Presbyterianism as Revolutionary Organization.

We don’t usually realize that the word “Presbyterian” is not actually faith-based or religious at all.  It is a political term.  It means a system in which the presbyters, that is, the elders, rule.  It is literally a kind of oligarchy in which a small group has the authority over the whole.

There was a time, of course, four or five centuries ago, when being politically Presbyterian was a big deal.  In those days, the 1640’s or so in Britain, it was presented as a rival political ideology to monarchy.  They fought a war over it and everything.

King George III famously referred to the American Revolution as a “Presbyterian rebellion.”  We American Presbyterians liked to boast about how our system was a model for the representative democracy embodied in the U.S. Constitution.  I’m not sure that is still a positive thing in an age of filibusters and gerrymandering.  And Presbyterians have not been particularly revolutionary about anything since.

(If anything the influence bleeds back the other way these days, with church members expecting things like separation of powers to apply in ecclesiastical governance when they are not original aspects of our polity.  The use of Robert’s Rules imports a partisan adversariality into our decision-making.  And we reflexively see things through a Modernist/individualistic lens we get from post-Enlightenment culture.)

But referring to Presbyterianism as a revolutionary ideology today sounds crazy… until we notice that the practice of rule by small groups of disciplined, trained, adept, committed practitioners, that is, cadres, is basically what was advocated and used by revolutionaries like Lenin and Mao.  The word “soviet” is Russian for “council.”  The Presbyterian Church is not a pure Congregationalist democracy but is governed by elders gathered in councils.  It is designed as a “single-party” system.

Presbyterianism may look like a compromise/hybrid between the Episcopal (bishop-ruled) and Congregational (purely democratic) systems, but it was actually extracted from Scripture.  It goes back to the appointment of elders to assist Moses, and then the polity of the Israelite tribal confederacy.  It reemerges in the early Church, especially after the passing of the apostles.  Groups of elders ruled churches, appointed and led by overseers, ie. bishops (in Greek: episcopoi).  (Today we  Presbyterians call them Moderators.)  Eventually the bishops came to take precedence and the system began to look and act more monarchical.  And presbyters evolved into priests.  Part of the Reformation agenda was to rein in the office of bishop, and bring the elders back into prominence.  (Of course, the more extreme wing of the  Reformation adopted Congregationalism, a polity more in-tune with congealing Modernity.)

But my point in this analysis is that Presbyterianism can be a potent political ideology designed to guide a community through change and maintain continuity with an original vision.  It avoids the excesses of both the democratic and monarchical alternatives.  The latter obviously tends to concentrate power in an autocrat.  The former easily caters to popular opinion.

By giving power and authority to people who have proven their loyalty and commitment to the values and practices of the community, Presbyterianism is structured for both integrity and growth.  It contains the organizational power to resist autocracy, on the one hand, and cut through the ephemeral fog of democracy on the other, giving guidance to and guarding the community.

A Presbyterian system will function this way IF those called to serve as elders are adequately trained and held to a rigorous standard of discipleship.  Unfortunately, the Presbyterian Church today routinely fails at this essential requirement.  The Book of Order astonishingly has in practice almost no standards for serving as an elder.  This reduces us to just another inept, disintegrating main-line denomination, led by people who often do not know, let alone demonstrate a deep commitment to, the gospel.  We simultaneously fetishize both tradition and relevance, which cancel each other out, so that we end up spinning our wheels.  For decades.

But a revivified Presbyterianism, which has serious and demanding standards and requirements for serving as an elder, and which explicitly bases those standards on the teachings and life of Jesus Christ — featuring humility, justice, generosity, non-violence, forgiveness, compassion, service, simplicity, healing, scriptural literacy, and a deep spiritual life rooted in prayer and the Sacraments — would be a powerful witness and could change the face of Christianity, not to mention the world. 

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All.

The most offensive word in the English language Is… “All.”

No matter how clearly we write or define it, the word “all” still only very rarely gets taken seriously or literally.  It’s almost like we can’t quite wrap our minds around the concept, especially when it refers to people.  We keep reflexively interpreting it as “only some.”

