The Anabaptist Network is working in partnership with Paternoster to produce over the next few years a major series of books on the meaning and significance of the end of Christendom in western culture.
Many Christians have focused on the challenges and opportunities of the perceived shift from modernity to postmodernity in recent years, but fewer have appreciated the seismic shifts that have taken place with the disintegration of a nominally Christian society. Although the term 'post-Christendom' is used more often now, it is generally not used with great precision and is frequently confused with postmodernity.
The 'After Christendom' series will explore the implications of the demise of Christendom and the challenges facing a church now living on the margins of western society. The various authors all write from within the Anabaptist tradition and draw on this long-marginalised movement for inspiration and insights. They see the current challenges facing the church not as the loss of a golden age but as opportunities to recover a more biblical and more Christian way of being God’s people in God’s world.
The series will address a wide range of issues, such as social and political engagement, how we read Scripture, peace and violence, mission, worship and the shape and ethos of church after Christendom.
These books are not intended to be the last word on the subjects they address, but an invitation to discussion and further exploration. One way to engage in this discussion is via the After Christendom Forum hosted by this website: www.anabaptistnetwork.com/AfterChristendom.
Post-Christendom: church and mission in a strange new world by Stuart Murray
The first volume in the series was published in 2004. This investigated the coming of Christendom in the fourth century, identified the main components of the 'Christendom shift' and traced the development and subsequent decline of Christendom over the following centuries. After explaining why Christendom as a political entity disintegrated during the twentieth century, the book examines the Christendom legacy, which consists of vestiges in church and society and a mindset that may persist long after Christendom itself is defunct. Three final chapters suggest ways in which church and mission may be reconfigured in light of the end of Christendom. Post-Christendom raises numerous issues that will be further explored in the books that follow.
To read the first chapter of Post-Christendom go to www.anabaptistnetwork.com/endofchristendom
Church after Christendom by Stuart Murray
The second book was published in 2005. It explores various questions. How will the Western church negotiate the demise of Christendom? Can it rediscover its primary calling, recover its authentic ethos and regain its nerve? The author surveys the ‘emerging church’ scene that has disturbed, energised and intrigued many Christians. He also listens carefully to those who have been joining and leaving the ‘inherited church’. Interacting with several proposals for the shape the church should take as it charts a new course for its mission in post-Christendom, the author reflects in greater depth on some of the topics introduced in Post-Christendom and the practical implications of proposals made in that book. Church after Christendom offers a vision of a way of being church that is healthy, sustainable, liberating, peaceful and missional.
To read the first chapter of Church after Christendom go to www.anabaptistnetwork.com/node/260
Faith and Politics after Christendom: the church as a movement for anarchy by Jonathan Bartley
For the best part of 1700 years, the institutional church has enjoyed a hand-in-hand relationship with government. Indeed, the church has often been seen as the glue that has stopped political systems from disintegrating into anarchy.
But now for the first time in centuries, the relationship has weakened to the point where the church in the UK can no longer claim to play a decisive part in government. Faith and Politics after Christendom, published in 2006, offers perspectives and resources for Christians and churches no longer at the centre of society but on the margins. It invites a realistic and hopeful response to challenges and opportunities awaiting the church in twenty-first century politics.
To read the first chapter of Faith and Politics after Christendom go to: http://www.anabaptistnetwork.com/node/454
Youth Work after Christendom by Nigel & Jo Pimlott
This book, an unexpected but very welcome addition to the series, was published in July 2008. The authors had read Post-Christendom and had realised that this perspective on mission and culture had many implications for youth work, especially youth work on the margins of society. Youth work, in fact, was another lens through which to investigate the Christendom legacy; just as post-Christendom was a new lens through which to search for appropriate and creative forms of youth work in a changing culture. If youth culture represents the leading edge of cultural and societal change, or at least reflects the pressures and possibilities emerging in our society, this volume may be one of the most important in the ‘After Christendom’ series. For if we can re-imagine and re-shape youth work for a post-Christendom culture, perhaps other dimensions of ecclesial and missional transformation will follow.
You can read an extract from this book by going to http://www.anabaptistnetwork.com/node/456
Worship and Mission after Christendom by Alan & Eleanor Kreider
Alan and Eleanor Kreider are American Mennonites who lived in England for thirty years and were at the heart of the emerging Anabaptist movement here. Their jointly authored book, due for publication in October 2009, explores the relationship between worship and mission and how this relationship is crucial in post-Christendom. In worship the followers of Jesus are equipped to participate in the mission of God. This book explores the dynamics of the kind of worship that will equip and inspire us to be missional disciples.
You can read an extract from this book by going to http://www.anabaptistnetwork.com/node/523
Further titles planned for the 'After Christendom' series:
There are several further titles under discussion, but at this stage two more have been accepted for publication by Paternoster.
Reading the Bible after Christendom by Lloyd Pietersen
This is scheduled for publication in the second half of 2010. You can read a sample chapter by going to http://www.anabaptistnetwork.com/node/536
Preaching after Christendom by Glen Marshall
Other books that explore post-Christendom themes:
There are various other books, not part of the 'After Christendom' series and not all written from the same perspective, which engage with the issues raised by the transition from Christendom to post-Christendom and explore related themes. These include:
Scott Bader-Saye: Church and Israel after Christendom (Westview Press, 1999)
Craig A Carter: Rethinking Christ and Culture: A Post-Christendom Perspective (Brazos Press, 2007) You can order Rethinking Christ and Culture at Metanoia Books in the UK.
Rodney Clapp: A Peculiar People: The Church as Culture in a Post-Christian Society (Downers Grove: IVP, 1996)
Michael Frost & Alan Hirsch: The Shaping of Things to Come (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2004)
Michael Frost: Exiles: Living Missionally in a Post-Christian Culture (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2006)
Vigen Guroian: Ethics after Christendom (Eerdmans, 1994)
Douglas Hall: The End of Christendom and the Future of Christianity (Harrisburg: Trinity Press, 1996)
Stanley Hauerwas: After Christendom? (Nashville: Abingdon, 1991)
Stanley Hauerwas & William Willimon: Resident Aliens (Nashville: Abingdon, 1991)
Philip Jenkins: The Next Christendom (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002)
Harry Maier: Apocalypse Recalled: The Book of Revelation after Christendom (Westminster: Fortress Press, 2002)
Hugh McLeod (Ed.): The Decline of Christendom in Western Europe, 1750-2000 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003)
Stuart Murray: Beyond Tithing (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 2000)
David Smith: Mission after Christendom (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 2003)
Bryan Stone: Evangelism after Christendom: the Theology and Practice of Christian Witness (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2007) For a review, see http://www.anabaptistnetwork.com/node/464
Nigel Wright: Disavowing Constantine (Carlisle: Paternoster, 2000)
'After Christendom' study guide
If you are interested in accessing a study guide to the first two books in the 'After Christendom' series, go to www.anabaptistnetwork.com/book/view/293
Post-Christendom booklet
You can download here an illustrated summary of Christendom/post-Christendom in pdf format. The second version is formatted so as to enable you to print it off as a booklet.
What is Post-Christendom? - front page (18KB)
What is Post-Christendom? for on-line reading(207KB)
What is Post-Christendom?, for printing as booklet(223KB)
In this section we hope to publish various articles on the 'After Christendom' theme.
The first article is now attached and can be downloaded below: 'Reading the Deuteronomistic History after Christendom'
by Stuart Murray
Post-Christendom
The term ‘post-Christendom’ has become increasingly familiar in conversations about church and mission in contemporary western societies. Some first encountered this term in the ‘After Christendom’ series, published by Paternoster and written by members of the Anabaptist Network since 2004.1 These books offer resources to help us understand and engage creatively with the challenges and opportunities of post-Christendom culture. But many others are also using this language, and have done so for many years, even if its significance has not been widely recognised until quite recently. ‘Post-Christendom’ appears to be a significant lens through which to view the emerging cultural landscape.
However, different people use the term ‘post-Christendom’ in different ways. Sometimes this helps us engage with the issues we face; but sometimes it simply causes confusion. In the emerging church conversation, for instance, ‘post-Christendom’ is often used as if it were a synonym for post-modernity. Understanding and engaging with post-modernity is undoubtedly important, but referring to this as ‘post-Christendom’ does not aid clarity of thinking. The transition from modernity to post-modernity and from Christendom to post-Christendom confronts us with a cultural and missional ‘double whammy’. These shifts overlap, complement and reinforce each other in various ways, so we do need to explore their inter-relationship and dual impact. But post-Christendom is not the same as post-modernity. Post-Christendom presents different challenges and opportunities.
The first book in the ‘After Christendom’ series offered a definition of post-Christendom: the culture that emerges as the Christian faith loses coherence within a society that has been definitively shaped by the Christian story and as the institutions that have been developed to express Christian convictions decline in influence.2 It also identified seven transitions that mark the shift from Christendom to post-Christendom, each of which has implications for how Christians understand their role within society:
This definition and these transitions appear to be gaining widespread acceptance, even if the significance of the transitions and how we respond to these continues to be debated.
It is within these debates that more helpful differences emerge in the ways the term ‘post-Christendom’ is used. Some, for example, use the term to signal the end of a historical era in western culture but apparently see no need to investigate the legitimacy or legacy of this era. Christendom is coming to an end. An emerging culture will require fresh ways of thinking, speaking and acting.4 The authors of the ‘After Christendom’ series propose that a more thoroughgoing disavowal of the Christendom mindset is necessary – both for the sake of the church’s integrity and to enable us to see clearly enough to envision new approaches. For some, the demise of Christendom represents a major cultural shift; others are less convinced that it is as significant as authors of the ‘After Christendom’ series are claiming.5
There is also some discussion about different kinds of Christendom. Using the same term to cover the diverse cultures and political arrangements in Europe between the fourth and twentieth centuries (and extending this to other western and non-western6 contexts) is undoubtedly problematic. In the eyes of some it is illegitimate. Christendom, they argue, degenerates into an all-purpose swear word, devoid of historical accuracy and focus. The perspective from which the ‘After Christendom’ series is written is that, underlying these diverse forms of Christendom (which are recognised and discussed in Post-Christendom), are fundamental assumptions, attitudes, theological and ecclesial commitments, missional priorities and expectations. For this reason, the term is meaningful and heuristic, even if distinctions and clarification may sometimes be needed.
An insightful and provocative contribution to this debate appears in Nigel Wright’s Free Church, Free State7. Developing recommendations for how the church (especially in the ‘free church’ tradition) might engage with the state, Wright agrees with other critics that Christendom ‘is often used in an undifferentiated way which overlooks the complexity of the phenomenon.’8 He proceeds to differentiate between three approaches.
The first approach is ‘theocracy’ or ‘Caesaro-papism’ in which any significant distinction between church and state disappears. The head of state is invested with divinely ordained authority over both church and state. For several centuries Byzantine emperors exercised this role over the church in the East.
The second approach is ‘Constantinian Christendom’, associated with the relationship in the West between the emperor, or national rulers, and the Catholic Church. Church and state are partners, the church legitimising the activities of the state and the state enforcing the decrees of the church. This partnership was not without its tensions, competition for supremacy and hesitations on both sides. But it was an enduring and effective partnership that enforced Christianity throughout Europe and suppressed dissent.
The third approach, which Wright calls ‘non-Constantinian Christendom’, is presented as a possibility, rather than an experienced historical reality, although he argues that the free church tradition has laid the foundation for this approach in its advocacy of freedom of conscience and religious liberty. State and church are decoupled; coercion in the sphere of religion is renounced; but ‘Christian truth’ is ‘determinative for the public realm’.9
Separating out these three approaches is helpful. Christendom was certainly constituted and experienced in different ways at different times and in different regions. But perhaps the distinction between the first and second approaches is one of degree rather than kind. The seven transitions from Christendom to post-Christendom noted above seem equally applicable to either form of Christendom. There were different kinds of Christendom – just as there are different expressions of post-Christendom (post-Protestant versions are rather different from post-Catholic versions) – but the generic term still serves to focus attention on fundamental, and deeply problematic, features of this system.
The third approach is intriguing. What if Europe had been converted through persuasion rather than imperial incitement, favours and pressure, followed by force of arms? What if a community or people embraces ‘Christian truth’ without coercion and enthusiastically?
Some might suggest that the United States is the prime example of ‘non-Constantinian Christendom’, with its constitutional separation of church and state but the persistent influence of Christian rhetoric in the public domain. If this is so, many would have very serious concerns about such an arrangement, wondering to what extent ‘Christian truth’ is always liable to be co-opted and domesticated rather than truly being determinative.10
My only personal experience of anything like what Wright posits was a few days among the Karen people in the hill country of North Thailand. Although I was well aware from reading mission history that in cultures that are less individualistic than the West ‘people groups’ (villages, clans, tribes) are converted, I had never before encountered a whole community that was Christian, indeed Baptist. Everyone belonged to the church as well as to the village, and there was no apparent sacred/secular divide. Although I was unable to probe deeply some of the questions I had about the depth and diversity of commitment to Christ in this community, I found these days exhilarating and hopeful. But for someone with deep-seated objections to the notion of Christendom, they were also disconcerting!
But is this Christendom in any of the senses Wright describes? The Karen are a marginal Christian community in an overwhelmingly non-Christian nation. They lack the power to coerce religious conformity or suppress dissent (hopefully their Baptist convictions also discourage any such instincts). There is no state, as such. Nor are there other religious or secular minorities, whose treatment would be the acid test for any ‘non-Constantinian’ expression of Christendom, and who might contest ‘Christian truth’ as determinative for the public realm.
The phrase ‘the gospel as public truth’ is associated especially with Lesslie Newbigin11, who insisted that he was not advocating a return to Christendom. Wright adopts a very similar turn of phrase, suggesting that Christian truth can be determinative for the public realm but, unlike Newbigin, he does not dissociate this from the notion of Christendom but proposes a ‘non-Constantinian’ version of Christendom.
I am attracted by Wright’s proposal and endorse his vision of a society where the state does not attempt to coerce conscience or favour any religion, and where the church does not attempt to bolster its witness by seeking state support. But I am not convinced that it is helpful to suggest that Christian truth should be ‘determinative’ for the public realm or that the language of ‘non-Constantinian Christendom’ is appropriate (any more than I am persuaded that Newbigin’s programme could lead anywhere else but to a reconstituted Christendom).
If at some point in the future the Christian community increases so substantially as to comprise a significant majority of any society, there will be crucial decisions to make about how that community proclaims the truth it professes, how it embodies this socially, politically and culturally, and how it copes with those who do not accept its convictions and norms. The separation of state and church, freedom of conscience and advocacy of ‘Christian truth’ in ways that do not disparage or disadvantage those who hold firm to other convictions (rather than calling for Christian truth to be determinative in the public realm) would be essential foundations for such decisions. But what emerges from this decision-making process should not be labelled ‘non-Constantinian Christendom’. It is simply not feasible after so many centuries of Christendom (however many expressions of this we identify) to rehabilitate this term. Nor is it possible to detach it from notions of imposition and the privileging of Christian faith over against other faiths (which is surely the implication of Christian truth being determinative for the public realm). We really do need to embrace post-Christendom now.
The term ‘post-Christendom’, contrary to the claims of some critics, does not imply the withdrawal of Christians or the church from the public realm.12 Rather, it suggests that the nature of our involvement in politics, culture and society needs to be renegotiated in light of changing circumstances and changing theological convictions. The ‘post’ aspect of the term invites us to leave behind the compromises of the past; the ‘Christendom’ aspect is a reminder of the legacy with which we must grapple and from which we must learn as we explore uncharted territory.
