Red Books and the Mosaic of Adventism
It’s now been five days since I attended the premiere of Red Books, and I can’t not write anything about it here. But this is going to be a hard and weird and uncomfortable experience. You’ll see why in just a minute. I’ve resisted thus far. But I feel that I should say something—leave a record of my thoughts and feelings somehow. So here we go.First, let me get the personal bias, subjectivity, too-close-to-the-play thing out of the way. In this production of the Dramatic Arts Society of Pacific Union College which will go on through March 14, I am portrayed by Mei Ann Teo, a co-creator of the play, as one of the characters. Yeah, that’s right. Mei Ann plays me—glasses, blue shirt, black pants, cheesy smile (mine, not hers) and all. I made the startling discovery that I would be one of the characters in the play only about a month ago when she asked for permission to use words from her interview of me from last October and to write a “Julius Nam” character into the play. Red Books: Our Search for Ellen White is certainly about White and she figures prominently in the play. But as Mei Ann said in the interview she gave me, the play is much more about us—how we Adventists throughout history and particularly in recent years have viewed her.So, back to me. I’m featured somewhat prominently (at times embarrassingly so) in the play as one of the contemporary views on Ellen White, especially toward the end of the play. I saw that my conversation with Mei Ann from last year contributed significantly to the framing and conclusion of the play. As you can see, I’m perhaps too close to the play to be making an objective commentary on it. But, hey, I should be able to give my take on the play on my blog, right? So here we go. No, actually, I’d strongly suggest that you read Mei Ann’s interview with me before you proceed further, if you haven’t already.Red Books is sure to create conversations—which is exactly what Mei Ann and co. intended. But as to whether it will lead to the healing of the rift within Adventism, as they also hoped, I honestly have some doubts about that. But first and foremost, let me start with the positives, for there are many.I am no drama critic, so I won’t comment on how well presented the play is, how seamlessly the play moved in and out of scenes and different eras in Adventist history, and how wonderfully comic much of the play was. I’ll leave that and more to those who know better about these things (including the very nice addition to the PUC campus, the Alice Holst Theater). What I really liked about the play was how the actors and their roles (each actor plays multiple parts) accentuated the layers of conversation that exist and must exist within Adventism. The most interesting pairing was Greg Schneider as the voice of the White Estate. Anyone who knows Greg, a professor of sociology at PUC, will see the irony behind this pairing. But this is indicative of the kind of internal and vocalized conversations that the play forces upon both the cast and the audience, which I think is its real strength. These conversations result in multiple layers of emotions, thoughts, and experiences that led me to appreciate more deeply the complexity of our historical and present understandings of Ellen White.Throughout the play, the actors constantly talked to us, the audience—much more than to each other. And the lines came directly—verbatim—from among the 200 interviews that the writers and the cast had with Adventists and former Adventists of all persuasions. Because of this, the play felt like an extended, acted-out series of testimonies, a mosaic of views and expressions on Ellen White and Adventist heritage.The most controversial segment of the play is by far the “Firing Squad” scene. What that scene did for me, as characters representing Ron Numbers, Jon Bulter, Fred Hoyt, Walter Rea and others were shot at presumably by church authorities, was to communicate to me in visceral ways what it felt like for them to be held in suspicion by the church hierarchy for their views on White and her prophetic authority. One may debate whether these feelings were real or imagined, but I found it significant that these feelings—in their raw forms as expressed to the creators of the play—were expressed and heard. The events depicted in this scene took place in the 1970s and 1980s, but I saw that the wounds and pain from that period remain and continue to be real for them (judging by the fact that the interviews took place over the past six months). This is something we need to know and understand better.No doubt, many will disagree with how the church leadership and the White Estate were portrayed (as villains) and how the historians who questioned traditional positions on Ellen White were depicted (as martyrs). Whatever the debate may be, I think we can all agree that the fact that the play has been staged on an Adventist college campus—PUC, in particular—shows the level of maturity North American Adventism has reached. We’ve come to