Christianity faced with foreignness
Enzo Bianchi talks to Sara Hejazi 1 March 2011

Father Bianchi, in your most recent book you speak of a foreignness expressed in various different ways. In what sense?

This idea started with the thought expressed by the French philosopher and poet Edmond Jabès who said, “When I meet a foreigner I discover my own foreignness.” This is a concept that should be easily understood by everyone, while we usually limit ourselves to seeing a foreigner as another, without questioning our own being foreign to him. When two people meet, there is not only one foreigner, but two. Starting from this reflection one can go one step further, reflecting on the foreignness involved. Those with a degree of interior life, all of a sudden discover they are foreign to themselves. There is a part of us that is not extraneous, but instead foreign to us. This surprises and also frightens us. Hence foreignness cannot only be conjugated as “I and the others’ but must be also conjugated within the self and within one’s own existence. If one is ill at ease with this foreignness there is the risk, if it is badly managed, of an inner division, to the extent of reaching forms of existential and psychic schizophrenia. The same thing happens with the foreignness of the other, which, if badly managed, leads us to defensive and then to autarchic forms and even cultural autism.

In your opinion, has the relationship with foreignness changed over time?

Let us start with the reading of the Bible, which as a Christian is part of my daily life. In various points the Bible repeats 48 times that, “You will love foreigners.” Only once, however, does it say, “You will love your neighbour.” If one thinks about it this is indicative. From the very beginnings, it has been easy for us to love our neighbours; those who live nearby, our relative, those who bear the mark of our own blood, while it is harder to love the different and unknown foreigner. Nowadays, however, we are experiencing and extraordinary situation in terms of relations with others. Migratory flows have resulted in the massive presence of foreigners. This presence raises serious issues. What will become of our culture? What will become of our identity? Fifty years ago, when I was growing up in my village, people were afraid of foreigners, although there was only one, the gypsy who was the only other in our area. Then there was the “stranger,” the tramp, the drunk, the beggar. In those days there was a small degree of otherness, and in the end, a shared language did allow us to communicate with strangers. Nowadays foreigners speak a different language, their skin is a different colour, as are their morals and religion. And yet, the stereotyped words of those days still echo today; in those days people said, “It is known that gypsies steal.” Now one hears those words also from people with government appointments, as is currently happening. “It is known that foreigners commit crimes.” The abstract idea of a poor, foreigner, is actually nowadays even more filled with romanticism. Dealing with them in real life is not the same thing. Poor people smell, they are dirty and unpredictable. Poor people are not good-looking and neither are foreigners. The typical bad habit of Christians today is charity from a distance, which I call “far-sighted charity,” loving those who are far away, giving a euro to African children by sending a text message, then their consciences are clean with no direct involvement. When I was a child it was normal to have the tramp sit at the table with us.

What are Christianity’s real responsibilities regarding contemporary others?

Although it is not easy, we need to stop insisting on reciprocity. It is not with reciprocity that one takes the first steps towards humanisation. In Christianity we have the words spoken by Jesus, who said, “Walk ten kilometres with he who asks you to walk just one with Him.” Well, one must assume responsibility for the ‘other’ without expecting a thank-you or something in exchange. The real Christian challenge does not consist in reciprocity. We instead demand reciprocity, especially with foreigners. How many times have I heard people say, “But do they allow us to build churches in their countries? Why should we allow them to build mosques?” If we behaved in a welcoming manner towards Islam without demanding reciprocity, we would open new paths, that is the only path towards real humanization, what is usually called the “integration” of foreigners.

Translated by Francesca Simmons

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