I’ll save you the trouble — we ought to split the church.
There, I’ve said it so you don’t have to even though you wanted to say it, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Never mind, no need to thank me.
Before you naysayers get all worked up, just sit back and think what this means for the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). Finally, you and your side can go and do what you know the church ought to have done all along. That is, if only those pesky ________ (fill in the name of your least favorite advocacy group) were not around any more. Now, with them gone, you and yours will have free rein!
Of course, there are a few loose ends. We’ll have to settle who’ll get what: Foundation funds, seminaries, pension assets, and so forth, but that shouldn’t be too big a deal. Surely, we can come up with some kind of equitable formula, based on the number of people who go with what part of the split. Giving up some assets in order to get what we think God wants is a small price to pay, after all!
And we need to determine:
“¢ WHY are we splitting? It’s obvious you say! We would split because _________ (offending party’s name here) is wrong, and our being associated with them in their pig-headed wrongness is intolerable! What are they wrong about? The ordination of homosexuals? Their view of the Bible? The adequacy, or the over-wroughtness, of their theology? All of those sound like pretty solid reasons — until you have seen, as I have, groups of pastors and laypersons from across the theological spectrum come together to talk about these issues. As the conversation progresses, you find that even those who agree on the great divisive issues of the day, often violently disagree on other, equally important issues. Far from seeing definable “camps” coalescing, you actually see that most folks are spread fairly thinly across the spectrum, except at the ends, where the numbers are few, but the volume is loud. So, with possible allies and opposition spread out in every direction, who goes with whom?
“¢ WHO gets the middle? What about those poor, muddled souls in the middle of the issues who wonder what all the shouting and trouble is about (a rather biblical state of affairs: see Acts 19:22.) Who gets to keep them? Some might say that these are the lukewarm, fit only for spewing out of the mouth. However, closer inspection reveals that the middle is where most of the church’s money and muscle comes from, probably because that is where most of the people are. Any prospective church resulting from the split would be in sad shape without these people. Often, the partisans imagine these people as uncommitted, or even uncaring, but that is a harsh judgment on people who simply choose to reject pre-manufactured opinions, complete with pre-digested rationales. While those arrayed at the center of the opinion curve (for this is as variable a group as those at the ends) are often undecided on those things that inflame the right and left, they do know one thing: they are unwilling to be led into standardized zealotry of any kind. The great majority of the church — its strength — is not keen to be split, and groups that leave might find themselves much smaller than they believed they would be.
“¢ HOW many splits is enough? We often assume that a split would be a two-party deal: lefties and righties cleaving apart and migrating to their respective poles with their part of the Foundation and Pension Plan. But, is that a valid assumption? We already know that even those who agree on some “big” issues disagree on even bigger issues. And, we know that most of the middle will tell the ends to go fly a kite if they are told that they have to support one party line or another. So, how many new Presbyterian churches would be needed to accommodate the range of positions and preferences that sprout around us like dandelions in spring.
Perhaps we need to rethink the split option.
The Modest Proposal
Having differing views is not one of our major difficulties. Anyone who thinks so must have slept through both their church history AND civics classes. The problem we face is that we now, because of the present interpretation of what “a connectional church” means, think that we must speak on all matters of theological and social importance with a single voice. This has led to people clamoring to split the church precisely because it IS so connectional.
When officials of the church make a pronouncement, or a committee presents a report at General Assembly, our present view of connectionalism implies (if not mandates) that I, being connected intentionally to the church that produced it, agree. When a stance is taken by the denomination, it is seen, (regardless of the technical view of the force of these stances), as an act of the whole. However, if you look back over our recent history, the real fights have not simply been over the issues, but over the fact that various governing bodies have so often presumed to speak on divisive issues for its members. In 1958, the General Assembly of the PCUSA (a predecessor of our present denomination) adopted a statement declaring that the General Assembly
“Affirms its responsibility to speak on social and moral issues for the encouragement and instruction of the Church and its members, seeking earnestly both to know the mind of Christ and to speak always in humility and love …”
This responsibility is a grave one. Since the church is the body of Christ, with Christ himself as the head, any person or group daring to make pronouncements for the church (or for a denomination of the church) had better make sure that they know that what they say is, in humility and love, what Jesus himself would speak. If that certainty is not there, humility should win, love takes over and makes less sweeping and more inclusive claims.