But Wright’s term ‘non-Constantinian Christendom’ does invite further reflection. What does ‘Constantinian’ mean, why do some writers use this term rather than ‘Christendom’ to refer to the era which is coming to an end, and is this helpful?
Post-Constantinian
The term ‘Constantinian’ points us back to the beginnings of the Christendom era in the fourth century and to the emperor Constantine I, who adopted Christianity and began the process of replacing paganism with Christianity as the imperial religion. Historians argue about Constantine’s motives and the depth of his commitment to Christ. They also make very different assessments of the effects of the so-called ‘Christendom shift’ on church and empire. These are not issues we can explore further here.13
Undoubtedly, Constantine’s ‘conversion’ and his invitation to the church to partner him in Christianising the empire set in motion a train of events that led inexorably to the full-blown Christendom system of succeeding centuries. Although Christendom would take shape over centuries, it was Constantine who initiated the process. To call what emerged ‘Constantinian’ acknowledges his foundational role. In other regions, especially beyond the empire in the East, the Christian community waxed and waned over the centuries but never had an equivalent political champion. There was no Asian Christendom.
But there are reasons to query whether ‘Constantinian’ is an appropriate synonym for the Christendom era.
First, although Constantine identified himself as a Christian, lavished favours and finance on the church, increased its influence to the disadvantage of paganism and made it clear that he wanted everyone in the empire to follow his lead, he did not impose Christianity on the empire. There were inducements to convert, but no coercion. These inducements were effective and the church experienced massive growth during the fourth century, to the consternation of those who advocated a return to the old imperial religion. But under Constantine and his immediate successors paganism and other religions were permitted to continue unmolested. At the end of the fourth century no more than half the population of the empire was Christian, and the Roman senate was still almost entirely pagan in 380.
Only under the emperor Theodosius I, at the very end of the fourth century, did imperial pressure begin to mount significantly, and not until Justinian in the sixth century was the full force of imperial law invoked to require all to be Christians. The totalitarian system, the full partnership of church and state, the imposition of compulsory tithing and the use of coercion to suppress dissent that characterised the Christendom era for many centuries was not operational until long after Constantine’s reign. It is arguable that Constantine set this process was in motion, that he refrained from using coercion for political rather than ideological or theological reasons, and that an imperial system will inevitably move to crush dissent sooner or later. But perhaps the term ‘Constantinian’ should be reserved for designating situations where the political authorities favour Christianity, but refrain from imposing it.14 Perhaps ‘Theodosian’ (or ‘Justinianian’ if it were pronounceable) would be a better term for the emerging Christendom system?
Second, although Constantine’s influence revolutionised the social context within which the fourth-century church operated, it was not the emperor who revised its theology and transformed its ecclesiology and missiology. Indeed, many early church practices, such as the baptism of believers rather than infants, persisted throughout the fourth century. It was Constantine who summoned the church leaders to great councils to debate theology and formulate creeds, and it was his patronage and that of his successors that influenced the outcomes of these, often rancorous, gatherings. But it was the theologians and bishops who adapted Christianity to its new imperial setting – not least the famous Augustine of Hippo. Augustine was more critical than Eusebius of Caesarea of some features of the new regime, insisting that this was not ‘the city of God’, but he introduced many novel theological, hermeneutical and ecclesial ideas that enabled the church to adjust to its new social and political context. Some of these flew in the face of three centuries of tradition but with little opposition they became the new orthodoxy. Maybe ‘Augustinian’ (if this term were not already used with a different meaning) would be a preferable alternative to ‘Constantinian’? For it was Augustine, not Constantine, who laid the philosophical and theological foundations for the Christendom era.
There are other, more mundane, reasons why the term ‘Constantinian’ is problematic. It does not exactly slip off the tongue and may suggest that the subject under discussion is primarily for academics. ‘Christendom’ is a much more accessible term. It also connotes a specific historical development and may not facilitate the wide-ranging conversations about church and mission that the term ‘Christendom’ often does.
However, ‘Constantinian’ and ‘post-Constantinian’ are labels favoured by many writers, especially those who discovered these concepts in the writings of Mennonite theologian, John Howard Yoder. Stanley Hauerwas, for example, reflecting on the political demise of Christendom but the persistence of Christendom ways of thinking and behaving, writes: ‘Constantinianism is a hard habit to break.’15 Liberation theologian, José Miguez Bonino, insists that Christians can no longer be primarily concerned with upholding the social order: ‘the question of the Constantinian church has to be turned completely around. The true question is not “what degree of justice...is compatible with the existing order?”, but “what kind of order, which order is compatible with the exercise of justice...?”’16 Lesslie Newbigin warns against the dual temptation of either trying to restore Christendom or of imagining ourselves back in the days of the early church, as if the Christendom shift had never occurred. He writes: ‘We are in a radically new situation and cannot dream either of a Constantinian authority or of a pre-Constantinian innocence.’17 And Yoder himself identifies ‘Constantinian reflexes’ in the areas of ethics (validating actions on the basis of calculating costs and benefits) and ecclesiology (the fear of separatism).18
Yoder also introduces the term ‘neo-Constantinian’ to describe a transmuted version of Christendom that may look quite different politically, but shares basic assumptions about the role of the church in society.19 In a consultation involving Latin American liberation theologians, Mennonites and radical Protestants in the late 1980s, Mennonites raised the issue of neo-Constantinianism. Noting an incident in early Anabaptist history in which an attempt was made to build a radical new Christendom, Willard Swartley warned of the danger of liberation theology taking the same course.20 Other participants rejected this concern but Yoder countered: ‘The respondents are not to blame for thus underestimating the weight of the Constantinian question. It is, after all, not their language. It is the code language of radical reformers at least since Waldo, and designates threats to a Gospel ethos more deep-seated than what our respondents assure us will not happen.’21
The danger of neo-Constantinianism is very real, especially if Christendom is interpreted merely as a historical era or political arrangement, rather than an ideology and ‘a hard habit to break’. Yoder even introduces categories such as ‘neo-neo-Constantinianism’ and ‘neo-neo-neo-Constantinianism’ to underline his concern about the capacity of this ideology to reproduce itself in new and more subtle forms. But if he is correct that this is actually ‘code language’ within the radical dissenting tradition (of which the Waldensians and Anabaptists are representatives), this is all the more reason to use terminology that is more readily understood than ‘post-Constantinian’.
Post-Christian
So, why not go further, abandon both ‘post-Constantinian’ and ‘post-Christendom’ and adopt an even simpler term, ‘post-Christian’?
This is certainly a term that many writers are using to describe an increasingly secular but also multi-religious western society. It picks up the common assumption that Britain and other western societies were once ‘Christian’ nations and acknowledges, generally with regret, that this is no longer the case. Some urge strategies that might help to restore the Christian foundation of our societies; but most recognise that there is no way to turn the clock back and that we need to develop new approaches in this emerging context.
‘Post-Christian’ may be simpler than the alternatives, but using this term involves serious risks of misinterpreting the past and misconstruing the opportunities and challenges of the present.
Just as those who are critical of the Christendom synthesis can easily fall into the trap of imagining that the pre-Christendom church was pristine and glorious, so those who hark back to when our society was ‘Christian’ can assume that most Europeans were church-going, God-fearing and steeped in Christianity. The reality is more complex. Secularism and other faiths were far less significant throughout the Christendom centuries; there was a widespread belief in the reality of God and the spiritual life; and the church was central to culture in a way that we now find hard to imagine. But church-going (in itself a term steeped in Christendom assumptions) was rarely as consistent as we might expect; many priests – let alone ordinary church members – were profoundly ignorant of the basics of the faith; moral standards were often really low; and pagan ideas and practices survived for centuries, either mixed with Christianity or existing in parallel. Christendom was not as Christian as we might assume.22
Furthermore, using ‘post-Christian’ language may cause us to ignore or avoid the issue of the Christendom system. However Christian or otherwise individuals and communities may have been, was Christendom itself Christian? Was any European nation ever truly ‘Christian’ – and what would this have meant? Particular emperors, popes, monarchs or princes may have been godly people, but were they enmeshed in a structural framework that was fundamentally non-Christian or even, as dissidents persistently claimed, ‘anti-Christian’? Is there any way of legitimately calling ‘Christian’ a system that persecuted these dissidents, oppressed the poor, justified crusades and wars of aggression, denigrated cultures and colluded in injustice?
But the term ‘post-Christian’ can too easily gloss over such concerns and prevent us from engaging at sufficient depth with the very mixed legacy of the Christendom era. There were, of course, remarkable and deeply Christian aspects of the Christendom era that we rightly celebrate and need to retain as we move into post-Christendom. However critical we may be of the malign features of Christendom, we will not write off the thought and experience of many centuries and a multitude of Christian people. But there was much that we equally rightly reject, grieve over, disavow and renounce as being fundamentally unchristian, even anti-christian. Using the term ‘post-Christian’ does not encourage us to discriminate carefully enough.
Another problem with this term is that referring to western societies as ‘post-Christian’ undervalues the persistence and quality of Christian faith in contemporary culture. The churches are shrinking and the influence of the Christian story is much less than it was previously, but there are still millions of Christians in these societies. Western culture may be post-Christendom, but it is not entirely devoid of Christians.
Differentiating ‘Christian’ from ‘Christendom’ is especially difficult in several European languages. Suggesting that we should celebrate the end of Christendom (as I have done in seminars in a number of European nations) results in confused and anxious glances: am I really suggesting we should celebrate the end of Christian faith in Europe? It is surely not insignificant that in these languages ‘Christianity’ is conflated with ‘Christendom’, as if this were the only way in which the Christian faith can be embodied in a culture! Clarity is essential here: post-Christendom is not necessarily post-Christian.
Indeed, the end of Christendom might open up space for the recovery of authentic forms of Christian faith. Post-Christendom could be more Christian than Christendom, not less. As imperial Christianity in its various guises disintegrates and we reflect on the impact of the Christendom shift on our theology, hermeneutics, ethics, ecclesiology and missiology, what emerges might not only be contextually more appropriate in a changing culture but more authentically Christian, more faithful to our true heritage, and more hopeful. For the foreseeable future, Christians will be a small minority in most western societies. These societies may legitimately be labelled ‘post-Christendom’, for the Christian story will no longer shape their culture, even if its memory does not entirely fade. But they need not be designated ‘post-Christian’ if the church rediscovers its capacity to form communities of resilient, counter-cultural disciples who will witness faithfully and creatively in a plural culture.
There are no guarantees. The western church may simply not survive the shock of post-Christendom. The necessary adjustments in thinking and practice may be too much. The churches may wither. There are historical precedents for the virtual disappearance of the church from regions of the world where it was once dominant. Missionaries from other parts of the world, handicapped by Christendom assumptions of their own that western Christians exported to them, may try in vain to call Europeans to faith in Christ. Europe and other western societies could then become truly ‘post-Christian’, believing another story or losing faith in all stories.
But there is more hopeful scenario. As post-Christendom advances and we discriminate carefully between the treasures, trinkets and treachery of the Christendom era, perhaps we can find the resources we need for this emerging culture. As we embrace the reality of post-Christendom and recognise the opportunities as well as the challenges, perhaps we can find the courage and creativity to re-imagine a church on the margins that is humble, faithful and winsome. As our imperial aspirations and attitudes gradually fade, and as the incoherence of our post-modern, secular, consumerist and increasingly nihilistic culture becomes more obvious, perhaps we can live out another story and invite others to join us. And perhaps our brothers and sisters from the global church can help us do so. For there are resources in the Gospel, in the dissenting tradition through the centuries, in the world church – and even in the Christendom era – that can enable us to testify persuasively to the way of Jesus.
So, does the label matter? Yes, I think it does. ‘Post-Constantinian’ and ‘post-Christian’ may allow unchallenged or even unrecognised assumptions to undermine our attempts to re-imagine mission, church and discipleship in contemporary culture. ‘Post-Christendom’ may have its own limitations, too, but it is probably the best way of signalling the nature of the challenge we face and encouraging creative responses.
Endnotes
1 Stuart Murray: Post-Christendom: church and mission in a strange new world (Carlisle: Paternoster, 2004); Stuart Murray: Church after Christendom (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2005); Jonathan Bartley: Faith and Politics after Christendom (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2006); Jo & Nigel Pimlott: Youth Work after Christendom (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2008); further books forthcoming.
2 Murray: Post-Christendom, 19.
3 Murray, Post-Christendom, 20.
4 This appears to be the approach of Loren Mead: The Once and Future Church (Washington: Alban Institute, 1991) and Bob Jackson: Hope for the Church (London: Church House, 2002).
5 A recent example is Martin Robinson: Planting Mission-shaped Churches Today (Oxford: Monarch, 2006).
6 As in Philip Jenkins: The Next Christendom (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002).
7 Nigel Wright: Free Church, Free State (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2005), 272-274.
8 Wright, Free, 273.
9 Wright, Free, 274.
10 The extent to which the US is moving towards, or is already in the throes of, post-Christendom is widely debated. Some argue it will be an exception; others that it will follow the pattern of other western societies.
11 See, for example, Lesslie Newbigin: The Gospel as Public Truth (London: CEN Books, 1992) and Truth to Tell: the Gospel as public truth (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991).
12 See Craig Carter: Rethinking Christ and Culture: A Post-Christendom Perspective (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2006), which exposes the serious flaws in H. Richard Niebuhr’s famous typology of Christian social involvement and challenges the widespread perception that Anabaptism inevitably advocates or results in withdrawal from society.
13 See Murray, Post-Christendom, 23-46, 74-108.
14 Maybe, in fact, the situation Nigel Wright envisages and labels ‘non-Constantinian Christendom’!
15 Stanley Hauerwas: After Christendom? (Nashville: Abingdon, 1991), 18.
16 José Miguez Bonino: Towards a Christian Political Ethics (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983), 83.
17 Lesslie Newbigin: The Gospel in a Pluralist Society (London: SPCK, 1989), 224.
18 John Howard Yoder, ‘Orientation in Midstream: A Response to the Responses’, in Daniel Schipani (Ed.): Freedom and Discipleship (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1989), 163.
19 John Howard Yoder: The Priestly Kingdom (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1985), 142-143
20 Willard Swartley, in Schipani, Freedom, 70.
21 Yoder, in Schipani, Freedom, 163.22 See further Anton Wessels: Was Europe Ever Christian? (London: SCM Press, 1994).
by Stuart Murray
Early in the fourth century, the Roman emperor Constantine I identified himself as a Christian and initiated the process of accommodating church and state that would result in the establishment of the sacral society known as Christendom.1 He quickly recognised that the support of the church’s translocal leaders – the bishops – was the key to achieving his aim of constructing a united empire-wide church, with the help of which he might confront the many social, political and cultural problems that were destabilising and fragmenting his realm.2
Constantine wooed these men through patronage of their interests, extensive financial support for their congregations and ambitious building projects, delegating to them social responsibilities and status beyond their congregations and frequent invitations to dine with him in imperial surroundings. In 325, he summoned them to Nicaea for an ecumenical council to determine a creedal basis for a united church – a church that would no longer be dependent for its cohesion primarily on friendship and mutual respect between churches within which divergent patterns, traditions and emphases flourished.
Translocal ministry, in both theory and practice, was significantly and permanently impacted by what historians call the Christendom shift. The changing focus and functions of fourth-century bishops were early indications of what lay ahead.
