Foolish Christians
I
n 1 Samuel 8, there’s an interesting conversation between the Hebrew people and the prophet Samuel about who will provide leadership for the people. Samuel, perhaps understandably, recommends one of his sons, however the people believe them to be corrupt and ineligible.
Instead, the people want a king to rule over them and eventually that’s what they get, yet there’s a price.
This notion of desiring, even demanding, a king to rule over the people at first glance seems ridiculous to our modern sensibilities. Even in a constitutional monarchy like Canada, we don’t really think of the Queen as ruling over us. We espouse strong democratic ideals and beliefs that profess an understanding that each vote counts and that it is both an honour and a privilege to participate in the electoral process.
The later parts I absolutely believe, yet does one vote really matter at the end of the day? Would people be more satisfied with a contemporary equivalent to a king or benevolent dictator?
One of the reasons the Hebrew people wanted a king was to look more like everyone else.
When they looked around their world stage, monarchies were the norm along with their associated ruling class. To fit in, people wanted to look and behave more like their neighbours.
One can’t help but wonder if that’s what happened in Ontario. This homogeneous wantonness, while popular, one could even say biblical, lies at the heart of many communities and the problem with our electoral system, especially for Christians of all classifications.
Walter Brueggemann writes: “The crisis (with the church) has almost nothing to do with being liberal or conservative; it has everything to do with giving up on the faith and discipline of our Christian baptism and settling for a common, generic identity that is part patriotism, part consumerism, part violence, and part affluence.”
Sounds like calling for a king to me.
Of course, this isn’t just in the church, it’s also in society. We’ve confused what it means to be a good citizen and what it means to be a good public servant. We’ve confused what it means to offer leadership with getting our way; good government with catering to the needs of the loudest voice; good policy with what’s popular in the moment; and sound legislation with feeding people a placebo of economic dreams that strengthens the holdings of the one per cent while placating the 99 per cent into believing that something is being done and the needs of the people really are being considered.
There’s the rub. The person who is seeking to follow Jesus cannot have a generic identity of part patriotism, part consumerism, part violence, and part affluence.
The person seeking to follow Jesus already has a king and their not related to any of those.
The price for the Hebrew people was that God says to Samuel, give them a king, yet I’ll not listen to them anymore. For Christians, there’s a price too: following Jesus. On the surface that doesn’t sound too costly, it might not even sound odd, yet it is both in significant ways.
Being a follower of Jesus, seeking to be one who embodies his presence with our hands, feet, and voice, means we won’t fit in. We won’t look like everyone else. We won’t make decisions like everyone else – in part because the lens of Christ’s gospel will filter how we see the world. If you are called to care for the least, the forgotten, the blind, poor, imprisoned, disenfranchised, unhealthy, the powerless, the downtrodden, the abused – how can you faithfully cry out for a king or benevolent dictator?
How can you put the needs of a violent consuming financial system that benefits the few ahead of the needs of the many? How can you cry out for leadership that solidifies your own prejudices? How can you vote for ideas that seemingly affirm your earned right of entitlement? I don’t think you can, at least not if you also want to say you follow Jesus.
There’s nothing wrong with affluence, or patriotism, or even consumerism, per se, as long as they are first and foremost in service to the Gospel of Jesus. That’s why the Christian should look foolish, out of step, even odd. That’s why Brueggemann sees such a betrayal amongst his fellow Christians. Instead of saying “I deserve this” or “I’m entitled to this or those people…,” the Christian dreams of a different community.
A community with more awe, more mystery, more compassion, more understanding, more gospel. A community where we share in Jesus’s ministry with our actions and only use words when necessary.
That kind of community has a future. That community has leadership to be proud of. That community is one I’d like to be part of building and living in.