On the other hand we do like to use the word “all” carelessly and pejoratively, as a way of over-generalizing to whole groups from our experience with an individual.  This is where we get nasty stereotypes from.  We will happily apply our prejudice to entire populations.

And we need to be careful to use the word “all” when we really mean some, when it is a matter of fact.  Like declaring “everyone is saying” something, and really mean that we heard it from at most a handful of people.  In those cases we are self-servingly claiming things to apply to everyone that in reality clearly do not.  It is an ego-centric attempt to make our personal views seem natural and accepted by everyone, by all. 

Those uses of the word “all” are easily disproved by evidence since it only takes one single exception to reveal that it is a lie.

But there are times when “all” is intended to say something important and uniting about us.

Jefferson’s famous proclamation in the Declaration of Independence is an example: “All [people] are created equal and are endowed by their Creator” with “inalienable rights.”  Such an affirmation has consequences in the way we subsequently act if we believe it is true.  We would not be able to reasonably treat any human as if they were not created equal to everyone else and did not have the basic human rights Jefferson talked about.  Of course, at the time, Jefferson himself didn’t even believe in the “all” he wrote.  It is taking us a two and a half centuries to take his words seriously. 

More significantly, the Apostle Paul writes in his first letter to the Corinthians, “As in Adam all die” — we get that — but then we fail to comprehend it when he says, “even so in Christ shall all be made alive.”  We’ve decided that this second use of “all” doesn’t really mean all.  We’ve decided that he must intend “all” to refer to just some chosen people.  Or in Romans 1:18, “Therefore just as one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man’s act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all.”  All.  As in everybody.  Adam sinned and all died; Christ is raised and all are saved.  It is hard to get around the logic.

But we nevertheless try.  Indeed, the Church has never fully embraced this “all,” although it has usually accepted those who do (like St. Gregory of Nyssa).  

“All” offends and disturbs us because our egos like to think we are special.  We prefer to imagine ourselves as part of an exclusive group.  It makes us feel superior, which means someone has to be inferior.  We feel that salvation might somehow be devalued if it were for everyone, as if it were some scarce commodity being sold on the open market.  

Traditional Reformed theology is notorious for this.  We infer from God’s election of the Church that God must therefore somehow have also chosen others for destruction and condemnation, as if God would intentionally create some humans for the purpose of torturing them for eternity.  That ghastly opinion — called “Double Predestination” — is emphatically not about the God of Jesus Christ.  

Actually, God’s grace is universally available and, I believe, no one is excluded in the end.  In the meantime, those of us who know about God’s grace are blessed with the mission to proclaim this good news to all.  For there are many who don’t know about it and continue to languish under the false impression that God only chooses and blesses a few.  The only difference is that some people know this truth and act on it with compassion, forgiveness, inclusion, and love; and others — the vast majority — don’t know this truth and continue to act as if some were more equal than others.      “Many are called,” said the Lord, “but few are chosen,” and those chosen are chosen precisely to share God’s love with those who don’t yet know it.

In our own country, the main political battle right now is between those who wish to maintain their own supremacy and privilege, and those who wish to see us realize the original hope upon which our nation was based, that all are created equal and therefore are entitled equal treatment, regardless of race, gender, ethnicity, or economic status.  It is easily the most Christian thing about America. 

“All” is therefore the most revolutionary and radical word imaginable.  Nothing challenges the powers ruling the status quo than the idea that there are no social strata, no castes, no classes, no insiders and outsiders.  No inequality.  No Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female (Galatians 3:28).  “For all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”  

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Ego and Essence: The Line Runs Through Everything Human.

I notice that every time I write a blog post about politics it could easily be transferred to the Church.  And vice-versa.  At least to my mind, the same issues and dynamics run through both.  Come to think of it, the same could be said for psychology and even for global civilization or world history.  The dichotomy between ego and Essence pervades and explains every human story.

I learned this from the Enneagram.  Humans are caught in personality structures developed by the ego for self-protection.  These structures initially serve a good purpose, but they become destructive because they are invented and separate us from the deepest truth of our being: our Essence.  The psychological and spiritual journey of a human being is this movement from being unconsciously dominated by ego and personality, to seeing our Essence emerge in us.

