The Condomization of the Church

Fulcrum is a curious confection. It arose, as I recall, when Anglicans were at their most bitterly divisive over the proposed episcopal ordination of Jeffrey John. It's not the home of the most strident conservative evangelical Anglicans; but its evangelical-ness is quite strong. There is some thoughtful and rigorous thinking there - typified by writings of Andrew Goddard: his review of Andrew Marin's, Love is an Orientation: Elevating the Conversation with the Gay Community is by turns careful, sensitive, and wise. I probably agree with Andrew (Goddard) less than when we were both students, but his contributions are excellent.

I reproduced the title of a recent article as my title here. It's not a term you expect to find in an Evangelical journal, especially not with the article complaining at some length about a phenomeon the author calls "floaters". The thesis of the article, I think, is that people are not committed any more, like they once were. Just as condoms promote apparently consequence-free sex, so consumerism has infected our perception of the norms of doing church, leading to a self-centred attitude to church as a mere supplier of religious services.

The thing is, despite the arresting title, that doesn't seem a very startling or striking conclusion. Isn't this the whole "Generation X" story? It's a problem if you are running an institution. He says it's a problem because it denies the gospel:

Our condomized culture has learned to think of its relationships and commitments to core values as disposable. Of course, it’s impossible to reconcile such a value system with the demands of the gospel. So, while I appreciate my friend’s worry about the Church’s ability to satisfy the demands of the floating generation, I am confident that the solution does not consist of the Church adapting to the culture in areas where it is the culture itself that is sick.

Rather, the vocation of the Church is to be that alternative community that embodies Christ in its common life, even when that life may seem archaic, exclusive, and unloving to the world.

I can't help thinking that he just has a mind-set-mismatch. Despite having an exceptionally conventional career path (two plus years on the other side of the world notwithstanding), and being typically a stable and static individual, the GenX thing speaks to me: life just isn't so fixed any more. Things are different. People are different. This is both good and bad: but hand-wringing and saying we wish people would behave a little more like they used to, really isn't going to get us anywhere.

The jury still seems to be out (and probably will be for the rest of my life) on how big a sea-change we are seeing in the western church right now: if we overlook the argument that no decent English word should have more than four syllables, who's to say whether or not condomization is a good thing - or maybe we have just to look at a bigger picture.

faithfulness

So, we're studying Judges, as I mentioned.

One of its recurring themes is that the Israelites kept forgetting God and being unfaithful - and he kept sending leaders to bring them back to the truth. The "obvious" application is that we too must beware being unfaithful to the truth. I made that conclusion dissolve in my Powerpoint, replaced by a caption saying "we are not Bronze-age hill-fort dwellers". But it deserves attention.

And yet, what does faithfulness entail? Behaving with 50s morality? Holding Victorian attitudes? Is faithfulness all about condemning stuff? The Israelites were condemned for adopting the lifestyle - including the worship - of those around them. And elsewhere we read that

friendship with the world means enmity against God

The call to faithfulness is a call to distinctiveness.

But that's simplistic. Where's the Christlike-ness in condemning people whom you haven't tried to understand? In which ways should we be distinctive? With poor poetry and worse music? With an isolationist stance which spreads neither salt nor light in our communities? By ignoring research in history, archeology, biology, psychology? By saying that the old ways were better?

No, of course not. The Israelites' failure to be faithful was expressed in the fact that they did evil in the sight of God. How do we tell good from evil? By its fruit, perhaps? What kind of fruit does God look for? Good news for the poor? Freedom for the prisoners? Recovery of sight for the blind? Release for the oppressed? The proclamation of the Lord's favour? The idea of putting this into practice seems alarmingly alien to Christian ears, if I'm honest.

God is faithful: how are we doing with the faithfulness thing?

RYT: Bart Campolo

I've been really impressed with the short videos at Recycle Your Faith (h/t: Nick). In production values, they are reminiscent of Nooma: contemporary, sharp, and high quality. They're much shorter than Rob Bell's insights - and without quite the range of visuals or music.

Today's video is by Bert Campolo. It's well worth a look: it's not quite as radical (to evangelical ears) as it first appears, but is certainly right on the edge. I'm not sure I'd put my name to every word he says in the clip ... but I think I'm starting to come close.

