One way of exploring the life of faith for both Jews and Christians is to use the terms Being and Doing. Let’s begin by saying that Being has to do with the state of a person, i.e., heart, mind and soul; while Doing has to do with how a person expresses themselves in momentary or extended actions. I would even add that Doing includes the way we think, since thinking happens within a person formed with a specific Being. Thinking and doing are not the same in everyone because they are derived from different forms of Being in different cultural settings.
But things get complicated: On the one hand we assume that actions grow out of a person and so we ask: “Why did he do that? But on the other hand, what one does can influence and form a person’s Being. Much education includes training, even practice, in performing certain actions (and prohibits other actions) on the assumption that such repetition will become habits, which in turn will be internalized. That is, the child will come to understand the reason for such actions and will eventually do them voluntarily. The actions no longer need supervision by parents and teachers but become habits of the heart.
So why is this distinction important? To begin, the goal of true religion for both Jews and Christians is a new form of Being and Doing, formed by the gracious action of God. This gives Being a certain priority since it represents the relation of the believer to God in terms of faith and commitment, love and gratitude. But Doing is also essential, since the Being formed by grace finds expression in specific forms of Doing. Take for example the Shema: ‘Hear O Israel, the Lord our God is One and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your might.” (Deuteronomy 6:4-5) The passage goes on to say that “…these words shall be written upon your heart…” and you shall teach them to your children. Jesus affirms the same point: faith in God means voluntary and intentional love of God and neighbor, arising from the person transformed by grace. Such heart religion can never be reduced to a list of things to believe, unrelated to the heart. Luther and Calvin insisted that faith was not a good deed to gain acceptance by God, but the joyful trust of the heart toward a gracious God. To the extent that religion becomes defined only in terms of ideas or actions, it runs the danger of lapsing into lifeless repetition of seemingly good words or deeds which have no relation to the state of mind or heart. From what has been said, we can see the dynamic relation between Being and Doing. Doing is dependent on Being as a relation to God, and Being as a relation to God cannot exist without acts of love. Paul’s great sermon on love (I Cor. 13) affirms acts of love as greater than faith or hope. The First Letter of John declares that if one does not love, one does not know God. (I John 4:8) In this light Being and Doing cannot be separated. When pressed, this leads to a surprising point of view, namely that anyone can do something good for a neighbor in need, by design or accident. But true religion involves hearts and minds in joyful love of God and neighbor.
We now are at a point to ask: Given the way hearts and minds have been orientated in the ways of the world and our own self-centeredness, how is this new form of Being and Doing possible? When the New Testament speaks of redemption, reconciliation or liberation, it is pointing to the possibility of a major change in our Being. Whether we describe it in terms of a re-orientation, or a deconstruction of the old form of self-hood and the re-construction of the new, what is being affirmed is the possibility of change, resulting in a new form of Being.
Consider several examples:
1. The first thing Jesus says in Mark 1:14 is to announce the presence of the Kingdom of God followed by a call to repentance and faith. The sequence is crucial: something is happening which requires and makes possible a change. Repentance is a turning of hearts and minds from current commitments to trust in the Rule of God. The disciples are called to give up the standards of the world and accept the rule of love. Referring to the old ways of ruling over others, Jesus says: “But it shall not be so among you.” (Mk 10:43) We cannot serve two masters: One must choose to let go of the old and receive new life.
2. The Gospel of John begins with the declaration that the very Word of life and light “…became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth; we have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father.” Such an event makes possible such a drastic change that it can only be compared to a new birth. (John 3) This makes no sense to Nicodemus, and Jesus makes clear the new birth is not something we can control, but comes of the Spirit. In a similar way Jesus speaks of living water and the bread of life.
3. Paul thinks we are so weighed down by sin, fear and the powers of this world that the change must be comparable to dying to the old life and rising with Christ to new life. Transformation is possible because it involves one no longer living to oneself but living in the power of Christ and the Spirit. In Galatians 6:3-4 he declares that he can expect great things of believers because they are a new creation. Years ago Paul Tillich re-phrased these words, suggesting we think of this as a new being.