Christendom and translocal ministry
The role and authority of bishops had been developing during previous decades, especially during the second half of the third century, as churches expanded in size and influence in many parts of the empire. A gradual (though contested) movement towards hierarchy, clericalism and institutionalisation – detectable even in the New Testament – had gathered pace in the past half-century. But the Christendom shift exacerbated these tendencies and introduced new elements into the theory and practice of translocal ministry. Identifying and assessing these developments and their legacy will help us discern which remain appropriate as we negotiate the further shift from Christendom to post-Christendom, and which are problematic in this changing context.
Among the main effects of the Christendom shift on translocal ministry were the following:
Translocal ministry, then, was both enhanced and restricted by the Christendom shift, as its focus and modus operandi were adapted to the changing context. The legacy of the Christendom era includes both structures and ways of thinking about translocal ministry that need to be reconsidered as this context changes again and churches from many traditions grapple with the challenges of post-Christendom. Understanding the Christendom era and discerning which elements of its ecclesiology are helpful or disabling in post-Christendom is crucial for developing appropriate expressions of translocal ministry today.
Translocal ministry on the margins
There are other models of translocal ministry from the Christendom era to help us work towards a contextually apt and ecclesiologically coherent expression of translocal ministry. On the margins (and subject to pressure from both secular and ecclesiastical authorities) were several dissident movements, whose rejection of the Christendom system was accompanied by creative thinking about many aspects of local church life and by experimentation with alternative models of translocal ministry.
These groups do not offer a fully-fledged theology of translocal ministry, immediately transferable structures or strategies for our very different context (any more than New Testament examples of translocal ministry provide a blueprint for contemporary practice). Furthermore, information about most of these movements is limited, since a primary responsibility of the more conventional state church translocal ministers who suppressed them was to eradicate their supposedly heretical writings.
But there are glimpses of principles and practices operating within medieval and early modern movements such as the Waldensians, Lollards and Anabaptists4 that might stimulate creative thinking about appropriate forms of translocal ministry today. There are also warnings within these movements about the tendency of innovative expressions of translocal ministry to revert to the default forms embodied so powerfully in the dominant Christendom system. Translocal ministry, it seems, is particularly vulnerable to institutional retrenchment and loss of mission dynamism.
What can we learn from models of translocal ministry on the margins?
Translocal ministry can be dynamic. Waldensians, Lollards and Anabaptists all recognised that their scattered congregations needed to be visited and resourced by those whose experience and gifts equipped them for this task. Some of this activity in the early years appears to have taken place with minimal coordination and without the processes of ordination, training and accreditation required in the state churches. As the movements aged, normal processes of institutionalisation become apparent, with accreditation and training mechanisms emerging to support those involved in translocal ministry – such as the Waldensian ‘schools’ and their mentoring system for new translocal ministers, or the strategic planning of missionary journeys by Hutterite communities in Moravia and their moving commissioning services for missionaries likely to become martyrs. But by comparison with translocal ministry in the state churches, organisation was light and flexible, able to respond to emerging needs and opportunities rather than being locked into rigid structures.
Translocal ministry can be relational. The Christendom understanding (which exacerbated developing pre-Christendom tendencies) of translocal ministry implied a hierarchy of ministry: local church leaders were inferior in stature and authority to those with translocal responsibility. Not only were the dissidents’ instincts against such hierarchical assumptions, but the terms they used to identify translocal ministers appear to be consciously challenging hierarchical notions. Waldensians commissioned to translocal ministry were called barbes – ‘uncles’ – in contradistinction from Catholic ‘fathers’, and Lollards employed the relational and non-hierarchical term ‘known men’ to designate those who travelled between their congregations. The dissidents were suspicious of honorific titles and favoured the simpler familial terminology of ‘brothers and sisters’ for translocal ministers and local leaders. A relational understanding of church, which respects congregational integrity and values contextual decision-making, need not be threatened by translocal ministry.
Translocal ministry can be mission-oriented. The dissident movements appeared threatening to those who were committed to the Christendom system, because they challenged the centuries-old assumption that Europe was Christian and so needed pastor-administrators in local and translocal ministry roles. Translocal ministry on the margins certainly included pastoral care and coordinating tasks, but it was primarily concerned with missional activities – evangelising communities, calling people to repentance, baptising and catechising new believers, planting churches, deploying missional resources and pioneering initiatives.
Transgressing parochial and diocesan boundaries to the dismay of the state churches’ translocal overseers, Waldensians, Lollards and Anabaptists offended the settled clergy and maintenance-oriented churches of Christendom. Justus Menius, for instance, expressed Lutheran irritation at translocal Anabaptist missioners, claiming biblical support for his insistence that ‘the Servant of the Gospel does not travel here and there in the land in one church today and another tomorrow, preaching one thing in one and another in the other. But one servant serves with true industry his assigned church and remains with it, leaving other churches to peace and tranquillity. Thereby each church has its own constituted servant and avoids and excludes strange, unlicensed landcombers.’5
But, for Anabaptists, the mission imperative (which was regarded as binding on all believers rather than applying only to specialists) took precedence over ecclesiastical sensibilities and produced a different understanding of translocal ministry. Hans Arbeiter, a Hutterian missionary captured in 1568, ‘asserted that no earthly magistrate had the right to forbid God’s missioners from setting foot on their land, for the earth was the Lord’s (Ps. 24:1), and the Lord had called the church to mission.’6
Translocal ministry can be pluriform. Within the dissident movements many church members (women and men) were involved in translocal ministry, as individuals or in teams. Nor was there an assumption that ordination was required. Anabaptists often sent out teams of three, with a preacher accompanied by an assistant and by someone else whose main responsibility was liaising with the churches. It is not always easy to differentiate clearly (in the dissident groups or contemporary church life) between those exercising itinerant ministry and those exercising translocal responsibility. It may be possible to distinguish these, at least in theory, by reference to their level of influence, continuing involvement or strategic oversight, but this is rather less helpful in practice. Many Lollard tradesmen, Waldensian merchants and Anabaptist artisans evangelised in the course of their daily work as they travelled the roads of Europe. Some devoted more and more time to ministry until their trade was secondary and were as influential among dissident congregations as any bishop in the state churches.
Translocal ministry can be exercised by apostles and prophets. The activities and roles of those involved in translocal ministry on the margins seem closer to New Testament descriptions of apostles and prophets than is apparent with state church models. Nor was there the same reticence about using these terms as in the state churches or, indeed, in many contemporary churches, where such language is assumed to imply enhanced status or authority. Anabaptists designated some of those who travelled between their congregations ‘apostles’ and recognised the ministry of ‘prophets’ who also moved among the churches. Their contemporaneous friendly critic, Sebastian Franck wrote about the Anabaptists: ‘They wish to imitate apostolic life…moving about from one place to another, preaching and claiming a great calling and mission.’ Some were so convinced of their calling, wrote Franck, that they felt ‘themselves responsible for the whole world.’7
Hans Kasdorf, comparing the Anabaptists with the earlier Celtic missionaries, writes: ‘Like the famous Irish peregrini almost a thousand years before them…Anabaptist preachers wandered from place to place and proclaimed the gospel. But unlike the peregrini, these Anabaptist missionaries baptized new converts, established Christians in their faith and gathered them into local congregations…The Anabaptist churches discerned and systematically sent out many apostles. The designation apostle was deliberately chosen for those who were sent out in apostolic teams.’8
The term ‘apostle’ appears also (though not frequently) in Waldensian writings to describe translocal ministers, and their contemporaries too compared Waldensian missionaries to New Testament apostles. Although Lollards did not use this term themselves, Anne Hudson (a leading historian of the Lollard movement) describes their preachers as ‘apostles’ and ‘prophets.’9 Historians of such movements (and many later missional movements) are often drawn to such terms to describe the phenomena they encounter.
Translocal ministry can easily revert to inherited models. The fluid, missional, relational and multi-faceted expression of translocal ministry we can see at least glimpses of in the early years of these dissident movements was susceptible to co-option back into traditional models of ministry. Pressure of persecution might discourage evangelisation and result in translocal ministry becoming more concerned with survival and maintenance than mission. The growing complexity of developing movements might load increasing administrative and pastoral responsibilities on the shoulders of those with translocal roles. Waldensian and Lollard communities (perhaps because they were too widely scattered for greater organisation) resisted such institutionalisation for many decades, but Anabaptist apostles rather quickly transmuted into Mennonite bishops once the movement began to settle down and a maintenance-oriented role superseded the earlier missional focus.
Translocal ministry after Christendom
The emerging culture of post-Christendom in western society10 is very different from the Christendom context within which traditional models of translocal ministry have been developed and marginal alternatives periodically flourished. Drawing on the experience of this era but refusing to be unduly restricted by it, what are the issues we should consider as we reflect on the development and renewal of models of translocal ministry today?
Mission-orientation
The most fundamental and pressing issue facing Christians in all traditions is the need for a decisive and thorough paradigm shift from the inherited maintenance-orientation that has shaped our churches to a mission-orientation that will enable us to recalibrate our structures and refine our strategies for a different world. No attempts to reorganise or re-brand translocal ministry will effect more than cosmetic changes unless this shift takes place. This mission-orientation does not denigrate vital maintenance activities or naively oppose ‘mission’ and ‘maintenance’, but it insists that maintenance fits within a mission framework, rather than vice versa. If those who exercise translocal ministry are burdened with maintenance-oriented responsibilities and expectations, they will be no more able than most of their predecessors to function as mission strategists.
Like other social organisations, denominations usually begin as movements around a shared vision and gradually develop into institutions. A popular description of this seemingly inevitable process – man, movement, machine, monument, mausoleum – uses non-inclusive language for the sake of alliteration but has a familiar feel for students of church history. But the normality and seeming inevitability of this process (regarded by some as maturing, by others as degeneration) does not preclude the possibility of re-imagining a denomination as a movement rather than an institution. Studies of organisational development have discovered models and processes whereby institutions can be revitalised rather than continuing along the anticipated path towards institutionalisation.
In a postmodern and post-Christendom context, in which institutions are culturally suspect and the marginalisation of the churches and discursive Christianity requires a radically different mindset and structure than was appropriate in an earlier era, such revitalisation is crucial. How could this be accomplished? We might ask what our churches would look like if they perceived themselves as participating in a movement rather than an institution. Or how would a denomination change were it to function as a truly missional movement?
Changing our terminology will certainly not, by itself, achieve this. The language of ‘missionary congregations’ or ‘missional church’ has become familiar over recent years and has impacted how denominations and congregations operate, but familiarity with this language can lull us into a false sense of security, imagining that talking in missional terms equates to developing a missionary movement. What is required is an exercise of corporate imagination that has very practical outcomes that can be costed and subject to ongoing monitoring. Nothing less than a radical shift from institutional mode to a movement for mission will suffice in post-Christendom. Translocal forms of ministry have a vital role to play in this imaginative and practical paradigm shift, for this cannot be accomplished at local level alone. But only mission-oriented forms of translocal ministry will be able to make this contribution.
Re-training
All of which suggests that those moving into translocal ministry need not only a process of induction and instruction about institutional issues and working practices in their new roles, but re-training. If men and women commissioned to local forms of ministry are deemed to require training and formation to enhance and reflect on their (often substantial) prior experience of congregational leadership, preaching, pastoral ministry and mission, surely those who move from this local sphere into translocal ministry need such training. Not only has the cultural context within which they were trained for local ministry changed dramatically over the intervening years, so that a refresher course might be useful; but new theological, missiological and pastoral perspectives that have informed the training of new local ministers (to whom they will have responsibilities and with whom they will soon be working) should also be on any re-training agenda. Post-Christendom requires a whole-heartedly missional approach and fresh thinking on a wide range of issues, for which many of those moving into translocal roles were not prepared by their initial training for ministry in institutions and contexts still deeply immersed in Christendom ways of thinking.
Furthermore, in their new translocal ministry many will encounter different issues and require new skills that were not part of their previous local experience. Some will now be working as members or leaders of staff teams, rather than guiding and coordinating the work of volunteers. Their priorities and the tasks that will occupy the majority of their time will be quite different from those with which they were familiar as local ministers. Strategic thinking, mentoring colleagues and local leaders, grappling with disciplinary issues and many other responsibilities require time for equipping and reflection.
Inadequate preparation of translocal ministers can result in disorientation, confusion, overwork, ill-health and unwise intervention in local contexts. Translocal ministers can do much harm as well as a great deal of good. My personal experience of those exercising translocal ministries has been very mixed. Some translocal ministers have been excellent, but on the whole I have been disappointed by the quality of translocal ministry I have encountered, and frankly some have been incompetent and operating in roles for which they were not gifted or for which they had not been equipped. Effective and sustainable translocal ministry requires an investment in induction training and the provision of ongoing opportunities for skills training, peer mentoring, supervision and theological reflection.
Partnership
One of the lessons emerging from the experience of church planting since the early 1990s has been the importance of partnership between local and translocal leaders in developing mission strategies. Denominations that have relied on local entrepreneurial leadership to initiate church planting have discovered that this will founder without translocal direction and support; it will also result in churches being planted in less strategic contexts. Denominations that have attempted to initiate all church planting centrally or regionally have not been able to galvanise local action effectively.11
What is true of church planting is probably equally true of other aspects of mission and ministry. Neither independently-minded congregations that eschew the wider perspective of translocal ministry nor models of translocal ministry that attempt to impose strategies or marginalise local congregational discernment and vision will do. Partnership in a non-hierarchical structure that recognises different spheres (rather than levels) of ministry and is rooted in friendship and mutual respect offers better prospects for developing and sustaining the missionary movement needed. It seems likely that many congregations will require as much retraining as those moving into translocal ministry if this kind of partnership is to reach its full potential. A clear and coherent understanding of the potential and purpose of translocal ministry is needed at local church level. In order to facilitate this re-education of local congregations, training for local ministry should also incorporate an understanding of the scope and contribution of translocal ministry.
Accountability
One important aspect of partnership, to which more attention may need to be given, is the accountability of translocal ministers – not just to their regional association or the denominational council, but to the local congregation of which they are members or from which they were commissioned to their translocal role. It seems from the New Testament writings that those involved in translocal ministry reported back regularly to their commissioning congregation, as well as conferring with others involved in translocal ministry. Paul certainly consulted with the Jerusalem apostles (Galatians 1:18-2:10), but he and Barnabas spent considerable time reporting to the church in Antioch from where they had been commissioned (Acts 14:26-28).
Missionaries in other cultures regularly return to their home churches for periods of rest, reflection and renewal, where they report on their activities and (at least in some cases) draw on the insights of their home congregation as they discuss issues they are facing. There are indications that Anabaptist apostles and Baptist messengers were accountable to their commissioning congregations in ways that those involved in translocal ministry today might also find beneficial. Such periods of reflection and consultation might further erode any hierarchical dimension of translocal ministry; it would hopefully also help to ensure that those involved in translocal ministry are less isolated than at present and less likely to suffer from burnout; and it would encourage them not to lose touch with grassroots congregational life in a way that can happen if their involvement in local churches is primarily as a visiting preacher or pastoral fire-fighter.
Trans-denominational ministry
If translocal ministry is to thrive in the post-denominational era that is emerging from the demise of Christendom, it will need to operate in a creatively and generously trans-denominational way. This is not the same as the development of ecumenical relationships and the signing of formal covenants between those with translocal responsibilities in different denominations. These honourable and helpful arrangements were aspects of the institutional kind of ecumenism that is fast giving way to grass-roots post-denominational networking in an era when relationships, exchange of ideas and resources and seizing opportunities will seem much more relevant than debating issues of ‘faith and order’ or forming representative and carefully balanced ecumenical committees.
