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Final Thoughts on Pagan Christianity
This will (probably) be my last post on Pagan Christianity, (the previous two being here and here) and I wanted to address some comments (and an email) that I have received over the past few days.
The book (Pagan Christianity) has apparently been a bit of a controversial deal on the blogosphere, it seems that every time it’s mentioned there are both proponents and opponents that are vocal about their support/dissent. Any time you have this sort of discourse then the time must be taken to understand both sides of the argument.
The common theme I am hearing is that Reimagining Church, puts in place a new construct after PC tore the old one down. I, however, have a problem with this concept from the start. Pete Rollins in a podcast with Josh Case from The Nick and Josh Podcast (now the Josh and Josh podcast, as Nick’s gallivanting the globe) discussed the idea of deconstruction ending with reconstruction, and said (paraphrased here) “Deconstruction is the lava that keeps the flow of ideas moving, we should never stop deconstructing.” I completely agree with Rollins here, and I hesitate whenever I hear the word “reconstruct.”
The reason far my tepid outlook on reconstruction is the fear that what we reconstruct will simply become another monstrosity of “orthopraxy” (I say orthopraxy in the term of right practice in regards to how we do church) that must again be torn down. When we reconstruct we make the assumption that we have found the “right” way of doing things, which seems to be an arrogant statement in light of how long we (Christians) have been chasing the idea of orthopraxy.
I’m not saying that any reconstruction is bad, in fact we will certainly reconstruct as we go, but we need to keep the urgency of deconstruction with us at all times, lest whatever practices we build, to better engage in our (post)modern culture, become standardized and passed down to later generations in which they will have little (or no) effect.
That being said, I will indeed read Reimagining Church, if for no other reason than I’ve now been told by several people that I should do so.
I have also been told that I misunderstood the intent of Viola/Barna in Pagan Christianity. From the e-mail I received:
you seemed to have missed the point. Barna and Viola are NOT arguing to go back to a biblical blueprintism. They are instead tracing where the protestant traditions came from and raising questions. Frank’s new book REIMAGINING CHURCH — the constructive follow-up to PAGAN CHRISTIANITY –deals with the very issues you address, like contextualization.
While this may be true, I still feel that I what was being laid out in PC was this ideal of “Biblical Blueprintism” (good phrase by the way), and I don’t think I’m the only one who was under that impression.
One final statement: This book, regardless of whether or not those who read it agree or disagree with it, has sparked a great deal of conversation in regards to how we “do church,” and if for nothing other than that fact the authors need to be commended.
More on Pagan Christianity
I think I need to go back and explain in (more) depth my disagreement with Viola and Barna (V/B) and some of the tone laid out in Pagan Christianity. As I said before, the tone seemed to be one of “Unless things are like they were in the Early Church, they should not be in practice today.” While in some cases, our lost “sight” of “the way things were” has indeed hurt us, so will doing things simply because they “were.”
I’m reminded of the story that Pete Rollins tells in one of his books (I think it’s Fidelity of Betrayal, but it could be How (not) to Speak of God), about the Rabbi who ties the cat to the tree because the cat screeches while the Rabbi is trying to teach. After the Rabbi dies the community continues to tie the cat to the tree, as the act has now become habit. That cat dies and the community, now having moved habit into tradition finds another cat to replace the original, and the line continues until the tying of a cat to a tree becomes orthodoxical for services. What was once done out of the expediency of the moment has become a cumbersome system complete with it’s own rituals and requirements.
In this same way, if we were to do certain things simply because they Early Church did them that way (I guess I should state I’m speaking only in regards to how we conduct our assemblies services) then we fill ourselves with cumbersome material which actually inhibits our understanding. For example, the practice of only meeting in the homes of other members is nowhere mandated by the Bible, yet it was a practice committed (According to V/B) during the Early Church years. (On a side note, I have heard it also stated that early assemblies met in catacombs and in synagogues, so I’m not sure about V/B’s historical account here). If we were to only hold our assemblies in the homes of members today, when other space is available more suiting to the needs of the community, then we encumber ourselves with needless ritual.
