The alternative society

In a recent Briefing, Sandy McMillan encouraged us to take Christ’s love commandment seriously. He urged us not to so overreact to the wonky theology of some that we retreat into loveless, blinkered inactivity when faced with the pressing needs of those around us. Put simply, we need to love our neighbours in word and deed, as Christ has done, and as he has commanded us to do.

I appreciated Sandy’s article, and there was a particularly intriguing sentence towards the end. He wrote:

There are many ways we can practise the love of neighbour in our local churches—from delivering casseroles to the sick to visiting the elderly; from helping look after the children of harassed single parents to giving the unemployed direction and companionship; from financing and praying for development projects in the third-world to using the political influence we have to improve conditions for the poor. (Briefing #135, p. 4).

It was the last part of the sentence that got the neural juices flowing. Helping harrassed and suffering people as I have opportunity? No problem. Supporting intelligently directed aid in the Third World? Tick the box. But using our political influence to improve conditions in society? That made me sit up and take notice. It bothered me a little. It sat uncomfortably. But why?

What is the difference between handing someone a cheque for $80 to pay their electricity bill and lobbying the government to change the social welfare system so that, for example, poor people get some sort of rebate on their electricity bills? There might be a difference in time and efficiency (hours spent lobbying, with no guarantee of success vs. writing a cheque in 30 seconds), but there would also be a difference in potential outcome (a successful campaign might bring relief to thousands for whom we could never write a cheque).

The real question is not whether we should help people (i.e. love others). That would seem beyond doubt. The real issue is: what should be our relationship with society-at-large? How should we think about the largely non-Christian community in which we find ourselves, and how involved should we be in its structures and mechanisms? Should our churches have a social strategy or policy?

This article offers one perspective on that issue—one that I think is the key, and from which many of the questions can be resolved. Unfortunately, the word that summarizes this perspective has five syllables, but you’d better get used to it. You’ll meet it more than once in this article. It is ‘eschatology’.

I. Last things first

‘Eschatology’ is a word of relatively recent coinage (1884, according to the Oxford English Dictionary) that has been used in a variety of ways in its brief linguistic history. At one level, it has often been used to refer to the ‘last things’, narrowly defined—that is, death and the intermediate state, the General Resurrection, the Second Coming of Christ, theories of the millennium, and so on. However, because of the peculiar nature of the biblical view of our future—that it has invaded the present in some way—‘eschatology’ has become a far more all-encompassing word. It has become the study not only of what we hope for in the future, but of how that future intersects with our current experience, including our view of society.

Eschatology is supremely important in formulating a Christian view of society because it provides a framework in which we understand the present and future (and our past for that matter)—and not only our present and future as Christians, but that of the whole world. To give a crude example, if we believed that Christ was to return in judgement on September 17 this year, we would not be buying real estate.

At different points in Christian history, changes in eschatology have yielded very different views of what ‘society’ essentially is, what its destiny is, and how we should relate to it (as Christians or as the ‘church’). What I propose to do in the rest of this article is to briefly highlight some instructive examples of how this has happened in Christian history; then to look at some important biblical passages; and finally to return to the questions we raised at the beginning about how Christians should relate to society.

II. A very potted history

A. The Greek way of looking at things

As they thought about the ‘last things’, the Fathers of the early church battled in many ways to affirm the historical nature of the Christian hope. Against gnosticism and moralism, they wanted to say that world history was heading towards an historical end point. The day of the general resurrection was coming. Even so, their eschatology was very strongly influenced by the categories and thought forms of Greek philosophy.

One important Greek idea was that the relationship between earth and ‘heaven’ was one of imitation. The perfect Form of things belonged in the world beyond, the world of being, and those Forms were expressed in gritty, unpleasant matter here in the world of sense.

As this framework of thinking influenced people like Augustine and, in the middle ages, Thomas Aquinas, the common view developed that the heavenly Kingdom of Christ was being expressed in the church here and now. The church was the Kingdom of God ’ here on earth, a pattern of the heavenly kingdom. The millennium was already in progress in the rule of the church. The focus was on an ideal or pattern, rather than on an historically future judgement day.

