Towards a Network of Theological Enquiry
A question of mission – a mission of questions
Freedom of the human spirit from captivity
Theological and ethical issues in the age of globalisation
Towards an Asian theological agenda for the 21st century
Impulses in Caribbean theology
Beyond partnership – Towards a global theological agenda
The people of God among all God's peoples
Globalisation: A myth without a vision?
Democratic impulses in Buddhism
Mission is an important cause of the Christian church, perhaps only next in importance to the cause of Jesus Christ. This has been the case since its very inception. ".....you will be my witnesses," says the parting words of Jesus to his disciples, according to Luke, author of the Book of the Acts of the Apostles, "in Jerusalem, in all Judea, and Samaria, and to the ends of the world" (Acts 1:8).
Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria – these are all familiar place names of the land in which Jesus lived. But "to the ends of the world"? What does it mean? Does it mean "a universal and world-embracing horizon both geographically and from the salvation-history perspective"?1 This is perhaps too inclusive and universal, even too theological, an understanding even for the author of the Acts of the Apostles. Does it mean "The remotest part of the world specially of the unenlightened condition of paganism and heathenism with false notion of God corrupting the ideals and life of society"?2 This probably reads too much into the phrase in question, making it too exclusive and judgmental to the liking of Luke, the author. But the mission thinking and mission activities of the Christian church have always combined these basic features in varied degrees: inclusive and exclusive, universal and judgmental. Most of the writings and statements on Christian mission today, right, left and middle, still reflects this situation. The truth of the matter, however, must be this: by the expression "to the ends of the world" Luke is referring to the parts of the world "outside the frontiers of the Holy Land until at least it reaches Rome".3
Rome! Rome was everywhere in the ancient Mediterranean world. Rome was the seat of the Empire dominating the world from Gaul in western Europe. Rome was in Asia Minor. Rome was in the Near Eastern world, including the land of Jesus' birth and death. Rome! Rome meant conquest. It conquered the entire world known to its Caesars and generals. Rome stood for power, the power that brutalised non-Romans and colonised them. Rome represented the wealth it amassed from its colonies. And Rome epitomised prestige and splendour, the pinnacle of human achievements. Rome came to embody the direction of human ambition, the purpose of human endeavour, the destiny of human history, both secular and sacred, both profane and holy.
To Porcius Festus, procurator of Judea, the Apostle Paul intimated: "I appeal to the emperor" (Acts 25:11) in Rome. Festus replied: "You have appealed to the emperor; to the emperor you will go" (25:12). From Jerusalem to Rome, to the end of the world, Paul went to die a martyr. Four centuries later, Augustine began writing his monumental theology of history, The City of God, in 413, three years after Rome had collapsed under the attack by a barbarian invader from north. Writing "to defend the city of God against the enemies that belonged to this earthly city," he could still argue that "the very great extent and duration of the Roman empire" should be ascribed to God and not to gods the Romans worshipped.4 A thousand years passed. In 1510, ten years before "he and his colleagues disposed of [the papal bull Exsurge Domine] in a bonfire outside a gate at Wittenberg,"5 the Augustinian monk was on a trip to Rome. "Luther's mood," it is suggested, "was that of a pilgrim who at the first sight of the Eternal City cried, 'Hail, holy Rome!'"6 In Rome the Christian church, in the form of Roman Catholicism, gained power, wealth, prestige and splendour. And it was from this Rome symbolising power, wealth, prestige and splendour, that Christianity, both Roman Catholic and Protestant, was to be carried, literally, to "the ends of the world."
Rome played a decisive role in world history. And Christianity as an extension of what Rome stood for has also played an influential role in the religious history of humankind. This is true not only for the Roman Catholic Church but for the Protestant churches as well. But Rome in ancient splendour is no more. Rome, the power to reckon with in the ancient Mediterranean world, is gone. Rome that thrived on wealth and prestige from the early centuries almost to the onset of the Age of Enlightenment has become a memory. That Rome is long gone, but it created what I call "Rome complex" in the Christian churches, whether Roman Catholic or Protestant, the complex nurtured by the adventure and glory of conquest, real or imaginary.