In these three cases, we need to note the peculiar sequence: First, the agent of change is God. These are not self-help stories. We do not improve, heal or restore ourselves.
Second, all talk about something new in us and the world is dependent on something God has done. For Jews, there is a constant remembrance of God’s liberation of Israel from bondage in Egypt. For Christians it is the life, death and resurrection of Jesus which constitutes the new event. Whether you wish to point to Christmas, his calling of disciples, healing the sick, liberation from demonic power, creating a new covenant, his faithfulness unto death or God raising Jesus to be Lord, all of these constitute the new reality in our midst which generates a new Being.
Third, from this new Being there comes the mandate to act in new ways. Note the order: we are not called to bring in the Kingdom by ourselves, or to do things if we think they are good. Rather, we are commanded to act because we have been drawn into the new Being by the grace of God. As I learned years ago, the indicative always precedes the imperative. What is in Christ becomes the basis (or possibility) for a new Doing. Nowhere is this more evident than in Paul. He begins with what is: God in Christ changing the world. Then he admonishes us to be what we already are in Christ. Take his words in II Cor. 5:16, where he makes the transition from what is to what is possible with the words: “From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view….” In a sermon on this passage I stopped and said: Take a card and write on it: “From now on, therefore!” When you want to know what time it is, pull it out and read it. No matter what the time is at Greenwich, England, the real time is always: “From now on, therefore!”
Fourth, and so important because our culture ignores this: The new Being is always a communal existence. The exodus culminates in a Covenant; Jesus calls disciples into a New Covenant community. The new Being of the community, as well as that of each individual contained therein, is sustained by worship, prayer, the sacrament of the new covenant, as well as acts of fellowship, service and evangelism.
Now let me raise the question: How is this affirmation of Being and Doing affected by the church crisis and does what has been said offer any clues regarding the way forward? For seven decades, mainline churches have lost members (from 30% to 50%), hundreds of congregations, a decline in seminarians and a loss of funds. The decline in members has been especially painful since data suggests that mainline churches were not able to retain confirmands. In effect we lost our children. With little success at evangelism, decline and loss have dominated the mindset of church leaders. That is the current world of mainline Protestant churches, but we should add that Roman Catholics and Conservative Protestants have experienced their own form of the crisis. We need to ask about how religion has been affected by the culture and why people choose life on the edge of churches or completely outside of churches. And I would hope we would avoid thinking that the new Being is only in churches.
Here’s several things we know. First, since the 1960’s the culture wars have dominated the way churches define themselves. We have struggled with divisions over wars, civil rights, women’s rights, the environment, LGBT rights and many more issues. This has generated a tense situation between liberal and conservative Christians, but just as importantly, divisions within every local church. In America the church has been defined as a voluntary association of like-minded people. But the culture wars revealed that we are not like minded. In this respect, the culture wars exposed the fact that the church of agreement is dead and that we were not at all sure about the basis of unity. Was it a matter of belief or just a political process of majority rule?
Second, in American society, religion is something the individual chooses. As a result, people can be religious or speak of Jesus outside the church. Religion does not naturally involve a community with spiritual and social practices. As a result, congregations are not seen as an essential part of being religious—in fact, they are too often seen as merely a means to do certain things.
Third, Americans are optimistic and tend to claim innocence, be they liberal or conservative. In fact, conservatives now use the power of the government to forbid the discussion of certain issues like racism, lest such discussions make people feel pain. In such a culture, there is confidence that people can realize personal goals of happiness or solutions to moral problems by themselves. In the context of the traditional link between sin and grace, the claim to innocence undercuts a distinctive way Christians talk about faith in terms of human need or the call to repentance.
