she was even more disadvantaged than they, despite her higher income. Her perceived lack of generosity hurt her reputation in the village, and she suffered shame as a result.

It is important to note that Westerners also have a sense of honor and shame in relationships, although how it plays out is different from a West African sense of honor and shame. For instance, in white middle class America it is considered shameful to make repeated requests for help from friends (even one request is painful and threatens the friendship). We have a strong sense of privacy and ownership, and when friends make requests, it shames them (asking for “charity”) and throws the friendship out of balance. A person who manages his own financial affairs is considered honorable, while an able-bodied person who is dependent on others for financial help is considered shameful. Another instance of shame comes when trust is betrayed, either through talking behind a friend’s back or by theft and dishonesty. When someone we consider a friend betrays our trust, we feel like fools, which shames us as individuals.

Even though I understood the cultural clash in the frequent financial requests (especially in a culture of poverty) and learned to deal with it, I felt great shame at having trusted Mariama for so many years only to have her betray me by stealing from our family. The opportunity to make a change came when we returned after a couple weeks in the capital city. She asked me when she should come back, and we told her we no longer needed her to work for us. She began probing for an explanation. In an effort to avoid direct confrontation about the thefts, I told her we could no longer afford to employ her. That was not enough of an answer, and she continued probing more insistently. Finally I told her that we were missing large sums of money. She immediately placed the blame on her daughter (whom our teacher had caught stealing from the school house some time in the past). However, we knew her daughter had no access to our home and could not have done it. Eventually Mariama admitted to taking certain amounts of money, but she claimed it was from family pressure. She never admitted to taking the US cash.

We truly had no desire to shame Mariama. Although she had stolen from us and lied to us, we did not want to do anything to hurt her. Most people of her culture would have had her arrested and thrown in jail. We could not do that to our friend. We could have publicly shamed her before the village by calling the elders together to discuss the situation. Again, we did not want to expose her to shame in that way. So we tried to keep it quiet.

Various friends and family members came to us individually or in pairs on her behalf, asking us to allow her to work again in our home. These were people with whom we had a friendship and/or working relationship. One of these was an esteemed elder of the village who had helped us with some translation work. Another was a literacy worker we respected. Even one of Mariama’s older brothers, who represented the family, appealed to us on her behalf. Finally, close mutual friends of Mariama’s and mine came as well. Though we still considered her a person we loved, we no longer trusted her and would not allow her to come back to work in our home. We did not discuss it with her friends in the village, unless they came to advocate for her, and we felt obligated to explain the truth. We did not want her to lose face in the village, but found it impossible to hide a damaged relationship like that.

In Sankaran culture, when a person asks for “pardon,” the wronged party is somewhat obligated to pardon the wrong-doer. But for us as Christians (and I’m sure our Western worldview played a part in this), we did not feel that forgiving a wrong should be without consequences. To accept her vow that she would never steal again and give her back her job as though nothing had happened would be normal behavior in her culture (assuming the jail and public shaming scenarios had not happened). But we did not trust her word anymore and refused to hire her back. Her attitude never seemed as repentant as we had hoped, and thus the promise of future honesty did not seem genuine to us. We later learned, to our regret, that refusing to give her back the job was tantamount to shaming her, since everyone in the village knew our relationship and that she had worked for us.

As I look back on these events, I realize that we were looking for some sign of guilt and remorse. As a member of a society in which honor and shame, as well as fear and power, play a much stronger part than in my own culture, she was doubtless behaving exactly as would any shamed person. She did not act as a person who was experiencing inner feelings of guilt.

After about five months, it was time for our family to leave the village. We left on a cordial basis with Mariama. We had hoped over time to reestablish a stronger friendship, but we have been unable to return on a permanent basis. For two years Mariama disappeared from the village, presumably to work in the gold mines in the east of the country. She returned only a few months ago, weak and thin, around the time her husband died.

I sometimes ask myself, did I handle the situation appropriately? Did my manner of dismissing her cause her absence from the village out of shame? What about her faith in Jesus: did she give that up when we left? I tried to avoid shaming her, but was there something else I should have done?

At a deeper level, how much did her theft stem from anger and frustration? She related numerous times that her friends and neighbors all thought she made far more money than she did. They made impossible demands of her, casting her unfairly as selfish and stingy, a shameful characterization. When she borrowed money she was unable to repay, she put herself in a painful position with her relative. Our refusal to give beyond what we promised may have given her the motivation she needed to begin stealing what she could find from us. After all, we clearly had more than we needed, and she needed far more than she had! We will never know all that went into the thefts, but it is clear that complex feelings of shame were a part of the motivation.

In consulting with Isiyaka, our trusted village friend and cultural advisor, he explained that we acted mercifully by not taking her to court or before the elders, but that we should have extended “pardon” by taking her back into our home to work (at least until we left the country). Since we did not do that, he suggested that we give her a very generous condolence gift in honor of her husband’s death, which would both give her status in the village (by demonstrating our forgiveness) and would help her to recoup her financial losses that she apparently suffered while working in the mines.

As I recently reviewed the situation with Isiyaka, I became aware that although I have forgiven Mariama, I continue to have mixed feelings and beliefs about the whole situation. My anger still wells up at Mariama’s attitude following the acknowledgement of her theft, her excuses and blaming others for her behavior in particular. The fear that we were not as quick to forgive as Jesus would have asked of us also nags my conscience (shame?). How much benevolence am I obligated to give out in order to be a good patron? It is not enough to understand the concepts of honor and shame and how patronage cultures function; I am still a product of my culture, and though I may try to act according to my host culture’s rules, I will still struggle with my own beliefs, values, and worldview in the given situation. These cross-cultural situations are a complex negotiation process in which it is difficult to understand fully and abide by the rules.

Discussion Questions

1. What kinds of actions could have been taken throughout the relationship to minimize feelings of shame and frustration between the Farisses and Mariama, coming from two such different cultures?
2. How might the missionaries have handled the thefts in a way that would have caused less shame to Mariama?
3. In view of the honor-shame dynamics of the relationship, how might there be full reconciliation with Mariama in the future?

Sherry Fariss grew up as a missionary kid in Brazil until the age of 13. She studied various languages at Abilene Christian University as an undergraduate and missions and New Testament Greek as a graduate student. She spent two years as a missionary apprentice in France. Later she received a PhD in Linguistics from the University of Texas at Arlington and joined Pioneer Bible Translators. She and her husband and kids moved to Guinea, West Africa, where they lived and served for 15 years in a Sankaran village and worked at translating the Bible. They currently reside in Dallas, Texas with their four children and continue to work on the Sankaran Bible translation.

The following cases highlight the ways honor and shame dynamics are experienced among the people of Huancayo. Themes like conflict resolution, family relationships, and self-perception are addressed below, showing how honor and shame mentality affects cross-cultural mission interactions. These stories are actual examples that the missionaries experienced in Huancayo. Names and personal details were altered, but the accounts come from real interactions.

Jason and his team of missionaries from the US have been church planting in the city of Huancayo, Peru, elevated 10,600 feet above sea level in the Andes Mountains. Huancayo is known nationwide as the city that has more fiestas than days of the year. The fiestas are filled with traditional dancing, colorful costumes parading in the streets, and a heavy dose of alcohol consumption. Many of these fiestas date back to before the Spanish conquest, celebrating the apus (gods) of the land, as the people of the region are a largely agrarian society. The influence of the Catholic church reformed many of these fiestas, giving them Christian names and repurposing them to honor various santos (saints). These celebrations often last many days and involve heavy drinking and pagapus (offerings) to the saints or the apus for whom the festival is held.

Huancayo is a familial society. The families pass on traditions, stories, and stay connected through these celebrations. There is a strong sense of connection with family, both alive and deceased, during these celebrations that keeps people faithful to them. Family members often travel from other cities just for these festivals. The family shares in all the costs, passing around the responsibility of the mayordomo (host) to a member each year. The costs of these festivals are tremendous. While the festivals celebrate the family, they often create significant burdens. Loyalty to the family and the tradition cause many to feel obligated to take out loans to cover costs. There is an expectation to drink excessively, passing the same glass in a circle for hours. One must take off work for the days of the festivals, which affects many day laborers. All are expected to give an offering to the particular saint or apu that is being celebrated.

Juan and Carlos were some of the first converts to the new church in Huancayo. The brothers had identified as Catholics but were not devout, except in regard to the fiestas. They have three other siblings whose families all share the same house. They are a tight family, faithful to the yearly celebrations. Every October, the family hosts the festival of San Francisco de Asis, which includes the dance of La Tunatada and traditionally celebrates the ganado (livestock). As new Christians, the brothers and their families struggled to know what to do with the family festival. They knew that they would be practicing something that honored other gods and not Christ. They also knew that it led to “passing the glass” or heavy drinking that had almost destroyed their families.

The drinking ritual is to sit in a circle and pass the same glass around, refilling the glass with cerveza (beer) after each person has finished. The passing of the glass goes on for hours and even days until the fiesta is over. A great sense of bonding happens when passing the glass. Stories are shared and family traditions are recited. It creates a sense of belonging. When one does not participate, those within the circle often make fun of or criticize that person. Those not passing the glass often experience rejection or feel as if they are offending the family. If they fail to keep the traditions, there is a sense of distancing themselves from the family. Along with distancing from family comes insecurity and fear. Not passing the glass means so much more than simply not drinking.

Jason and his mission team knew the festivals were coming. Their teaching emphasized commitment to Christ, citing teachings from Jesus that would have his followers leave family if it meant following him. The brothers understood the call of Christ. They understood that the new life they had in Christ called them to leave their abuse of alcohol that led to domestic abuse. As the time approached, family members began coming into town. Preparations for the festival were being made. A family meeting was held to divide up the responsibilities, followed by a time of “passing the glass.” The brothers felt the pull. They talked to the missionaries about the feelings, saying, “We cannot offend our family, it’s our custom, family is everything, and we must participate to not disappoint the family or they may reject us.”

The brothers gave into the family pressure. The festival arrived, and the feelings of shame for not participating were greater than the shame that would come from their drunkenness. The feelings of kinship outweighed their desire for faithfulness to Christ. Their fear of rejection and loss of identity propelled them into the celebration, keeping with the tradition. The brothers normally hosted the Wednesday night Bible study. One evening, the church gathered in their home without them. One member had driven past the fiesta on the way to the study and saw the brothers dancing and drinking. The shame of leaving behind the family traditions was greater than the shame of the church gathered in their own home without their presence.

Jason and the missionary team faced this same situation with many of those learning to follow Jesus. The commitment to save face with family and ties of kinship are so strong, many cannot fully commit to Jesus. It is a constant struggle for the new believers, continuing to plague their families as many accumulate debt, abuse spouses, and recover from drunkenness days later. It is almost predictable when certain festivals are held that church attendance will suffer.

The mission team struggled to understand why these brothers, and others, continued to participate in the family traditions when the costs were so great. The missionaries could not understand the brothers’ failure to see how their family was encouraging destruction in their relationships with their wives and children. They could not seem to help the brothers understand that those family ties were not based on the love and abundant life that God promises but were about self-serving pleasure that produced negative consequences. Many of the extended family members whom the brothers were so desperate to please lived far away and only came around when it was time to drink, often expecting the brothers to foot the bill for the cases of beer. To the missionaries, the brothers’ connection to those extended family members seemed shallow, but the brothers considered keeping the connection an imperative.

The missionaries spoke with the brothers of the consequences of their actions that come with the festival. They emphasized that the excessive drinking, overspending, and the potential for domestic violence would cause feelings of guilt and regret. Their actions would not bring about the life Christ desired for them. The actions would bring chaos and not peace. Yet, with all the warnings of their actions during these fiestas, the brothers passed on their commitment to Christ and passed the glass instead.

1. What dynamics of honor/shame are present in this case? What was the perspective of the young Christians? What was the perspective of the missionaries that they struggled to reconcile with the traditional practice?
2. Why might the missionaries’ teaching not have been effective?
3. How could the gospel be presented in terms of honor/shame in order to more effectively reach the young Christians?