It is helpful to know something of the eschatologies of Augustine and Aquinas as the background against which the Reformation standpoint was worked out. However, in another sense, these ‘Greek’ eschatologies have little to say about a Christian view of ‘society’ as we would use the word. In a medieval world where the Church was an all-encompassing political and social institution in which Church and State were tightly bound together, and in which the Church was viewed as the very pattern of the heavenly kingdom of God, a separate notion of ‘society’ as we would term it could hardly have been said to exist.

B. The cavalry arrives

The earth-shattering achievement of Luther, Calvin and others at the Reformation was to make a decisive break with the basically Greek categories in which the medieval church understood eschatology (and not only eschatology!). God was not up in heaven, somehow drawing us to himself by a form of imitation; he had crossed the bridge between eternity and time, and entered our world. He had come to us. The ‘age to come’ had broken into this ‘present evil age’, and people were being forgiven and cleansed on the basis of Christ’s atoning work, and fitted now for their place in God’s future.

As Luther put it, through the work of Christ, we are at the same time sinners and justified. The Christian now lives in the tension of belonging simultaneously to two ages or kingdoms: this present evil age (or the kingdom of the world) and the age to come (the kingdom of heaven).

These two ages or kingdoms were seen by Luther as the ‘two hands’ of God’s universal rule. The ‘kingdom of the world’ (the left hand) was not outside God’s control. Indeed, it was very soon to be destroyed. Most importantly, in the meantime, there was no material or physical connection between the two kingdoms. The Church was not to be identified as the Kingdom of God. And any attempt to mingle the two kingdoms (e.g. by the Church seeking to rule politically) was the mark of the antichrist, as far as Luther was concerned.

This eschatology shaped Luther’s vision of society in a number of important ways. Firstly, because justification by faith unites us with Christ eschatologically—that is, our place in the kingdom of heaven is sealed—then we are free to serve our neighbour in love, purely for our neighbour’s sake, as Christ did. A true Christian “lives in Christ through faith, in his neighbour through love” (Luther, 80). Our service of others is not pragmatic, such as to advance the kingdom, for there is no material or tangible connection between this age and the age to come.

Secondly, his thought is socially revolutionary, for now the loving service of the cobbler is no different from the monk’s. Our service of others stems from our salvation in Christ; it is not a step towards it (as it was under medieval Catholicism).

Thirdly, his apocalyptic cast of mind, whereby he saw the End coming soon, prompted him to view society as a vast lost mass whom he was bidden, as Noah, to load into the ark before the deluge. There was not much hope for ‘society’—for the kingdom of this world. There was no progress to be looked for, no improvement.

Calvin’s eschatology had much in common with Luther’s, although it might be characterized as being a little more optimistic. Luther never saw a place for the church as other than a society of sinners. The kingdom of Christ remained heavily ‘masked’ in this present age. (This goes back into Luther’s view of how much of God is ‘revealed’ in Christ, which was different to Calvin’s, and which we won’t trouble ourselves with.) Calvin, however, viewed the church as the ‘true face’ of the kingdom of heaven on earth, because it is the only place where people openly submit to God’s rule in his word. The church of heaven is now visible in history—not embedded with the pattern of heaven (like Aquinas thought), but as a gathering of those who are now citizens of heaven in Christ.

Calvin also argued that the reign of Christ not only restores righteousness, but also restores order in the world, if only as a by-product. Our common humanity as people created in the image of God is the basis for concern for other people, and service of them. There are even hints that Calvin sees some glimmerings of progress in the re-ordering of the world in Christ, but this should not blind us to his overall emphasis—that we are united with Christ in a hidden, spiritual way; that the sword will never advance or bring in the kingdom; and that the future life should be our preoccupation.

