It’s nine o’clock in the morning. I hurriedly put on my jacket and double up my steps out of my office so I may not be late for today’s all-important meeting. All seated in the Head of Department’s office, colleagues engage in the usual small talks and then exchange warm pleasantries.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. May I have your attention, but before we kick start our meeting, I would like to call upon Reverend to usher us before the presence of the Lord,” the chairman clears his throat. In obedience, the Reverend fires saintly, “In the name of Jesus we pray...”
Thus begins virtually all the meetings I have attended where, like my colleagues, I have once upon a time been instructed to say a prayer. It goes without saying that this performative ritual is not unusual among a majority of Ghanaians.
In commercial buses, public and private schools, some media networks, and workplaces, one cannot fail but to hear the popular name of Jesus often proclaimed and worshipped at the commencement of events. And rightly so.
After all, the Ghanaian, like many an African, is, in the words of the Kenyan philosopher, J. S. Mbiti, “notoriously religious.” For the zealous adherent of the Christian faith, there needn’t be a bifurcation between the sacred and the profane because such an aspiration is anathema to knowing Jesus, and making Him known.
What’s more, openly acknowledging Jesus in non-sacred spaces, such as the workplace, Christians believe, is a direct affirmation that they are not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ (Romans 1: 16). As a Christian myself, I understand the burden placed on me in living in conformity with the teachings of my Lord.
But I am not just a Christian. I also am a Christian academic: a communication theorist and phenomenologist who studies lived experiences. In this piece, I want to trouble the idea of overtly praying in the name of Jesus Christ. Such an observance in public spaces, I will show, reveals one basic taken-for-granted truth about Ghanaian Christians: we too are bigots.
Before I proceed to explore in detail the problematics of boldly praying in the name of Jesus Christ at workplaces comprising persons of diverse religious backgrounds, it is important that we look at why the practice persists. The first concerns the allure of majoritarian logic. Christianity is the largest religion in Ghana with a conservative estimate of about 70 percent followers.
This means that there are likely to be more Christians than Muslims, Traditionalists, or members of any other faiths in our workplaces. There is no Muslim, Hindu, or Traditionalist in my department—not among senior members, senior staff, or junior staff.
It’s, therefore, safe to assume that because we’re all Christians praying in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ is, ipso facto, in place, and thus not harmful to the sensibilities of any member of the department. And yet, when we think about this practice critically, we will realize how complex this ritualistic practice is.
When we openly pray in the name of Jesus in our public spaces, do we take a time off to reflect on exactly the specific Jesus we pray to? Do we bow down our heads and close our eyes in common faith to the Jesus of the Catholics, the Protestants, the Jehovah’s Witnesses, or the Adventists?
Do we agree to pray in the name of the Jesus who was crucified on the cross, or the Jesus who died on the stake? If doctrinal differences about the personality and deity of Christ can serve as a communication barrier in our prayers to God, how much less do you think it will be for members who do not share the same religious views with us?
This leads me to the idea that underlying this practice is that Christians appear insensitive to colleagues of other faiths. The problem with majoritarian logic is that it sows the seeds of power, dominance, and oppression.
The more Christians continue to commence meetings at the workplace in the name of Jesus, the more they unequivocally affirm, either overtly or covertly, that it is they who call the shots. This interactional posturing, thus, leads to the othering of faiths. Not accepting the Other is not to accept the virtue of their difference.
It is a moral condemnation that seeks to convert them from a state of abnormality to one of normalcy. In other words, one is anormal to the degree that one deviates from the dominant view, in this case, Christianity.
But the workplace is a postmodern organizational space where all must be free to express their views without any sort of intimidation. It is a contact zone made up of ideals, ideas, and realities from far and near spaces.
For that matter, the values and beliefs some workers subscribe to may not have been informed by their immediate surrounds. Essentially, I see prayer not only as a communication but also an express form of invitational rhetoric. We do not only communicate to God and request of Him to bless the agenda of our meeting.
We also pray to God with colleagues present at the meeting grounds. The petitioner invites members present at the meeting to join him or her to supplicate. In Speaking into the Air, the American author, J. D. Peters, argued that prayers are tokens of communal discourse to which members show contiguity.
I’m just wondering how Muslims or Traditionalists feels anytime they are subjected to this kind of group exclusion. Are we not telling them ab initio that they are not so welcome to the meeting, or that we care less about the impact of our religious devotion to them? If we don’t mean so, how then can we promote religious tolerance and inclusiveness at all of our public spaces?
I suggest three basic approaches. The first is ecumenism. Is it possible to pray in a way that acknowledges the religious interests of all members present at a gathering? If an opening prayer at a meeting is a formulaic ritual, then I guess it is not impossible to, for instance, communicate to the object of the prayer in a way that allows others to identify with their own Ultimate Reality.
To be specific, there can be the mention of the title minus name of the object, as in “In the name of our Lord we pray”. Or adherents can conclude their prayers by simply chanting “Amen”. Closely akin to the first approach is the idea of minority prayers.
Is it possible to allow others to also pray in the name of their Lord(s)? If that cannot be tolerated, then one realizes clearly how colonialist and intolerant the group is. Another way to deal with the challenge is silence. Simply allow a minute or two for individual prayers prior to the commencement of the meeting.
A minute silence is already in vogue often during times of expressing grief over the loss of a loved one. An otherwise mundane and ‘harmless’ practice such as praying to the Christian God could reveal a great deal about the sociology and psychology of the Ghanaian workplace.
A continual observance of the act, I have demonstrated, is a signifier of bigotry, a value which is clearly at variance with our democratic ethos as a people.
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