On the other hand, with a practice such as the Lords Supper, an embrace of Early Church forms and rituals would be most beneficial. As V/B state, the historical Lords Supper, or at least during the Early Church years, was actually a feast in which the poor and the rich would dine together in a common bond of Christ. Having forgotten that the Bible is in fact a book written for the oppressed and (**mostly) by the oppressed, the insistence that the Lords Feast be shared by all would likely do the Church a fair amount of good.
The largest issue we’re presented with is a cultural chage from the first several centuries AD (or CE if you’d prefer) to the current age. While practices committed in the Early Church indeed made sense for them, in many cases blindly clinging to such practices today would be detrimental to the health of the Church. The key is not in simply doing things the way the Early Church did them, but instead understanding why the Early Church did them in such ways.
This same understanding should in turn be applied to each incarnation of the church throughout the centuries. A fundamentalist would do well in understanding why (s)he does things the way (s)he does, instead of simply doing them because that is how they have been done. In that same way, those who would state that we must do things the way the Early Church did them should take a look at the whys, lest they practice a form of fundamentalism themselves. A decent heaping of deconstruction would do us all a fair load of good when it comes to the way we do things, as well as a cultural understanding of how things need to be tweaked in order to better affect the world in which we find ourselves.
The understanding of cultural shifts, and the need to adjust in order to best work (both) within (and without) those shifts is imperative to the effectiveness of the Church. It is this same thought process in which Emergent (and to a larger extent the emerging church) must operate. So, again, I am lead to disagree with the underlying statement in Pagan Christianity which would lead us to this quasi-fundamentalism.
Pagan Christianity(?)… my thoughts
Pagan Christianity By Frank Viola and George Barna
I finished Pagan Christianity shortly before leaving for my family vacation last week, I had time to post something beforehand, but I’m lazy, so here it is… only a week and a half late.
I found that I actually enjoyed Pagan Christianity more than I thought I would originally. I think there is a largely mixed bag of reviews out there about the book, so I was rather hesitant before actually purchasing it (the poor selection of books at the store I was in helped out a bit). A little backstory on the authors, if you didn’t know, Frank Viola is a big house church proponent and loosely affiliated with the Emerging movement, and George Barna is and evangelical and the creator of the Barna Group, which has put out some pretty controversial poll findings.
Form not Power
(Grandiose and superfluous HT to Blake for this)
When do we have the form without the power of religion?
When we develop church growth strategies that target the middle class instead of the poor and marginalized, then we have the form without the power.
When we spend more of our resources on constructing and maintaining Church buildings and property than we do on feeding the hungry, then we have the form without the power.
When we spend more on pastor’s salaries, benefits, and pensions, than we do on clothing the naked and sheltering the homeless, then we have the form without the power.
When we turn stewardship into financial campaigns for the Church, rather than sacrifice for the poor, then we have the form but not the power.
When we blame poverty on the sloth of the poor rather than the avarice of the prosperous and the indifference of the comfortable, then we have the form but not the power.
When we furnish our sanctuaries and social halls in such a way as to make the prosperous comfortable rather than make the indigent welcome, then we have the form but not the power.
When we dedicate Methodist institutions like universities and hospitals and retirement homes to the needs of the affluent rather than the needs of the impoverished, then we have the form but not the power.
When we preach a grace which saves us without changing us, then we have the form but not the power.
Above all whenever and however we make of Methodism a preferential option for the middle class, we have the form but not the power of religion.
Powerful, this.
I must look over this list and ponder, how often I’ve missed the point, and how in by missing the point I’ve done more damage to the power of ressurection than I’d like to admit.
I think if I could add to this list (and make it somewhat more personal) I’d throw something out there like:
When we blog about the resurrection of mankind, without going out and actively being that resurrection, we have the form but not the power of religion.
What would you add?
Tradition Five
Again, before I start, I want to make mention of the usage of assembly in lieu of “church.” Please refer to the previous post for an explanation.