that place of confidence where we can take some heavy-hitting cynicism and iconoclasm coming from within, where we don’t look down upon our students and laity to the point that we need to resort to censorship or other oppressive measures to keep the appearance of ecclesiastical/theological unity, where we don’t need to defend every attack or ridicule hurled at Ellen White or our views of her. The church is mature enough be self-critical about the way we relate with our most revered cultural and historical icon—Ellen White.The creators of Red Books very wisely wrote the play as in three acts. Acts I and II are performed, but Act III is when when the audience becomes “actors” by talking back to the cast and to each other. This is an invitation to keep talking about what we believe and why and how we believe what we believe. It is also a time in which the cast and the creators become vulnerable about their own take on Adventism and Ellen White and let the audience know that the play itself cannot be immune from criticism.George Knight, who was in attendance at the premiere, asked during Act III what impact the experience of creating this play had on the cast members themselves. The students who comprised of almost the entire cast said being part of the play led them to have a deeper appreciation for White and Adventist history. This was a chance for them to own Adventism in their own ways. Mei Ann, too, has publicly and privately expressed the same—that this process was a way for her to make Adventism a meaningful part of her life. This is what I found to be the most redeeming and beautiful part of Red Books. As aesthetically pleasing it was in several ways, I think the ultimate beauty of the play lies in what it’s designed to stir in its audience.I emphasize designed because I understand and appreciate the intent of the creators. But (OK, here it goes) I’m not sure if parts of the play match with the intent to create healthy conversations and to build bridges within the Adventist community. I’m thinking specifically of the firing squad scene. I fear that in the creators’ desire to give voice to the “heretics” and to point out the injustice of the past, they have created an unbalanced picture of the way things were and are in the Adventist church.The 1970s and 1980s were turbulent times for the Adventist academia, and many felt pressured or even persecuted for voicing or being sympathetic to minority views. There seems to have been acute fear that gripped many academics who disagreed with some of the traditional teachings of Adventism or with the way the church hierarchy handled dissidents. However, it doesn’t seem that the church went completely medieval on the academics—out to snuff out heretics by lining them up before a firing squad. In many ways, the “firing squad” chapter of Adventist history could be better described as guerilla warfare in which the church leaders, out of their well-intended concern for tradition and global community, sought to suppress dissident ideas and individuals and dissidents found it necessary to fight back. Both were fighting for integrity—for the church leaders, the integrity of what they considered to be the heart of Adventism, and for the dissidents, the integrity of what they considered to be honest, faithful scholarship. Many Adventists got caught in-between and hit by “bullets” flying high and low. In the process, some of the historians—including some mentioned in the play—turned the gun on themselves, metaphorically speaking, and checked out of the community.For me, there’s no clear villain in that chapter of Adventist history, contrary to what the play intimates. Neither are there martyrs to canonize. There are no heroes . . . just lots of victims. It’s just a messy, painful chapter. Could the church leadership have been more patient and tolerant and less dogmatic and insecure about Ellen White and our past? Yes, definitely. Could the dissident academics have been less elitist and arrogant and more responsible and pastoral in their scholarship? Yes, certainly. In the 1970s, Adventism went through a huge learning curve with regard to ecclesiastical authority and academic freedom. And I believe we, including the creators of Red Books, are all benefitting from it.There is another powerful scene in the play that is titled, “The Crash.” This portrays the collision that took place between the Adventist inerrantists who viewed White’s writings basically as an addition to Scripture and “liberals” who saw White’s works as more or less as a collection of Christian writings that contained many historical and theological problems. There is a literal collision that takes place on stage in which two vehicles, both built with White’s “red books,” collide and crush the passengers. This, I thought, was an accurate portrayal of what often happens in Adventist communities. Many Adventists have turned foes and strangers to one another, arguing over how they should view Ellen White and what she actually meant by what she said. We’ve turned White against