The ego is always about the individual self in some kind of adversarial relationship over-against the rest of the world.  Essence, on the other hand, understands that life is a network of intersecting and concentric communities in which the individual participates.

Political structures — from families to civilizations — are also caught between a self-serving ego narrative that dominates our behavior, and a deep and beautiful Essence that unites us to and embeds us within the rest of creation’s story.  

For instance, I have written about how America’s Essence is expressed in Jefferson’s words, “All [people] are created equal.”  But America’s ego is expressed in the fact that he nevertheless owned slaves.  The vestiges of slavery, the practice that, in Orwell’s words, “some are more equal than others,” pervade our laws, institutions, language, and history.  Thus our history is a struggle between our perverse and destructive ego-identity that proclaims its own exceptionalism, and our good and blessed Essence that celebrates diversity, inclusion, and equality.

The Church is no different.  As a human institution it has always (at least since about the 2nd or 3rd century) featured a division between ego-centric fears which cave in to  the temptations Satan threw at Jesus, and the realization of the Kingdom of God in following Jesus’ life and teachings.  The Church could succumb to the demands of Empire and serve as a lapdog for whatever the principalities and powers demanded (in our time it has been things like colonialism, capitalism, and casteism), or it could inhabit Jesus’ Way of humility, non-violence, service, and transformation.  

These are the “two ways” that get referred to often in our tradition, going at least as far back as Joshua: the way of death, judgment, and condemnation; as distinct from  the Way of life in obedience to God’s commandments.

In the end, Essence is about unity.  It doesn’t matter whether we are talking about individuals, families, nations, or civilizations.  The more we come to our Essence the more we come into communion and participation with and in each other, and with all creation.  Essence centers and grounds us in the truth.  Followers of Jesus understand this Essence to be Christ, the Word of God, the true human who is also true God.  In him we are united to our true selves, each other, all creation, and God.

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I 

Under God.

The words, “under God,” were added to the Pledge of Allegiance in 1954.  No doubt this was done out of a self-righteous desire to encourage Americans in their conflict with “atheistic” Marxism.  Before that we were just “one nation, indivisible.”    

But the Living God is not mocked or used.  God is not easily enlisted in anyone’s political agenda.  God is not anyone’s national mascot to be trotted out to pump up the crowd.  Inviting God’s influence into your common life has consequences.  Claiming to be God’s people or in some way uniquely “under God” compared with others, especially your enemies, is not something to do lightly.  The moral standards to which you subject yourself are exponentially higher when you claim a special relationship with God, as distinct from when you are just doing what is politically expedient.

We may have imagined that proclaiming ourselves to be “under God” would generate enthusiasm for preserving and defending our traditional way of life.  Unfortunately, the God we invoke is notorious for messing with and demolishing traditions and ways of life that do not reflect and express God’s will for justice and equality.  I wonder how many of the controversies that our nation has gone through since 1954 aren’t a result of God messing with us at our invitation.   

A lot of that has been what John Lewis called “good trouble.”  The Supreme Court decided Brown vs. Board of Education in 1954, and three years later President Eisenhower had to send Federal troops to Little Rock to enforce a school desegregation order.  The civil rights movement was kicked off by the Montgomery Bus Boycott, which began in 1955.  Emmett Till was lynched that same year; unlike the thousands of these unspeakable atrocities that had happened previously, this time people cared.  Bob Dylan even wrote a song about it.

Since then, social progress has been made in many areas… and vociferously resisted by exactly the people who insisted on adding this affirmation to the Pledge.  They thought that our claiming to be God’s special people would please God.  Perhaps they forgot that Jesus Christ said that those who merely proclaim with their mouths “Lord, Lord!” will have no place in his Kingdom.  Maybe God heard the Name invoked and didn’t like what we were doing in that Name.  Maybe bringing up God’s Name actually brought down God’s judgment on our injustices.  It’s not like the biblical Israel and Judah somehow got away with anything because they were God’s chosen.  Just the opposite.  The Hebrew prophets devote the bulk of their time criticizing and predicting disaster upon their own people.