Shame on me

Pedro is a taxi driver. The number of hours he drives determines the amount of income he makes each day. Taxi drivers are among the lowest paid workers in Huancayo. Most fares are only 5 Soles ($1.25), and with car maintenance and fuel, drivers only make between 60–80 Soles ($20–25) a day, requiring at least 10–12-hour shifts. Living on the edge of poverty with little income to cover emergencies, many wait until something is broken before they bother checking on it. This was Pedro’s experience.

One night, Pedro called John, the local US missionary. His car had broken down on the side of the road. His taxi had been making funny noises for some time, but Pedro never checked it out. He asked John to come and tow his car across town to a mechanic. The car would not shift gears because the clutch had burned out.

John was pleased to assist Pedro, but the entire way Pedro apologized for inconveniencing John. He kept repeating that he felt like a failure because his car had broken down. He continued to apologize, further shaming himself to save face. “I need to be a better man,” he said. “I can’t believe what a failure I am for this happening,” he said. “I don’t deserve your friendship, John; I am worthless,” he lamented.

John was astounded at Pedro’s thinking. John thought, “His car broke down; it happens to the best of us. Why is Pedro being so hard on himself, belittling himself and ashamed to ask for help?” John wondered. In John’s mind this was a simple mistake and didn’t have anything to do with their friendship.

John towed Pedro to his destination. John’s clothes were a little dirty from tying the tow rope. Pedro noticed and insisted on washing John’s clothes for him, continuing to apologize. Finally, a little annoyed, John said, “Pedro, forget about it. This is what friends do when there is a need. Tranquilo (calm down), it’s just a car and it broke down. This doesn’t mean you are a bad person.” Pedro listened and thanked John. John drove Pedro home, and as they were saying goodbye, Pedro looked at John with tears in his eyes and apologized once more.

1. With what honor/shame dynamics was Pedro wrestling?
2. Why did John become frustrated with Pedro’s responses and incessant apologizing?
3. In terms of honor and shame, what would you say to Pedro to help him understand the gospel, relieving the shame he felt?

This Little Light of Mine

Janet, a US missionary, invited Flor, a new believer, over to her home for dinner one night. Janet served spaghetti, and the two talked for many hours. It was a great night of food and conversation. During the conversation, Flor had some questions about a few theological topics, mainly regarding her concerns with talking about Satan and his power in church gatherings.

Flor had previously had some bad experiences with some charismatic churches and their practices of casting out demons and trembling uncontrollably. These experiences frightened her, turning her away from religion in general. However, after a friendship had begun between Flor and Janet’s missionary teammate, Tamara, she had agreed to study the Bible. Tamara studied weekly with Flor and her family, including her two young girls.

The dinner conversation continued, and Flor became very serious. With a concerned face, she said to Janet that she needed her help. Janet braced herself for a heavy conversation. Flor said, “I have a concern with Tamara.” Expecting the worst, Janet listened intently. Flor continued, “Every time we have a Bible study, Tamara always sings ‘This Little Light of Mine.’ I am concerned because that song talks about the Devil’s power (‘Don’t let Satan blow it out’), and I think that Tamara is giving more power to the Devil than he is due.”

Flor went on to describe her discomfort with the song, stating she wished that Tamara would not sing it anymore. However, she thought this was one of Tamara’s favorite songs, and she did not want to offend her. Flor was afraid that if she asked Tamara not to sing that song anymore, she would not continue to come to her house and study the Bible with her. Still, she really did not want that song sung anymore in her house.

Janet, a bit stunned at the seriousness of the conversation, responded that Flor could talk to Tamara without fearing rejection. Janet told Flor that it was safe to be direct with Tamara and that she could share how she felt. Janet told Flor that she could share her concerns without offending Tamara. Besides, Janet knew Tamara only sang that song because she thought that Flor’s girls would enjoy it. The two women continued eating. Janet felt at ease now knowing the situation and leaving with a bit more understanding of how the culture in Huancayo handles confrontation. Flor could not bring herself to share her feelings with Tamara, no matter how uncomfortable she felt with the song. Indirectly, Flor was able to solve her problem.

1. What honor/shame dynamics do you find in this story?
2. How did culture influence differences in conflict resolution?
3. Taking these dynamics into account, what should the missionaries teach the church about handling conflict?

Jeremy Davis lives in Chattanooga, TN. He has worked as a church-planter in both Mumena, Zambia and in Huancayo, Peru. He holds a Master’s in Global Service from Abilene Christian University and is currently working on an EdD in Positive Organizational Leadership. He is married to Whitney (Mann) Davis and has 3 daughters. He currently works as a Bible History teacher for the Hamilton County Schools.

English translations of Paul’s letters to Corinth usually translate doxa as “glory.” Contemporary English speakers seldom use this archaic term in daily conversation, leaving one to wonder what it communicates to a Western reader. This paper takes a section of 2 Corinthians where doxa appears fourteen times and makes the case for translating doxa as ‘honor” more than half the time. When the text is read from the perspective of honor, it strengthens the contrast Paul makes between a lesser and greater doxa and identifies a theology of mission that, for Paul, has deep roots in the honor of God.

God’s will to be known among all nations as the living God, worthy of honor and praise will be realized wherever his people faithfully reflect the honor (character, image) of God. Chris Wright captures the gravity and the hopefulness of this missional task:

So all our missional efforts to make God known must be set within the prior framework of God’s own will to be known. We are seeking to accomplish what God himself wills to happen. This is both humbling and reassuring. It is humbling inasmuch as it reminds us that all our efforts would be in vain but for God’s determination to be known. We are neither the initiators of the mission of making God known to the nations nor does it lie in our power to decide how the task will be fully accomplished or when it may be deemed to be complete. But it is also reassuring. For we know that behind all our fumbling efforts and inadequate communication stands the supreme will of the living God, reaching out in loving self-revelation, incredibly willing to open blind eyes and reveal his glory through the treasures of the gospel delivered in the clay pots of his witnesses (2 Cor 4:1–7).1

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians gives his mission statement as the task of revealing “the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God” and to have hearts that “give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ” (2 Cor 4:4–6).2 This article probes what readers in honor-shame cultures might see (or need to see) in 2 Cor 3–4 and the missiological implications of the honor of God. The background for Paul’s mission statement comes before the familiar “therefore” in 2 Cor 4:1. The values of an honor-shame culture permeate the two chapters that precede this mission statement. After the “therefore,” Paul writes that he does not engage in shameful distortions of God’s word or shameful behaviors because his mission openly seeks to honor God by proclaiming Jesus Christ as Lord, as the image of God who unveils the doxa of God (2 Cor 4:1-6).

Assumptions

1. Two simplified meanings will be used for kabod/doxa.

The uses of the Hebrew kabod and the Greek doxa in the Bible are extremely rich and complex. Beyond the original languages, we have even more challenges with our own language. Nothing betrays the inadequacy of the “clay pots” (4:7) more than the limitations of human language to represent or describe the Creator. Translators of the English Bible have typically translated the Hebrew word kabod and the corresponding Greek word doxa as “glory” when God is the subject and “honor” when associated with humanity. However, there are many times when “glory” (and its derivatives) is used in reference to God and humanity. This begs the question: Why is “honor” not an appropriate, perhaps even a more accurate translation in many of these instances? For example, there are 470 cases of glory, glorified, or glorious in the ESV, and 139 refer to humanity.3 As David deSilva explains, doxa “has a range of meanings in large part consonant with considerations of honor. It may mean ‘opinion’ or ‘reputation,’ or be used as a synonym for the word ‘honor’ (timē) or may refer to the trappings of a king.”4 Why doxa was chosen to translate kabod in the Septuagint is as yet unknown. When used in association with God, kabod could mean honor, a title of honor, or the physical phenomenon that represents the status, power, righteousness, holiness and character of God.5 For the sake of this discussion, I will simplify and limit the definition to two “glories”—one associated with the physical phenomenon related to the presence of God (light, radiance, power) and the other a reference to the character, and nature of God as described in Exod 34:6–7.

A problem with the history and tradition of the translation of kabod (which could be translated “glory” or “honor”) in relation to God is that it is almost always translated “glory,” leaving the meaning to the assumptions of a Western reader that it refers to radiance, brightness, and the physical phenomenon of God. The failure to translate kabod as “honor” in those contexts that clearly relate to the divine nature, cheats the reader out of what is being claimed about the ethical, moral, and righteous character of God. In a sense, it “de-honors” God. To view God’s doxa/kabod only in terms of God’s appearance would be something like giving sole attention to the visible beauty of the bride on her wedding day rather than also honoring the purity of character and nobility of the woman. This discussion of 2 Cor 2:1–4:6 proposes that something about the knowledge of God can be lost by “veiling” the kabod and doxa of God with “glory” dominated by the first sense.

2. Exod 32–34 is a backdrop for 2 Cor 3-4:6.

Paul may be responding to a question of why the Jews do not accept his gospel when he is a Jew who lived in Jerusalem and was well-known by his community.6 His response builds on the shared familiarity with the Mosaic covenant and the story of the encounter Moses had with God in receiving the commandments. He uses the imagery of the veil that covered the face of Moses (2 Cor 3:13) as a visual analogy for the hardness of their hearts toward Moses to explain their present resistance toward the Messiah, the Spirit of God, and the mission of God. The apostle compares himself to Moses, since he too saw the blinding glory of God on the road to Damascus. He also compares the two covenants in order to contrast the response of Israel to the first and the Jews in Corinth to the second.

Indicators of a Shared Value of Honor in 2 Cor 2:1–4:6

Our interest has been drawn to the value of honor in 2 Cor 2–4 because of the unusually high usage of doxa, but this is by no means the only presence of the theme of honor in his letters to Corinth. The following section identifies the prevalence of honor, as a shared value, for Paul and the church in Corinth.

The Group Is More Important Than the Individual (2 Cor 2:1–11)

Honor/shame societies are collectivistic, that is the identity of the individual will be determined by their relationship to the community. Note that every “you” is a plural you in 2 Cor 2:1–11. Paul writes to the whole church with the understanding that when one suffers it causes everyone pain (2:5). Also, when one has joy (2:3) it will lead to the joy of all. The “punishment by the majority” (2:6) could only take place in an honor-based society where the group is more important than the individual. This may explain why the discipline of the group would be extremely rare in a Western white middle-class church because the individual is more important than the group. In the individualistic society it will be extremely difficult to persuade a majority of the church to hold a brother or sister accountable for actions that dishonor the church and God. They do not want to “hurt” the individual but seem to have a high tolerance for the damage their silence will bring on the church–and correspondingly on Christ. When the church remains silent about social injustices among its members or fails to fulfill its mission, it will struggle with directives Paul gives to the church in Corinth or that James gives the church in Jerusalem. The goal of a collectivistic society is restoration and reconciliation, so the whole group will also love, forgive, and comfort the offending member (2:9–1), because the honor of Christ is at stake (2:10). A few chapters later Paul links the collective responsibility of the church to fulfill its mission, the “ministry of reconciliation,” which honors Christ (as ambassadors) and becoming the honor (righteousness) of God (5:18–21).

The depth of fellowship Paul shares with the church in Corinth supports their decision to forgive even if he does not know the details. He will honor the decision of the majority. Why? For Paul, this matter takes place in the “presence of Christ,” as if they are all looking onto the face of Christ and would not take lightly his grace and mercy. Christ and the church “save face” when the offending disciple acknowledges the sin and repents of whatever dishonored Christ. The church honors God by forgiving and loving the brother to avoid the designs of Satan to “outwit” them (2:11, 17; 4:6).