Each group has but one primary purpose—to carry its message to the
alcoholic who still suffers.
One primary purpose… one reason for meeting… to help the alcoholic who still suffers. Does the church exist to help the human who still suffers?
Lets skip over the fact that must assemblies actually cause more suffering to their people then they do good, and look instead at the heart of “church.”
Why do we exist?
When you go to an assembly (of “believers”), normally, it’s to get “fed,” to recieve that spiritual insight that you missed out on yourself. I’m not stating that teaching in assemblies is a bad idea, in fact I quite support it, but often times I wonder if this teaching is the central goal of an assembly. I know that the reformers were large fans of preaching, I believe it was Calvin who said that the church should never assemble without preaching and praying, but should that truly be our central goal.
If we are to, as Andrew said, simply make “Following Christ” our central goal, how would that look when we took on this tradition as our own? Would we state something along the lines of “Each assembly exists for one primary purpose–to carry it’s message to the human who still suffers.” And, if we stated such an ideal, how well would we go about carrying it out?
Would we move from assemblies where we are preached at to assemblies where we actually build caring relationships? Relationships that could then lend a hand to their members when one gets hurt? Relationships that would offer the hope of Christ rather than the condemnation of sin?
Would we learn to better spot suffering, or even, daresay, open our eyes to the suffering closest to us? Would we be willing to part with our money, our time, and perhaps even our safety, to carry the message of hope to those that still suffer?
Tradition Four
Before I begin, I must state I am using the word “assemblies” in lieu of the word “churches.” I feel like we often take our own personal “churches” as a representation of church catholic, often to the detriment of our unity. We must remember that we are part of one body, and the many little bodies that we find ourselves in must not be thought of as the one body. This exercise in not saying “churches” is to help remind ourselves of that fact. When I refer to church, I am referring to the Church catholic, or the unity of all believers.
Each group should be autonomous except in matters affecting other groups
or A.A. as a whole.
What can the Church learn from this “tradition”?
I grew up in a denomination that made it’s assemblies, for the most part, autonomous. Now, I know certain denominations (traditions, groups, whatever) such as Catholics, Anglicans, and Mark Driscoll’s assemblies, are not all that autonomous, but I’m under the impression that most assemblies are fairly (if not wholly) autonomous.
As autonomous organizations, assemblies are able to better “fit” the culture around them. With no earthly headship dictating the ways and means of an assembly, it is up to that assembly itself to decide where and how they can be most effective in carrying out the message of Christ. (Not proselytizing, but representing the hope of the Cross)
This topic is an interesting one to look at if you’re part of the now entirely autonomous “organization” known as emergent. Emergent Village is, essentially, the center of Emergent (US- I would state that it is not the center of Emergent Worldwide). Recently, EV asked the opinion of it’s “members” (for lack of better word… perhaps blog readers is a better phrase) what they would like to see happen with EV over the next few years. The overwhelming response showed a desire to see EV as a networking Hub, and not the headship of this group.
This, at least now within the realm of Emergent (US), leaves us with an model that fits within the intentions of AA’s fourth tradition. This model keeps the idea that our assemblies should remain autonomous, yet we still have a mouthpiece if we need someone to speak on the behalf of the many. The beauty of the group known as Emergent is that we retain our autonomy that has enabled us to fit in the cracks of culture to help wherever and however we are needed.
Thoughts?
Tradition Three
Before we begin, I must say somethign about my absence over the past few days. I work for Chik-fil-a and occassionally travel to help open up new stores around the country. I left Wednesday for Alabama and, when I got here, I discovered that I forgot to pack my charger. I’ve realized over the past few days how much I require a computer to go about my life.
Also, Chick-fil-a makes assigns you a roomate whenever they get you a hotel room. So, when I walked into my room and met my roomate, he held up a newpaper that said “Obama Wins” and says “Sad news man, sad news.” I responded simply, “Only if you’re a McCain fan.” I think he got the point and the topic has not resurfaced.
Now, onto Tradition Three.
The only requirement for A.A. membership is a desire to stop drinking.