Our present connectionalism, however, has given the right to pronounce on behalf of Christ’s church to the group who can sway enough votes on the G.A. floor. Instead of fearful awe at pronouncing one’s words as representative of the Christ’s church, even in minute part, a committee can make itself heard with only majority consent as its final authority.
Is it any wonder that so many feel excluded and uncaring about the church, especially in its governing structures? Despite all of our claims about inclusiveness, we have blithely practiced majority-rule EXclusion for decades, all so that some can claim to speak with the authority of the Presbyterian Church.
This situation cannot continue if we intend to avert a split. We need a new, inclusive connectionalism that is characterized by humility and love, and not by power and submission.
Now, what I am about to propose is going to make some of you mad. That’s fine. You will have counter-arguments to it. Good. However, if your arguments are in support of the present form of connectionalism, let me simply point to better than 30 years of senseless gridlock, paralyzed mission, and wasted money and effort as a reason to at least hear what I am about to say, which is:
We need to keep our (collective) mouth shut unless we can truly speak in unity.
If we are concerned about unity and standing together as a church, why do we insist, every year, on finding ways to alienate one another by making statements on everything from foreign policy to pickles? We claim that we are simply following our mandate to speak up about justice and injustice, but the way in which we do it, and the things we pick to talk about, create their own injustice: namely, those savvy enough (and with time enough to spend) to shape policy get heard, while everyone else is forced to sit and find themselves represented by positions with which they may violently disagree. We talk about “God alone is the Lord of the Conscience,” and the rights of the minority and such, but when it gets right down to it, the silver rule is: whoever can get the microphone gets to be heard.
So, I wish to suggest that we speak as the church only when we can truly speak as a church, not as a 60/40 majority. That the offices in Louisville, especially the so-called “advocacy” offices, spend less time thinking — and speaking — for us, and more time doing a limited number of things for the particular congregations of the denomination. But, you may say, that means that nothing would ever happen: we would never take a position on anything. I personally find that less troubling than taking positions as a denomination that we take back again the next year. Or taking positions, as Shakespeare said, that are all sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Connectionalism redefined
I want to propose a new, and more modest definition of that great Presbyterian term — connectionalism: I would define it as an attitude of toleration for those with whom one feels an affinity, rather than as a homogeneity to which everyone must submit. This does not mean that the PC(USA) would turn into an anything-goes affiliation. It does mean that, within certain bounds, namely, the Constitution of the [PC(USA)], there would be fairly wide latitude in which individuals and congregations could participate — or not. And, yes, there would have to be a good deal of thinning out of the Book of Order.
What is left for a connectional church to do? Actually, there are quite a few things. We could feed, clothe, and house the poor, for example. (If those things sound familiar, it is because Jesus talked about them a good deal.) Those who believe that they understand, and can eradicate, the root causes of poverty, hunger, and homelessness can advocate for those solutions as they like, without compelling others to subscribe to their position through church polity. Any individual or congregation could act with other like-minded individuals, congregations and associations of this, or any other, denomination on behalf of causes believed to be important without seeking the permission or agreement of other churches to do what they feel is right. We would do together only what could be generally agreed on.
I can already hear the shrieks and moans: What about discipline of miscreants? How could change ever occur? What about following the leading of the Spirit?