In post-Christendom a messier and more mission-oriented ecumenical networking will be the order of the day. Territorial and denominational defence-mechanisms are anachronistic and rather silly when the churches are all on the cultural and spiritual margins. The primary emphasis will need to be on the challenges and opportunities for mission in a society where networks are as strategic as neighbourhoods and where co-operation will be vital for survival and any attempt at mission effectiveness. The old structures and sensitivities will have to give way to a new level of trust, mutual recognition of ministry and partnership. Appointing to translocal roles those unable or unwilling to adapt to and flourish in this broader and less circumscribed environment will not be wise. Networking skills will be much more valuable than understanding of institutional processes.
Appointment and terminology
A practical implication of all this is that the expectations, job-descriptions, skills and priorities of those called into translocal ministry need a thorough overhaul. Putting this fairly bluntly, denominations need to appoint people with pioneering and strategic gifts rather than administrative skills or successful local ministries, people who are mission-minded, oriented towards envisioning, change-management and risk-taking rather than supervising stability or managing decline. Having ‘a safe pair of hands’ or ‘knowing the right people’ will not be sufficient!
One term for the kind of role we are envisaging is ‘apostolic.’ Reflecting on models of church and mission in a changing world, Eddie Gibbs insists: ‘the church needs to move from the Constantinian model – which presumed a churched culture – to an apostolic model designed to penetrate the vast, unchurched segments of society.’12 This ‘apostolic model’ implies changes in the ways congregations operate, but the catalyst for such local changes may be ‘apostolic’ forms of translocal ministry.
This does not mean that all translocal ministers should be gifted as apostles, or that this terminology should necessarily be used to describe those who are. The question of terminology may be significant. It is worth asking whether the use of ‘apostolic’ terminology will help or hinder churches from embracing and benefiting from translocal ministry. If the term worries, confuses or offends local ministers and their churches, is it worth persisting with? On the other hand, if employing a generic term like ‘translocal’ locks churches into maintenance-oriented models and fails to help them engage with missional challenges or strategic and visionary leadership, maybe the term ‘apostolic’ will be vital to signal the changes of priority and ethos that are essential in a post-Christendom era.
Whether the term ‘apostolic’ is used or not, collapsing all expressions of ‘translocal ministry’ into ‘apostolic ministry’ will not be helpful: translocal pastors and teachers, administrators and evangelists can also play important roles. Indeed, the pastoral and organisational abilities that have traditionally been sought in translocal ministers will still be needed by those exercising ‘apostolic’ roles, but these abilities will need to be deployed in new ways and with different priorities in a mission context. A successful track record in successful suburban churches may be an inadequate, even unhelpful, qualification or preparation for those called to exercise a translocal missional ministry in the urban, postmodern and multicultural contexts that represent the main challenges facing the churches in post-Christendom.
But, if this is the case for translocal ministry in post-Christendom, there may also be implications for local ministry. Suitable candidates for translocal ministry are likely to be found primarily among those already experienced in local ministry, so what has been suggested regarding the appointment, skills and training of translocal ministers needs also to impact the appointment, skills and training of local ministers. Anne Wilkinson-Hayes questions whether ordination to a ministry of ‘word and sacrament’ is an accurate understanding of what translocal ministers are called to do. Perhaps we need to question whether this hallowed definition is any longer appropriate or helpful even for local ministers. The maintenance orientation that it can (though perhaps need not) carry may not encourage ministers to prioritise wisely the multiple challenges facing the churches in today’s mission environment. Maybe reflection on the nature of translocal ministry will stimulate renewed thinking about the calling of local ministers and how the churches might perceive their role.
These last reflections may seem to have strayed beyond the subject of this article, but it seems that reflection on any aspect of ecclesiology can disrupt accepted notions and priorities in other areas of church life. The fourth-century shift from pre-Christendom to Christendom deeply impacted many areas of church life, but the changes were felt first among translocal ministers. Perhaps the further shift from Christendom to post-Christendom, which will provoke profound changes in twenty-first century churches, will also be discerned as clearly as anywhere else in the sphere of translocal ministry. And perhaps a renewed expression of translocal ministry will be one of the critical factors in equipping the churches to engage effectively with this strange new world.
Endnotes
1 For further details, see the authoritative collection of essays in Alan Kreider (Ed.): The Origins of Christendom in the West (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 2002).
2 See H.A. Drake: Constantine and the Bishops: The Politics of Intolerance (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 2000).
3 See Everett Ferguson: ‘The Congregationalism of the Early Church’ in Daniel Williams: The Free Church and the Early Church (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), pp130-135.
4 The Waldensians flourished especially in southern France and northern Italy between the 12th century and the Reformation era and also spread into German-speakers areas, despite sustained persecution. In 14th century England radical followers of John Wyclif were dubbed Lollards and established churches in many parts of the country, some of which survived until the Reformation. Anabaptist communities sprang up in Switzerland, Germany and the Netherlands in the 16th century and offered a more radical approach to reformation than their Protestant contemporaries. For a succinct summary of the history and convictions of these movements, see www.anabaptistnetwork.com. Other chapters in this book explore the relevance to contemporary discussions about translocal ministry of the history of English Baptists.
5 Justus Menius: (Von dem Geist der Widerteuffer, Wittemberg 1544), cited in Franklin Littell: ‘The Anabaptist Theology of Mission’, in Wilbert Shenk (Ed.): Anabaptism and Mission (Scottdale: Herald Press, 1984), p20.
6 Leonard Gross: ‘Sixteenth-Century Hutterian Mission’ in Shenk, Anabaptism, p111.
7 Cited in Hans Kasdorf: ‘The Anabaptist Approach to Mission’ in Shenk, Anabaptism, p64
8 Kasdorf: ‘The Anabaptist Approach to Mission’ in Shenk, Anabaptism, p59.
9 Anne Hudson: The Premature Reformation (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), p449.
10 For a detailed study, see Stuart Murray: Post-Christendom (Carlisle: Paternoster, 2004).
11 See further George Lings & Stuart Murray: Church Planting: Past, Present and Future (Cambridge: Grove Books, 2003), pp17-19.
12 Eddie Gibbs: Church Next (Leicester: IVP, 2001).
he fourth book in the popular 'After Christendom' series was published in July 2008. This means that four are now available:
Post-Christendom by Stuart Murray
Church after Christendom by Stuart Murray
Faith and Politics after Christendom by Jonathan Bartley
Youth Work after Christendom by Jo & Nigel Pimlott
Two more are scheduled for publication in 2009:
Reading the Bible after Christendom by Lloyd Pietersen
Worship and Mission after Christendom by Alan & Eleanor Kreider
Stuart Murray, Jonathan Bartley, Jo & Nigel Pimlott and Lloyd Pietersen are available for 'After Christendom' study days. These can be organised and hosted by churches, colleges or other organisations and customised according to interest. Depending on what topics are required, the appropriate authors are willing to work together as a teaching team for the day.
For further information, contact stuart@murraywilliams.co.uk
developed by Stuart Murray Williams
Note: You can find a downloadable version of this guide at the bottom of this page.
Introduction
Since Post-Christendom was published by Paternoster in March 2004 to launch the ‘After Christendom’ series of books, a number of people have suggested to me that a study guide would be useful to help them work their way through the many issues the book addresses. This might include:
• A timeline to show how Christendom developed and its relation to other historical events.
• A short chapter-by-chapter summary to help those who struggle with book-length arguments.
• Diagnostic exercises to help us identify Christendom-oriented thinking.
• Practical examples of how the Christendom legacy continues to influence us.
• Further questions to consider (beyond those at the end of several chapters).
• Bible studies to encourage us to reconsider interpretations unduly influenced by Christendom.
My initial response was that Post-Christendom is only the first of several books in the ‘After Christendom’ series. It contains much more historical material than the other books will and lays foundations on which others will build. Later books in the series will unpack its ideas and explore many issues in more detail. Maybe further resources are not necessary at this stage.
Early responses to Church after Christendom, since its publication in February 2005, indicate that many people have found this second book in the series more accessible. It seems to have addressed some of the issues a study guide might have covered. This may also be the case with books that have yet to be published, which will provide further insights and resources on issues that Post-Christendom mentioned only briefly.
However, as I have reflected on the responses to Post-Christendom, I have warmed to the idea of a study guide with at least some of the resources requested. The best way forward seems to be a web-based resource that is freely accessible and also available in a form that can be downloaded for personal or group use. So I hope what follows is helpful and meets the needs of those who have approached me over the past year or so. And I welcome suggestions for improving and developing this.
Timeline and Maps
The approach of the ‘After Christendom’ series is to divide the history of the church in Western Europe into three periods:
• Pre-Christendom (from the birth of the church until the first part of the 4th century)
• Christendom (from the 4th to the 20th centuries)
• Post-Christendom (from the 20th century onwards)
This is, of course, over-simplified (as all such schemes tend to be) and the shifts from pre-Christendom to Christendom and from Christendom to post-Christendom cannot be dated precisely. But the authors of the series argue that there are major differences between the approaches of Christians in these periods to the topics they cover – faith and politics, worship and mission, church and society, etc. We find it surprising that those who trace the history of the church and its mission do not more often comment on the significance of these shifts. See further on this, if you are interested, an article by Alan Kreider entitled ‘Beyond Bosch: the Early Church and the Christendom Shift’ at http://www.anabaptistnetwork.com/articles
There are several websites with timelines, maps and other resources that illustrate the major incidents and characters in church history. Although these sites do not use the threefold division we are advocating, they provide very helpful background material that can easily be cross-referenced with the books in the series and the other resources we provide here. It does not seem necessary to try to duplicate here the resources of these websites, so we are simply listing some of the more interesting sites:
http://www.churchtimeline.com: an extensive collection of resources covering the whole era.
http://www.olivetree.com/history/: a timeline that covers the biblical period as well as an overview of significant figures in church history.
http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Pines/7224/Rick/chronindex.htm: a century-by-century timeline with commentary on significant events and people.
http://gbgm-umc.org/umw/bible/jc.html: a detailed timeline from Jesus to Constantine (313).
http://www.tredways.org/church_history/: timelines that provide a simple overview and (by clicking on the period of interest) more information as required.
http://www.cwo.com/~pentrack/catholic/chron.html: timeline of the whole of church history from a Roman Catholic perspective.
http://justus.anglican.org/resources/timeline/: various timelines grouped under subject areas and all from an Anglican perspective.
http://www.saintignatiuschurch.org/timeline.html: a timeline from the perspective of the Orthodox Church, which regards most of western Christendom as a deviation from the true church.
http://www3.la.psu.edu/courses/worldreligions/maps-christianity.htm: simple maps of the biblical era and the spread of Christianity.
http://www.culturalresources.com/Maps.html: an enormous set of links to maps of all kinds, including many that illustrate the context of church history in Western Europe.
http://historymedren.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?site=http://www.eu... a collection of maps showing Europe at the beginning of every century from 1 to 2000.
http://www.roman-emperors.org/Index.htm: a similar resource to the previous one, showing Europe (and North Africa and the Middle East) from 1 to 1500.
Post-Christendom: A thumbnail sketch
The basic argument of the book can be summed up in the following steps:
Chapter 1: The End of Christendom
• The church in western societies is experiencing a significant culture shift and is moving, slowly and unsteadily, into uncharted territory (the ‘strange new world’ of the book’s subtitle).
• Although this culture shift has many different components, including the shift from modernity to postmodernity, one key element is the end of Christendom.
• We experience this as a period of decline and discouragement as the church in western societies (but not in many other parts of the world) loses ground in terms of numbers and influence.
• We may be tempted to indulge in nostalgia, to bury our heads in the sand or to pin our hopes on revival, but it may be better to welcome post-Christendom as a new opportunity for faithful discipleship and creative mission.
• In order to understand the significance of post-Christendom, we need first to explore the Christendom era that is now fading and the legacy it has left us.
Chapter 2: The Coming of Christendom
• The beginning of the Christendom era can be traced to the 4th century and the decision of the emperor Constantine I to adopt and promote Christianity.
• Historians argue about the nature of Constantine’s conversion and his motives in championing Christianity, but his influence was profound, bringing the church in from the margins to the centre of society.
• The church had been growing very rapidly during the previous century, but Constantine’s decision took church leaders by surprise and they acclaimed him (almost unanimously) despite questions about his character and intentions.
• As a result of the patronage of the church by Constantine and his successors, including substantial financial support, the church grew in numbers and social status during the 4th century.
• Conversions were due to several factors: the intellectual appeal of Christianity, the church’s care for the poor, growing social pressure, better career prospects and some forms of coercion.
• At the end of the 4th century the emperor Theodosius I effectively outlawed all other religions so that Christianity became the official imperial religion.
• But was the church right to accept the patronage of Constantine and to allow itself to be co-opted as the imperial religion?
Chapter 3: The Expansion of Christendom
• At the start of the 5th century, Christians were at the centre of society but still as a privileged minority, rather than a majority.
• Over the next few centuries remarkable efforts were made to strengthen the hold of Christendom upon its heartlands and to extend its influence across the empire and beyond its boundaries.
• Gradually paganism and most other religions were eradicated (the Jews were allowed to continue but were often under pressure) and in 529 Justinian made conversion compulsory.
• As the Roman Empire collapsed and Europe entered the so-called Dark Ages, the church functioned as a unifying and civilising force, successfully making the transition into a new era.
• Christendom spread through various methods: gradual infiltration, missionary enterprises, inter-marriage, conquest and coercion. The conversion of Europe was finally completed late in the 14th century.
• In theory everyone believed, behaved and belonged within Christendom, but the catechesis (introductory teaching)of new Christians was now very limited.
• Christendom had triumphed and its achievements were wonderful, but how Christian was Christendom and its missionary methods?
Chapter 4: The Christendom Shift
• Before tracing the history of Christendom into the Middle Ages, we need to examine carefully the nature of the 4th-century shift from pre-Christendom to Christendom.
• The theological architect of Christendom was Augustine of Hippo. Although he was ambivalent about the empire, he accommodated the church’s theology and practices to the new situation, introducing numerous innovations.
• The Christendom shift was profound, involving in effect a re-engineering of the church’s DNA in the areas of faith and discipleship, church and society, church life, mission and ethics.
• Further details of this critical shift can be found here.
• Two potent illustrations of this shift are the dramatically changed meanings of both baptism and the cross.
• Despite the overwhelming support of the church for this shift, there were some who objected, including the monastic movement, the Donatists and Pelagius. Their concerns were dismissed at the time but resurfaced in later centuries.
• But what were the costs and benefits of the Christendom shift, and were there any alternatives in the 4th and 5th centuries?
Chapter 5: The Heart of Christendom
• The culture of Christendom that flourished during the Middle Ages was rich and remarkable, but it was also oppressive towards any who dissented.
• The outworkings of the Christendom shift became entrenched in society, as pre-Christendom approaches to issues such as truth-telling and violence were superseded by oath-taking and participation in warfare.
• Christendom required that people read the Bible in ways that supported the status quo, gave precedence to the Old Testament and marginalised Jesus.
• Church life also reflected the Christendom shift as large congregations were dominated by a clerical caste, who performed services and gave monologue sermons, and who operated in a hierarchical structure that imposed punitive church discipline.
