The Question from page 4

A writer I like, Tom Ehrich, had this to say recently about confronting those in the church who promote the Constantine paradigm:

"Where does one even start in naming the hypocrisy and contradictions? Maybe that is why Jesus didn't entirely echo the prophets of old and devote his ministry to denouncing hypocrites and bullies. In the end, he wasn't like Amos. Instead, he made his own personal stand against evil and then went about doing good and loving people.

"He couldn't fix a corrupt culture, so he lived a holy life within it. He couldn't undo centuries of shallow piety and self-serving in his people's religion, so he prayed in a new way and invited others to join him. He couldn't defeat Caesar, so he spoke the truth about Caesar. He couldn't break people's addiction to wealth and power, so he showed them how to share."

One significant difference between the culture he lived in and ours is that, unlike Jesus, we have a nominal voice in how power is used and we have a legal charter for much more than a nominal voice. Thus there is a place for teaching and action that are focused on fixing a corrupt culture, however small the chances of success.

Acquiescence is not supposed to be an option for those who follow Jesus. Neither is action that is based on aggression rather than humility. Gandhi and MLK are good models in that respect, although their social movements would probably fare less well in today's empire and they themselves might be put to death even more quickly.

Is there any other model for us?

Worrying about effectiveness has a paralyzing effect. Acting out in a routinized way may well be just a balm to make us feel good about resisting. And we will always have the arguments between those who think most of the current agendas amount to begging for scraps, as important as scraps are to those who are starving, and those who can't or won't imagine any possibilty beyond a kinder and gentler empire. That way leads to acquiescence of one kind or another.

So we have to plug on, avoid knee-jerk reactions, and live with the tensions between the drive for amelioration and the commitiment to a resistance that looks toward deeper changes. Remaining spiritually ground is fundamental.

I apologize that I have not read the February book of the month, but it sounds like a great book based on the questions that are being asked. I'm not sure if you're equating Empire with American society, but I do think there is a tradition of dissent within American history that makes political action within American society more than just begging for scraps.  I'm going to have to read this book sometime soon.

I don't know the answer, but I read a few months ago Howard Zinn's book You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train (I'm in a big Zinn reading binge right now) and he seems to be touching upon your questions. He wrote:

Granted, racial hatred and sex discrimination are still with us, war and violence still poison our culture, we have a large underclass of poor, desperate people, and there is a hard core of the population content with the way things are, afraid of change.

But if we see only that, we have lost historical perspective, and then it is as if we were born yesterday and we know only the depressing stories in this morning's newspapers, this evening's television reports.

Consider the remarkable transformation, in just a few decades, in people's consciousness of racism, in the bold presence of women demanding their rightful place, in a growing public awareness that homosexuals are not curiosities but sensate human beings, in the long-term growing skepticism about military interventions despite the brief surge of military madness during the Gulf War.

It is that long-term change that I think we must see if we are not to lose hope. Pessimism becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy; it reproduces itself by crippling our willingness to act. There is a tendency to think that what we see in the present moment we will continue to see. We forget how often in this century we have been astonished by the sudden crumbling of institutions, by extraordinary changes in people's thoughts, by unexpected eruptions of rebellion against tyrannies, by the quick collapse of systems of power that seemed invincible.

The bad things that happen are repetitions of bad things that have always happened- war, racism, maltreatment of women, religious and nationalist fanaticism, starvation.

The good things that happen are unexpected. Unexpected, and yet explainable by certain truths which spring at us from time to time, but which we tend to forget:

Political power, however formidible, is more fragile than we think. (Note how nervous are those who hold it) Ordinary people can be intimidated for a time, can be fooled for a time, but they have a down-deep common sense, and sooner or later they find a way to challenge the power that oppresses them.

People are not naturally violent or cruel or greedy, although they can be made so. Human beings everywhere want the same things: they are moved by the sight of abandoned children, homeless families, the casualties of war; they long for peace, for friendship and affection across lines of race and nationality.

Revolutionary change does not come as one cataclysmic moment (beware of such moments!) but as an endless succession of surprises, moving zig-zag towards a more decent society. We don't have to engage in grand, heroic actions to participate in the process of change. Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world.

These are great questions....not sure I have any answers.

Rieger provides us with some examples of the different way Christians have responded to empire. While Paul largely adopted some of the frames of the Roman Empire, he continued to resist. Even calling Jesus "Lord" was an act of resistance as a title normally reserved for the Emporer.

Jesus's whole life was spent within the context of empire and his own reactions demonstrate our path forward. He told folks to pay their taxes to Caesar but give to God what is God's. I think of that as give our hearts and minds to God and let go of your attachment to worldly possessions and money. Nonetheless, Jesus in his life and afterwards represents a resistance to empire. Indeed the empire tortured and killed him.

The question arises though about what happens when Jesus's memory and worship is combined with the power of the empire. We have been living in this paradigm since the time of Constantine. What then should be our response? Like I said, I have more questions than answers, but Rieger is at least helping to clarify my thinking and fine tune those questions.