Paul’s Mission Was to Honor God Everywhere (2 Cor 2:12–17)

Paul expects the proclamation of the gospel of Christ to take place “in the sight of God” (2:17) as if the face of God has been turned toward them—like the “presence of Christ” (2:10). To illustrate this point Paul draws on the imagery of Roman victory processions. The Roman Empire celebrated its global power with triumphal parades through Rome, which also served to shame the conquered. For the conquered, such parades must have felt like a procession from “death to death.” This is illustrated in the story of the zealots at Masada who chose to end their own lives before they would allow the Romans to lead their wives and children through the streets of Rome. Paul pictures God as the one honored in the procession while Satan and “shameful peddlers of God’s word” are outwitted through the power of Christ (2:14) and the sincere (honorable) proclamation of God’s word (2:17). The victors in Christ experience the fullness of life—“life to life” (2:16). But Paul places himself with the conquered, the ones being led in the procession (2:14), those suffering the “shame” of defeat, conquered by God. For those who are being saved, it is an honor. Those who are perishing fail to see the honor in surrendering to God and dying to self (2:6; 4:5). The scandal of the cross is a key to Paul’s point here. As Jayson Georges and Mark Baker explain, “In Paul’s metaphor, he is a willing slave being shamefully led to death (2 Cor 1:9; 4:10; 6:9) and bringing honor to his master. In God’s economy, shame is honorable. Christians boast in weakness.”7

Paul lived in opposition to the cultural norms of honor in Rome, Corinth, and Jerusalem. He viewed himself as the servant of God with little status and power. Schnabel describes that tension well: “Paul’s description of missionaries, preachers and teachers as ‘servants’ turns the frame of reference of Greco-Roman society and its notion of social prestige, where personal honor and status were of paramount importance, upside down.”8

As Paul turned the shameful Roman victory procession into a picture of how the mission of the church (= ministry of reconciliation and righteousness) honors God, he prepares the readers for turning the tables on the brilliance and glory of the face of Moses when God wrote on tablets of stone to the greater doxa of the Spirit of the living God writing on human hearts. The contrast between the glory of letters carved on stone and the honor of the ministry of righteousness (3:7 vrs 3:9) grows bolder.

The Spirit Honors the Living God (2 Cor 3:1–6)

The word of God, written on tablets of stone, did not bring honor to the living God in the way that the word written by the Spirit on the hearts of the church in Corinth did (3:2). Neither did the detractors of Paul honor God in seeking status based on their credentials. Paul’s honor was based on his willingness to be open and transparent to all as compared to the “credentialed” who may have asked that no one follow up on their references.

Paul is shifting their confidence in their court of reputation to the character and nature of God, Christ, and the Spirit (3:4–6). He also contrasts the tablets of stone with human hearts, which suggests his opponents are Jewish or at least are familiar with the narrative of Exod 32–34. God is further honored when his disciples claim their “sufficiency is from God,” and the source of the transformative honor in their inner being comes from the Spirit of God (3:4, 6).

Two “Glories” (2 Cor 3:7–4:6)

Reading this text for the first time may lead one to ask, what is the “glory” Paul is talking about and why is a veil necessary? On top of this he infuses the discussion with imagery of “light,” “veiled minds,” and “veiled hearts.” He seems to be responding to Jewish critics who challenged the effectiveness of his ministry and his message. In his defense, he compares himself to Moses in several curious ways. In order to understand the force of Paul’s argument, it is necessary to review the text from which Paul draws his thoughts. One gets the feeling that Paul just read Exodus 32–34 and started writing about the “glory” (doxa in the LXX) that Moses asked God to show him (Exod 33:18).9 God responds twice, first an immediate declaration about his character (33:19) followed by instructions (33:20–34:3) that prepare for a second declaration to Moses the next morning on Mt. Sinai (Exod 34:6–7). When we employed these two revelations from the LORD to define the kabod/doxa of God, we would immediately note the lack of any reference to his radiance, might, or light. Exodus 33:19–20 and 34:6–7 present the most significant self-description of God anywhere in scripture—until the incarnation of Christ, who was the doxa of God full of grace and truth (John 1:14).10

God’s first response to Moses references goodness, good name, graciousness, and mercy—all qualities of honor. We could say that Moses asked to see who he was talking to—to see the face or the physical presence of God (doxa-glory) but God responded with a revelation of his divine nature (doxa-honor). The next day the LORD continues the same focus on who he is, his honor, his character, when he proclaimed: “The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children’s children, to the third and fourth generation” (Exodus 34:6–7; ESV).

When Moses came down from the mountain, he did not know that “the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God” (Exod 34:29–30), which frightened Aaron and all the people. Whenever Moses finished speaking to Israel he would put a covering over his face until he returned to speak to the LORD. Nowhere in this section of the story of the shining face of Moses in Exod 34 does the word kabod (glory) appear. Paul appears to introduce “glory” into the narrative of the brightness of the face of Moses to set up his use of the imagery of the veil to explain the Jewish rejection of the gospel. He observes that the letters on stone “came with such glory that the Israelites could not gaze at Moses’s face because of its glory, which was being brought to an end.” This observation then leads Paul to ask in contrast: “Will not the ministry of the Spirit have even more glory?” (2 Cor 3:7–8). The description of Moses’s face in Exodus 34:29–30, 35 does not use the word for “glory” in Hebrew. However, the LXX uses “glory” (doxa), which is what Paul was reading.11 What I understand from Paul’s argument is that the radiance/glory of Moses’s face did not transform lives in the way the Spirit changed lives to honor God in Corinth—which gives the Spirit much greater honor.

Paul’s argument brings the honor of God into the new age, for the honor of God is in Christ, who is the image of God.12 The veil that becomes a barrier between Israel and the honor of God can only be taken away by Christ (3:14). To make the contrast with Moses more obvious, Paul continues the imagery of the radiance of Moses to the face of Christ in concluding: “For God . . . has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory [doxa] of God in the face of Jesus Christ” (4:6). In other words, God has made it possible for us to reclaim his honor in our lives through Jesus Christ.

Paul uses doxa 14 times in 2 Cor 3:7–4:6. Even though each occurrence could be studied in much more depth, we should be able to discern which of the two perspectives of doxa (radiance/light or honor/character) makes best sense in the flow and logic of Paul’s argument. Below is a list of each of the occurrences of doxa and my assessment of which of the “two glories” would best fit the context. This exercise will challenge the overuse of “glory” in the English translations, a tradition that has veiled the honor of God to the English reader.

1.	“came with such glory (3:7) This reference to Exod 34:30 describes the “skin of his face shone” because he had been with the LORD.	Radiance/ Light
2.	“could not gaze at Moses’s face because of its glory” (3:7) This reference to Exod 34:30 describes the “skin of his face shone” because he had been with the LORD.	Radiance/ Light
3.	“will not the ministry of the Spirit have even more glory” (3:8) The reference to the “ministry of the Spirit” would make honor the appropriate rendering of doxē because “ministry” is not an entity that could shine or be veiled for the believers in Corinth. The greater honor is in the fact that the Spirit transformed the lives of disciples in Corinth who became compassionate, merciful, faithful, and forgiving (Exod 34:6–7) in ways that the law did not transform the inner life.	Honor/ Character
4.	“if there was glory in the ministry of condemnation” (3:9) Aaron and Israel feared Moses and would not go near the light because it really meant judgment to them (Exod 34:30), or as Paul wrote, “the letter kills” (3:6).	Radiance/ Light
5.	“the ministry of righteousness must far exceed it in glory” (3:9) If “shine” or “gaze” were in the sentence we could be satisfied to use “glory” here for doxē. However, the association with righteousness would point to a quality of character, making “honor” the likely choice, lending more support to its superiority and effectiveness.	Honor/ Character
6.	“what once had glory” (3:10) Here we have an obvious reference to the radiant light on the face of Moses from Exod 34:30. In fact, the Hebrew term here is qaran and only appears four times in the OT, three of them in Exod 34:30 (the fourth in Ps 69:31). Paul was relying on the LXX which used doxa in each of these cases.	Radiance/ Light
7.	“has come to have no glory at all” (3:10) Same as above, the Hebrew term here is “radiance.”	Radiance/ Light
8.	“because of the glory that surpasses it” (3:10) While light and honor could go from dim to great, the contrast Paul is making between light at Sinai and the honor of Chist would cause me to opt for the latter. Honor surpasses radiance. Honor is developmental, radiance is experiential. Paul will soon refer to growing from “one degree of doxa to another” (3:18).	Honor/ Character
9.	“if what was being brought to an end came with glory” (3:11) This would be another reference to the radiance in Exod 34:30.	Radiance/ Light
10.	“much more will what is permanent have glory” (3:11) The brightness of the face of Moses ultimately faded. In contrast, the new covenant in Christ will not be known by a fading radiance as much as being superior in eternal honor, in reclaiming the image of God through the spiritual transformation of mercy, compassion, faithfulness, forgiveness, and love of God in the lives of the disciples of Christ (= Exod 34:6–7).	Honor/ Character
11.	“we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord” (3:18) We have no knowledge of Christians in Corinth seeing bright lights on Paul’s face, but what they all experienced was the honor of the Lord in mercy, compassion, forgiveness, (= Ex. 34:6–7) in lives transformed by the gospel of Christ.	Honor/ Character
12.	“transformed into his image from one degree of glory to another” (3:18) The transformation of believers at Corinth had nothing to do with their faces shining brighter but had everything to do with the developmental restoration of the image (= honor) of God in their lives as the Spirit produces more compassion, mercy, forgiveness, and faithfulness in their hearts (= Exod 34:6–7).13 This implies a dynamic maturation of the inner life (character) that takes place when believers are led by the Spirit. It is important to note that the transformation is taking place within each disciple, an intransitive action, rather than something they do to or for God, like praise and worship. Also note that our language is inadequate here because English verbs “glorify” and “honor” have no intransitive—except for a negative intransitive, which is “boasting,” that Paul also uses in this letter (10:15–16). This verse is preceded by a declaration and a promise that makes the transformation possible. “But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom” (3:16–17). Freedom from what? I am of the opinion that it is freedom to reclaim the image of God and become more honorable. Other possibilities would be freedom from shame,14 from the temporary values of worldly achievements,15 or hard heartedness.16	Honor/ Character
13.	“from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ” (4:4) What is behind the imagery? The god of this world will blind people to the unseen. The gospel sheds light on the human condition and gives hope and a way to live that transforms hard hearts into compassionate neighbors, cruel landowners into merciful masters, hatred into love, etc. (= Exod 34:6–7). When they respond to the gospel, the Spirit brings the honor of Christ (who is the image of God and thus the honor of God) into their lives.17	Honor/ Character
14.	“to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God” (4:6) If only the knowledge of God made itself known globally by a blinding bright light that would give indisputable evidence of the presence of God anywhere the evangelist might go! Believers in Corinth experienced a transformation of their hearts by the knowledge of the honor of God “in the face of Christ.” Their response to the gospel received the blessing of Christ. By the end of the letter Paul will ask them to examine and test themselves to see if Christ is really living in them (13:5).	Honor/ Character

I have proposed that eight of the fourteen uses of doxa in this text would be better understood as “honor” in English. The use of “glory” veils the honor and character of God in more than half the references.

A major difference between the context of the two covenants and the two audiences can be found in the difference between the face of Moses and the face of Paul. As Paul presented the Gospel in Corinth his face was not veiled because of a brightness, it was normal—too normal for them! However, “the gospel of the doxes of Christ” (2 Cor 4:4) revealed the honor of God’s faithfulness to his promises, the richness of his grace and the evidence of his righteousness. Why not translate this as “the gospel of the honor of Christ”? What will happen if we use “honor” for the eight of the uses of “glory” in 2 Cor 2:1–4:6? The persistent use of “glory” in English veils the richness of the honor of God and weakens, if not misses, Paul’s argument.

The concerns for honor in this community will also support the need to understand doxa as much more than the radiance of God and how Paul uses the imagery of light for the honor of God. Other supporting markers will also be expressed in terms of morality defined by communal dynamics (2:3–11), status (3:1–2) and face (3:7; 4:6).

In summary, re-reading 2 Cor 3:7–18 in light of this discussion exposes the transformative power of the honor of God in Paul’s theology of mission.

For if what was being brought to an end came with radiance, much more will what is permanent have honor. Since we have such a hope, we are very bold, not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face so that the Israelites might not gaze at the outcome of what was being brought to an end. But their minds were hardened. For to this day, when they read the old covenant, that same veil remains unlifted, because only through Christ is it taken away. Yes, to this day whenever Moses is read a veil lies over their hearts. But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled faces, beholding the honor of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of honor to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.18

Missiological Implications

Becoming a disciple of Christ is a process of changing the inner person to imitate or restore the character of God. The new life in Christ is one that is filled with the honor of God and gives honor to God for all that is good. Doctrines and traditions can lose sight of this goal because it is costly and takes a lot of time. It brings great joy when we see God transform lost souls into people of honor and integrity whose behaviors consistently show compassion, mercy, patience, love, faithfulness, forgiveness and spiritual accountability. Salvation in Christ brings honor to lost souls. People of the majority world have a greater hunger for honor than they do for the salvation, they feel more burdened by shame than by lostness. Within their world, the Gospel of the honor of Christ that Paul presents in this text can be proclaimed with confidence and boldness.

