Well, I never heard back from the Vancouver Anarchist Bookfair about setting up a table. It’s too bad, because I would have enjoyed more dialogue about the important differences between secular anarchy and Christian anarchy. Although I am sure there would have been more confusion.
For example, take this passage from an interview with Ellul:
…I believe that the greatest good that could happen to society today is an increasing disorder. For the factor that is winning is insane disorder – state-controlled order or technical order, it matters little. It is extremely urgent that we conquer zones where man can simply move freely: something like the streets reserved for pedestrians. I am in no way pleading in favor of a different social order. I am pleading for the regression of all the powers of order.
He goes on, however, to clarify what he means:
…I differ from anarchists in that I do not believe in the possibility of an ideal anarchist society that would function without organization or powers.
Christian anarchists can never give up their conviction that there is some place for valid authority, which can only be recognized as having it’s authority given by God. Christians in no way recognize illegitimate authority as acceptable, and should be among those who are the most critical of the over-reaching power of destructive political ideologies. But Christian anarchy can never be more than a means because the end is the kingdom of God. And a kingdom implies a King.
For those who think anarchism is incompatible with Christianity, Ellul would say this:
[The question of compatibility] has given rise to a lot of discussion since it has been possible to derive a theological legitimacy to the power of the State from Christianity based on Paul’s famous words, “All authority comes from God.” Political power comes under constant criticism all the way through the Bible. For example, the people of Israel want a king, against the will of God. With surprising humor for the Bible, God remarks that a king would make soldiers of their sons, take their daughters for his harem and impose taxes. The Jews reply that nevertheless they want a king so as to have a leader like all the other peoples. There’s criticism for you.
Next, Jesus’ whole attitude seems to me to be a permanent condemnation of political power. The Apocalypse involves the destruction of political power It’s not for nothing that Rome fell! I would interpret Paul saying, “As Christians we are all against the State, but we should remember that authority also comes from God.”
Is this not a major point of contention?
I wonder if a point of misunderstanding is the denouncement of Christendom which necessarily precedes any talk of Christian anarchy. Vernard Eller states,
The history of Christianity traces out rather clearly as a continuing contest to determine which arkys [powers, authorities], at any given time, are actually holy agents of God…Christian arky faith got its start in the absolute conviction that the elected arkys of God were two – the Holy Catholic Church and the Holy Roman Empire. Any arkys else (be they churches or states; be they pagan, heretical Christian, or whatever) were enemies of God to be ruthlessly conquered and exterminated.
This is called Christendom (or Constantinianism) and the number of Christians who question its legitimacy is growing. Any attempt to articulate Christian anarchy, however, necessarily presupposes the rejection of Christendom. Legitimate authority, to the proponent of Christendom, rests with the Church and the State. The Church exists to ensure that the state is doing what it is supposed to do, and the State exists because…well, its the State. Christendom seeks to ‘Christianize’ the state with the purpose of making all citizens of the State citizens of the Kingdom of God. On both sides of the fence, each party is using the other. The State uses Christianity to gain acceptance with its constituents, while the Church uses the State to wield moral authority to a much greater extent than it could without the power and resources of the State.
Once this occurs, there is no longer any difference between being a citizen of the State and being a Christian: to be a citizen of one is to claim citizenship in the other. Nominally, this may be fine, but in practice the State ends up overcoming the (questionable) purposes of the Church and begins to yield authority in a way which marginalizes the Church and renders its witness unintelligible. How can the Gospel be heard afresh in a State which already thinks it is Christian? Who needs the prophets when clearly we are God’s people? The only thing left for us to do is Christianize the world – and when this happens with a specific understanding of Christendom, it is nothing more than empire building in the name of God. But I am saying nothing new.
What I do hope to bring to light is that Christian anarchism is built upon the rejection of Christendom, but not upon the rejection of the possibility of legitimate authority in the life of a community. I would say that an understanding of the Church needs to be more fluid in this scenario, and that ecclesial authority means something different than what we might understand as “moral authority.” And your definition of the State is obviously important here. Are we reading Romans 13 with a view to legitimizing political ideology? Or does Paul have something else in mind here? Is it possible that the State’s claim to legitimacy is not only wrong, but evil? Is it possible that the State’s claim to be in control of history is idolatrous?
Besides the important questions of anthropology, hamartiology, eschatology, ecclesiology, and all the other ologies, this is mostly a question about what Yoder calls, “the Politics of Jesus.” Most people think that this means either, a) denial of political responsibility (the apolitical view), or b) an overly-politicized view towards taking over society in the name of God. The options seem clear enough: withdraw or takeover. But this understanding of Christian political engagement is – besides being highly popular – is absolutely wrong.
We don’t normally talk about the church as being ‘public’ or ‘political’ in any other sense. The reason for this is because those words have been co-opted by the state in order to put the church in its proper place. Unfortunately, that place is no place. “Political action” is voting, running for office, and starting political action committees. The closest the church can get to being “public” is by talking about being “visible”, which usually ends up being nothing more than a discussion about church building funds. “Public” is specifically used in contrast to “private”, which is the only thing the church can be: a place for the private affairs of a dwindling number of nostalgic, self-deluded believers.
I want to reject these distinctions and the implications they lead to. I want to argue that it is the church – the ekklesia – that is the most political entity in God’s creation and, consequently, the most public. However, these words (political and public) must be used on the church’s terms rather than those dictated to us by the state. In his book Political Worship, Bernd Wannenwetsch states:
“It should be borne in mind that the church has its own ‘politics’ (and economics), its specific way of dealing with the differences in social life… This means that it enters into a struggle which is certainly not directly ‘political’ (since it does not follow the prevailing political rules) but is primarily a struggle about politics, a struggle for the true form of political existence.”
Wannenwetsch goes on, “…the Church has to bring its own form of political praxis into the game, by playing along, but with other rules.”
What are those rules? How many of us have ever considered that most of the rules we live by are actually given to us by the state, not the Gospel of Jesus Christ? The freedom of the gospel allows us to think outside the rules of empire. Why was the term ekklesia used by the early church for self-identification when other concepts were available? Ekklesia, as argued by William Cavanaugh and others, is a particularly political term. To be political was to be involved in the affairs of the polis – the state. They could have self-identified as a guild or an association (koinon or collegium) but opted for a word that denotes a specific stance towards the public life. The choice of ekklesia was a conscious choice to self-identify as the people of the public God who is the Lord of all of life – even the empire. We must recapture this understanding of ekklesia if we will ever be able to engage the state with true political and public worship.
What does it mean to be political? How can we distinguish between true and false modes of Christian political action? I have few answers to these questions but I refuse to begin with the answers of the State. As long as the illusion is perpetuated that says we can divvy up our life into public, private, sacred and secular, it is crucial that the church resists the disintegrating force of the modern political machine driven by propaganda and technique. We must disengage from the dominance of the state – to use the words of Walter Brueggemann – only then to re-engage as Christians to unmask the principalities and powers. The action of disengagement begins with gathering as the ekklesia. After prayer, gathering around the crucified and resurrected Lord is the most significant form of political (public) action we have available to us. And if we don’t engage in these two things with patience, hope, and imagination, we will not be faithful to our call to be the church that resists the world by living the Word.
Christian anarchy, therefore, is about something different than we may have previously thought.
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