C. A recent alternative

So far so good. However, despite the success and even dominance of the Reformation standpoint (at least in Protestant circles), it has not gone without challenge, particularly in this century. You may not have come across him, but Jurgen Moltmann’s works have been very influential, especially his Theology of Hope, first published in 1964. It is from people like Moltmann, and the liberation theologians who have taken their cue from him, that a strong push has come for Christians to become much more involved in their societies, to act as agents of change.

Moltmann’s thought springs from several sources or influences. At one level, he is deeply concerned at what he sees as the church’s dereliction in failing to offer the world a ‘hope’.

In the past two centuries, a Christian faith in God without hope for the future of the world has called forth a secular hope for the future of the world without faith in God … The messianic hopes emigrated from the church and became invested in progress, evolution and revolutions. (Moltmann, 370)

In a world that is now ‘one world’ (the global village), says Moltmann, it is imperative that the church express its hope in a way that does justice to the one future that we all share.

He also wants to affirm that since we speak of God historically, we must say that the world is going somewhere. Our eschatology must seek to “understand man together with the world historically in view of the future both will find in the future of God” (Moltmann, 375). In the resurrection of Christ, God’s future has broken into the present as both an anticipation and an incarnation of the future.

For Moltmann, the relation of our present to our future is the same as of Christ’s cross to his resurrection. The two are in contradiction, and the resurrection of Christ is God’s sign in history that there will be a complete ‘resurrection’ from death of this world, a transformation of creation.

In light of the historical future of God, which is pulling history forward, as it were, towards an ultimate transformation, the church must not escape into quietist passivity. On the contrary, says Moltmann, the resurrection set in motion an historical process of movement towards the coming kingdom, and the church is to be deeply involved in this process. It is her mission.

It is not for nothing, then, that Moltmann describes his eschatology as political. He calls it a “creative and militant hope” which works to “activate present possibilities” which lead in the direction of the kingdom (Moltmann, 383). It is no real surprise that many liberation theologies look to Moltmann for their theoretical undergirding.

Moltmann thus seeks to re-establish the links he perceives as having been broken between Christians and their society. Because we share one historical future in God—and here is where Moltmann’s implicit but unstated universalism comes out—the church is opened to the world. The church becomes an agent of unrest in society, whose task is to keep the world on the move towards the coming kingdom of God.

We will return to an assessment of Moltmann, but to do so we need to reflect on some key biblical passages and issues.

III. Biblical reflections

When we look for those places in the Scriptures in which eschatology is linked with our relationship to human society, some interesting points emerge.

Romans 8 is normally the first port of call in this connection, with its linking of the liberation of the groaning creation with the redemption of the children of God. However, there is a tendency among some interpreters to glide too quickly from the cosmic, historical implications of God’s purposes to a particular view of the future of human society. The eventual transformation of all creation does not equal the eventual transformation of all society. The categories should not be confused.

Titus 2:11-3:3 more specifically links eschatology to social interaction. The grace of God which has appeared for our salvation teaches us to live godly lives in this world (lit. “in this age”) while we wait for the blessed hope: the glorious appearing of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ. This hope is the basis of our behaviour in society in this present evil age. We are to relate to the rest of mankind in light of our eschatological understanding of our status as a redeemed people, zealous for good deeds—in our submission to authority, our honesty, integrity, politeness and humility towards all.

1 Thessalonians 4:11-12 also talks about our behaviour towards outsiders—that we should aspire to live quietly and productively and win the respect of outsiders and be dependent on nobody. Paul then mentions what is different about the outsiders: “We would not have you ignorant, brothers, concerning those who are asleep, that you may not grieve like the rest who have no hope”. There seems to be a clear division in Paul’s social consciousness between insiders and outsiders, between the sons of light and “the rest who have no hope”.

There are numerous other passages worth examining: 2 Peter 3 emphasizes the destruction of the current world, and the radical ‘newness’ of the new heavens and earth; Hebrews 11 portrays us as aliens and strangers in the world who, like Abraham, are looking forward to a better city.