The Christian message and mission in the majority world, where honor and shame continue to shape worldviews, cannot ignore the power of our hearts as witnesses “to the knowledge of the honor of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” We do not proclaim ourselves. As the Psalmist said, we “Declare his honor (kabod/doxa) among the nations, his marvelous works among all the peoples!” (96:3). God wants to be known and he is known where people are honorable and honor the righteous God.

The revelation of the honor of God at Sinai becomes the “gold standard” for honor. For me it unlocks the mystery of how all people are made in the image of God. Every human being has the capacity to do every one of the behaviors (compassionate, merciful, slow to anger, etc), but everyone fails to do so—thus we “fall short of the honor (doxa) of God” (Rom 3:23). Any culture can excel in some aspect of honor, but they all fail to get it right without God. Therefore, Christians “believe that God is the essence and source of all true honor. The Creator emanates glory and splendor from his very being. God’s honor is neither achieved nor ascribed: it simply is. So, being made in the image of this glorious God, every person and every nation covets the true honor that was lost in the Garden of Eden. The universal pursuit for face gives rise to thousands of cultural systems by which people attempt to construct a name for themselves. But such honor is a mere shadow of the real honor derived from God.”19 For Paul, Christian mission makes known the honor of Christ everywhere (2:14; 4:4,6) with hope and boldness (3:12). Proclaiming Jesus as Lord unveils the honor of God. The unveiling of the doxa of the Lord can transform anyone into his image developmentally, from one degree of honor to another (3:18).

Evertt W. Huffard is Professor Emeritus at Harding School of Theology, a partner in the Hope Network Ministries, and serves as a facilitator for church equipping for Mission Resource Network. He served churches in the Middle East for nine years and completed a PhD in Intercultural Studies at Fuller Seminary. He taught missions and leadership at Harding School of Theology from 1987 to 2019 and also served as VP/Dean for 15 years.

How might Christians from one honor-shame culture serve effectively as missionaries in another honor-shame culture? By answering this question, churches and mission organizations can better train cross-cultural workers whose cultural backgrounds offer advantages not enjoyed by many Western missionaries. Due to the scope of the topic, this essay sketches only a preliminary proposal.

Honor and shame manifest across cultures around the world in countless ways. Still, we can identify several common features of an honor-shame perspective that transcend any particular setting. This should not surprise us. After all, honor and shame are characteristics of every human society. The Bible itself is replete with language and concepts that reflect these cultural concerns. Several empirical and exegetical studies elaborate on these statements.1

This article first considers the scope and significance of the opening question above. We identify potential challenges and opportunities that face mission practitioners. After clarifying briefly what is meant by honor and shame, I outline the primary contours of an honor-shame worldview. This discussion lays the groundwork for the final section of the essay. Honor and shame do not exist in the abstract; they find expression in concrete social settings. Therefore, I will explore several practical implications for training Chinese missionaries who work in Muslim contexts. This imagined case study illustrates one possible way to train people from one honor-shame culture to minister in another.

Honor and Shame in Missions Practice

What would be included in such training? Working in a cross-cultural environment is challenging. This is especially true for cross-cultural missionaries (“missionaries” hereafter), who need training in an array of areas. Non-missionary expatriates can sufficiently achieve the objectives of their employment with minimal effort to understand the local culture. They often remain within a subcultural bubble, forming few if any meaningful relationships with nationals. Missionaries, by contrast, invest themselves in people. Doing so calls for depth of understanding, which requires a grasp of the worldview, values, and cultural expectations of those whom they wish to serve. Furthermore, they need a robust knowledge of the Bible, its background, and various issues along the theological spectrum.

These points are probably obvious to most readers of this article. Yet, I restate them to underscore the diverse ways that honor/shame can and should influence missionary training. Consider just a few key aspects of missionary training. One first thinks of the need for cultural sensitivity. Missionaries need to understand local customs and the significance of words or behaviors that could either honor or offend people in their host culture. Improper clothing or incorrectly addressing elders could undermine efforts to build long term relationships.

Like Christians everywhere, missionaries attempt to foster healthy interactions with family, teammates, and church members. The isolation and pressures of living cross-culturally make these relationships all the more challenging. Missionaries may find that people in their host culture have different expectations for family and church. For instance, most Chinese think it shameful to put their parents in a nursing home and often regard it as a duty to have their elderly parents live with them in their homes. By contrast, countless Americans regard nursing homes as both a sensible and compassionate option for aging parents. In short, missionaries must discern how best to show honor in their closest relationships. To do otherwise makes one appear shameless and immoral.

Furthermore, cross-cultural workers need to understand various aspects of biblical interpretation, theology, contextualization, and mission strategy. How do honor and shame influence each of these areas? Take evangelism, for example. By helping missionaries become familiar with honor/shame, they are better equipped to explain the gospel in biblically faithful and culturally meaningful ways. Many people will more easily understand sin as “dishonoring God,” compared to explaining it merely as “law breaking.”

In each area mentioned above, we could say much more about how one might incorporate an honor-shame perspective specifically . Honor and shame are inherently social concepts. Given the breadth of the missionary task, the ways that honor/shame could influence missionary training are almost limitless. The ideas and suggestions that follow are but a few possibilities worth considering.

What Are Honor and Shame?

What do we mean by honor and shame? Any definition of these terms is a generalization. Describing and then contrasting varieties of honor/shame is more helpful. First, shame is the fear, pain, or state of being regarded unworthy of acceptance in social relationships. The primary distinction between shame and guilt is their focus. Guilt concerns one’s actions (“I do bad”) whereas shame emphasizes a person’s worth (“I am bad”).

Second, a classic definition of honor comes from Bruce Malina. He says, “Honor is the value of a person in his or her own eyes (that is, one’s claim to worth) plus that person’s value in the eyes of his or her social group. Honor is a claim to worth along with the social acknowledgement of worth.”2 One’s honor regulates a person’s status and identity within a group. Depending on context, honor may or may not have moral connotations. This is because people can be honored or shamed for different reasons.

How does one gain honor and/or shame? They are achieved and ascribed. Achieved honor (or shame) is the result of an individual’s performance, success, or failure. Thus, it distinguishes a person from others. Ascribed honor (or shame) stems from one’s relationships, group, and position. Accordingly, in various settings, a person’s gender, surname, and job title will cause others to treat him or her differently. An Imam or priest will have the respect of certain religious adherents; non-religious persons are less likely to ascribe the same honor to him.

In daily life, both of these types of honor/shame are pervasive and intertwined. In many respects, Westerners tend to prioritize achieved honor whereas Easterners often are more sensitive to ascribed honor/shame.3 They can also occur in the same situation. For example, parents are ascribed honor from peers when their child achieves good grades and makes the school honor roll. Since honor and shame are group dependent, a person could simultaneously gain both honor and shame. Thus, a kid might be praised by his peers for taking revenge on a rival gang, who naturally view him with disdain. Sports provides a more trivial example. If a New York Yankees fan walks into a bar, she will be welcomed by fellow Yankee fans but scorned by fans of their rivals, the Boston Red Sox.

The Many Faces of Shame

A common confusion concerns the nature of shame, especially in relation to guilt. People often suppose that guilt is objective and shame subjective. In fact, both guilt and shame have objective and subjective dimensions. “Objective” guilt/shame comes from some source outside the judged individual. By “subjective,” we refer to one’s personal sense or experience. Subjectively, a person might feel ashamed or guilty yet have done nothing objectively wrong or worthy of censure. Conversely, a law or community can reckon a person guilty or shameful; however, she might not subjectively experience feelings of guilt or shame.

There is another reason that people misunderstand shame. Scholars from multiple fields discuss different facets of shame, whether psychological, social, or sacred (i.e., theological): “Subjectively, shame is psychological or individualistic. Objectively, we can describe shame in two ways. First, it is cultural or social. Second, there is theological or ‘sacred’ shame. . . . Each uses a different standard to assess whether someone is considered shameful (or conversely, worthy of honor). With psychological shame, an individual perceives himself or herself to lack value or significance. Social or cultural shame measures one’s worth in relation to social expectations. Finally, sacred (or theological) shame is ascribed to those who lack honor before God.”4 Naturally, these types of shame are entangled. Numerous examples of each type are found throughout the Bible. Consequently, when talking about shame, we must clarify our terms. Vague references to honor or shame routinely mask hidden assumptions. Usually, a Westerner has too narrow a perspective of honor/shame. They assume “shame” is merely this and “honor” simply that. Depending on context, overlap can exist between types of honor/shame. Accordingly, one’s psychological feelings of shame could reflect the person’s sacred shame (being worthy of shame before God) yet achieve for him honor in his social group.

Basic Components of an Honor-Shame Worldview

Before reflecting on practical implications for training, we must first understand what constitutes an honor-shame worldview. For people from a so-called honor-shame culture, what typically distinguishes their perspective of the world? What follows is a generalized description of an honor-shame perspective. In reality, honor and shame are features of all cultures, even if precise expressions and standards vary. This is because honor and shame are inherently social. Therefore, the distinctions or categories below merely highlight major emphases or trends that characterize people from traditional honor-shame cultures.

Relationship

An honor-shame worldview prioritizes one’s group or collective identity above individual distinctions. “I belong, therefore I am” is a fitting adaptation of Descartes’s famous dictum. We are the sum of our relationships, the most important being family or bloodline. Naturally, one’s sense of morality and group identity are inseparable. From an honor-shame perspective, obligation trumps personal rights. Loyalty to others is a core concern. Harmonious relationships are a paramount concern. Reciprocity, whether the exchange of favors or gifts, is the currency that fosters all relationships. In this context, one is constantly aware of the boundary between insider and outsider.

Authority

People from an honor-shame culture tend to place more stress on authority and social hierarchy. Whatever egalitarianism exists will be restricted to certain spheres. Symbolic signs of respect carry weight (e.g., bowing, saluting). Honoring authority implies obedience and conformity to the group and its leaders. At the same time, authorities are responsible for the well-being of group members; they uphold the honor of the community. Age is a common criterion determining social status. People revere elders and ancestors.

Order

By stressing the value of relationships and authority, honor-shame cultures maintain order and stability. Tradition and conformity trump change and novelty. Standard (i.e., customary) behaviors define what the community regards as “the standard” (i.e., what is normative). The natural world shapes the way people view life. Nature says what is and thus shows us what should be. Religious practices are often oriented toward “this life” rather than gaining “life after death.” Various rituals not only govern daily life in the community but also honor ancestors who still influence the world of the living. Through such communal rituals, honor-shame societies maintain continuity between generations and secure permanence for their way of life.

By wisely navigating relationships, obeying authority, and maintaining social order, a person gains recognition and respect from others. Everyone prefers to have honor, not shame. However, one’s reputation or “face” is a fundamental concern for someone with an honor-shame worldview. Describing Chinese culture, Chang and Holt state, “If social interaction is unavoidable, then so is mutual concern for face.”5 “Face” is inherently public, not private. It is a type of “social currency,” without which one is isolated from the community. What if an individual does not care about his reputation or that of others? Such a person would be deemed “shameless,” not caring about others’ opinions and social well-being. The Chinese philosopher Mencius underscores the point when he says, “Whoever has no sense of shame is not human.”6

The above taxonomy identifies the major threads that form the tapestry of an honor-shame worldview. In different cultures, diverse words, behaviors, and customs help people to express their unique sense of honor/shame. For example, “purity” is a commonly used metaphor in many honor-shame cultures. Such language marks what is unclean (thus, to be rejected) from what is clean (i.e., approved, even praiseworthy). In fact, sins “regulated by purity metaphors” is particularly likely to evoke shame responses.7 Likewise, in the Bible, honor and shame are conveyed through its sacrificial and holiness language. A major function of sacrifices is to restore God’s honor, whom people have dishonored via sin. Through sacrifice, God’s people will not be put to shame.8

Challenges Facing Chinese in Cross-Cultural Ministry

Scholars generally characterize East Asia and Muslim-majority contexts as honor-shame cultures. One might suspect that Chinese would adapt more easily when moving to another honor-shame context (compared to typical Westerners). Whether that is true is debatable. Perhaps it will be more likely if Chinese were given training to identify aspects of an honor-shame worldview shared by their home and host cultures.