Fourth, we can enumerate some reasons why people left the church. Some left because they did not agree with church practices, especially in the culture wars. Others were deeply wounded by practices which affected them and felt like they were pushed out, to become refugees. For many, the disconnect from churches occurred along with the movement from rural areas to cities or cities to suburbs. For young people it occurred during the time in higher education or the pursuit of careers. In such cases, pluralism appears to be a factor since it undercuts claims by individual churches to be the only church. At times one gets the impression that churches simply did not appear to be the place to be. In the years after WWII, this was not the case, but it appears to be the case in the last fifty years. People speak of being busy, having second jobs, or engaged in other things (like sports for kids on Sunday mornings).
It is appropriate to cluster all these factors together because I don’t think there is one central factor and the reasons for leaving churches probably overlap. In more than one way it is unsettling to find that over this period many left churches because of the Christians, i.e., oppressive matters of faith and practice, as well as violations of trust by priests and ministers. Leaving seemed the appropriate thing to do, as in the movie The Graduate, where the young couple flee the church and lock family and friends inside with the cross.
There are some important things we have learned about losses and gains.
>We ought to be cautious regarding judgments regarding the spiritual life of those outside the church.
>While many left churches because churches appeared to be on the wrong side of issues relating to justice and peace, they did not appear to return to churches when the churches engaged in causes for justice and peace, i.e., churches active in such causes did not necessarily avoid losses or grow. This does not mean churches should not join in action for justice and peace, but that such practices should not be simply a strategy for adding members.
>It would be helpful to know more about how people outside the churches nurture their being and seek to be transformed. Here I am not just referring to self-help programs but the way people seek to participate in something which makes a difference or ways to be transformed.
>Much of the language we use to speak of sin and grace needs to be re-considered. For example, the traditional formula of beginning with sin so as to prompt a need for grace may not work because of general confusion about sin and innocence. Or, those who find themselves suffering from oppressive systems do not feel a sense of guilt, but of shame. They may not need forgiveness as much as liberation.
But here’s an alternative: In one discussion on finding an approach to those outside the church, one pastor in Lancaster, Jeff Shanaberger, suggested that we model regular Sunday worship on the great festivals of Christmas and Easter. In thinking about this, several things came to mind. The fact that many people do come to these two services may suggest that they are not as secular as we might think they are. But more important, these two services have the power to attract because they begin with a gracious event which changes things. This is the logic of the gospel and the proper order of Being and Doing. Christmas and Easter celebrate with joy (note: that is crucial) the birth and resurrection of Jesus, the agent of God who brings salvation as well as a sacred presence. They also celebrate the new Being of the community as the beginning of a movement to restore life and light in the world. Need I say it, they begin with grace.
Think for a moment of the powerful words in John 1: the Word becomes flesh; light and life are present so that we have seen His glory. Is it possible that we could envision the worship between Christmas and Easter, as well as Easter and Christmas, not simply as our attempts to interpret the meaning of these two great holidays, but to celebrate the glory of God revealed in our midst? The old piety of gratitude, so mindful of grace extended to sinners, was not wrong and will always be part of the gospel. But in our situation, what if we saw worship as a way of overwhelming and inspiring listeners with the glory of the new being in Christ. In the middle ages, cathedrals did that for people and still do for some. In the Protestant revolt, the proclamation of grace captured the imagination of people weighed down by the judgment of God. To see the glory of God in the community at worship, at the table, in fellowship, and in service may be a way to point to the good news. This might move us to reform the Supper liturgy so that it is not a sacrament of penance, but a glorious celebration of the cosmic salvation in Christ. I can also dream that it might prompt a new lectionary focusing on broad themes regarding the gospel, with clusters of texts which might focus our attention on proclaiming the gospel in the current crisis of the church. And if our preaching followed the sequences in the gospels, where men and women were called to make a decision, it might be just the way to invite listeners today to choose and to decide what one will do with one’s life. A piety of glory would be an amazing turn of events.
Note: For a more detailed discussion of some of these issues, see Tradition in Crisis: The Case for Centric Protestants.