• In the Christendom era the emphasis was on institutional maintenance rather than mission. Where evangelistic mission occurred it was generally delegated to specialist agencies and sometimes involved coercion. Other dimensions of mission involved offering counsel to the state and christianising culture.
• But throughout this era there were marginal movements that protested against the Christendom system, advocating and practising alternative approaches to the Bible, church and mission. These included the Waldensians and Lollards.
• How do we listen to both the mainstream and the margins from this era? What can we learn from each?
Chapter 6: The Disintegration of Christendom
• By the 16th century Christendom was in turmoil – economic, political, social and spiritual – and was starting to disintegrate.
• The Protestant Reformation offered one way forward, retaining most of the assumptions of the Christendom system, including state churches, but trying to reform this system.
• The reformers, however, made only limited changes on the issues of biblical interpretation, church life and the nature of mission.
• Catholicism also underwent a process of reform and reorganisation, with the result that different versions of Christendom – Catholic, Lutheran, Reformed and Anglican – emerged. Christendom fragmented into competing and hostile mini-Christendoms.
• Another way forward was the Anabaptist movement, the heirs of the medieval marginal movements, which rejected the Christendom system as beyond mere reform and planted new churches free from state control.
• Anabaptists developed alternative approaches to biblical interpretation, church life and mission, but they were persecuted by both Catholics and Protestants.
• How do we respond when we perceive problems within the church – remain in the current structures and work for renewal, or come out and build anew on fresh foundations?
Chapter 7: The Christendom Legacy
• Between the 17th and 20th centuries the demise of Christendom took place, as various factors undermined its legitimacy.
• These included: the Enlightenment reliance on reason rather than revelation, the impact of industrialisation and urbanisation, the arrival of postmodernity, the persistence of dissent and the globalisation of the church and its mission.
• However, there are numerous vestiges of Christendom that have outlasted the political entity, both in the church and in society.
• Further details of these vestiges can be found here.
• As we identify these various vestiges, we need to consider their significance and decide whether to endorse, ignore or challenge them.
• More pervasive, though less obvious, is the Christendom mindset that guides our thinking and reactions on a range of issues.
• Further details of this mindset can be found here.
• There are different ways of responding to the Christendom legacy: denying it, defending it, dismissing it, dissociating ourselves from it, demonising it or disavowing it.
• Disavowing is the best option, which involves disentangling the many threads, deciding what to retain and what to reject.
• In what ways are we influenced by the Christendom mindset or enmeshed in Christendom vestiges, and how will we respond to these?
Chapter 8: Post-Christendom: Mission
• Although the Christendom era was characterised primarily by maintenance rather than mission, in the latter part of the era mission returned in various forms.
• Mission took place beyond the boundaries of Christendom as Catholic and then Protestant missionaries accompanied those who explored and conquered the New World.
• Despite noble exceptions, these missions were marred by cultural imposition and considerable violence.
• Mission also took place within Christendom as concern grew about the low level of morality and spirituality within an officially Christian society.
• Evangelism is problematic in post-Christendom, not least because of the very ambiguous legacy of mission within and beyond Christendom in the previous centuries.
• Despite the temptation to abandon it, we need to rehabilitate and reconfigure evangelism for post-Christendom.
• There are important challenges facing us as we engage in mission in a plural society and learn to engage creatively with other faith communities.
• We also will need to learn fresh ways of engaging in social transformation as a marginal community that no longer wields social power of the kind we were used to exercising.
• And we will need to renegotiate our relationship with the state, succumbing neither to delusions of past status nor temptations to disengage.
• What will it mean to be reconstituted as a marginal missionary movement in the strange new world of post-Christendom?
Chapter 9: Post-Christendom: Church
• Reconstituting ourselves for mission also involves rethinking what kind of church can incarnate the good news in post-Christendom.
• Across western culture, fresh expressions of church are emerging, energised by longings for more authentic forms of community, worship and mission.
• Examining these emerging churches through the post-Christendom lens both affirms their significance and poses significant questions for them.
• But the vast majority of Christians belong to inherited forms of church and the shift to post-Christendom offers opportunities to take a fresh look at practices that were rooted in the Christendom system and challenged by the dissidents.
• These include the clergy/laity divide, monologue sermons, church discipline and attitudes to war and economics.
• Church after Christendom will need to be relatively simple if it is to survive.
• But simplicity does not mean banality. We need to re-imagine church for post-Christendom.
• We might re-imagine the church as a community stirred by poets and story-tellers, a monastic missionary order and a safe place to take risks.
• Are the immediate prospects of the church in western societies best summed up as revival or survival?
Chapter 10: Post-Christendom: Resources
• There are many more questions than answers in the current transitional period between Christendom and post-Christendom.
• Our responses to contemporary challenges need to be provisional and we will need to appreciate many kinds of resources.
• We can draw on pre-Christendom, anti-Christendom (dissident), Christendom and extra-Christendom (global) movements.
• We will need to think carefully about how we interpret the Bible, recovering marginalised texts and questioning received interpretations, rejoicing in the new angle of vision available to a marginal community.
• We may need to reconsider important theological commitments and ethical stances, suspicious of the influence of Christendom on them.
• Some images may help us come to terms with our current situation, including marginality, liminality, exile, pilgrimage and church on the edge.
• And our terminology may need adjusting as we reflect on the language used in the Christendom era and its suitability (or lack of this) in post-Christendom.
• Most fundamentally, post-Christendom offers us an opportunity to recover the radical Jesus whom Christendom marginalised and follow him courageously onto the margins of this strange new world.
The Christendom Shift
Chapter 4 of Post-Christendom contains a long list of issues that were impacted by the 4th-century Christendom shift. It is not possible to summarise these, so here is the list in case it is useful in this form for further study:
The transformation in how the church understood itself and its role in society was not accomplished in one generation. Some developments had roots predating Constantine and would take centuries to develop fully. Over time, however, the Christendom shift involved:
• The adoption of Christianity as the official religion of city, state or empire.
• Movement of the church from the margins to the centre of society.
• The creation and progressive development of a Christian culture or civilisation.
• The assumption that all citizens (except Jews) were Christian by birth.
• The development of a ‘sacral society’, corpus Christianum, where there was no freedom of religion and political power was divinely authenticated.
• The definition of ‘orthodoxy’ as the belief all shared, determined by powerful church leaders with state support.
• Imposition, by legislation and custom, of a supposedly Christian morality on the entire society (though normally Old Testament morality was applied).
• Infant baptism as the symbol of obligatory incorporation into Christian society.
• The defence of Christianity by legal sanctions to restrain heresy, immorality and schism.
• A hierarchical ecclesiastical system, based on a diocesan and parish arrangement, analogous to the state hierarchy and buttressed by state support.
• A generic distinction between clergy and laity, and relegation of laity to a largely passive role.
• Two-tier ethics, with higher standards of discipleship (‘evangelical counsels’) expected of clergy and those in religious orders.
• Sunday as an official holiday and obligatory church attendance, with penalties for non-compliance.
• The requirement of oaths of allegiance and oaths in law courts to encourage truth-telling.
• The construction of massive and ornate church buildings and the formation of huge congregations.
• Increased wealth for the church and obligatory tithes to fund the system.
• Division of the globe into ‘Christendom’ and ‘heathendom’ and wars waged in the name of Christ and the church.
• Use of political and military force to impose Christianity, regardless of personal conviction.
• Reliance on the Old Testament, rather than the New, to justify these changes.
The foundation of Christendom was a theocratic understanding of society and a close, though sometimes fraught, partnership between church and state, the two main pillars of society. The nature of this partnership varied. Over the centuries, power struggles between popes and emperors resulted in one or other holding sway. Previous chapters have revealed one emperor presiding over a church council and another submitting to a bishop’s authority. But the system assumed the church was associated with a status quo understood as Christian and had vested interests in its maintenance. The church provided religious legitimation for state activities; the state provided secular support for ecclesiastical decisions.
Christendom excluded or reinterpreted elements of New Testament teaching that had been important in pre-Christendom:
Faith and discipleship
• Faith in Christ was no longer understood as the exercise of choice in a pluralistic environment where other choices were possible without penalty.
• The term ‘conversion’ mainly described, not the start of the Christian life, but entrance into a monastic community.
• Discipleship was interpreted as loyal citizenship, rather than commitment to the counter-cultural values of God’s kingdom.
• Preoccupation with individual eternal destiny replaced expectation of the coming of God’s kingdom.
Church and society
• There was no longer any significant distinction between ‘church’ and ‘world’.
• The state was no longer accorded a limited preservative function but had replaced the church as the bearer of the meaning of history.
• Church was defined territorially and membership was compulsory, with no room for believers’ churches comprised only of voluntary members.
• Such voluntary communities, called ‘churches’ in the New Testament, were now called ‘sects’ and condemned as schismatic.
• The church largely abandoned its prophetic role for a chaplaincy role, providing spiritual support, sanctifying social occasions and state policies.
• The idea of God’s kingdom was reduced to a historical entity, coterminous with the state church, or relegated to the future.
Church life
• Believers’ baptism as the means of incorporation into the church was regarded as appropriate only for first-generation converts from paganism.
• Church services became performance-oriented as multi-voiced participation and the exercise of charismatic gifts declined.
• A sacramental and penitential system developed that enabled the church hierarchy to control and dispense ‘salvation’, often at a price.
• Clerical power and the disappearance of the ‘world’ meant church discipline was punitive, even lethal, rather than expressing pastoral care and mutual admonition.
Mission
• The church’s orientation was now towards maintenance rather than mission, and mission was carried out by specialist agencies, not congregations.
• Pastors and teachers were honoured, while apostles, prophets and evangelists were marginalised or regarded as obsolete (cf. Ephesians 4.11).
• Mission within and beyond Christendom was accomplished by top-down methods, including coercion and offering inducements.
• The vision of a new Christian nation, corpus Christi, scattered through the nations was replaced by a vision of an earthly Christian empire.
Ethics
• The church became more concerned about maintaining social order than achieving social justice.
• Because the church exercised control, ethical choices were justified by anticipated outcomes or consequences rather than inherent morality.
• Pleas for religious liberty were forgotten and persecution was imposed by those claiming to be Christians rather than upon them.
• Enemy-loving and peacemaking were replaced by the formation of a Christian army and the ‘just war’ theory or ‘holy war’ ideology.
• The cross was less a reminder of the laying down of life than a symbol carried into battle by those who would take the lives of others.
Assessing the Christendom Shift
Look again at the above summary of the impact of the Christendom shift on church and society.
How are we to assess this shift and its consequences? Here is a simple exercise to help us consider the possibilities.
Work through the summary and place by each item a number representing one of the following assessments:
1. This was a positive development that evolved quite naturally from the traditional thinking and practice of the pre-Christendom churches.
2. This was a positive development that was a deviation from traditional theology and practice but was justified by the changing circumstances.
3. This was a necessary development in the changing circumstances that had neither particularly positive nor particularly negative consequences.
4. This was a necessary development in the changing circumstances that had negative and regrettable consequences.
5. This was an illegitimate development that contravened the theology and practice of the pre-Christendom church and is difficult to square with the spirit of the gospel.
6. This was an illegitimate development that compromised the church and its message and led to horrendous consequences in the coming centuries.
You might also want to construct further categories (7, 8, 9 etc.) if these do not give you all the options you want to work with.
Once you have completed this assessment of the Christendom shift, you may want to identify the issues that concern you most and consider how you or your church might grapple with these.
Alternatives to the Christendom Shift
Chapter 4 of Post-Christendom challenges the suggestion that the church in the fourth century had no option but to accept the invitation to becoming the imperial church. It suggests that there were other ways fourth-century Christians might have interpreted Constantine’s adoption of Christianity and responded to his invitation:
• They might have recognised that all Roman emperors had used religion to impose order on the empire: Constantine was acting in a typically Roman (not Christian) way.
• They might have questioned his continuing allegiance to the Unconquered Sun and the nature of his allegiance to Christ.
• They might have challenged him to become a catechumen (novice Christian) earlier and to have prepared for baptism before he became terminally ill.
• They might have encouraged him to behave as a true Christian, rather than a normal emperor, accepting this might have resulted in his reign being brief.
• They might have reflected on their survival and growth through 250 years of intermittent persecution and decided they did not need imperial protection or patronage.
• They might have differentiated between toleration and imperial endorsement, welcoming the former and courteously but firmly refusing the latter.
• They might have explained to Constantine that massive basilicas and lavish bequests were inappropriate for followers of Jesus.
• They might have insisted the cross symbolised sacrificial suffering and was inappropriate as a military standard, explaining that Jesus’ followers were a peaceful people, who would not fight to defend the empire.
• They might have recalled their own experience of persecution and historic commitment to religious liberty and refused to persecute or pressurise others.
• They might have listened to dissenting voices warning that the theological reinterpretations of Augustine and others were leading them away from their roots and core values.
Another exercise: rank these suggestions in order, according to your judgement as to how realistic they seem to be. Then, starting with what you consider to be the most realistic, assess what impact this might have had on the development of Christendom.
And some further questions:
1. Some claim that the phenomenal growth of Christianity in this period means that, if not under Constantine, under one of his successors Christianity would have become the numerically dominant religion. Do you agree?
2. If so, need a numerically dominant religion become a state religion?
3. Might Europe have been christianised from the bottom up rather than from the top down, and what difference might this have made?
4. If the continuing numerical growth of the church had not been turbo-charged by state endorsement, might effective catechesis have continued, and what effect might this have had on church and society?
5. What can we learn from the history of the church in the Persian Empire, which never had a Constantine figure (but was very viciously persecuted once Constantine declared the Roman Empire Christian)? After centuries of mission, during which it became more numerous and widespread than European Christianity, it was eventually eradicated from large areas of Asia. Is this inevitable for a non-state religion?
6. If in the future the church in Europe again becomes numerous, even numerically dominant, what are the alternatives to re-inventing Christendom? Is faithfulness only possible for marginal communities, or is there a truly Christian way to handle power?
Vestiges of Christendom
Chapter 7 of Post-Christendom contains a long list of Christendom vestiges. It is not possible to summarise these, so here is the list in case it is useful in this form for further study:
Ecclesiastical vestiges
• The Church of England is the established church, acknowledging the monarch as supreme governor and claiming official status by its very name, which by implication excludes other denominations.
• The self-identity of the non-established Church of Scotland is of a national church.
• The monarch appoints Anglican bishops, on the recommendation of the prime minister, from a shortlist of candidates the church prepares. The state can veto episcopal appointments.
• Church leaders participate in state ceremonies, during which they engage in acts of worship (although increasingly representatives of other faiths also participate).
• Some decisions of the Church of England’s General Synod require state endorsement (the requisite majority of the ‘three houses’ approved the decision to ordain women, but this needed ratification by both Houses of Parliament).
• The parish system symbolises and implements the ubiquity of the established church, regardless of the presence of other congregations.
• The Church of England is legally obliged to provide marriage and funeral services. Clergy of many denominations act as state registrars.
• The Church of England is a major landowner and, despite falling income and rising costs, a very wealthy institution.
• The Chi-Rho symbol, Constantine’s labarum, adorns many churches and chapels instead of the cross.
• The cross is associated in many communities with conquest and coercion, not suffering and self-giving love.
• Many church buildings contain military paraphernalia, including regimental flags, plaques commemorating war casualties and soldiers’ graves.
• Most denominations endorse the ‘just war’ theory.
• Though many denominations have more members elsewhere than in Europe, representatives of historic Christendom nations dominate their structures and culture.