This kind of connectionalism would not preclude the leadership of the Spirit. The old (and tired) assumption that leadership by the Holy Spirit is for the enlightened few whose job it is to lead the many into truth is not valid. This notion comforts those who feel they are often, whether left or right, in the minority (such persons tend to label themselves “prophetic” to cheer themselves up). I see, both from the biblical witness and from the history of the church, that the Spirit is as able to lead the majority as the minority. In fact, if we really believed the minority were the prophets, isn’t our present polity backwards? Should the minority win the votes? And by majority I mean more than just at General Assembly and GA committee meetings. There are counter examples of course, but I defy anyone to make the argument that the majority is congenitally, or even typically, tone-deaf to the Spirit’s melody.
What about discipline? Truly serious disciplinary cases are few and far between right now. That wouldn’t change. If you accept membership and ordination in the PC(USA), you accept all of its constitution. Constititutional adherence would be taken seriously, and enforced with regularity. Discipline would still be a mark of the church, but what we would discipline over would shrink.
What about change? Change would happen, but it would happen slowly, when the church was ready. Change would also occur for the right reasons, absent the heat of moments and the passing fads and rationales of eras. Instead of being something that happens because of the zeal of a few, change would come, as all lasting changes do, because they are truly the will of God expressed in the church.
What happens in the face of stark and irreconcilable disagreements? One exemplary remedy was the capture of dues from payment of abortion services by the Pension Plan. In this, no one was forced to do anything they saw as sinful, nor was anyone forced to give up something they thought was right. The key is, however, not to think of winning and losing as either forcing others to do what you want them to do, or to quit doing something because you don’t like it.
The only hope for continued existence I can envision for our denomination is to reject, at every possible turn, coercions of all kinds (including over property, which I regard as another connectional chestnut), insisting only on the most basic and necessary conformity to foundational principles. Every level of church government, from the presbyteries to General Assembly, would shun speaking for, or acting in behalf of, Presbyterians, realizing that, despite their most solemn pronouncements, none of these bodies ever has spoken, nor will they ever speak for our two million plus members.
This means that the many controversial things that are now done in the name of the bulked masses of the church would stop. Presbyterians, through their particular congregations, would support the causes that mean the most to them. No more would papers emerge from official advisory committees, or denominational agencies, to be fawned upon by some, and loathed by others. Congregations desiring to support causes and views advocated by certain groups could do so without seeking to coerce those who disagree into toeing their line. So, those uncomfortable with evangelizing Jews, or supporting abortion on demand could similarly opt out of supporting those ideas. Discussions of pertinent issues would happen in churches, where they are now heard rarely in many parts, instead of in the sides-already-chosen arena of governing bodies.
How would this affect the issue presently distressing the denomination the most: the ordination of gay and lesbian persons to the ministry? Since presbyteries ordain, they would be free to ordain whomever they like, as long as they meet certain criteria for education, ability, theological competence, and character (the Constitution would still apply here). However, no other presbytery or church would be under any compulsion to accept a homosexual person as an officer or a minister. The gate would be high at some presbyteries, and virtually non-existent at others — as it is now. However, the moral sense of churches and presbyteries on either side of this issue would not be violated in the name of connectional uniformity.
The primary virtue of this way of imagining connectionalism is obvious: being Presbyterian would not mean being identified with certain positions with which one feels no agreement. At the same time, certain basic functions could be maintained: hunger work, the pension and benefit plan, seminary support, a foundation, and essential governmental functions. And, need I remind readers that there is nothing sacred, or particularly ancient, about our present system, or constitution. If there was, we would not be free to amend and change it as we do at each G.A. The character and actions of the particular church would be the revealer of each congregation’s life.
So, is this Presbyterian? I suppose it could be, if we decided to make it so. This is not what I would want my church to be, given my druthers. However, the church I would like to live in does not, and will not, exist, and I know that a split won’t produce it either, despite my original proposal. What I am proposing here would enable people of varying views to live together in one denominational détente. It is not perfect, but better than the paralyzed and schizophrenic system we have now.
Perhaps this article can be a starting point for discussion on our future as a denomination. How can we stay together without making one party or another “eat” something they find poisonous? Short of a split, the only realistic choice seems, to me, to be a “live-and-let-live” policy.
What do you think?
Robert Johnson is a mission co-worker in Pakistan.