The New Testament speaks of Jesus bringing a divisive kingdom (cf. Luke 12:49-53), which creates a new purified people who stand separate from, and in relation to, the rest of society. The ethics of Jesus are the ethics of that kingdom, not an absolute model for the construction of an ideal human society. Eschatology teaches us that, fundamentally, we should view society as “the rest who have no hope”.

It is here that Moltmann has failed to deal with the Bible adequately. He is right to take the Christ event as the key to his eschatology, but he errs in not applying the cross and resurrection to our existence as the Bible does. The New Testament sees the cross-resurrection as central to our eschatology in that his death and resurrection and ascension and future manifestation are ours now through being united to him in faith (e.g. Col 3:1-4). The Christ event connects with the believer, who keeps his mind focused on this heavenly reality, which is both present and future (now and not yet). Moltmann, however, seems to absolutize the Christ event as standing for the death and resurrection of world history. This is more Marxist (or Hegelian) than Scriptural. It is also worth noting how absent any notion of judgement or wrath is from Moltmann’s view of the future.

Luther is much closer to the Bible in seeing our basic relation to the rest of mankind as being one of love. It is the right category to conceive of our action towards other people. We reach out to and engage with the world not because (as Moltmann might say) we have a shared historical future, but because on the basis of our eschatological theology we are convinced that they have no future outside of Christ—no future, that is, except judgement.

IV. Final comments

‘Society’ is a somewhat foreign concept to Scripture. The categories it deals in are perhaps better expressed as ‘the people of God’ and ‘the rest who have no hope’. Whether we view humanity globally, individually or as discrete ‘societies’ organized along the lines of modern nation-states, it has no future apart from judgement.

Luther was right to see love as the basic Christian face towards ‘society’. Calvin developed this by arguing that although there might be no material connection between the two kingdoms, we still see in the church the face or presence of the kingdom in society. For this reason, the church does not have a social strategy, as such; the church is a social strategy—God’s social strategy. The gospel calls us to belong to a new society, not to transform or underwrite the old, for it is passing away. As Hauerwas and Willimon put it, the church is “an alternative polis, a countercultural social structure” (Hauerwas, 46).

And so back we come via a long and circuitous route to Sandy McMillan’s intriguing sentence, and our involvement in social action. Sandy has some ‘big name’ friends in seeing love as our basic response to those around us. Love will mean we will reach out to our neighbour, in service of all kinds, not least in holding out to them the word of hope for the hopeless. It will mean that serving others through politics will be a most appropriate thing for a Christian person to do—but note, not because we have an interest in the kingdom of this world, or are looking to improve it or renovate it, but because we already belong to the kingdom of the next world, and we are motivated to love our neighbour freely and for their sake, as Christ did.

I think that this requires Christians to be circumspect about becoming too committed to programmes for social change. Agitating for social justice, for changes in structures and mechanisms—these may be good and right things. However, they are not our mission, nor our focus. And they are potentially distracting, for they run counter to what our eschatology says about who we are, what the world is, what our future is, and what our present task is. We relate to society as a new society, an outpost of heaven, not as an agent for the change of the ‘old’ society. The more we immerse ourselves in social action, the more this understanding is compromised—we stop thinking ‘love’ and we start thinking ‘progress’. We take our eyes off the gospel.

Eschatology should direct our eyes away from improving or renovating the kingdom of this world to our primary vision: that of being God’s people, citizens now of the commonwealth of heaven, charged with gathering the hopeless into the Society of Hope.

Bibliography

S. Hauerwas, S. & W. Willimon. Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony. (Nashville: Abingdon, 1991).

M. Luther. ‘The Freedom of a Christian’ in J. Dillenberger. Martin Luther: Selections from his writings. (New York: Anchor, 1961).

J. Moltmann. ‘Hope and History’ in Theology Today 25/3, 1968, 369-86.

B. Webb. (ed) Christians in Society. (Sydney: Lancer, 1988). Especially articles by R. Doyle & D. Peterson.

Comments are closed.