• Many denominations and agencies maintain structures that perpetuate outdated ‘sending nations’ and ‘mission fields’ concepts.
• Infant baptism is still widely practised (not only in the state church), but there are concerns about indiscriminate christening.
• Leadership structures in many newer denominations mirrors Christendom arrangements (albeit with different titles).
• The dominance of monologue sermons is evident in all denominations (with longer sermons in newer churches).
• The popularity of tithing in newer churches is encouraging Anglicans and Catholics to return to an abandoned Christendom practice.
• Church discipline is not taught in theological colleges, congregations are not equipped to practise this and attempts to exercise discipline are frequently ineffective or authoritarian.
• Inherited or chosen architectural styles of church buildings maintain aspects of Christendom ecclesiology. Many resemble lecture halls or theatres, disabling multi-voiced worship.
• Special clothes continue to designate a clerical caste with special powers and privileges.
Social vestiges
• The monarch’s coronation takes place in Westminster Abbey and involves senior church leaders, who present a Bible as a ‘rule for the whole life and government of Christian Princes’, anoint the monarch with oil with reference to Old Testament kings, present a sword for the monarch to ‘protect the holy Church of God’ and bestow a ring with a ruby cross, urging the monarch to be the ‘defender of Christ’s religion.’
• The monarch swears to ‘maintain the Laws of God and the true profession of the Gospel’; ‘maintain in the United Kingdom the Protestant Reformed Religion established by law’; ‘maintain and preserve inviolably the settlement of the Church of England, and the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government thereof, as by law established in England’; and ‘preserve unto the Bishops and Clergy of England, and to the Churches there committed to their charge, all such rights and privileges, as by law do or shall appertain to them or any of them.’
• The National Anthem combines unquestioning support for the monarch with prayer for military success.
• Coins carry inscriptions committing the monarch to defend the (Anglican) faith (D.G.REG.F.D).
• The Union Flag comprises crosses of St George, St Andrew and St Patrick, the ‘patron saints’ of England, Scotland and Ireland.
• Remembrance Day ceremonies offer prayers of thanksgiving for military success.
• State-funded chaplains serve in the armed forces and accompany them to war, implicitly supporting their actions.
• Christian prayers take place daily in both Houses of Parliament.
• Two archbishops and twenty-four diocesan bishops are ‘Lords Spiritual’ sitting in the House of Lords.
• The English legal system includes ‘canon law’, which governs church affairs, and ecclesiastical courts.
• Anyone on the parish electoral role (whatever their religious views) may vote to elect church wardens.
• The launching of ships involves a ‘christening’ ceremony, invoking God’s blessing on the vessel.
• Blasphemy laws (though rarely invoked) protect only the Church of England, not other denominations or religions.
• Churches enjoy the presumption their activities are charitable and so receive significant tax benefits.
• Schools must provide daily acts of collective worship ‘wholly or mainly of a broadly Christian character.’
• School, college and bank holidays are planned around or associated primarily with the Christmas and Easter festivals.
• Despite continuing erosion, there are still restrictions on economic and social activities on Sundays.
• Use of oaths in the courts and legal processes (although affirmation is now available) remains normal.
• Oaths of allegiance are sworn by people in various institutions. Members of the police force, for instance, swear oaths in an annual service.
Responding to the Vestiges of Christendom
Look again at the above summary of the vestiges of Christendom in both church and society.
Here is an exercise to help us consider how to regard these vestiges and engage with them. Work through the summary and place by each item a number representing one of the following assessments:
1. This is a practice derived from the Christendom era that is wholly welcome, despite the demise of Christendom, and worth defending and retaining.
2. This is a practice derived from the Christendom era that, despite being rooted in an outdated and flawed system, has become a valued part of our cultural heritage and is worth retaining (albeit for other than the reasons it was originally introduced).
3. This is a practice derived from the Christendom era that no longer makes sense in a post-Christendom society but has no harmful effects and is not worth challenging.
4. This is a practice derived from the Christendom era that is regrettable and damages the church and its witness but which there is yet no realistic prospect of eradicating.
5. This is a practice derived from the Christendom era that is regrettable and damages the church and its witness so seriously that we should take action to eradicate it.
6. This is a practice derived from the Christendom era that is unjust and inappropriate in post-Christendom and that church and society should take action to eradicate.
You might also want to construct further categories (7, 8, 9 etc.) if these do not give you all the options you want to work with.
The Christendom Mindset
Chapter 7 of Post-Christendom contains a list of aspects of the Christendom mindset. It is not possible to summarise these, so here is the list in case it is useful in this form for further study:
• Orientation towards maintaining (but perhaps tweaking) the status quo rather than advocating radical and disturbing change.
• Wanting to control history and bring in God’s kingdom (even coercively) rather than trusting the future to God.
• Assuming Christians would govern nations more justly and effectively than others or that having more Christians in influential positions (especially in politics) would be beneficial.
• Over-emphasising church and internal ecclesial issues at the expense of God’s mission and kingdom.
• A ‘moral majority’ stance on ethical issues, assuming the right of churches to instruct the behaviour of those beyond the church.
• A punitive rather than restorative approach to issues of justice and support for capital punishment as ‘biblical.’
• Disgruntlement that Christian festivals (particularly Christmas and Easter) are no longer accorded the spiritual significance they once enjoyed.
• When reading the Bible, identifying naturally with the perspective of the rich and powerful.
• Readily finding analogies between Old Testament Israel and Britain (or America) as a ‘Christian nation’, reapplying biblical prophecies.
• Confusion about the relationship between patriotism and ultimate loyalty to God’s kingdom and the transnational Christian community.
• A ‘mainstream’ interpretation of church history that marginalises the laity, dissident movements, women and the poor.
• Euro-centric theology that marginalises other perspectives on mission, church and biblical interpretation.
• Inattentiveness to the criticisms of those outraged by the historic association of Christianity with patriarchy, warfare, injustice and patronage.
• Using ‘spiritual warfare’ language without reflecting on issues of violence and insensitivity to its effect on users and observers.
• A latent persecution-mentality that lacks theological or ethical objections to imposing beliefs or behaviour on others.
• Partiality for respectability, top-down mission and hierarchical church government.
• Predilection for large congregations that support a ‘professional’ standard of ministry and exercise influence on local power structures.
• Approaches to evangelism that rely excessively on ‘come’ rather than ‘go’ initiatives.
• Thinking the Christian story is still known, understood and widely believed within society.
• Reluctance to conclude Christendom vestiges inoculate rather than evangelise.
• Celebrating survey evidence that 70% of the population claim to be Christian, as if such notional Christianity is significant.
• Assuming churchgoing is a normal social activity and that most people feel comfortable in church buildings and services.
• Attitudes towards church buildings that imply these are focal points of God’s presence.
• Orientation towards maintenance rather than mission in ministerial training, congregational focus and financial priorities.
• Proliferation of church activities that are inappropriate and exhausting for marginal communities in a mission context.
• Preferring authoritative pronouncements, preaching and monologue over dialogue, conversation and consensus.
• Pontificating and lecturing, often in a sanctimonious tone that understandably irritates others.
• Discomfort among church leaders if members ask questions or express doubts or disagreement.
• Performance-oriented services and the tendency of short-lived multi-voiced developments to revert to the default mono-voiced position.
• Solemnity, formality and even morbidity when breaking bread and sharing wine in contrast to the joyful and domestic informality of the early churches.
• Despite decades of decline and marginalisation, triumphalist theology and language (especially in our hymnody).
• Consequentialist and utilitarian approaches to ethics, more concerned with outcomes than right motives and means.
• Attitudes to other faith communities that vary from opposition to tolerance but assume Christianity should be accorded centrality and privileges.
• Expectations that imminent revival will restore the fortunes and influence of the churches in society.
Detecting Christendom Toxins
The language of Christendom ‘toxins’ is used in Church after Christendom, so you may want to consult that book too, but the toxic mindset of Christendom is illustrated by the above summary from Post-Christendom.
Here is an exercise to help us consider how to regard these attitudes and assumptions, and how to engage with them.
1. Work through the list. Are you convinced that each item represents the legacy of Christendom? Might some be authentically Christian, or unconnected with the issue of Christendom? Place ? beside any items you are not convinced about.
2. Work through the list again. How significant are these items? Place ! beside items you regard as particularly important.
3. Work through the list you have highlighted. Choose 5 of these and put together a proposal for how each of these might be addressed by an individual or a church.
4. Work through the hymnbook or song collection of your own church/denomination. Note down any Christendom toxins you discover.
5. Listen carefully to sermons, prayers and conversations during one month. Note also any books or magazines you read during this month. What Christendom toxins, if any, do you detect? How might you respond to what you discover?
Reading the Bible after Christendom
The sixth book in the ‘After Christendom’ series will be written by Lloyd Pietersen. This will investigate the influence of the Christendom shift on biblical interpretation and ask how we might read the Bible with fresh perspectives after Christendom.
However, earlier books have already indicated that familiar interpretations of various biblical passages may need to be reconsidered now that Christendom is coming to an end. The influence of power, wealth and status on the church during the Christendom era may have distorted its understanding of many texts. We face the disturbing but exciting challenge of looking afresh at the Bible from our post-Christendom position on the margins of society.
While we wait for Lloyd’s book, it might be helpful to ponder a few sample passages, asking whether we have allowed the Christendom mindset to impact the way we have interpreted these. We will concentrate on passages from the Gospels.
Matthew 5:13
1. What are the various ways in which you have heard the term ‘salt’ interpreted?
2. Which of these have you found most helpful or persuasive?
3. Do any of these interpretations make sense of the term ‘earth’ (soil, ground)?
4. Do any of these interpretations make sense of the context – the climax of the Beatitudes?
5. Did you know salt was used in ancient times as a fertilizer? Might this make more sense of the verse and its context?
6. Why do you think ‘salt as preservative’ was a more popular interpretation during the Christendom era than ‘salt as fertilizer’?
7. Which makes better sense in post-Christendom?
(NB: for further resources on this passage and its interpretation, see Alan Kreider’s article at: www.anabaptistnetwork.com/node/291)
Matthew 5:38-42
1. What do the phrases ‘turn the other cheek’ and ‘go the second mile’ imply when used today?
2. How is this interpretation good news to oppressed and victimised people?
3. Might our interpretation of this passage be different if we realised ‘do not resist’ really means ‘do not resist violently’?
4. How would our understanding of Jesus’ teaching by affected by discovering that:
(a) A blow on the ‘right cheek’ suggests a master disciplining a slave with the back of his hand and turning the other cheek might represent passive resistance?
(b) Poor people in first-century Palestine wore only two garments?
(c) Roman soldiers could force people in occupied territory to carry their equipment for only one mile and would risk punishment if this went further?
5. What might it mean to behave in such ways today?
(NB: for further resources on this passage and its interpretation, see Walter Wink: Engaging the Powers, pp175-193)
Matthew 13:24-30; 36-43
1. Within the Christendom church this passage was used to justify a mixed church made up of believers and unbelievers. Is this legitimate?
2. Where does the term ‘church’ appear in this parable? Can it be inferred?
3. In dissident groups a different interpretation was given. What do you think this was?
4. What do you think is the message of this parable and its contemporary application?
5. Can you think of other biblical passages where the focus is on the kingdom of God (v24) but the Christendom shift identified this with the institutional church?
Matthew 21:33-46
1. Who do you think the various characters in this parable represent?
2. What is the moral and teaching of this parable?
3. Would your interpretation be any different if the word translated ‘landowner’ was instead translated ‘mafia boss’?
4. Would your interpretation be any different if you knew that absentee landlords who extorted income from peasant farmers with threats of violence were deeply resented and sometimes violence was met with violence?
5. Is it possible that the son who is killed does not represent Jesus?
6. What, then, would be the point of this parable? Might Jesus be proposing another way that challenges the violence on both sides?
7. How does this parable equip followers of Jesus for mission today?
Mark 12:41-44
1. Is this incident simply about the extraordinary generosity of a poor widow?
2. What difference, if any, do the verses (38-40) immediately before this passage make?
3. What difference, if any, do the verses (13:1-2) immediately after this passage make?
4. Why are the political, social and economic implications of this passage rarely mentioned in sermons today?
5. How does this parable equip followers of Jesus for mission today?
Luke 1:1-2:40
1. Read carefully through Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus.
2. During the Christendom era most people assumed God worked from the top down rather than from the margins. In this passage how many instances can you find of God working from the margins?
3. You might want to make a similar list from Matthew’s account (1:18-2:23).
4. What political implications of the coming of Jesus do you detect in the story (note especially the songs of Mary and Zechariah and the comments of Simeon)?
5. What is the significance of ‘peace’ in this story? Note the various references to this word.
Luke 18:18-30
1. With which character in this passage do we generally identify? Or do we detect only one character apart from Jesus?
2. What do we understand as the good news in this passage?
3. What happens if we identify, not with the rich ruler, but with ‘the poor’ (v22) to whom his treasures are to be distributed?
4. What would Jesus’ hearers likely have assumed about the reason why this ruler was rich, despite living in occupied territory?
5. How does the conversation between Jesus and Peter (vv28-30) affect the way we interpret this incident?
6. Is there any support in this passage for the frequent distinction made between our actions and our attitudes in relation to our possessions?
Luke 19:11-27
1. Who is the hero in this parable and who is the villain?
2. What kind of behaviour is this parable advocating?
3. Is it possible that the king is not Jesus or God? What sort of character is he?
4. What difference would it make to your interpretation if you knew that the hated Archelaus, a Herodian puppet king, had recently rushed off to Rome to be confirmed as ruler of the Jews (contrary to popular demands against this)?
5. What difference does the context make (the encounter with Zacchaeus in verses 1-10 and the entry into Jerusalem and clearing of the temple in verses 28-48)?
6. What is Jesus trying to communicate about the nature of God’s kingdom (v11)?
7. How does this parable equip followers of Jesus for mission today?
Church after Christendom: A thumbnail sketch
The basic argument of the book can be summed up in the following steps:
Part One: Shape: Prologue
• The first section of the book explores the shapes church after Christendom might need to take in a changing culture.
• The core biblical text for this section is Acts 11:1-18, in which the early church grappled with a profound paradigm shift.
Chapter 1: Church after Christendom: Belonging/Believing/Behaving
• As Christendom gradually disintegrates, the relationship between believing and belonging is unravelling in various ways.
• Beyond the churches there are various degrees of alienation from the church and its message.
• Understanding the complexity of this relationship is important for mission and church life.
• An additional factor is behaving, which raises questions about the meaning of conversion, baptism and membership.
• Centred set churches are becoming popular but these require a strong core as well as open edges.
Chapter 2: Church after Christendom: Comings and Goings
• As Christendom fades, it is helpful to understand why people are leaving and joining churches in a changing culture.
• There is considerable research available on church leavers, which needs to be examined critically in order to understand the various factors involved.
• How churches respond to church leavers is important, both for the well-being of the leavers and for the churches themselves.
• Listening to the concerns of church leavers can reveal key issues for churches to address in order to be more attractive and authentic.
• Understanding why people join churches is important both for mission and for reflection on church life.
• Cross-referencing lessons from leavers and joiners focuses attention on some critical issues for healthy church life.
Chapter 3: Church after Christendom: Will it Emerge?
• The demise of Christendom has been accompanied by both fragmentation of the church and a search for unity.
• During the late 1990s, a new wave of churches began to emerge, prompting some to suggest church after Christendom will emerge rather than evolving.