Most of us must have heard of what I just termed "Rome complex" for the first time. It is the complex that conditions and shapes what we as Christians and churches believe, think and do. We may not be aware of it, but it is there deep in our Christian sub-consciousness. It takes form in our views of the life and the world beyond the church. It moulds our image of people outside the Christian community and fashions our approach to what they believe and how they live. It is so ingrained in our Christian psyche for so long that we are not aware of it today even as we make every effort to think new thoughts, do new things, construct new bridges in our obedience to what is called "the Great Commission" of the church in mission. In actual fact, this very "Great Commission" itself is a most obvious expression of "Rome complex," the complex rooted in the desire and effort for conquest, the conquest that brings the church power, wealth, prestige and splendour.
It is this "Rome complex," among other things, that leads to Christian mission impossible today. Christian mission impossible? Then what are we doing here at the consultation on Christian mission? Why have there been numerous conferences and seminars on Christian mission in the past decades? And why has there been article after article, essay after essay, volume after volume, on Christian mission? Are all these love labour's lost? No, they are not love labour's lost, but they are love labour's misdirected, because the gap between what the Christian church believes to be God's purpose for the world and the world as it should be in God's ineffable mind and thought has been growing wider and wider. Let me explain.
Reading literature on Christian mission is a Herculean task. This is true with centuries of writings on Christian mission. It is even more true with the literature on Christian mission pouring out of personal computers, church headquarters, mission agencies, and Christian presses. But there is a distinct difference between the mission literature of the past and contemporary mission literature. The mission literature of the past does not make excuses for the Rome complex at its most ostentatious, namely, its conquest approach. It is reflected in Christian theology from the doctrine of God to Christology to the nature of the church to the working of the Holy Spirit to the teachings on salvation and the last things. It is the Rome complex that is still very much present in what is taught at theological schools and preached from Sunday pulpits throughout Asia today. Is it any wonder that no breakthrough in the theology of Christian mission has been made despite much repentance of the mistakes committed in the past and in spite of the efforts to strike out on new paths? We are going round and round the missiological circles created by the theological principles developed in the heyday of Western domination of the world.
What about the mission literature that endeavours to break out of the traditional approach and develop a different concept of Christian mission? Reading it, one cannot but be overwhelmed by the wide range of issues and problems it tries to address, from world economy to world religions to racism to sexism to human rights. The territory it seeks to cover is vast, from the heavens to the earth, from the north to the south, from the west to the east. Then it asks the question: What is the mission of the church in this kind of the universe and in this kind of the world? What should the church do to help the world develop a more just economic order? What is the responsibility of the church in the emergence of a more participatory kind of society? What is the task of the church to bring about a human community free from racial, sexual, religious and class discriminations?
These are all urgent issues and problems. But they are so enormous, so systemic, so complex in most cases that they are beyond what the church can grasp and cope with. What makes it worse, the church itself is often part of these enormous, systemic and complex realities of the world. What it says and declares does not always carry moral conviction, even though it may have some theological validity. I agree whole-heartedly with the statement that 'there is no place for triumphalism or triumphalistic claims to special knowledge and skills for mission, or even claims to change the world.'7 Most of us, except our fundamentalist brothers and sisters both in the Protestant churches and the Roman Catholic church, have learned not to be triumphalistic. How can we be triumphalistic when the world around us has developed by leaps and bounds, leaving the church farther and farther behind in world affairs? How can we be triumphalistic when the history we thought we helped to shape has passed us by?
But are we really not interested in changing the world? Then why spend so much of our time and energy trying to understand what is happening in the world? What is that for if not to change the world? What is that for if not to make a difference in the world? What is that for if not to make the world a better place to live? Yes, we as the church still want to change the world. Yes, we as the Christian community still want to make a difference in the world, to male it a better place to live. But the fact of the matter is that we cannot change the world, that we cannot make a difference in the world and make it a better place to live. Why? The church as we know it is too involved in what we consider to be wrong in the world on the one hand and, on the other, too weak, physically and spiritually, to make the world a difference place to live. This makes the reading of voluminous mission literature painful and frustrating. But why do we feel painful and frustrated when we know we are too weak to change the world?