White and have used her books as weapons. As a result, our sense of community has been wounded.This certainly is not what White herself would have wanted and what God intended by calling her as a messenger. (There you have it. My Ellen White assumption and bias. Here’s more.) I believe God has called Adventists to a much greater calling than arguing over the precise nature of White’s inspiration or the particular interpretation of her passages. I believe our calling is much like White’s own calling—to point others to God, the plan of salvation, and most of all how to live.As my character, channeled by Mei Ann, suggests near the end of the play (this is weird—referencing my character [who really owns that character? me? Mei Ann?]), it really comes down to the subjective perspective of what we expect a prophet to be and what we can allow a prophet to be. Can we have a prophet who contradicts herself? Can we have a prophet who cannot live up to the ideals she preaches? Can we have a prophet who has lied, plagiarized, and misled? Or, do we really need to have Ellen White fit our ideals of a prophet—from the time she first received her vision at age 17 to her death at age 87? As for me (here’s a statement that not many will love), my faith in the fact that God gave visions and specific messages to White for a particular purpose, not the least of which was to raise up the Adventist church, does not shake in spite of my disagreement with some of her interpretations, historical and scientific claims, and theological conclusions, apparent flaws in her character and judgment, occasional questions about the integrity and honesty of some of her statements, or her literary borrowing that by all intents and purposes would constitute plagiarism, were it not for the apparent lack of malicious intent.As you can tell, I like my Ellen White messy and enigmatic. That’s because (as also seen in the play) I see her more as my mother or grandmother whom I love for no logical, intellectual reason, except for the fact that I owe my life and existence to them. They feed my soul in ways no other human beings can. I love my mom even when she annoys me. She’s pretty close to being a saint, but I wouldn’t want her to be one. I just love her the way she is—always accessible, always ready to shed tears for me, always praying for me. That’s who Ellen White is for me—real, motherly, warm, even earthy. How’s this for a neo-hagiography of Ellen White, huh? The truth is, we make White what we need her to be. I certainly do. It’s a temptation that Adventist preachers, teachers, scholars, students, parents, and the White Estate have failed to resist successfully over the years. Perhaps it’s time to embrace it—not just our individual iconographies of her, but a collective, mosaic one.I think the value of Red Books is in its bold suggestion of possibilities that this mosaic approach provides for our understanding of Ellen White and Adventism. Thus, the play fittingly ends with a potluck—each bringing a casserole dish, and my character a rice cooker (even this is fitting as rice is the only thing I’m good at cooking, according to my boys). Just like Adventism itself, the play has many loose ends and issues with balance and perspectives. It does not seek to be either a dispassionate historical reconstruction or a journalistic account of Adventism’s past and present. It is a work of art (postmodern at that) that is constructed to evoke (even provoke) powerful feelings and to invite the audience to go out and live simultaneously in appreciation and ambivalence for the mosaic of Adventism. Many will undoubtedly point out the pieces of the mosaic that are missing that should have been included for the play to have been a better, more balanced representation of reality. One such piece could have been a more nuanced and layered view of the White Estate and the church leadership. Another might have been a balancing piece on the overly idealized portrayal of the dissident historians of the 1970s. My personal worry, as a friend of not only Mei Ann but the play itself, is that these two “missing” pieces get in the way to healing and even deepen the rift remains in some quarters. So I hope that as the play evolves both the White Estate and the historians will be depicted with greater complexity, which I believe will add much to the richness of the mosaic that is already there. I also hope that the audience and those who hear about the play will be able to appreciate it not only for the parts that they agree with, but also for its problematic and at times hyperbolic parts, recognizing it in the end as an expression of love and affection for Ellen White and for the Adventist community. I further hope that the Adventist mosaic will continue to expand to include pieces that complement those that are here already, pieces that showcase new and different colors, and even pieces that were previously deemed unacceptable but now seen as intensifying the opulence of the whole.
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