In World War II, “Gott Mit Uns” (“God With Us”) was stamped on the belt-buckles of Nazi soldiers.  It didn’t go so well for them, either.

We cannot claim to be “under God” and continue to be ruled by our own fear, hatred, and anger.  We cannot allow lynching or racial segregation.  We cannot despise Gays or transgendered people.  We cannot unduly restrict immigration, or ban Muslims, or enact voter suppression laws, or continue to commit genocide against indigenous people, or poison God’s creation out of insatiable greed.  We cannot sink untold trillions of dollars into armaments and engage in pointless wars.  We cannot invent huge and obscene disparities of wealth.  We cannot do with impunity any of these things if we have decided to loudly proclaim that God is on your side.  Maybe if we’re not living according to the way God wants us to live it would be more prudent to just stay under God’s radar.

What if all our social advances since 1954 are actually God’s doing, getting us in line with what God says in Scripture about the poor being lifted up, and the meek inheriting the earth, and people who live by the sword dying by it?  What if those opposing those changes, supposedly in the name of “Christianity” are actually against what God is doing?  In the Bible, God liberates people from slavery and oppression; God is about equality and inclusion, compassion and social justice, forgiveness and love.  How well did we think 1954 America would stack up to that vision?

Accepting our invitation in the Pledge, perhaps God looked around and basically said, “Well, if you’re going to use my Name, we’re gonna hafta have some changes around here.  I have my brand to protect, as you would say.  So brace yourselves; you’re in for a bumpy ride.”

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We're Not "Polarized."

Anat Shenker-Osorio is a communications expert who was on the Pod Save America podcast last week.  She made a remarkable observation about politics in America.  We’re not polarized so much as dealing with a “faction” that has manifested itself historically in weighing against the basic American vision of “all people are created equal,” and “liberty and justice for all.”  They have a problem with the “all.”

I wouldn’t call it a “faction” so much as a pathology.  When a person has an illness, even if they were born with it, we don’t explain it as “polarization” in their body.  We understand the basic invasive nature of the disease as something contrary to the health, wholeness, functionality, and life of the person.  

Polarization on the other hand is the way we talk about when a unity has for some reason separated into two opposed and extreme factions, where the center isn’t holding, consensus has broken down, and compromise has become impossible.  The cure for polarization is finding some kind of centrist place where we can all come back together, inclusive of “both sides.”

Many analysts see the current situation in America in this light.  We used to have “bipartisan” agreement and be amenable to compromise.  Now, they say, we only have both sides gone to an extremism that excludes and demonizes the other.  

But that view assumes that both sides are necessary and good for the health of the whole.  What if that is not true?  What if one “side” is actually a pathogen that desires the death of the body by preventing its growth and maturity?

In the pledge of allegiance we say we believe in “one nation… with liberty and justice for all.”  The concern for the rights of “all” is constitutive of what America is.  That is the vision articulated by Jefferson in the Declaration of Independence, when he wrote about the equality of all.  But the disease America was born with showed itself in Jefferson’s own actions.  For he did not in his own life act as if all people were created equal; he owned some.  

We have suffered from this disease since that fateful original compromise in which  the States sanctioning slavery were granted huge concessions so they would consent to join the union.  What we really compromised when we began our existence was that “all.”  In effect we decided that “all” meant “white males property owners.”  The Constitution was thus embedded with features ensuring that this disease would be dutifully fed, and slave-States would have extra clout.  America may therefore be compared to a crack-baby, someone born with a deadly addiction.  

For centuries we continued to accommodate this addiction, telling ourselves the usual rationalizations: we’re not really an addict, we can stop at any time, it’s not doing us any harm, we’re fine as long as we have our supply, it is something we need, it is part of who we are.  Most of all we reiterated our mantra: “liberty and justice for all,” as if our words and wishes alone made it true.  But unfortunately, we, like Jefferson, could not get over our actual practice of racial and social injustice.