Why can we not simply be resigned? It is because we too suffer from "Rome complex.". Our mission is to change the world, if not to conquer it, but we cannot because we are not up to it. That is the cause of our pain and frustration. We feel we have failed God in God's mission to save the world (missio Dei?). Above all, we feel we have failed Jesus who brings salvation to humankind (missio Christi?)
But the question that we must first ask is this: Has God delegated to us Christians and the Christian church the power to save the world? Has God given us a colossal mandate to create a new heaven and a new earth from the old heaven and the old earth? If this had been the case, we have clearly failed God. For the past two thousand years, Christianity not only has not saved the world, but often made a mess of it. Is this not what indigenous people of North and South Americas, Asia, the pacific and Africa are telling us today? Have we not gravely misinterpreted what we call missio Dei? It has perhaps not occurred to many of us that while we have gotten stuck in 'mission Dei' we have inherited from the teachings of the church and the traditional schools of theology, God has changed the course of action and altered ways of carrying out God's purpose for the world. From what we have learned from the Bible and the history of our nations, this is a genuine possibility. But has a thought such as this ever haunted our theology of missio Dei?
And have we failed Jesus by 'making disciples of all nations baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything Jesus has commanded them' (Matthew 28:19)? This, as we all know too well, is the so-called "Great Commission" according to which the Christian church has crafted its theology of mission and carried out its practice of mission for the last two thousand years. We have been all too ready to take it as the Lord's parting command. We have not dared to question whether Jesus himself gave it to his followers. We have never stopped to ask whether 'all nations' in this "Great Commission" meant for the fledgling Christian community in the first century literally all nations of the entire known and unknown world or the 'Gentile' communities immediately outside of the Jewish community. In all probability it is the latter. We even choose not to notice the fact that the neat Trinitarian formula did not take its present form until the second century. 8
Besides asking such questions, we should have also paid attention to the second part of Matthew 28:19. It is the question of whether, in our effort 'to disciple all nations and to baptise them in the name of the Trinity,' we have really 'taught people to obey everything that Jesus had commanded' them. And before we can ask men and women outside the church 'to obey everything Jesus has commanded them,' do we not have to ask ourselves as Christians and as the church whether we 'have obeyed everything Jesus has commanded us.'?
The critical word here is the word 'everything'. Everything means everything from A to Z, from beginning to end, everything from Jesus' birth to his death on the cross. Does not this 'everything' make Christian mission disputable all along, if not impossible? Does it not make our effort to convert people of other faiths and cultures a little too self-serving, if not totally discreditable? 'Everything' is a little word with enormous implications for what we have taken to be Christian mission. I am dismayed, on the one hand, by the fact that the Church has not paid attention to it as it talks so much about Christian mission, but I am grateful, on the other, that it finds its way into the concluding words of Matthew's Gospel. It makes us really humble as we explore the task of the Christian church in the 21st century and its role in the post-modern world.
This brings us back to the beginning of things, at least to the point where Jesus during his ministry confronted his disciples with the question, "Who do you think that I am?" on the road to the villages of Caesarea Philippi (Mark 8:27-30; also Matthew 16:13-20; Luke 9:18-21). Again this is one of the most familiar stories in the New Testament. But there is a danger in a familiar story; in fact the more familiar a story is, the more dangerous it is for the listener or reader. What is the danger? It is the danger of missing the meaning buried deeply under familiar words and images. It is the danger of not realising that a familiar story, told even in a slightly different way, may open up a new world of meaning. The story of Jesus and his disciples on the road to Caesarea Philippi happens to be one of such stories. I do not know how many times you have read the story. Nor do I know how often you have referred to it in your Bible study class and in your preaching on Sunday. The Council for World Mission that called us together here in Kuala Lumpur for the consultation on Christian mission is to be commended for drawing the theme of the consultation from the story. But I have a rather different story to tell out of this familiar story. I also have to emphasise that its implications for our reflection on Christian mission are very critical. Let us see if we can hear a different tone, perceive a different nuance and develop a different scenario in this familiar story.