We will first look at some of the difficulties Chinese missionaries face when crossing cultures. At this point, we can identify areas of tension that mitigate relative advantages that Chinese might otherwise enjoy. Tabor Laughlin’s dissertation provides a current and thorough study on the topic.9

Honor and shame are recurring themes in Laughlin’s interviews with Chinese missionaries. One interviewee said, “In that country, they do not use chopsticks. We were in the mountains, and they used their hands to eat. For Chinese, we do not like to use our hands to eat. I went out to look for bamboo to make chopsticks, but when I was chopping the chopsticks, I cut my wrist with a knife. I had to go out of the way to find bamboo and try to make chopsticks. This showed the hosts that I had failed to accept them.”10 Another Chinese missionary similarly explained that the failure to adapt to local food and drink “must have offended the hosts.”11 Like all cross-cultural workers, Chinese must learn the local language. Doing so is important to facilitate basic communication; also, “it is necessary to speak the language fluently, to let hosts know that you respect their language.”12

Even when working in another honor-shame culture, Chinese workers discovered they had different relationship expectations than their hosts. One interviewee said, “The people here are easy to befriend. I can feel close to people even after we just met. My friends here want me to share everything with them about my life, which is hard for me. I feel like I need boundaries. This sometimes causes me stress.”13 Furthermore, some female Chinese workers “expressed disgust in how the host men treat” women.14 These missionaries struggled to accept the gender roles subscribed to by a less egalitarian context.

Seemingly trivial tasks, like disposing of garbage and setting meeting times, present their own challenges. For instance, one Chinese missionary “disapproved of how the hosts disposed of their trash. He said, ‘They put the trash out for a long time then burned the trash. It was so putrid. So I started weekly throwing our trash away at a friend’s home, which offended [the] host people. They thought I was disapproving [of] how they took care of trash and looking down on them.’ [He] was surprised that the hosts were offended by his actions, as throwing away trash seemed like such a common activity to do.”15 On the other hand, being willing to “wear a head covering and a long dress to go to the Muslim village” and live “without electricity or internet” can foster closer relationships with locals. As one interviewee said, “Hosts are more likely to welcome and accept me because I am willing to be like them and with them.”16

Laughlin considers various factors that influence the retention of Chinese missionaries. One such factor is the Confucian value of filial piety, which “involves the responsibilities of younger generations providing support for their parents.” Accordingly, he explains, “it can be shameful for Chinese missionaries when they move to the mission field if they are perceived as abandoning their aging parents in China and failing to live up to their society’s standards of filial piety.”17

This brief sketch highlights a few overlapping ideas. First, several challenges facing Chinese missionaries concern honor/shame. Second, people from one honor-shame culture must still learn to negotiate the norms and customs of other honor-shame cultures. Third, despite their having a different cultural perspective, Chinese missionaries and their hosts often share certain underlying honor-shame values, such as prioritizing collective identity, patriarchy, shared meals, and stress on tradition. Fourth, the manner that Chinese express their cultures’ honor-shame perspective can differ. For example, even though many traditional honor-shame cultures are patriarchal, the standard gender norms still may vary in degree. These observations lead to the next section.

Comparing and Contrasting Honor and Shame Cultures

We will now compare and contrast major aspects of Chinese and Muslim cultures as they relate to honor/shame. A few qualifications are necessary. First, Chinese culture is not monolithic, and diversity likewise exists among Muslim cultures. For instance, the diverse cultures of Africa, the Middle East, Central Asia, and South Asia will shape each Muslim context in unique ways. Nevertheless, one can identify an array of common characteristics spanning the Muslim world. Second, “similar” does not mean “identical.” Thus, to claim that both cultures share a similar feature does not imply they express that characteristic in identical ways. This analysis can help Chinese missionaries (and those who train them) identify ways that honor and shame undergird Muslim cultures. Such observations are not exhaustive; they aim to catalyze further reflection by readers.

We should first recognize that Chinese and Muslim cultures use a variety of words and expressions to distinguish one kind of honor (or shame) from another. For instance, Sherifa Zuhur explains, “One type of honor, sharaf, applies to men and is attained through maintenance of a family’s reputation, hospitality, generosity, chivalry, bravery, piety, and, sometimes, nobility or political power. Another variant of honor, irdh in Arabic (irz in Turkish), pertains to women, or more specifically, to the sexual use of their bodies, their virginity, or their chaste behavior.”18 Likewise, different Chinese terms and idioms convey shades of nuance and meaning with respect to honor/shame.19

How does one get honor in a Muslim culture? Honor stems from one’s ancestry, pedigree, and age. Thus, Cristian Dumitrescu states, “The aged are often asked for wisdom and advice in managing the household and relating to neighbors. Politeness and respect, shown especially towards the elderly, is a sign of honor. In cases where an unruly child needs to be disciplined, it is considered normal that any member of the older generation participate.”20 Though describing a Muslim context, the essence of Dumitrescu’s comments might also describe Chinese culture. He says, “Everything is related to the family. The extended family is the basic building block of Islamic societies with the status of the family measured by the concepts of honor and shame.”21

However, the emphasis on family lineage produces different responses across cultures. Because of China’s “one-child policy,” families who want to perpetuate the family name often abandon or abort baby girls. Also, even families who are unable to conceive biological children rarely consider adoption as an option. Where informal adoptions do occur, that secret is usually well preserved from the public and the child.

For many Muslims, on the other hand, a family protects its honor and lineage through strict sanctions on sexuality. Dumitrescu says, “Honor is indicated by sexual purity. The foremost duty of a woman is to protect the honor of herself and her family from accusations or remarks regarding her sexual modesty. A Mediterranean family’s honor often rests with the females if the family or its lineage is unstable or if the family has no long-term economic interests.”22 Since honor is tied to progeny, wealth, and family name, “Marriage is arranged by parents who look for a suitable partner for their child, but most important for someone with a good reputation and honor.”23 As a result of these dynamics, gender divides the honor-shame spectrum. Effectively, men are responsible for a family’s honor, whereas women bear its shame.

This need to guard a woman’s chastity likely reinforces the more rigid gender norms among Muslims (compared to Chinese culture). The need to manage a women’s body leads to abuse and other atrocities. For example, Audrey Frank tells of a woman whose “face was completely disfigured by an ugly scar that dripped cruelly down her neck. When I asked her about it, she whispered, ‘My mother-in-law did it with boiling oil… She said I deserved it. To burn away the shame I brought to her family. I cannot get pregnant.’”24

In both Chinese and Muslim cultures, people feel obligated to treat insiders and outsiders differently. For both Chinese and many people from Muslim-dominate cultures, a strong sense of collective identity centers on national-ethnic group. In some contexts, the best one can hope for is to become an acceptable outsider. On the other hand, honor and hospitality are intricately linked in both contexts. The reasons for stressing hospitality are both moral and pragmatic.25 This shared value establishes common ground for Chinese building relationships with people in Muslim cultures. However, we should not assume that each culture shows hospitality in the same way.

Furthermore, we should consider an aspect of hospitality that is easily overlooked. Being a good guest is just as important as being a host. In Laughlin’s study, interviewees consistently found this a challenge in the contexts in which they served. Chinese certainly do not intentionally offend people from other cultures. Still, numerous reports in recent years show a lack of cultural awareness by many Chinese tourists, even drawing rebukes from the Chinese government.26

A significant difference between China and other honor-shame contexts concerns the relationship between religion and culture. In Muslim cultures, honor is inseparable from religious symbols and practice. How Chinese guests handle and speak about the Qur’an and the prophet Mohammed, for example, can impact how Muslims view them. Throughout Chinese history, however, religion has largely been kept separate from the political sphere. This difference in cultural perspectives fosters an environment ripe for misunderstanding.

Many other issues are relevant and noteworthy. Space, however, prevents the present article from examining each subject in sufficient detail. To conclude this section, I will briefly highlight several matters that deserve attention.

For example, what are those standards that determine moral decision-making in the local context? As Roland Muller explains, “Right and wrong in Islam are usually defined in terms of what is forbidden by the Qur’an”; yet, particular communities dictate local norms of honor and shame.27 Nonconformity brings shame. When making decisions, many Arabs will think first about their reputation, not “the nature of the deed itself” (i.e., whether it is right or wrong).28 One is expected to hide failure and wrongdoing. Muller recounts an Arab proverb that states, “A concealed shame is two-thirds forgiven.”29

How do Chinese and local Muslims differ in the way they defend their honor? While both communities excel in using indirect communication when needed, in what cases do people feel compelled to retaliate in some manner?

How is conflict resolved? What is the role of mediators? In what ways might the goals of peace or harmony differ between Chinese and Muslim hosts?

How might the issues of land and sacred space affect perceptions of honor/shame? In China’s more secularized environment, such concerns may never arise in the mind of a typical Chinese. For many Muslims, however, “land is even more valuable than a wife. If an individual’s honor is threatened, the honor of the whole group is threatened. If family land is in jeopardy, the territory of kinship is affected. Land is the most sensitive issue in Mediterranean countries and is directly related to honor.”30

How do expectations about gender differ? Chinese are well advised to consider what they convey when they default to customary patterns of behavior between men and women as well as those of the same gender? Whereas people of the same gender might express friendship through hand holding in China, how might this be perceived in a specific Muslim context?

These comments merely scratch the surface. Still, they raise the type of questions that we must think about in order to train Chinese missionaries to serve in Muslim contexts. Since Muslim cultures are not monolithic, answers to these questions will vary depending on the specific culture being discussed.

Preliminary Questions

In what follows, I list a number of questions that Chinese missionaries might ask when serving or preparing to serve Muslims in honor-shame cultures.

Honor and Shame Language

As best as possible, identify terms concerning honor/shame that most correlate across languages. Keep in mind that most cultures do not use honor and shame as often as other words, phrases, and idioms. Do not merely look for synonyms. Rather, consider an array of terms related to honor/shame (e.g., reputation, status, etc.). This learning process will also facilitate better understanding of the culture and appropriate communication.

Social Interaction

Who do people want to please? From whom do they want approval and acceptance?

Who are the cultural heroes whom people aspire to imitate?

What are common, uniting values in local groups?

How do people express loyalty?

What are the standard practices and expectations concerning reciprocity?

What is my status relative to the person with whom I’m relating? How do we respond in circumstances where relative status might be ambiguous (e.g., a younger teacher speaking with an elder; communicating to the opposite gender; non-parents speaking to parents)?

Purity Language

Honor and shame are often conveyed in terms of purity, cleanliness, disgust, sacredness, and related ideas. Such concepts concern boundaries and social acceptability. The following are questions worth exploring for those seeking to understand and minister in honor-shame contexts.

In the local culture, how do people use holiness or purity language?

What places, activities, and people are regarded as sacred or holy?

How do people misunderstand the standard for (im)purity or holiness?

In the church, what behaviors make the church look impure?

How might we use this “purity” or “holiness” theme to preach the gospel, communicate biblical truth, and train the church?

Group Identity

The influence of honor and shame are most evident in collectivist contexts since they are inherently social concepts. The following questions can prove helpful.

How do people define “insiders” and “outsiders”? How do people become “insiders” or “outsiders”?

How do people prioritize social relationships? Who is prioritized with respect to social deference, resource allocation, etc.?

Cultural Identity

What are prominent cultural boundary markers (e.g., circumcision, holidays, other rituals)?

How do people view or talk about their history and cultural ideals?

In the minds of local people, what makes their culture worthy of honor?

When has their country suffered shame?

Authority

As noted in the introduction, respect for hierarchy and authority are key aspects of an honor-shame worldview. The following questions can guide cultural understanding and mission strategy.

Who has formal and informal authority? In other words, who has the most ability to influence other people?

What do authorities require of followers or subordinates?

How do people express loyalty to leaders?

What is the role of benefactor or patronage?

What determines social hierarchy? On what is it based (e.g., economics, ethnicity, education, age, gender)?

How do people use power? What are symbols of power (e.g., flag, staff, clothing)?