• Although categorising emerging churches at this stage is risky and inexact, a threefold division into mission-led, community-led and worship-led may be helpful.
• Different expressions of emerging church interact in different ways with the post-Christendom agenda.
Chapter 4: Church after Christendom: Will it Evolve?
• Some regard emerging churches as less promising, suggesting that church after Christendom is more likely to evolve from inherited forms of church.
• It may be that the strongest hope consists in partnership and mutual learning between inherited and emerging churches.
• All churches are in some senses both inherited and emerging; conversations can help various kinds of churches draw on each other’s resources.
• The global dimension is also important, as inherited and emerging churches learn from churches elsewhere and from missionaries and ethnically diverse churches in Europe.
• But what evolves or emerges must be about the ethos of the church, not just its style or shape.
Part Two: Ethos: Prologue
• The second section of the book explores the ethos church after Christendom might need to develop in a changing culture.
• Perspectives from both inherited and emerging churches (and church leavers) should inform this discussion.
• The core biblical text for this section is Ephesians 4:1-16, which offers a glorious vision of a healthy and participative church.
Chapter 5: Church after Christendom: Mission
• Church after Christendom will need to make a decisive shift from maintenance to mission in its basic orientation.
• This will involve action at a translocal as well as congregational level, so that institutions take on aspects of being missionary movements.
• Denominations, training institutions and other agencies need to move beyond missional language to substantive changes.
• The centre of post-Christendom society is contested, with competing claims being made for secularity and spirituality.
• Church after Christendom must embrace its marginality and develop strategies appropriate to mission from the margins.
• This will involve rehabilitating and reconfiguring evangelism.
Chapter 6: Church after Christendom: Community
• Interest in church growth has in recent years partly been superseded by concern for church health.
• Church after Christendom needs to identify the Christendom toxins and flush these out of its system.
• Induction processes and ongoing training is needed to build healthy churches.
• The neglected and maligned practice of church discipline is crucial if honest and loving communities are to evolve and emerge.
• Interactive and fully participative church life builds healthy and harmonious communities.
• Leadership models need to be reassessed and reconfigured in church after Christendom.
Chapter 7: Church after Christendom: Worship
• During the Christendom era, worship predominated over both community and mission, but these elements need to be re-balanced in post-Christendom.
• Emerging churches offer fresh and instructive perspectives on worship.
• Some are proposing that gathering together becomes less important, but this is unwise in post-Christendom.
• Inherited churches offer rich resources and long experience that church after Christendom will need to draw on and rework.
Chapter 8: Church after Christendom: Simple and Sustainable
• Church after Christendom must be both sustaining of Christians in emerging culture and also sustainable.
• Questions need to be asked about the focus, frequency and extent of church activities.
• Church after Christendom must be simple, but not simplistic, and capable of sustaining hope.
Church after Christendom: Some Questions
1. In what way can people belong before they believe in your church?
2. What are your church’s core values and how do you sustain these?
3. How do you engage creatively with those who leave your church?
4. What are you doing to encourage conversations between emerging and evolving churches?
5. In what ways can your church become more truly missional?
6. How do you induct new people into your church?
7. What practices in your church sustain healthy community life?
8. What activities in your church might you do less often or stop doing?
9. When you change the shape or style of your church, how do you engage with the question of its ethos?
10. What five things might your church do in response to the issues raised in this book?
You can download this study guide in .pdf format here:
Four books in the 'After Christendom' series have now been published. Two more are nearing completion and are due for publication in 2009. We are in conversation with four other likely authors.
However, there are some subjects that may not warrant a whole book but are well worth exploring from an 'After Christendom' perspective. We have already had suggestions along these lines. So we intend over the coming months to publish papers, essays and articles on this website and on www.postchristendom.com
If you have anything that you would like to offer, please let us know and we will be glad to consider this.
"This paper seeks to explore the current context for mission in Britain in the light of the claim that this country is now entering a new epoch in which the church is no longer closely intertwined with state and society. It will be argued that this centuries-long relationship has been a problematic one, which has significant implications for mission by a church now finding itself increasingly on the margins of a society over which it had once been able to exercise considerable influence, if not outright control. However, it will further be proposed that Anabaptism, a Christian tradition historically marginalised thanks to its rejection of any symbiotic relationship between church, state and society, offers distinctive insights to the wider church which may enhance the task of mission in this period of transition and uncertainty."
Jonathan Blakeborough has made his MTh dissertation, entitled "A critical reflection on the Anabaptist contribution to mission in Britain in the context of Post-Christendom", available to the Anabaptist Network. You can download the text below.
Chapter 1: Worship After Christendom
During the Christendom centuries the phrase “Worship and Mission” occurred rarely, if ever. Worship was what the church in Christendom simply existed to do; worship was its central activity. Mission, on the other hand, was peripheral and rarely discussed. Mission took place “out there”, in “regions beyond”, in “mission lands” – beyond Christendom. In the last centuries of Christendom a small number of enthusiasts promoted mission; and an even smaller number of specialists traveled abroad to carry it out.1 But worship services were near-by, in one’s immediate neighborhood, not out there but “here”, in every town and every parish. The main task of the clergy – the large corps of religious professionals – was to preside over these services.
From Italy to Britain
Across Western Europe worship services provided cohesion for Christendom societies and articulated their values. Consider two examples, one glorious and one homely.
In the sixth century, a great artist created the mosaics in the dazzling church of San Vitale in Ravenna, on Italy’s Adriatic coast. On both sides of the chancel the artist depicted processions heading toward the altar – on the north wall the Emperor Justinian, carries the Eucharistic bread, surrounded by clergy, civil servants, soldiers and a donor; on the south wall the Empress Theodora bears the Chalice, in the company of attendants and civil servants. Over the altar the artist depicted Christ, King of kings, of whose rule Justinian’s reign was to be an image.2
In Christendom, in which the reign of Christ was actualized, human potentates played a prominent role in the central act of the civilization, the worship service, the Mass. And the Mass, with its regal setting, gave legitimation to the emperor’s rule. In 529 this emperor, Justinian, had issued an edict requiring all inhabitants of the empire to be baptized and to attend services of worship.3 In a Christendom society, worship was unavoidable; thanks to government compulsion, mission was unnecessary.
In contrast to the splendor of San Vitale, a parish church deep in England’s Norfolk countryside is unimpressive.
The parish church of Tivetshall St Margaret is conventional in design, with a modest-sized nave separated from the chancel by a filigreed carved gothic screen through which the laity can observe the Eucharistic action. Originally, a rood (crucifix) stood high and central on this screen flanked on each side by statues of the Blessed Virgin Mary and St John the Evangelist. In the 1560s, however, the local power-holders, the gentry, decided that the statues were idolatrous – graven images – and they removed them. We may assume that some people were unhappy with this. And in 1587 the gentry replaced the discarded images with a wooden panel that filled the chancel arch up to the roof. On the panel an artist expressed Christendom values which, as in Ravenna, involved the “powers that be”: the coat of arms of Queen Elizabeth I was central; under this in neatly calligraphed letters were the Ten Commandments, the words of Paul in Romans 13 – “Let every soule subiect hymselfe vnto the auctorite of the hyer powers” – and a prayer: “O God save our Quene Elizabeth.” And to each side of this central ensemble were the names of the churchwardens (possibly local gentry) who may have paid for the improvement. Royal arms, Bible text and local gentry – a formidable visual evocation of Christendom.4 In this space, week after week, the local agricultural workers and their betters were supposed to gather, by royal command, for services of worship.
Worship in that culture was essential; mission – through which God changes minds and subverts inevitabilities – was in nobody’s minds.
So, for centuries in places like glorious Ravenna and rustic Tivetshall, ordinary Christians – the laity - were expected to attend the services of worship led by the clergy. Gradually European church and civil law established regulations for attendance at worship services. The Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 required Roman Catholics to take communion once per year; laws in Elizabethan England required people to attend a Church of England service every week in their local parish church; in England the 1944 Education Act required all children, of whatever religious conviction, to attend a daily act of worship in their schools. In Christendom, worship was the responsibility of the religious professionals. Non-professional Christians were expected to attend. The professionals spent a lot of their time organizing these acts of worship; liturgical theologians thought about what happened in the services of worship; and the laity – who, churchmen complained, often skipped the services put on in their behalf - spent most of their time engaged in secular activities.
Today, after Christendom, we’re in a different world. The clergy still organize services of worship, and some lay people attend them. But, in Europe and in many places in North America, Christianity has come to be “a minority cult in a cross-cultural situation.”5 For most people in the West, worship services are strange; they take place in an unfamiliar environment, using archaic vocabulary and an incomprehensible ritual language. And so, mission has emerged as a major concern for Christians who think about worship. But post-Christendom, in which Christians at last think about worship and mission, has not only caused some Christians to think about mission in new ways. It has also caused them to re-examine what they mean by worship.
Worship: actions and emotions
In Christendom, in which Christians could assume that most people would attend church, one way of talking about worship predominated. Worship denoted religious actions, which scholars call cultic actions. (Here, cult is descriptive, not pejorative.) Worship was what Christians did when they gathered in church. “Worship consists of our words and action, the outward expressions of our homage and adoration, when we are assembled in the presence of God.” So wrote the Scottish theologian W.D. Maxwell in the 1930s,6 and it expresses one dimension of worship which continues to be important – the cultic actions of humans in response to the presence and action of God.
But in the 1970s or so, as people in many places increasingly absented themselves from the churches and as Western cultures became more emotionally expressive, a second way of talking about worship became common. Worship – or “true” worship, as it was often called – now came to be associated with experiences and feelings. These emotions occur through an encounter with God that is real and personal. We “really” worship God when we sing, or when we praise God, or when “our hearts worship the Lord.”7 Worship, according to Sally Morgenthaler, occurs when humans “meet God,” when they have “a heartfelt response to a loving God”. The task of the worship leader is to enable this personal, affective encounter to take place; the leader must “allow the supernatural God of Scripture to show up and to interact with people in the pews.”8 In a culture in which legal compulsions to attend church have disappeared and social compulsions are withering, in which there are many attractive ways to spend leisure time, and in which consumer values have become all-pervasive, people attend worship services because they want to receive something. This emphasis upon heartfelt encounter is important. Like Maxwell’s emphasis upon cultic action it is an essential part of the picture. And we may realistically note that, in a post-Christendom world in which religious participation is voluntary, if people find that worship services don’t make them feel better, they will simply not come back!
New Testament words for worship imply mission
But worship is more than cultic actions and potent experiences. The New Testament writers used three words that deepen our understanding.9 One of these words, precious to the liturgical traditions, is leitourgia. Etymologically this means “the work of the people”, and in the ancient world it often had to do with a service that someone performed voluntarily for the state or the wider community. This is the word that the book of Acts uses to describe the worship of the Christian community in Antioch: “While they were worshipping (leitourgounton) the Lord and fasting, the Holy Spirit said, ‘Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul . . .’” (13.2). Was this worship “liturgical” in its order of actions and use of Psalms and other set prayers? The worship was clearly flexible enough to allow for the spontaneous inbreak of the divine word. And this worship led to action. It led to the missionary journeys of Paul, and eventually to Paul’s role as a public servant; leitourgos is what Paul called himself as he brought a redistributive financial gift from the Gentile churches to the impoverished Christians in Jerusalem (Rom 15.26; 2 Cor 9.12). It is thus not only Christians in the “liturgical” traditions that are drawn to leitourgia; so also are Christian social radicals who remind us that authentic worship expresses itself in mission – in action which makes justice.10
Many Pentecostal and free church Christians, on the other hand, ignore leitourgia altogether but discuss a second word - proskunesis - as if it were “the Greek New Testament word for worship.”11 Ancient writers used proskunesis to designate the custom of prostration before persons, reverencing them and kissing their feet or the hem of their garment. New Testament writers such as Matthew used proskunesis and its derivatives to connote affective, whole-bodied reverence (Matt 2.2; 4.9; 28.9); in his Apocalypse, John depicts scenes in heaven in which worshippers prostrate themselves before God and the Lamb (Rev 5.14; 7.11; 19.4; 22.8). The term proskynesis is almost completely missing from the epistles. The exception is significant - 1 Corinthians 14.25, in which outsiders, experiencing the presence of God in the multi-voiced Corinthian Christian assembly, “bow down before God and worship him, declaring, ‘God is really among you.” Proskunesis – worship that engages the affections and mobilizes the body – gives Pentecostal and charismatic Christians New Testament warrant for their emotionally and physically expressive worship. And there is a strategy of mission here. Pentecostals contend that today, as well as in first-century Corinth, worship of the proskunesis sort attracts, touches and converts people.
A third New Testament worship word, latreia, connoted formal religious acts, especially sacrifice. According to the evangelist Luke, the aged Anna engaged in latreia day and night in the temple, praying and fasting (Luke 2.37). For Paul latreia had come to refer not to ceaseless temple worship but to worship that permeates all of life. In a famous passage, Paul urged the Christians in Rome – in light of God’s amazing work of incorporating Gentiles along with Jews in God’s peoplehood - to offer their bodies as “a living holocaust” which is their latreia “that makes sense” (Rom 12.1-2).12 As a result of their worship - sacrificial, life-encompassing and ceaseless - the Roman Christians would be distinctive, not conformed to patterns of the Roman world but transfigured within the Roman world into the image of Christ. Latreia - worship that involves total personal holocaust, that affects one’s body and all areas of life – is radical. As Canadian missiologist Jonathan Bonk has written, “True worship involves sacrificing that which is most dear to us.”13
Although contemporary writers on worship tend not to give much attention to it, latreia has historically often dominated the awareness of theologians; in fact, the Seventh Ecumenical Council of 787 explicitly subordinated proskynesis to latreia, which it asserted is the “true worship of faith which alone pertains to the divine nature.”14
Worship: ascribing worth to God
But Greek words may seem beside the point; readers of this book do, after all, tend to think in English. What English word can we use that encompasses what we have seen so far - worship that is words and actions, that is emotionally heartfelt, that is the work of the people, that is full-bodied and emotionally expressive, that is radically sacrificial? If we probe the inner meaning of the English word worship, we find it surprisingly able to convey the large, all-encompassing meaning of the biblical words.
Of course, every language has its worship words. German has Gottesdienst (the service of God); Spanish has adoracion; Indonesian has kebaktian which combines meanings of adoration, loyalty and obedience – “adore-obey”. Each of these words holds out special possibilities. Each of them also has limitations that are inevitable given the size of the reality that we are asking this word to denote. As a single, short-hand, all-embracing word the English language has worship. This is a particularly strong word. Worship is an Old English compound, made up of weorth and scipe – worth/worthiness and create/ascribe. Ascribing worth – in the most basic sense, this is what humans do when they direct their lives towards God. When humans ascribe worth they reveal what it is that they ultimately value, what is most important to them. As the Hebrew prophets remind us, people worship what they trust for their security. They are like the merchant in Jesus’ parable who found treasure in a field: they worship what they will sell everything to get (Matt 11.44-46). They worship what they organize their lives around and what they are willing to die or kill for. As Philip Kenneson has written, “Every human life is an embodied argument about what things are worth doing . . . All human life is doxological” – of God or of something else.15
In light of this understanding of worship, every worshipper must ask whether our lives and our priorities ascribe worth to the God who has been revealed in Jesus Christ. Our words may ascribe worth to God but our life choices may indicate that our deepest concerns are estranged from those of God. The Old Testament prophets saw this and labeled it idolatry. They inveighed against it. The prophetic critique assumed that the covenantal relationship between God and Israel had two parts - God’s saving acts and God’s “call to ethical obedience.”16 Israel ceremonially repeated this foundational covenant at times of revival. The recitation of God’s acts and the people’s response in word and ceremony were “the essence of worship.”17
The Old Testament prophets were particularly alert to the constantly lurking temptation to trust in human sources of security. They were convinced that we worship what we trust; we ascribe worth to the sources that we rely upon for our comfort and security – wealth, oppression, and military strength (Is 30.12; 31.1; Hosea 10.13). Jesus, too, taught in this tradition: “No one can serve two masters; you cannot worship God and mammon” (Matt 6.24). Idolatry is thus not primarily the action of genuflecting to graven images; it is ascribing worth to God in words and cultic actions and then undercutting these by ascribing worth to other sources of security in our choices and commitments. Idolatry is, to quote Paul, “worshipping the creature rather than the Creator” (Rom 1.25).