After the pathogen devoured 600,000 Americans in war, we adjusted the Constitution somewhat to include more people, on paper.  But then we allowed ourselves to ignore it and fell into the rancid regime of Jim Crow for a century. 

My point is that this disease continues to take up a lot of energy that could be devoted to other, more positive, things.  And it is not about two different but legitimate perspectives and directions.  It is the true America of “liberty and justice for all,” against a pathological addiction to a caste system that only wants liberty and justice for some.  That should not be our national identity.  That is neither how we see or talk about ourselves, nor who we want to be.  It is a parasitic, crippling, and disgraceful demon riding on our back.  

And it must not be included, or at all compromised with, in our political conversations moving forward.  Every instance of its perverse influence must be resisted, from attempts to restrict or suppress the vote, to partisan gerrymandering, to anti-immigrant measures, to attempts to whitewash our history in the name of resistance to a deliberately misunderstood “Critical Race Theory.”  

And we have to start seriously adjusting the Constitution to remove the structural barriers to the equality of all.  We have to start taking our ideals more seriously.  There can be no compromise or bipartisanship when we are trying to extricate ourselves from the grip of evil.  

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We Are Pilate.

When we read the Bible we like to see ourselves as the heroes, the protagonists, the good guys.  We identify with the Israelites marching out of Egypt, and with the intrepid band who followed Jesus, (often ignoring or downplaying the weaknesses and failures of each).

It rarely occurs to us that the people depicted in the Bible are in many ways nothing like us.  And the ones who are like us are not necessarily the ones we want to be associated with.  

Take Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea who oversaw Jesus’ execution.  He was a representative of the prevailing and dominant political regime.  He wielded the power of the most effective military in the world.  He was well-funded by the dominant world economy.  He managed the police as a conservative advocate of law-and-order.  He and his class and superiors lived off the labor of local workers, extracting the “resources” from the land and sea. 

Should we not recognize ourselves in him?  Isn’t he kind of familiar to us, with:

 

— His managing a corrupt and unjust legal system.  

— His cynical political machinations.  

— His willingness to condemn the innocent for the sake of “stability.”  

— His strength masquerading as weakness, like when he says he washes his hands of responsibility for Jesus, and tells them to take him and crucify him themselves.  

— His need to stay accepted by the people.  

— His replacement of the truth with expediency.  

— His delusion that he is a force for good in the world.

He might as well be a Presbyterian.  I have been at too many session, presbytery, and General Assembly meetings, and had countless conversations with church members, that involved exactly these kinds of considerations.         

What if,

whenever we say in the Creed that 

Christ “suffered under Pontius Pilate,” 

we are unconsciously confessing that he suffered, 

and still suffers, 

under us?  

— Don’t we daily demonstrate that preserving capitalism and nationalism is far more important than following him?  

— Don’t we adjust “truth” to be whatever serves our psychological or political agenda?  

— Don’t we also daily participate in the oppression and murder of poor people of color like him, even if reflexively or unconsciously?  

— Don’t we still insist on displaying exclusive national idols in our worship spaces?  

— Haven’t we bound our church to a regime based on slavery from the beginning, and continue to defend it and attack those who try to tell the truth about it?  

— Don’t we call Jesus “king,” while, in effect, crucifying him by our loyalty to other considerations?

— Don’t we invariably back down when the trump card is played and someone reminds us that “we have no king but Caesar,” because that is the only truth that matters to us?  

Clearly, Jesus may be our personal hobby; but there is no doubt that Caesar is our king.  I mean look at the evidence.  Look at where we put our money.  Look at how we vote.  Look at what we share on Facebook.  

Jesus has harsh words for hypocrites.  What else should we call what we do when we pretend to be the Biblical good guys, but by any measurement we have more in common with Pilate and Pharaoh than with Jesus and Moses?  

Maybe this in part explains the decline of the main-line church over the last half-century.  It’s like when Gandhi said he loved Jesus, but it was Jesus’ followers he had a problem with.  Who can’t relate to that?  

At least Pilate had some integrity.  He knew who he worked for.  He knew who signed his paycheck.  He knew who he followed.  Do we? 

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