Conclusion

This essay initiates a larger, much needed conversation. It explores the question, “How do people from one honor-shame culture prepare to work as missionaries in other honor-shame contexts?” Honor and shame do not exist in the abstract; they always manifest in concrete ways. Therefore, it examines a specific situation; namely, the work of Chinese missionaries serving in various Muslim-contexts.

The particular ways in which missionaries will contextualize their ministry will depend on the specific ways that a local culture expresses its honor-shame worldview. Nevertheless, certain features tend to characterize people shaped by an honor-shame worldview. Prioritizing relationships leads to an emphasis on group identity. A respect for authority solidifies social hierarchies. The desire for order strengthens the power of tradition. One’s social status is largely contingent on how well a person upholds these values.

This article is only one small step forward. It offers an initial framework for seeking context specific strategies and training methodologies. More practical applications will emerge as people from diverse contexts and experience continue to collaborate and strategize.

Jackson Wu (PhD) served 15 years in East Asia as a church planter and seminary professor before joining Mission ONE as the theologian-in-residence. He regularly blogs at http://jacksonwu.org and is the author of Reading Romans with Eastern Eyes (IVP Academic, 2019), One Gospel for All Nations (William Carey Library, 2015), and Saving God’s Face: A Chinese Contextualization of Salvation through Honor and Shame (WCIU Press, 2012).

By engaging in comparative textual analysis, this paper explores narrative and rhetorical elements related to the concept of shame in the Gospel of Mark and Zhuangzi, an ancient Chinese philosophical text. I examine three stories from each work, all of which feature disabled people in some way, paying particular attention to how the characters function in the stories in light of broader themes. In this comparative exercise, resources from outside the Christian tradition thus contribute to Christian theological reflection on the topic of shame.

In recent decades, honor and shame have received increasing attention by Christian missiologists, particularly emphasizing their social nature within the cultural context of biblical texts. Notions of these terms as inherently social (in their various forms) from the field of cultural anthropology greatly influence this body of research among theologians.1 Though shame in popular English language usage more commonly refers to one’s feeling ashamed of personal behavior and relates to personal guilt, within the realm of cultural anthropology and, more recently, theological studies, scholars tend to emphasize the social aspect of shame.2 Shame is thus a categorical term, encompassing related social phenomena such as ridicule, humiliation, stigma, and ostracism.3 Given this semantic realm of meaning, it is often appropriate to point to shame as present implicitly, if not linguistically explicit, within the socio-cultural environment of a text. 4

With this backdrop of the cultural-anthropological category of shame in mind, I employ a comparative methodology to examine a trio of texts from the biblical Gospel of Mark with selections from Zhuangzi 莊子, a philosophical work from the Warring States period of Chinese history (475–221 BCE). All of the short episodes I analyze feature individuals with physical disabilities. In particular, I address the following questions with each set of stories: Why specifically include stories with disabled people? Who is speaking to whom in each episode, and how do they refer to disability within their dialogue? How do these individuals rhetorically function, specifically in light of the cultural framework of social shame? What are larger themes represented in the stories, and how does the representation of people with physical disabilities relate to the presentation of those themes?

In Zhuangzi’s “Symbol of Complete Virtue” (De chong fu 德充符) chapter, five of the six stories depict disfigured people, and the final account includes two philosophers debating the relationship of virtue, body, and wholeness, essentially summarizing the themes of the chapter’s previous stories. I look at three of the stories with disfigured characters in detail: Shen Tujia the Footless Man (Shen Tujia Wuzhe 申徒嘉兀者 ), Shushan the Footless Man (Shushan Wuqi 叔山無趾), and the Two Disfigured Counselors from Lu and Wei. I am especially interested in the rhetorical function of these characters and the relationship between their disabilities and shame.

In the biblical gospel accounts, much of the public life of Jesus involves healing sick people, some of whom had experienced disfigurement, similar to those portrayed in the Zhuangzi stories. I evaluate three such stories from the Gospel of Mark: the Leprous Man (1:40–45), the Man with the Withered Hand (3:1–12), and Blind Bartimaeus (10:46–52). Each contains a healing element and contributes to revealing the identity of Jesus gradually throughout the book of Mark.5 How does the text describe the respective characters and their healings, and how does this relate to shame?

After first analyzing each set of stories on their own, I then engage in comparative theological inquiry. Comparative theology’s growth as a distinct approach to theology in recent decades stems from the “problem and promise” of the increasingly pluralized world in which we live.6 Comparative theologians recognize the presence of wisdom in other philosophical and religious traditions and draw from these non-Christian resources to inspire and benefit Christian theological discourse. By learning from the texts, practices, rituals, and persons of other traditions on their terms and within their own frameworks, comparative theologians attempt to discover theological insights that are only possible through the uniqueness of the comparative encounter. This approach “leads us to notice and appreciate important areas of agreement—and difference—across different philosophical, cultural, and political traditions.”7 Finally, I briefly point to additional resources which overlap with the material in this paper, to which one might turn for further research.

Figuring the Disfigured in Zhuangzi’s “Symbol of Complete Virtue” Chapter

The purported author of Zhuangzi, Zhuang Zhou (369–286 BCE), lived during the Warring States period of Chinese history (475–221 BCE),8 though considerable debate exists surrounding authorship, dating, and textual development.9 The text of thirty-three chapters contains a hodgepodge of disconnected narratives and philosophical musings and includes diverse literary elements: myth, parable, poetry, didactic, polemic, and debate. Over the centuries, Zhuangzi became influential in the development of Daoist philosophy, Daoist religion, and Chan (Zen) Buddhism, and it is universally regarded as a classic of Chinese literature. Much of the text incorporates humor in its stories, at times irreverently so, poking fun at existing philosophical ideas and figures, as well as cultural and religious practices, of its own time.10 Though three terms for “shame” appear elsewhere in Zhuangzi,11 they do not occur in the stories I analyze below. Part of my task, then, is to develop “shame eyes,” to nurture the skill of seeing the social elements of shame even when not explicitly stated in the language of the text.

Zhuangzi Story 1: Shen Tujia the Footless (6.2)

The first story is the second episode in the “De chong fu” chapter and centers on the dynamic between two disciples studying from a master teacher. Their introduction reads, “Shen Tujia was one whose foot had been cut off [as punishment for a crime], and with Zichan of [the state of] Zheng, he studied with Bohun Wuren.”12 As in many of Zhuangzi’s stories, the names of the characters often serve to help the reader understand more about the characters themselves. In other words, characters’ names are not necessarily incidental. For the first student, Shen is a standard surname and can mean “to stretch out,” “to extend one’s meaning,” or “to warn/admonish.”13 The given name is more significant for his identity, as Tujia can refer to either a convict or disciple who is praiseworthy.14 Both possibilities are actually relevant to who he is, past and present, as we see more fully as the story continues.

The second student, Zichan (d. 522 BCE), is a known historical figure, a statesman and philosopher from the Spring and Autumn period (771–476 BCE).15 His name itself is not as indicative of who he is and how he functions in the story as much as his status as an official. Status is at the very heart of the discussion between the two students. The name of the third character, the teacher Bohun Wuren, literally means “Earl of Confusion without people,” which does not exactly inspire confidence in his abilities as a teacher.16 He is mentioned only at the beginning of the story, and other than Shen Tujia appealing to how he has benefited from the master’s teaching and the years he has spent under his tutelage, the master himself does not feature in the story. The primary conflict is between the two students as they try to understand one another. In some sense, we might say that the master exists in order to provide the two students with a context, a setting within which to wrestle with the relationship between status and virtue.

The remaining meaningful introductory detail from the opening sentences is the fact that Shen Tujia, at some point in the past, had a foot removed. The text does not directly state the reason. It is possible that it was due to an accident or some other irrelevant, unknown reason. However, the word for footless used here (兀 wu) does imply punishment for a crime.17 And so, it is likely that Zichan’s attitude about their differences in status stem not only from Shen Tujia’s physical appearance, per se, but from Zichan’s assumptions regarding the cause of the missing foot and the stigma of being a convict.

Their conflict begins:

Zichan said to Shen Tujia, “If I go out first, then you stop and wait; if you go out first, then I’ll wait.” The next day, they again studied together in the same room, sitting at the same mat. Zichan [again] said to Shen Tujia, “If I go out first, then you stop and wait; if you go out first, then I’ll wait. At present, I’m about to go out, so are you able to stop and wait like I said or not? Moreover, if you see one [such as myself] who is a political officer and you do not defer to me, do you [presume to be] on the same level?”

Though they are both students, Zichan attempts to set some ground rules for how he and Shen Tujia ought to exit the premises. One could argue that Zichan simply proposes that they take turns. He does not initially suggest that he, as one of higher social status, should always go first. A reader can even imagine that he is merely politely considering the logistics of how Shen Tujia hobbles along cumbersomely and that they cannot both go through the teacher’s door at the same time. But then Zichan explicitly references his position as an officer, directly questioning whether one such as Shen Tujia ought to consider himself to be an equal. The latter does not take the question rhetorically.

Shen Tujia replied, “At our teacher’s gate, if there is certainly a political official here, is it really like this [as you have said]? You take delight in your being one of political office and others [needing to come] after you. I have heard it said, ‘When a mirror is clear, then dust and dirt do not settle [on it]; if they do settle, then it is no longer clear. When someone is together at the place of a virtuous person for a long time, then he has no error.’ Now you are one who seeks to be important, to be the teacher; but when you speak out like this, are you not also in error?”

After acknowledging Zichan’s focus on the outward respect due an official, Shen Tujia’s response points to the error in this way of thinking. His anecdote about a lack of dust “settling” on the mirror uses the character 止 (zhi), and it is likely that he refers back to Zichan’s earlier statement about who should “stop and wait” (also 止 zhi).18 Shen Tujia wishes to emphasize their similarities as they both strive for internal improvement in the company of the teacher. Zichan, however, cannot see past their outward differences. saying about Shen Tujia, “You are fully like this [in your appearance]; similar to Yao, you strive to be good. Appraising your own virtue is not enough as a means of self-examination, is it?’” Earlier, Zichan pointed to himself as a person of high social status in order to distinguish their relative positions. Here, he directly treats his fellow student condescendingly, simultaneously affirming Shen Tujia’s efforts to become virtuous and downplaying such striving as an insufficient endeavor. Shen Tujia’s final statement gets at the heart of how they intrinsically understand virtue differently.

Shen Tujia said, “Those who describe their own errors as not being their fault are many. Those who describe their own errors as being their fault are few. Only those who have virtue know there is nothing they are able to do about it, and yet they are still contented with it as their fate. If one wanders in the center of Master Archer Yi’s drawing a bow, in the exact center, the center is the target. As this is so, one’s not being in the center is due to fate. Because they have both their feet, people laugh a lot at my not having both feet. I [used to] become furious and get angry, but upon arriving at Master’s place, I [have been able to] discard [my anger] and return [to my old self]. I don’t know whether or not Master’s purifying me is due to my being good. I joined with Master, wandering for the past 19 years, and I did not yet experience knowing I was footless. Now you and I joined together to wander in the inner body, and you label me due to my outer body. Is that not wrong?”

The thrust of Shen Tujia’s argument rests on his understanding of what he can control and potentially change contrasted with what he cannot. After many years of guidance, he learned to accept the parameters of his existence (命 ming), the limits of his uniquely disfigured body, to the point that he no longer saw his lack of feet as something that mattered at all. His anger toward those that ridiculed him subsided as he became a person focused on internal development (形骸之內 xing hai zhi nei). As a result of Shen Tujia’s personal disclosure, Zichan appears genuinely convicted as the story concludes, “Zichan was astonished, changing his countenance and further his appearance, saying, ‘You do not have to defer to me after all.’”19

Though the text does not indicate that Zichan experienced inner transformation, it does specify that his outward appearance changed. This is interesting given how the story started, emphasizing the two students’ external differences in appearance and status. For Zichan, the ceiling for one’s becoming virtuous was predicated on their starting point. In his estimation, someone like Shen Tujia, whose external form was not “whole,” had a limited capacity for moral improvement. In hearing Shen Tujia’s actual experience of internal moral transformation, at a minimum Zichan chose to treat his fellow student more equitably.

