Quick Hitter: Christendom as a Form of Empire
A quick sort-of digression, and then to my main point. I am part of the formation of a new religious community within the Episcopal Church, known as the Community of Mary, Mother of the Redeemer (CMMR). It will be officially founded in September, and I will be saying much more about it in these electronic pages in the coming months. There are numerous reasons why I am excited about this project, but one of them is how clear the theological vision behind the community is. If you could summarize the charism for this community down to one sentence, it would be that "a fundamental component of the Christian message is opposition to Empire in all of its forms, and our mission is to equip and form disciples in resistance to Empire."
Which of course raises the question--"what do you mean by 'Empire'?" At the risk of defining something in relation to some other complex concept, I would say that "Empire" is a synonym for Rene Girard's concept of "the Sacred." It is a way of being in the world that assumes that the primary forces driving our lives are scarcity, fear, and division. It is a way of living that presumes that we need at all times to protect ourselves from each other, lest we be the next scapegoat. And, because we all believe it to be true, it becomes actually true, creating the endless series of Catch-22s (which the Gospels refer to as "skandalon" or "scandals") that so often define our common life together.
Examples of Empire are all around us. But one of them has come into focus for me in the last couple of days, especially as I observe General Convention from afar via Twitter and other online resources, and that is the obsession with the size of the church. There are those for whom the reduction in numbers is the principal, and perhaps only, issue that must be considered by the Episcopal Church. Based on some of the ways in which "evangelism" is discussed (some, not all), it's pretty clear that this project is seen by some entirely in terms finding some method to put bodies in the seats of these churches, so as to change the slope of a graph of Average Sunday Attendance. For every proposed change in anything, there are dire warnings that this will result in losing people, and/or promises that this change will bring in people who otherwise would not be able to be brought in the doors.
To be clear, it is good for people to be a member of this church, and it is bad to do something that causes people to leave for no good reason. But the obsession with size and numbers is a direct product of the logic of Christendom. In Christendom, the goal of the exercise is to get everyone to be a part of your institution, and because having everyone a part of your institution is a sign of your theological and political correctness. Thus, conversely, having people leave is an indictment on the theological and political correctness of your institution, and thus an indictment of you. If your numbers decline, that's God's just punishment on you and your institution for some sort of unfaithfulness. Numbers are a way of keeping score of how much God loves and blesses you and your institution; God loves the big and successful institutions and hates the smaller and less successful institutions.
This is the pure logic of Empire, of the Sacred. It says that there is a fundamental scarcity in the world; we are all in competition for resources, in the form of people to fill our churches. And there is fear, in the form of a fear that we will wither and die with we don't compete hard enough and smart enough for these scarce resources. Last but most definitely not least, there is division, because it forces us to be hyper-alert to traitors within our own ranks that undermine our life-and-death project, as well as enemies without that will beat us to the punch. Christendom, in this way, is a manifestation of Empire, because it pushes the church to work according to the Empire's logic, using the Empire's tools.
Like global thermonuclear war, the only winning move in the game of Empire is not to play. To that end, I would make a modest, if heart-felt, plea to the delegates to General Convention. Vote on the proposals that are before you on the basis of whether or not you think they are faithful to the call of God you have received. Do not vote on the basis of your assessment (or, mostly likely, fear) of what it will do to the numbers in the church. We, and almost everyone else around us in the broader world of Christendom, have spent far too long chasing that dragon. Let it go.
Which of course raises the question--"what do you mean by 'Empire'?" At the risk of defining something in relation to some other complex concept, I would say that "Empire" is a synonym for Rene Girard's concept of "the Sacred." It is a way of being in the world that assumes that the primary forces driving our lives are scarcity, fear, and division. It is a way of living that presumes that we need at all times to protect ourselves from each other, lest we be the next scapegoat. And, because we all believe it to be true, it becomes actually true, creating the endless series of Catch-22s (which the Gospels refer to as "skandalon" or "scandals") that so often define our common life together.
Examples of Empire are all around us. But one of them has come into focus for me in the last couple of days, especially as I observe General Convention from afar via Twitter and other online resources, and that is the obsession with the size of the church. There are those for whom the reduction in numbers is the principal, and perhaps only, issue that must be considered by the Episcopal Church. Based on some of the ways in which "evangelism" is discussed (some, not all), it's pretty clear that this project is seen by some entirely in terms finding some method to put bodies in the seats of these churches, so as to change the slope of a graph of Average Sunday Attendance. For every proposed change in anything, there are dire warnings that this will result in losing people, and/or promises that this change will bring in people who otherwise would not be able to be brought in the doors.
To be clear, it is good for people to be a member of this church, and it is bad to do something that causes people to leave for no good reason. But the obsession with size and numbers is a direct product of the logic of Christendom. In Christendom, the goal of the exercise is to get everyone to be a part of your institution, and because having everyone a part of your institution is a sign of your theological and political correctness. Thus, conversely, having people leave is an indictment on the theological and political correctness of your institution, and thus an indictment of you. If your numbers decline, that's God's just punishment on you and your institution for some sort of unfaithfulness. Numbers are a way of keeping score of how much God loves and blesses you and your institution; God loves the big and successful institutions and hates the smaller and less successful institutions.
This is the pure logic of Empire, of the Sacred. It says that there is a fundamental scarcity in the world; we are all in competition for resources, in the form of people to fill our churches. And there is fear, in the form of a fear that we will wither and die with we don't compete hard enough and smart enough for these scarce resources. Last but most definitely not least, there is division, because it forces us to be hyper-alert to traitors within our own ranks that undermine our life-and-death project, as well as enemies without that will beat us to the punch. Christendom, in this way, is a manifestation of Empire, because it pushes the church to work according to the Empire's logic, using the Empire's tools.
Like global thermonuclear war, the only winning move in the game of Empire is not to play. To that end, I would make a modest, if heart-felt, plea to the delegates to General Convention. Vote on the proposals that are before you on the basis of whether or not you think they are faithful to the call of God you have received. Do not vote on the basis of your assessment (or, mostly likely, fear) of what it will do to the numbers in the church. We, and almost everyone else around us in the broader world of Christendom, have spent far too long chasing that dragon. Let it go.
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