Worship is for all of life
The vision of the biblical writers is deeply holistic. The biblical writers invite us to worship God – to ascribe worth to God - in all of life. For them there is no sacred/secular divide which confines worship to religious places or cultic acts. The latreia that Paul describes in Romans 12.1-2 involves the transformation of all aspects of the believers’ lives so that they will be conformed to Christ. And in the Hebrew Scriptures the prophets’ most terrifying warnings come to people place their trust in conventional sources of security. In the temple or assembly, with word and rite they proclaim that God is Lord; then, in their everyday activities, they ignore God’s law, defy God’s priorities and trust in their wealth and weaponry. Such people want God’s blessing without committing themselves to live in response to God’s saving acts. They think that by participating in the cult they can short-circuit the route to blessing. They do not need to behave according to God’s law. But, in the words of Nicholas Wolterstorff, “The authenticity of the liturgy is conditioned by the quality of the ethical life of those who participate.”18
God, according to Isaiah, could not “endure solemn assembles” of people whose lives were unjust and whose hands, lifted in prayer, were “full of blood”; when the worshippers refused to advocate for the oppressed, orphans and widows, God hid his eyes and would not listen (Isaiah 1.13-15). Similarly, in Jeremiah’s day the Israelites assumed that if they stood before God in the temple and engaged in cultic actions their nation would be secure – even if in their everyday life they oppressed immigrants and orphans and widows, shed innocent blood, and worshipped other Gods. Not so, said Jeremiah. When the worshippers do not live compassionately and justly, the temple is a “den of robbers” whose cultic acts God repudiates (Jeremiah 7.1-11). As both Isaiah and Jeremiah realized, there must be congruence in worship between the worshippers’ words that ascribe worth to God, and the worshippers’ lives which are conformed to the character, purpose and mission of the One whose worth they proclaim. Wolterstorff’s pithy phrase catches the prophetic vision: “not authentic liturgy unless justice.”19
Jesus of Nazareth, whom contemporaries often called a “prophet mighty in deed and word” (Luke 24.19), stood in this tradition. The distillation of his teaching, the “Sermon on the Mount”, ends with Jesus’ reflections on worship and life. Jesus was concerned that people would worship him – call him “Lord, Lord” – and “not do the will of my Father in heaven.” They would hear his words and not act on them. Their responses would be disastrous for them: in judgement Jesus would not recognize them; and their whole worlds would collapse (Matt 7.21-27). Jesus’ vision thus parallels that of the prophets: not authentic liturgy unless discipleship.
Where this congruence between word and life is lacking there is idolatry - false worship which God judges. Christian leaders across the centuries have often restated this theme. In mid-third century Carthage, for example, bishop Cyprian stated as one of 120 precepts to be memorized by catechumens (people being prepared for baptism): “That it is of small account to be baptized and to receive the Eucharist, unless one profits by it in both deeds and works.”20 In sixteenth-century Holland, the Anabaptist leader Menno Simons, on the run from the civil and religious authorities, berated the Protestant clerics:
O preachers, dear preachers, where is the power of the Gospel you preach? . . . Shame on you for the easygoing gospel and barren bread-breaking, you who have in so many years been unable to effect enough with your gospel and sacraments so as to remove your needy and distressed members from the streets, even though the Scripture plainly teaches . . . [that] there shall be no beggars among you.21
There was, however, another way – the way of repentance which would make the words and behavior of the worshippers congruent with the character of God. According to Isaiah, God invited the people to “cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow” (Is 1.17); according to Jeremiah, God promises the people, “If you truly act justly . . . if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan and the widow . . . then I will dwell with you in this place” (Jer 7.5-7); according to John the revelator, God will reward his servants, both small and great, when they reverence God’s name and refrain from participating in “destroying the earth” (Rev 11.18). God’s people can repent by repudiating worship services which offer God brilliant music and solemn sacrifices without challenging their unjust living; “Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream” (Amos 5.24). Then, as God desired, the people will ascribe worth to God consistently, with integrity, in “lives offered up to the agenda of God.”22
Worship services must be in keeping with God’s character and mission
In worship, all of life is the point. All of life must be lived in keeping with God’s character and agenda. But the ritual events, although secondary, are also important.23 In lives that ascribe worth to God, there must be times of concentrated attention to God which we call “worship services”, or, in short, “worship”. These are not the sum total of worship, but they are an essential part of worship, both weekly and daily. They are essential because if we do not give God specific, dedicated times in which we verbally and ritually ascribe worth to God, we will soon not ascribe worth to God at all. As pastoral theologian Eugene Peterson has written, “Worship is the time and place that we assign for deliberate attentiveness to God – not because he’s confined to time and place, but because our self-importance is so insidiously relentless that if we don’t deliberately interrupt ourselves regularly, we have no chance of attending to him at all at other times and in other places.”24 So in this book, we insist that all of life is worship, but we also assume that dedicated cultic acts – these markers of life that we call worship services – are indispensable.
Why indispensable? Because in worship services we can, by God’s grace, encounter the God of life. This encounter is God’s gift. In fact, worship is not simply a human activity; it is “primarily something that God does.”25 The Holy Spirit is at work, taking the initiative, beckoning us to gather in God’s name.26 God’s voice speaks; Jesus is present in our midst; the Holy Spirit bestows gifts to heal our wounds, restore broken relationships, and empower us to participate in God’s mission. Worship is “the self-communication of the Triune God.”27
When we worship God we enter an environment of praise. We read the scripture and proclaim the Good News; we pray and sing and bring testimony; we share in the eucharist. And, even in our brokenness and sin, God graciously encounters us. Through these means God enables us to tell and retell the story of God and God’s people; God reorients us by the story; and God reforms our habits and re-reflexes our instinctive behavior. In short, as we worship God, God nourishes in us the character of worshippers – humility, trust, obedience. As we worship God, we experience what Gerhard Lohfink calls a “de-idolizing effect.”28 With new alertness we see the tools and instruments, the forces and institutions which cast God in our own image and “whose exacting demands elude scrutiny and technique” – and whose unwitting instruments we would be if it were not for worship.29 When we say “Jesus is Lord,” when we bow at his feet, we radically restrict the worth we ascribe to Caesar. And as people freed from the thrall of false gods, we respond by giving thanks to God and praising God, and by committing ourselves to live in light of God’s mission so that we flow with it and not impede it.
Speaking specifically of the Eucharist, J. G. Davies asserted that “one of the fruits of communion, i.e. growth in the likeness of Christ by the reception of his humanity, is identical with one of the goals of mission.” He continued, “To partake of Christ’s person in the eucharist is to be engaged in” the task of Christ’s mission.30 As we recall or enact certain historical events, we as worshippers become participants in the significance of those events. Since “the context of the divine acts was mission, . . . [so] our present evocation and participation in them includes us in the mission” of God.31
Of course, as the biblical writers warn us, the worship services themselves can be unjust – instruments of irrelevance and oppression that reflect the rebellious daily lives of the people. In his first letter to Corinth, Paul tells his Corinthian friends that the humiliating way that they organized their common meal kept it from being “the Lord’s supper” (1 Cor 11.20-22); in its injustice it stood in the way of God’s mission. Without justice there was no worship. Similarly, when Jesus in the last days of his life entered the Jerusalem Temple, he encountered a worship system that was functioning efficiently but actually was blocking God’s mission. Its cultic enterprise zone in the court of the Gentiles excluded the outsiders and oppressed the poor. Quoting Jeremiah and Isaiah, Jesus exclaimed: “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations. But you have made it a den of robbers” (Mark 11.17).32 In anger Jesus upset the tables of the Temple bureaux de change and drove out the sellers of animals. Dramatically and offensively, Jesus indicated that, even in this holy place, without justice there could be no worship. The worship of God must not only be in harmony with the entire lives of the worshippers; the acts of worship themselves must also be in harmony with the mission of God. That mission is just and peaceable.
Worship services reveal the character and purposes of God
This, indeed, is the point: in worship we encounter our God, Creator and Redeemer, and in this encounter God’s character and purposes shape us. As we shall see in chapter 3, the God whom we worship is passionately committed to moving history in a particular direction, towards cosmic, creation-encompassing, unimaginable reconciliation. In Christendom, in which rulers and peasants were both Christian, Christians assumed that Christ’s rule had already been realized and that the established order had been divinely ordained. After Christendom we are aware that the world – both the world of Christendom and the world of post-Christendom that is succeeding it - is deeply flawed and marked by rebellion and idolatry.
But formed by worship and the story of God that we recount and enact in worship, we confess that God is committed to a different kind of world, whose future will be realized by alternative means. Through Christ, according to a lyrical passage in the letter to the Colossians, God will reconcile to himself “all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross” (Col 1.20). By suffering, by servanthood God has worked and is working to bring about reconciliation of people with God, of people with their enemies, of people with the created order. This is God’s mission – to bring right relationships in every area of life, to make multidimensional shalom. In post-Christendom, in which the world is in God’s control and not the control of the emperor Justinian or of the Norfolk gentry or of us, mission will therefore be central to the life and preoccupation of God’s people. We cannot participate in mission without worship. We’re not strong enough or clever enough. But when we respond to the Holy Spirit and in our weakness assemble for worship, the Spirit meets us in our need and equips us to live towards God’s vision. This is why “the very act of assembly is part of the mission of God.”33 As we attune ourselves to God’s mission and align ourselves with God’s purposes we will ascribe worth to God. We will discover, in all of life, that worship and mission belong together.
So how do we evaluate the worship services of our churches? Not by the expertise and correctness with which they are led; not by the emotions they elicit or the way they move our hearts; not by the way they break through the “culture barrier” by employing “the language, music, style, architecture, and art forms of the target population”;34 not by their pizzazz, which certain English Evangelicals call the “wow factor.”35 Rather, we will ask – does the worship of our churches ascribe worth to the missional God? Does our worship give space to the Holy Spirit who equips God’s people to take part in God’s mission? And we will ask, with Baptist theologian Stephen Holmes, whether is it possible that a God who “is properly described as ‘missionary’ . . . can only be worshipped by a missionary church?”36
Endnotes
1 Wilbert R. Shenk, Write the Vision: The Church Renewed. Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1995, 51-52.
2 For photos of the Ravenna mosaics see: http://www.greatbuildings.com/cgi-bin/gbi.cgi/San_Vitale.html/cid_aj3037...
3 Codex Iustinianus 1.11.10, cited in Alan Kreider, "Violence and Mission in the Fourth and Fifth Centuries." International Bulletin of Missionary Research 31.3 (2007), 130.
4 For photos of this church, see www.norfolkchurches.co.uk/tivetshallmargaret/tivetshallmargaret.htm
5 J. Andrew Kirk, What is Mission? Theological Explorations. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2000, 187.
6 W.D. Maxwell, An Outline of Christian Worship. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1936, 1.
7 Dan Kimball, Emerging Worship: Creating Worship Gatherings for New Generations. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2004, 112.
8 Sally Morgenthaler, Worship Evangelism. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1995, 23, 31.
9 Everett Ferguson, The Churches of Christ: A Biblical Ecclesiology for Today. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 208ff; C.F.D. Moule, Worship in the New Testament, Grove Liturgical Study 12/13. Nottingham: Grove Books, 1983, 74-76; I. Howard Marshall, How far did the early Christians worship God? Churchman 99 (1985), 216-229.
10 Rodney Clapp, A Peculiar People: The Church as Culture in a Post-Christian Society. Downer's Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 1996, 174.
11 Miguel A. Palomino and Samuel Escobar, “Worship and Culture in Latin America,” in Charles E. Farhadian, ed, Christian Worship Worldwide: Expanding Horizons, Deepening Practices. Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 2007, 126.
12 Thomas R. Yoder Neufeld, “Living the Word,” Christian Century, August 26, 2008, 20.
13 Jonathan J. Bonk, Missions and Money. revised ed, American Society of Missiology Series, 15. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2006, 147.
14 Second Council of Nicaea (787), Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 2nd ser, 14, p 550; cf Augustine, City of God, 10.1.
15 Philip Kenneson, “Gathering: Worship, Imagination and Formation,” in Stanley Hauerwas and Samuel Wells, eds. The Blackwell Companion to Christian Ethics. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2006, 54.
16 Nicholas Wolterstorff, "Justice as a Condition of Authentic Liturgy." Theology Today (1991), 14.
17 Millard Lind, Biblical Foundations for Christian Worship. Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1973, 25.
18 Wolterstorff, "Justice as a Condition of Authentic Liturgy," 9, 16.
19 Ibid, 12. See also Christopher Marshall, The Little Book of Restorative Justice. Intercourse, PA: Good Books, 2005, 30: “In the absence of justice . . . religious performances merely nauseate God.”
20 Cyprian, Ad Quirinum 3.26.
21 Menno Simons, “Reply to False Accusations” (1552), in Complete Writings, ed. J.C. Wenger. Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1956, 559.
22 Doug Pagitt, cited in Eddie Gibbs and Ryan K. Bolger. Emerging Churches: Creating Christian Community in Postmodern Cultures. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005, 231.
23 John Witvliet, “Series Preface,” in Farhadian, Christian Worship Worldwide, xiii.
24 Eugene H. Peterson, Leap over a Wall: Earthy Spirituality for Everyday Christians. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997, 152-153.
25 J.G. Davies, Worship and Mission. London: SCM Press, 1966, 71.
26 Craig Van Gelder, The Ministry of the Missional Church: A Community Led by the Spirit. Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2007, 17-18.
27 Michael B. Aune, "Liturgy and Theology: Rethinking the Relationship - Part II." Worship 81.2 (2007), 167.
28 Gerhard Lohfink, Does God Need the Church? Toward a Theology of the People of God. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1999, 217.
29 Bob Goudzwaard, Bob, Mark Vander Vennen, and David Van Heemst. Hope in Troubled Times: A New Vision for Confronting Global Crises. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007, 44.
30 J. G. Davies, Worship and Mission, 97-8
31 Ibid., 106
32 Jesus was quoting Isaiah 56.7; Jeremiah 7.11.
33 Thomas Schattauer, ed., Inside Out: Worship in an Age of Mission. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999, 3.
34 George G. Hunter III, "The Case for Culturally Relevant Congregations." In Global Good News: Mission in a New Context, edited by Howard Snyder. Nashville: Abingdon, 2001, 98.
35 David W. Bebbington, "Evangelicals and Public Worship, 1965-2005." Evangelical Quarterly 79.1 (2007), 17.
36 Stephen R. Holmes, "Trinitarian Missiology: Towards a Theology of God as Missionary." International Journal of Systematic Theology 8.1 (2006), 89.