The inclusion of this story serves to highlight different cultural understandings of virtue (德 de) as the characters rhetorically function as antithetical symbols in the narrative. Though this story does not define virtue, the concept plays a pivotal role in their disagreement. We observe that Zichan initially judged Shen Tujia’s potential for virtuous development based on outward appearance and their differences in social status. We also see an inner/outer dynamic present, revealing that there are existing conflicting ideas and practices of virtue with which the story’s participants are familiar. The following two stories similarly incorporate elements related to virtue within the context of disfigured characters’ experiences.

Zhuangzi Story 2: Shushan the Footless (6.3)

My second story to analyze, the third episode in the “De chong fu” chapter, shares some elements with the previous one. It begins with another disfigured individual who experienced a similar kind of mutilation as criminal punishment.

In the state of Lu, there was one whose foot had been cut off [as a punishment for a crime], Footless Uncle Mountain. He sought after the lessons of Zhongni. Zhongni said, “Because you were not prudent before, your violating the law caused a misfortune like this. Although now you have come [to study], what do you hope to learn?”

Footless said, “[Certainly] it is my own carelessness with my affairs and treating my body lightly that caused me to lose my foot. But now I have come [to study with you], as if possessing a respect for materially having feet and seeking to maintain what is still whole. There is nothing Heaven does not cover; there is nothing earth does not hold up. As I took the Master to be Heaven and earth, how could I know that the Master would [treat me] like this?”

As in the first story above, the characters’ identities are highly significant to the unraveling of this narrative. The first character’s name (Shushan Wuzhi 叔山無趾) literally means “Footless Uncle Mountain.” “Footless” is presumably just physically descriptive, not his original given name. It is telling, though, that as the story develops below, he is continually called Wuzhi, “Footless,” as a (pejorative) nickname. Though it was likely not his given name, physical appearance (and all of its associated assumptions related to his criminal behavior and therefore his enduring character) becomes his primary moniker. The foot imagery in these introductory lines collectively overstate the case in painting the picture of the first character as chiefly defined by his being footless.20

Two other characters are significant for how the story unfolds. Zhongni is a secondary name for Kongzi (Confucius).21 Here and elsewhere in Zhuangzi, the character Kongzi represents Confucian ideas, practices, and tradition, what the historical figure might have espoused, though often repurposed for the text’s own rhetorical goals. Lao Dan serves as a similar rhetorical face, though as a functional foil, one presenting an alternative to Confucius’ approach and teaching.22

As the story begins, Zhongni questions Footless’s past behavior, specifically his lack of circumspection which led to his punishment and current physical condition. Zhongni’s further query, where he asks Footless what he intends to learn, must have conveyed a sense of doubt in his capacity for learning. Or at least that’s how Footless received Zhongni’s words. Upon acknowledging his own culpability of past actions and referencing his body, he then states what he desired to learn from Zhongni, to go beyond the physical to preserve what is still whole (全 quan). The text does not state what exactly Footless means by “whole,” but he clearly does not merely mean his physical body. His disappointment in Zhongni’s treatment of him is precisely because the teacher initially and primarily viewed him as a person via his physical state. Footless then references Heaven and earth as taking care of all beings, the implication being that they do not judge, but foster the existence of all within their purview. When Footless equates his expectations for a teacher with this description of Heaven and earth, Zhongni fails Footless before they even begin.

The story continues, “Kongzi said, ‘I acted rudely. Why don’t you, Sir, come inside? I invite you to share what you have learned.’ Footless departed. Kongzi said, ‘Disciples, strive to do what is beyond your ability! Sir Footless, one without a foot, devoted himself in this way to retracing and mending what he did before and departing from crime. How much more should people of complete virtue [do likewise]?’” Zhongni, now called Kongzi, realizes that they did not get off on the right foot, so to speak, and he apologizes to rekindle their relationship. Footless, apparently offended beyond reconciliation, departs, leaving Kongzi with his other disciples. Hoping to turn the negative encounter into a positive pedagogical moment for the others, Kongzi praises Footless’ desire to overcome his criminal past and better himself. As Kongzi exhorts his disciples to go and do likewise, he continues to identify Footless primarily according to past mistakes. At the same time, he further reveals his thinking about wholeness by stating that all of those present are already “people of complete virtue” (全德之人 quan de zhi ren).

Kongzi’s praise of Footless to his disciples sounds good on the surface, but the reader benefits from an additional description of virtue as Footless goes to visit with Lao Dan.

Footless [had gone to] speak with Lao Dan, saying, “Kong Qiu has not yet arrived at being a completed person, has he? How do his disciples consider imitating you to be the same as [imitating] him? For a long time, he has sought the reputation of being unusually cunning, but does he not know that a completed person considers this to be the shackles and handcuffs of the self?”

Lao Dan said, “Why did you not straighten him out—to take life and death as being of one order and to take what is possible and impossible as united—to untie his shackles? Could you do it?”

Footless said, “If Heaven deformed him in this way, how could I undo it?”

As Footless vents his frustration to another teacher, Lao Dan, he directly claims that Kong Qiu (Kongzi) is not yet a complete person (至人 zhiren). In doing so, he also draws a distinction between the two teachers’ approaches, accusing Kongzi of being shackled (桎梏 zhigu) by the limits of his own thinking. This imagery is blatantly penal in nature, contrasting what we know about Footless’ history with how Footless and Lao Dan now discuss Kongzi, and their penal language persists throughout the remainder of the passage. Lao Dan speculates as to whether Footless could help Kongzi by untying him from this binding (解其桎梏 jie qi zhigu), by showing him a fuller understanding of virtue and what constitutes true completeness. In reply, Footless appeals to Heaven, contending that Kongzi’s current incompleteness is due to a kind of punishment from Heaven. His retort references penal mutilation (刑 xing), which acts as a rhetorical bookend with how he himself was described at the beginning of the story, culminating the whole episode with a rather unabashed declaration.

While the first story above includes two students debating virtue while their teacher is largely absent, this story spotlights a physically disabled student discussing virtue with two different teachers. The two teachers, then, represent two different ways of understanding and embracing virtue. Kongzi views Footless’ capacity for virtuous development (or lack thereof, from his perspective) as largely dependent upon physical ability. In Footless’s discussion with Lao Dan, they essentially conclude that Kongzi is, in fact, the one who is not “whole,” due to his limited comprehension of virtue. For Footless, though his physical disability stays with him via his nickname, he does not allow it to define the whole of who he is or who he can become. Both intrinsic value and intrinsic virtue lie beyond the physical.

Zhuangzi Story 3: The Two Disfigured Counselors of Wei and Lu (6.5)

My third story to analyze is stylistically different from the other two in that it briefly introduces two disfigured characters but then moves to more abstract philosophical discourse that continues to the end of the passage. In this way, the two individuals serve as brief examples of the kind of virtue possible according to the exposition that follows.

The narration begins, “A curved-toed, disfigured-limb man without lips counseled Duke Ling of the state of Wei. Duke Ling took delight in him, and when he looked at other “complete” people, he considered their necks to be lean and scrawny by comparison. Another man with a large goiter the size of a clay pot counseled Duke Huan of the state of Lu. Duke Huan took delight in him, and when he looked at other “complete” people, he considered their necks to be lean and scrawny by comparison.” The two individuals do not have names, only descriptions which vividly introduce them (and their most prominent physical features) to the reader. They each serve as counselor to one of the two different rulers mentioned, respectively. The two dukes come to the same conclusion regarding their counselors, namely that they begin to see the outward appearances of other supposedly “complete people” as incomplete or disfigured by comparison. Though the text does not directly tie this judgment of the respective counselors to their virtue, per se, it likely relates to their performance as persuasive counselors.23 Also, given that the remainder of the passage discusses virtue at length, one can deduce from these initial examples that it is the counselors’ virtue that allows the dukes to see them differently.

The text continues, “Therefore, when one’s virtue has a place to grow, the body itself will be something to overlook. When people don’t overlook what is [easy enough] to overlook yet do overlook what ought not be overlooked, this is called genuine obliviousness.” This section shifts to more abstract discussion on the interplay between virtue and the body, transitioning from the beginning of the story which merely alluded to this connection via the examples of the two disfigured counselors. Here, the passage asserts the body as both the place for a person to foster their virtue and as something to look beyond. When a person’s virtue matures, others begin to overlook their outward body and see the person based on their internal virtue. The word I translate here as “overlook” is 忘 (wang). Though it often conveys the meaning “to forget,” it can also refer to one being “oblivious to” or “indifferent to” something.24 I think these latter possibilities more fully arrive at the intended meaning, especially when one considers the final phrase “genuine obliviousness” (誠忘 cheng wang), implying that one who observes virtue inappropriately is one who truly misperceives reality.

Further description of such a person follows, “Therefore, when a sagely person has somewhere to wander, they [see] wisdom as a new shoot from old growth, pacts [with others] as immovable glue, favors as that which connect people, and a laborer’s skill as [something to be] peddled. If the sagely person does not make plans, what use is wisdom? If one [has no need] to carve away [something], what use is glue? If one does not keep up in connecting with people, what use are favors? If one does not buy and sell, what use are commercial goods?” The passage describes four aspects of human relations within which the sage “wanders” (遊 you): wisdom, pacts/agreements between people, favors, and a laborer’s skill. Upon listing the four, the overall argument expands by way of a matching rhetorical question for each, insisting that the sage does, in fact, rely on these four facets of human life in some way. Collectively, these examples create a collage of human culture, the realm where the sage develops virtue. Though the sage’s concerns may supersede those of the average person, they certainly come to fruition among the mundane aspects of human existence.

These four things are the nourishment of Heaven. This nourishment from Heaven is [a kind of] Heavenly food. If one fully receives this food from Heaven, what use are people [to the sagely person]? [One like this] has the bodily form of a person, but does not have a person’s inclinations. In having the body of a person, one is therefore [part of] the multitude of people [in the world]. Without having the inclinations of a person, though, the effects of disputing rights and wrongs do not gather in the body. So tiny are insignificant things [like the body] which one is dependent upon to be among people! So profound is the significance of uniquely becoming complete in what is from Heaven!

The sage “wanders” in pursuit of virtuous development while sharing human life with other people in three key ways: (1) culture; (2) bodily form; and (3) living among the throngs of other people. There is overlap between these three, as the passage’s larger claim maintains that something integral to sagely development takes place only within these domains of being human. Though the sage experiences limits given these parameters of human life, the difference for the sage rests in pursuing something greater (e.g., virtue, 德 de) than the base inclinations (情 qing) that most people cannot resist.

The two examples of disfigured individuals which begin this passage and the explication on virtue which follows may at first seem disjointed. The two counselors’ bodies are certainly part of who they are as people, a vital element of their being human, but their bodies pale in comparison to the more profound aspect of their existence, their internal capacity for virtue. As such, the two characters function as examples of living within and beyond the limits of human experience. Though the body is essential, it is not “significant.” It is the arena within which humans seek to fulfill the virtue that “Heaven” gives them. In this way, this third passage downplays the value of the body, disfigured or not, relative to the development of a person’s virtue.

The “De chong fu” chapter of Zhuangzi critiques important concepts within the philosophical milieu of its day. Though the text does not employ shame terms directly, the explicit assumptions presented by certain characters toward others, the themes discussed, and the cultural background all point to shame’s presence. Reacting to understandings of virtue, body, and completeness that the author(s) found problematic, the chapter presents physically disfigured characters as rhetorical devices to subvert the reader’s assumptions about what kind of moral growth is actually possible in the world. In doing so, the text challenges deeply held convictions about who can undergo such moral development, where it is located, and its limits. I now shift to the second set of stories to analyze from the Gospel of Mark.

Figuring the Disfigured in the Gospel of Mark’s Healing Stories

As one of the four biblical gospel accounts, the Gospel of Mark presents selected stories from the life of Jesus the Christ.25 In terms of literature, Mark contains elements of biography and history combined to form a new “gospel” genre, one which modern commentator Adela Yarbro Collins dubs “Eschatological Historical Monograph,” the purpose of which is to portray Jesus as a unique kind of prophet-messiah-teacher.26 The chief overarching concern of the book is presenting the divine-human identity of Jesus within the socio-cultural context of first century CE Israel. As such, as I examine stories of healing in light of shame, I must consider how they fit within the book’s larger purpose, particularly as the gradual revealing of who Jesus is occurs in the midst of conflict with various Jewish parties. Though there are numerous accounts of miracles and healing throughout the Gospel of Mark, I chose three representative episodes that match the disfigurement motif of the stories from Zhuangzi.

