Thursday, June 17, 2010

Defining This Down

I'd like to surface a bit from Matthew's ancient plumbing for a breath of air about this whole idea. Back in high school and college debate, I thought topicality (a discussion of the topic as topic rather than of the topic itself) a rather annoying argumentative procedure. Out here in real life, however, I've learned that parsing and understanding terms are essential to communication and thought. Whatever is happening on this blog first needs some topicality.

Why? Because I see things similarly to Trent, in many ways, and think that, if Matthew or history or other commenters consider "Christendom" some unified church-state edifice, I'm completely outta here. I'm pretty sure that the American Revolution clarified how evil and mucked-up life is under state-sponsored religion, or religion-sanctioned states (see also: Islam, the Catholic Church right before and during the Reformation, the Spanish Inquisition, the early church's grab for power under Constantine). Not only that, in a post-American Revolution world, it seems absurd to spend time arguing about some earthly Christian State that will a) never exist and b) seriously screw religion AND politics if it does.

Which is why I'm really not sure why Matthew went through all that weird Augustinian support for killing heretics and such, because if such things are germane to this discussion, again, this is not a discussion I care to have. So perhaps he should explain that link briefly.

My opening statement: So if that's what I want this NOT to be about, what do I think a good and useful definition or opening for discussing "Christendom"?

I am very concerned that discussants avoid the attractive ideas of bringing "the Kingdom of Heaven to earth" so we can have "heaven on earth," et cetera. My evangelical background encouraged such nonsense profusely. Why is it bad? Because, ultimately, this world will perish. Adam and Eve, and now all of us, have sealed its fate. We can't redeem the earth, our communities, our schools, ourselves, anything. Thinking otherwise has us foolishly considering ourselves, literally, our own christs. Which, of course, is blasphemy, and why Trent is also right that we can't avoid talking theology here, because at this core issue different theologies will disagree; however, ultimately it seems we're about to discuss how humans can respond or participate in responding to our utter depravity. My own theology says that Jesus himself orchestrates and creates the redemption necessary to "fix" utter depravity; and any good that happens on earth results from his work.

Again, I'll take a step back here from all that danger (an area which would also reveal my hopeless lack of deep theological understanding) and propose an area safer to tread. And I think my thoughtful friend, Eric, opens that avenue for discussion brilliantly over on his personal blog just this morning.
It was recently pointed out to me by a professional mentor. He said, "When we die and stand before the throne of God to offer an account of our time on earth, there is only one answer that is sufficient, and it isn't, "well, you see LORD, I'm the product of the environment in which I was raised...'" When all is said and done, each of us is accountable for who we chose to be. Did we entrust our whole selves to God, relying on His grace made possible through Jesus, or not?

If that's true, but it is also the case that we are in large measure influenced by the environments in which we our raised, then it seems the crucial question is, "How do we create communities that encourage individuals towards relationship with Christ?"
I'm again a little worried theologically about humans deciding they're the influencing factor in helping people do good or enter communion with Christ, but definitely agree that, as a Christian, I am responsible to act like one, and as God's grace allows me to grow in it will as a matter of course increase the, let's say, "saltiness" of my behavior. Eric goes on to give several examples. Here's one short enough to quote:
Dr. Morse spoke about the behavior-altering effects of her "mom stare." You know, that look that freezes a child in their steps, non-verbally communicating "STOP IT and BE-HAVE." Why is this such an effective tactic? The mom look forces children to cognitively process the reality that their behavior is not matching the expectations they understand their parents have of them. Over time, this process indwells in children the same expectation of themselves that their parents started with! Simply put, we learn self-governance from being governed by others.
This is bite-size "Christendom," perhaps, that I can wholly endorse. I am primarily responsible for me, not for "saving the world" or "taking this city for Christ" (reference to Frank Peretti's brilliant The Visitation). Those things are Jesus' job. But he's let me have authority over myself, and my little home, and my little job, and how I manage them and my relationships. So if we view ourselves as mere bricks in the walls and pavement of a Christendom God himself is building, cool. That seems healthy. Not some large-scale political or any other movement or delirious attempt to conquer a world that, but for Christ, had already defeated us long ago.

In other words, I think the best step towards "Christendom" is first learning to manage ourselves, and hold ourselves accountable to God and others. Apologize for cursing, and stop. Clean up that freakin' messy desk. Give an extra $10 in offering. Put the alarm across the room to break that lazy snooze-button indiscipline. Because little things grow; we can water, but God gives the increase.

1 comment:

  1. I'll be cooking up something soon, and I'm happy to see the conversation move to talking about small-scale Christian culture.

    In reply to you, I'll just say that I brought up the history of St. Augustine and the Donatists to show that
    1) Great church fathers have put Christianity and politics together in the past.
    2) There is an apparent contradiction between Augustine's policies, and his theory in the City of God. Possible solutions:
    a) He was overstating his case in the City of God.
    b) He was being hypocritical in his policies.
    c) He didn't understand, as we do, that he was being inconsistent.
    d) He wasn't being inconsistent. His writings and his policies are complementary.

    I'm not willing to say, yet, which solution is the correct one - but surely it matters which one is right.

    If I could slightly over-simplify the moral question of the combination of the state and the church, the problem is this: how sacred is the individual conscience? Should the state let a man believe what he thinks right, and how far should it allow him to act on those beliefs?

    Now I am absolutely not celebrating St. Augustine's actions. Only, if many and great church fathers answered the question differently than we do, we should at least hear them out, and take what merit there lies in their discoveries.

    You bring up the American Revolution that, largely peacefully, established a federal government that was wary of the intrusion of dogmatic religion. It was a lesson the 18th century jurists and philosophers had learned from the terrible religious wars of the 16th and 17th centuries. The Holy Roman Empire had mostly died, but the world hadn't come to an end and people still obeyed the law:

    "As the struggles proceeded the state found the opportunity to rise into the position of adjudicatory, while the religious bodies tended to look like conflicting parties within the state; the secular government, instead of regarding itself as the servant of the one true faith, might even stand out as the guardian of the interests of society, imposing peace upon religious factions. In these ways toleration emerges with the return of secular indifference. It comes as a secular ideal."
    from The Whig Interpretation of History ~ Herbert Butterfield

    I'm not a biblical scholar, but I think one probably CAN find this idea of tolerance and the (qualified) sanctity of conscience in the Bible and the ancient traditions. But what's true about the history of Christianity is that, tragically, it took a secular revolution to open our eyes to it. We shouldn't give up on the idea of a Christian society, just because the church has in so many places and times had the wrong idea about it.

    Having said that, I quite agree with your last paragraph.

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