In church, we often create requirements to establish membership. Normally, these include things like Baptism, Admission of Faith, and acceptance by the Church body. These things seem superfluous in comparision with “The only requirement for A.A. membership is a desire to stop drinking.”
Now, I realize that church membership is on its way out, and I am completely behind this trend. However, we also tend to tag other un-spoken requirements, such as the lack of social stigmas. We often “require” that individuals believe what we feel they should believe in order to join our fellowships.
What would church look like if the only requirement to join in fellowship with us was a desire to take part in changing the world.
What if you didn’t have to believe the right doctrine?
What if you didn’t have to hide you scars and your pain?
What if you didn’t have to make yourself socially acceptable?
What if?
Would you join that church?
Tradition Two
Two—For our group purpose there is but one ultimate authority—a loving God as He may express Himself in our group conscience. Our leaders are but trusted servants; they do not govern.
From Wikipedia:
A member who accepts a service position or an organizing role is a “trusted servant” with terms rotating and limited, typically lasting three months to two years and determined by group vote. Each group is a self-governing entity with AA World Services acting only in an advisory capacity. AA is served entirely by alcoholics, except for seven “nonalcoholic friends of the fellowship” out of twenty-one members of the AA Board of Trustees.
The idea here is a somewhat decentralized outlook, with the “head” of the organization, in actuality, doing very little to interfere with the meeting to meeting workings of the local groups. This enables the groups to better serve their communities, and greatly increases the effectiveness of the local groups.
Placing this notion within the realm of the church, we find that a few churches do operate outside the purview of a larger organizations. This, as with the local AA group, allows the church to decide how to be of the most benefit to the community.
This would be the most obvious effect of Tradition Two, however, if we look a little deeper we can see one more striking effect that this tradition should have on the “Trusted Servants.”
The reinforcement of the idea that they (Trusted Servants) are not to govern, that is not their task. They are there to insure flow and create “Dialogue” (for lack of a better word, actual response to statements made by attendees from other attendees is discouraged- something that would be beneficial in an ecclesiastical setting).
I think this approach would be of great benefit to the church today. Realize that pastors are but trusted servants, and should not govern.
And this is not part of the traditon per se, but, open the floor up for dialogue. (I think I’ll take a look at this idea after we finish with the AA posts).
The First of Twelve Traditions
I was random link clicking around the blogosphere, and landed on the website of the Young Anabaptist Radicals and a post discussing the twelve traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous.
I have never really looked into alcoholics anonymous, but after a night of research, I am completely enthralled with the organization.
The most enthralling thing, that I discovered, are the 12 traditions. These traditions are the loose guildlines that “govern” the headless organization known as Alcoholics Anonymous. I began to wonder what it would look like if church began to take these traditions for themselves (similarly to how we have adopted many “pagan” rituals into the way the church works).
The first tradition is quite striking “Our common welfare should come first; personal recovery depends upon A.A. unity.”
Think that one over for a moment.
Personal Recovery depends on A.A. unity.
Equate that over.
Church effectiveness depends on catholic unity. (Please note, little c catholic)
Does this mean that every A.A. member agrees on every issue? No, certainly not. Would unity require us to agree on all issues? Again, No, a resounding No. The most beautiful form of unity is when it crosses the divides we normally find ourselves in.
Saying “I will stand with you, no matter your doctrinal viewpoints, in order to better act as a priest to the world.”
Beautiful.
Unity.
This post brought to you by something other than politics
I’ll admit, there have been several times today when I was quite tempted to renege on the statement that I would not comment on politics until post election (Blake- I will be on the liveblog- no worries there), however, I will keep my word and talk about something else that’s been on my mind of late.
As I mentioned before, I read “Fidelity of Betrayal” and “How (Not) to Speak of God,” both of which I could not recommend more to everyone willing to take a deep approach to their religion. However, the books have put me in a deconstructionist mood, which brought to the surface a few things that had been brewing for some time.
I think an appropriate subtitle to this post would be “Throwing a match on everything that I’ve been taught to see what can survive.”