Gospel of Mark Story 1: The Leprous Man (1:40-45)

As my first story from Mark takes place at the end of chapter one, Jesus has already begun his ministry in Galilee, traveling around the region healing and casting out demons. As a result, his fame began to spread (1:28, 39). A man with a skin condition comes to Jesus, begs for his healing, and receives it. As a person with “leprosy,”27 his daily life would have been drastically different than others in his culture. Based on the instructions in Leviticus 13:45–46, those with skin diseases experienced expulsion from the larger society because of the contagion of the ailment. He likely suffered physically, emotionally, socially, and even religiously, the last being due to his prohibition from going to the temple. In light of a concern for “cultic purity,” commentator Joel Marcus contends that “sufferers were regarded as, in effect, corpses, and physical contact with them produced the same sort of defilement as touching dead bodies.”28 The text does not state anything regarding how the man became sick, nor does it provide us with his name. The man’s life experience certainly fits within the category of social shame I describe above.

The plea for healing strikes a nerve in appealing to Jesus’s compassion (v. 41). That Jesus touches the man in order to perform the healing act is significant, as this action in any other encounter would have deemed the toucher similarly ritually impure. In associating with the man’s impure status via touch, Jesus effectively reverses not only the man’s physical symptoms, but his social ones as well. Though it is perhaps easiest to marvel at the physical healing in this story, we must not neglect the social implications for the man. Jesus certainly does not do so as he commands the man to visit the priest for inspection (v. 44), which could result in his being cleared to return to his family, home, and temple worship. Jesus thus removes the leprous man’s social stigma, allowing him to return to a state of social wholeness.

The final aspect of this story I wish to highlight is Jesus’s insistence that the man not tell anyone about his healing (v. 44), other than the priest, of course. Ironically, the man does not heed Jesus’s instruction, taking full advantage of his newfound freedom to mingle socially and talk about his life transformation (v. 45). Though Jesus previously silences “unclean spirits” and “demons” (1:25, 34), this is the first instance of him explicitly telling a person not to share about their healing with other people. This odd paradox of “revealing” and “concealing” Jesus’s identity occurs throughout the Gospel of Mark, functioning as a rhetorical device known as the “messianic secret.”29 The ramifications of Jesus’ increasing notoriety are twofold. First, he interacts with growing crowds seeking his healing and teaching. Second, he must contend with Jewish groups in power who misunderstand, and feel threatened by, his identity as a potential messiah. This latter element is more pronounced in the next two stories.

Gospel of Mark Story 2: The Man with the Withered Hand (3:1–6)

This healing is the final of five “controversy stories,”30 in which Jesus’s actions throughout Galilee cause increasing friction with the local religious authorities. Their tension comes to a head in this episode as Jesus heals a man on the Sabbath, the weekly day of rest, a day in which work of any kind (in this instance, the healing itself) ought not take place. The man Jesus heals has a “withered hand” (v. 1), which can mean that it is “dried up,” or alternatively, in a figurative sense as an “image of paralysis.”31 Either way, it does not seem that he deals with the same kind of social exclusion, due to his physical ailment, as the man with the skin condition. Jesus encounters him while entering the synagogue, and in such a public place, an unnamed group of onlookers, later identified as Pharisees (v. 6), curiously observe their interaction.

Unlike the earlier episode in which the man with leprosy begged Jesus for healing, the man with the withered hand does not speak in the story. Jesus speaks to him at one point, directing him to come to the center, presumably for all present to watch (v. 3), though the healing itself only serves as the narrative locus for the larger standoff between Jesus and the Pharisees. In this way, though we may extrapolate that the man’s social circumstances change as a result of being made physically “whole,” the text adds nothing by way of describing the man’s situation, before or after the healing. In regard to shame’s presence in this story, we must look to the other two parties present.

This story harkens back to the immediately preceding verses (2:23–28), which also feature Jesus and the Pharisees debating the keeping of the Sabbath requirements. In that story, as in this one, Jesus appeals to something that supersedes strict Sabbath observance: in the former, to Sabbath being created for humanity’s benefit (2:27); in the latter, to doing good and saving a life (3:4). Sabbath law permitted the saving of a person’s life on the Sabbath day, but scholars point to the fact that the man’s condition was not necessarily life-threatening as an argument that Jesus was not simply legalistically following the Sabbath law in healing the man.32 Rather, he intentionally engaged the Pharisees in debate in order to put them in their proper place. As a result of Jesus’ actions and words, then, I do not think it inappropriate to say that Jesus shamed them. They lost face in a very public way through the exchange, exemplified by their remaining silent (v. 4).33 This added fuel to the already stoked fire of their desire to “destroy him” (v.6). This story serves to highlight the two different visions for Israel of the Pharisees and Jesus. The Pharisees plotting also foreshadows the passion events still to come.

Gospel of Mark Story 3: Blind Bartimaeus (10:46–52)

Occurring several chapters later than the other two stories, my final healing account to examine functions as a transitional narrative which concludes the middle section, begun with a similar healing of a blind man (8:22–26), and paves the way for the shift to events in and around Jerusalem in the remaining chapters. The two stories of healing blind men thus bookend the middle section, one in which Jesus teaches repeatedly on sacrificial discipleship, reveals that he will soon die, experiences transfiguration, and summarily instructs the disciples who witness it not to tell what they have seen. Throughout this portion of Mark, the theme of “sight” related to faith is pervasive.

The man who receives healing at the conclusion of chapter ten is an active participant in his story, calling out to Jesus and an entourage (his disciples and a “large crowd;” v. 46) as they leave Jericho. Three details about his identity are important for consideration here: his name, his blindness, and his begging. That he has a name is unusual for healing stories of this kind,34 and commentators suggest different theories as to the significance of the name Bartimaeus, pointing to possible connections to Hebrew and Syriac/Aramaic cognates for “unclean” and “blind,” respectively, as well as to Plato’s Timaeus, a story about the son of Timaeus with strong themes on the relationship of sight and insight.35 It is difficult to know precisely the reason for the name, though the fact that the blind man possesses the name he does—particularly as one considers the themes of sight and faith in this story and the larger section of the book—seems significant and would likely have been evocative for the original hearers of the story.

That the story mentions Bartimaeus’ blindness and begging together is a symptom of the larger culture’s stigma toward someone with his physical disability, forcing him to the fringes of society spatially and socially (to the edge of town).36 His dismissal from his culture is also present in how Jesus’s disciples treat him upon calling out to Jesus as they attempt to “rebuke” him into “silence” (v. 48).37 They cannot quell his desire to be healed, as he calls out again to Jesus, who, in the end, restores his sight. Bartimaeus’s blindness, while very real to him, is also important for how the story rhetorically contrasts his “sight” with that of the disciples. Jesus’s question to him, asking him what he wants (v. 51), recalls a similar question Jesus presented to James and John in the immediately preceding story (10:35–45), who reply that they desire the status of sitting next to Jesus in his “glory,” though the text indicates that they do not really comprehend the fullness of what they seek. Though Bartimaeus is physically blind, he understands Jesus’ identity via his faith (v. 52) far better than the other disciples.38

In summarizing these three healing stories from the Gospel of Mark, we observe repeated demonstrations of Jesus’s compassion and signs of a slowly developing revelation of Jesus’ identity. Though each of the stories explicitly portray physical healing, we miss the larger transformation taking place if we do not also notice the underlying presence of the socio-cultural dynamic of honor and shame. As such, just as Jesus knows his own path leads towards physical and social suffering in the passion events he would soon face, his compassion compels him to see and heal the whole person, to alleviate others’ physical ailments while also overcoming the social shame they experience.

Comparative Theological Reflections

In this last section, I tease out essential similarities and differences between the two sets of texts from Zhuangzi and the Gospel of Mark. In doing so, I hope to help the reader think through some potential theological implications for such a comparative analysis. Beginning with the similarities, three in particular stand out. First, both groups of stories serve to rhetorically subvert cultural expectations of honor and shame. In the Zhuangzi stories from “De chong fu (德充符),” the disfigured characters are the true exemplars of virtue, not because they are disfigured, but because, in spite of their physical disfigurement, they each are still uniquely capable of and demonstrate virtuous growth. In Mark, Jesus goes against cultural norms, touches someone unclean, flirts with breaking Sabbath laws, and pays attention to a blind man that others wanted to silence and ignore, all of which reflect his willingness to risk cultural impropriety for the needs of people he met face to face.

Secondly, the two sets of stories, each in their own manner, serve to humanize those whose physical disabilities have caused them shame in some form or another in the larger society. The Zhuangzi texts attribute the capacity for moral development to those with disfigured physical forms, extending the definition of what it means to be human beyond, though still contained within, the body. Similarly, as Jesus heals those with various physical ailments, he simultaneously restores their respective social places among family, culture, and temple, thus helping them maintain a fuller version of their human selves than they were previously allowed. Finally, the texts highlight the interdependent relationship between the physical, social, and moral realms of human life as they pertain to honor and shame. In both sets of stories, individuals’ physical bodies (disabled and non-disabled alike) unfairly dictated social status, perceived moral capacity, and social conduct.

Though the episodes from Zhuangzi and the Gospel of Mark share common motifs, it is in pointing to one specific feature of difference that I intend to offer constructive suggestions for theological reflections on shame. The Zhuangzi stories present compelling notions in regard to how to understand body and wholeness, ideas which are not incompatible with Christian theology and which are certainly critical for how we interact with and treat all people. In the stories of disfigurement from Zhuangzi, the larger point is that physical disability and the general limits of the human body are not inherently setbacks for one to be a “whole” or “complete” person. One is capable of being whole via moral development, seeking virtue while living within the body, regardless of its condition.

On the surface of the healing stories we examined from Mark, one could come to understand that Jesus physically healing various people is what makes them whole, that bodily wholeness equates to human wholeness. This thinking certainly pervades the Jewish culture of that day, informed by Hebrew Scriptures, and similar theology and resulting treatment of those with physical disabilities is also common throughout church history. Yet, even in the details I observed above about the social nature of shame and the social implications of the healings, we see that physical wholeness is not the entire picture in these Markan stories. Jesus interacted with those of society that others rarely did, overcoming social barriers and extending honor in the process.

Conclusion

As a result of the insights gleaned from my comparative analysis above, I believe Christians must address the following questions. What is human wholeness in relation to the body? What is a healthy Christian theology of the physical body? What is the relationship between our physical bodies and our resurrection bodies? How does our answer to the previous question influence how we perceive physical disabilities now? How can we understand “wholeness” in light of physical disability? Should our primary concern toward those with disabilities be solely confined to medical healing? Or, are there alternative ways of thinking and being which consider disabled people as already “whole,” just as they are? Fortunately, others have already grappled with these questions in ways relevant to our modern concerns (e.g., medical ethics, disability rights) and which have the potential to impact practices within the church.

I suggest two resources Christians might draw from in order to contribute to a better understanding of the body, particularly in light of the literary motif of disfigured individuals and their social shame as observed in the stories of this study. The first is the field of disability studies at large, interdisciplinary by its nature, combining areas of study as varied as law, medicine, ethics, psychology, philosophy, and religion, all with the aim of developing better theory and practice in regard to issues affecting those with disabilities of various kinds.39 Becoming familiar with the ways that people discuss disability and the body outside the church is crucial for beginning to think about them theologically. Secondly, one theologian who has spent a considerable portion of his career working in this area is Amos Yong.40 His work critiques long-standing attitudes, behaviors, and thinking as he reinterprets many biblical passages with a “disability hermeneutic,” one which has profound implications not just for those with physical disabilities, but for understanding the message of the Christian gospel as a whole.

Travis Allyn Myers is a current MA student in Chinese Literature at the University of Colorado-Boulder. He holds degrees from Lipscomb University (BA in Biblical Studies) and Abilene Christian University (MDiv, MA in Missions). Travis previously lived, worked, taught, and studied in mainland China for 7 years in two different cities, Wuhan (Hubei province) and Kunming (Yunnan province). His research interests include theological anthropology, religious pluralism, ritual, and spiritual practices and formation, especially with regard to comparative approaches in theology, philosophy, and ethics.