9/11

I introduced Spaf as a speaker at a conference, earlier this year: I remarked that he is one of the few people known to a whole community (Computer Science folk; security experts) by a single syllable.

He writes thoughtfully, reflecting on 9/11 [which, incidentally, some Brits really think happened on the 9th of November].

Worship-shaped or mission-shaped?

Jonny Baker reports an interesting little idea. Maybe it's a big idea.

I think it's thought-provoking, anyway.

It might be a completely false dichotomy: the Brethren have undoubtedly been a worship-shaped community, but also deeply engaged in mission, historically.

violence

What does God think of violence?

I ask, because I am to speak on the early chapters of Judges next Sunday. And, of course, it's bloody stuff - from Ehud the left-handed Benjamite and his short sword which buried itself in Eglon's folds of fat, to Jael and the tent-peg she drove through Sisera's temple, pinning him to the ground. Along the way, we hear of Shamgar (he had an ox-goad, remember? what is an ox-goad?) - who killed six hundred Philistines.

How would we greet news of a latter-day Shamgar who had killed six hundred Taliban?

Only a few months ago, I had to speak on the one who said

But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.

What, then, is the consistent exegesis? I recall that Rob Bell has said some useful things about this, but I haven't managed to find a transcript yet. Woe is me.

mercy, compassion, justice, and leniency

It was interesting to be able to watch the news of the compassionate release of the floridly-named Abdelbaset Ali Mohmed al Megrahi, while I was visiting the US this week. I managed to avoid my morbid fascination with Fox, and watch the coverage on CBS instead. They seemed to be labouring under the misapprehension that the decision was being taken by a judge, whereas in fact Mr Kenny MacAskill is a politician, a member of the Scottish Executive, the Justice Secretary.

I was struck more, though, by the on-screen caption CBS used: it spoke of "leniency", whereas the British news outlets took the official line, that this was an issue of compassion and mercy. Do the two amount to the same thing? For al Megrahi, they seem to; for the people celebrating on the streets of Tripoli, they seem to; for the relatives of the victims of the Lockerbie bombing, ...

Al Megrahi is guilty before the law. That's not the same thing as saying that he did it: a subsequent appeal might have concluded that he did not. But the due process of the law, to date, finds him guilty. The Scottish Executive would argue that they have followed their own due process - a separate process of compassion - and decided that on the grounds of his imminent demise due to cancer, he should be released.

This creates two tensions: firstly, the British conception of justice may be divergent from the American one: had he been tried under an American jurisdiction, he might well have faced the death penalty. Our conceptions of what constitutes just punishment may differ, and the grounds for early release are certainly different: so it is unsurprising that this release comes as an unpleasant shock to grieving relatives. Secondly, there is a tendency among a significant proportion of the British people to take a more "American" view (in that sense) of justice, which can be at odds with that of our political leaders (though I don't know of any explicit test of public opinion in this particular case).

So where does the path of justice, accompanied by mercy, lie? There is much speculation about political (or trade) expediency surrounding the decision to release this man - but the politicians have denied it, so let us take that at face value for now. The notion of a justice system whose judgement is tempered with mercy seems a good one to retain: after all, whether you follow the God and Father of Jesus Christ, or a set of humanist values, unless you have an excessively relativist outlook, you will tend to believe that a just society is better than the ideal of those who would seem to win through violence. Mercy is lacking in those who would send 270 people to an unexpected death: all the more reason for it to be demonstrated towards those who perpetrate the terror.

But that's easy for me to say: it was not my mother, my daughter, my sister who was murdered. In some Islamic states those who represent the wronged party are able to influence the sentencing and the processes of clemency. That is a tempting notion - but I'm pretty certain al Megrahi would still be in prison if the decision had been in the hands of the victims' relatives. Though sentencing should take account of the victims' distress, it is eventually a function of the community, of the state: if it is a legitimized lynch mob, then we have a problem. [I need to look for a biblical principle here, I think.]

All in all, this is a long-winded way of saying I'm ambivalent about this decision: but the notion of justice tinged with mercy is undoubtedly one to hang on to - for it is divine.