I saw a news story recently in which a student was asked for their thoughts on the recent campus turmoil. Her response, “History teaches us that only disruption brings about change.” No doubt, it is a common thought for many. The various mantras and slogans of revolution, as well as the myth of revolution itself as a force for benevolence, have been around for several hundred years. It is a notion that frequently shapes the way we tell the story of history. It is also not true.
Many of the myths of nation-building as well as the construction of modern civilization turn on various notions how history works. However, theories of “how history works” are themselves a modern invention. Those living in prior times did not make huge distinctions in historical periods, nor did they spend time pondering the construction of a “better world.” Modernity has been fascinated with various notions of management – how to make the world behave in a desired manner. Interestingly, despite widespread growth in prosperity and social mobility, the past few hundred years have been particularly marked by violence. Modernity is war-like.
Much of our present world assumes that power – the ability to “make things happen” – is the ultimate force within the world. Indeed, many modern conversations assume that only the use of power can “save” the world.
I believe that the single greatest temptation in the Church’s history occurred not during it various periods of persecution, but during its periods of official recognition and approval. When the Emperor wants to destroy you, it’s easy to remember who you are: you stand with Christ before Pontius Pilate. However, when the Emperor summons you to his side with words of flattery and approbation, and asks your advice for running the empire, we easily forget who we are.
The Emperor says: “My people are starving. How can we turn these stones into bread?”
With Emperors and Bishops, the problem is almost a cartoon – drawn in crayon. In the modern world, where the myth of democracy invites everyone to “own” the stones and turn them into bread, it is easy to miss the fact that we are yielding to the same temptation.
I have heard various naive Orthodox opine that we need jurisdictional unity in the United States so that we can have a stronger voice and a more visible presence. It would seem that they have yet to renounce the world and are still thinking about the stones/bread problem. Unity is good because the Church is One (as is affirmed in the Creed). But it is not good because it is “useful.” Indeed, I suspect that God has allowed our disunity for His own purposes – including saving us from ourselves.
Of course, this is a problem that runs much deeper than our relationship with governments – it is our relationship with the world itself. It is quite possible to view the world through the lens of power. However, it changes what we think of the world itself, and it changes our self-understanding. When the world and the people in it become the objects of our exercise of power, they are necessarily de-personalized and reduced to something less than they truly are.
Our modern world, it would seem, has won the debate concerning turning stones into bread. We imagine that Christianity’s superiority lies in the fact that it would somehow make better bread. Christ did not rebuke Satan’s temptation because he was demanding enriched white rather than stone-ground whole wheat. It was the suggestion that bread (and stones) be defined by our full bellies. Rather, Christ tells us, we live by “every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.” Christ has made an eternal alliance with the stones, later telling us that the stones would proclaim His messiahship if the children were made to be silent.
We have become so permeated with the modern message of stone management, that we are often unable to imagine any other way of being. We assume it to be the “way of life.” It is instructive to turn our attention to the Church prior to Constantine to consider other possibilities.
For nearly 300 years, the Church lived under periodic persecutions. During that time it managed to hold local councils, addressed problems of nascent heresies, preached the gospel (including beyond the bounds of the empire), fed the hungry, rescued babies, and quietly grew its presence. Monasticism came into existence during this period. (It has become a trope to consider monasticism as a response to the tempations of the imperial Church, but it came about more than a generation before that trial). Though unable to access the wealth of the empire or its organs of power, Christians, nonetheless, became widely known for their radical generosity (even becoming the butt of jokes). Quietly, the gospel prospered. So far as we know, the Church and its leaders never harbored dreams of imperial preference.
In contrast to turning stones into bread, Christ offered the imagery of seeds.
“The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground, and should sleep by night and rise by day, and the seed should sprout and grow, he himself does not know how. For the earth yields crops by itself: first the blade, then the head, after that the full grain in the head.” (Mark 4:26–28)
Regarding stones, He said this: “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?” (Matt. 7:9)
Of seeds, it is strikingly said that the seed sprouts and grows, but “he himself does not know how…for the earth yields crops by itself.” The modern mind imagines humanity as makers – we not only know “how” the seeds grow, we modify the seeds to make them grow in the manner we desire. This extends beyond literal seeds into the metaphorical “seeds” throughout our culture. Indeed, in the late 20th century, churches began teaching “growth” as something of a planned event, complete with techniques.
In truth, Christ has given us the Church, together with its sacramental life, as the “seeds” of the Kingdom of God. It is faithfulness to its life and Christ’s commandments that provide the sufficient presence of the Kingdom’s divine work. There is no “plan” or “project” beyond that simple reality.
That description, historically faithful in its accuracy, is deeply frustrating to our modern minds. We believe in management rather than God, or, at least management in God’s name and on His behalf. As such, we fail to take seriously the commandments that direct us towards the true life of the Church.
In the Orthodox life, only love “works.” Whether it is the vibrant life of a parish, a diocese, a nation, or even the lofty world inhabited by patriarchs, only love allows the gift of God’s life to be fully manifest among us. The Church is only revealed through love. If we attend to the words of the epistles, the specific messages to Churches, we see the constant refrain and reminder to love one another, to let love be genuine, to be steadfast in love.
Love best expresses the seed of the Kingdom. When planted, it grows. We do not know how. It moves mountains, raises the dead, casts out demons, feeds the poor, heals division, forgives sin. Love endures.
Image by Annie Spratt from Pixabay
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