According to the story as it is told in the Gospels, Jesus asks his disciples who they say that he is after he has elicited their response from his earlier question as to who people say that he is. We are told that it is Peter who dutifully replies that Jesus is "the Messiah" (Mark 8:29), "the Messiah, the Son of the living God" (Matthew 16:16), "the Messiah of God" (Luke 9:20). What we have in these accounts is the development of Christology in its embryonic form. This christological embryo is to be nurtured in the womb of the early church, brought to its term in 325 C.E. in the form of the Nicean Creed, grown to adulthood in the centuries that followed, fully developed into the Christology that most Christians embrace today, and made into the solid foundation of the Christian mission to convert heathens to God's salvation as the Christian church began to expand its borders into the world outside the West. This, in a nutshell, is the history of Christianity generated from that story of Jesus and his disciples on their way to the villages of Caesarea Philippi.
But have we said all needed to be said about the story? Have we heard all needed to be heard from it? Perhaps not. I begin to wonder if there is a story prior to it, a story not told but implied in the story of Jesus' ministry, a story not found in the Gospels but embedded in the untold stories of Jesus' life and ministry. I cannot but suspect there is another story prior to the story we read in the New Testament. What is that other story?
The setting of the story can be the same – the lonely road to the villages of Caesarea Philippi. The cast of the story stays the same: Jesus is the interlocutor and the disciples are the interlocuted. All these remain the same, but the interlocution between Jesus and the disciples could be different from that which is familiar to us. And as the substance of the locution, the content of the exchanges between Jesus and the disciples, shifts, the meaning of the story also shifts considerably. This is an important point to bear in mind as we try to come to grips with what the church must be and what it is called to do in this postmodern world of the 21st century. What follows is my attempt to reconstruct the story.
In the story told by the authors of the Gospels, Jesus poses the question to the disciples, first asking them who people say that he is, and then who the disciples themselves say that he is. But I find myself asking whether Jesus poses the question to the disciples in this way. Is this actually the question Jesus asked? Or is the question posed in this way by others, by the early Christian community, for example, to draw out the answer that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God?
The fact of the matter, it seems to me, is that the answer framed the question and not the question the answer. That is to say, the answer preceded the question. The party concerned, the early Christian community that already believed in Jesus as the son of the living God, had the answer to the question they had Jesus ask the disciples. The question they had Jesus pose to the disciples serves to confirm the faith they already had in Jesus as the Christ, as the Messiah, as the Son of the living God. In other words, the story as we have it in the Gospels is one of the earliest forms of story or narrative Christology. It is designed to establish the credential of the early Church as of divine origin. Trying to find its way in the politically unfriendly environments and a religiously competitive world, the early Christian community is preoccupied with the question of who Jesus is. And this question of who Jesus is – the Christological question – has remained the main preoccupation of the Christian church down the centuries. As I indicated earlier, not only the fundamental faith and theology of the Christian church, but most theology and practice of Christian mission, is built on this Christological agenda of Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the living God.
The question is whether Jesus himself sought for himself the credential of who he was and the confirmation of how he came into being. I cannot imagine that Jesus himself would have been involved in the 'Christological' controversies that not only preoccupied the church but divided it. I could not believe that this pre-Christological Jesus would have been a party to the controversies that rock the church from time to time on the one hand and, on the other, declare him to be the only saviour of the world from the beginning of time to the end of time. I cannot but wonder whether the church and its mission agencies have not fought on the frontiers where what I would call 'the pre-Chrisological Jesus' is conspicuously absent.
Let me come to the point after beating about the theological bush a
bit. On that memorable occasion when Jesus and the disciples are on their
way to the villages of Caeasarea Philippi, this, I believe, is what Jesus
asked them: 'What do you think that I am doing?' You see how the question
shifts from who Jesus is to what he does, from his person to his ministry,
from his credential as the Messiah, the Son of the living God to the rule
of God he believes he is called to intimate and practice. Jesus is not
worried about who people take him to be. What he is really worried about
is how they consistently misunderstand what he is doing. Once again he
seizes the occasion on the road to Caesarea Philippi to inspire his
disciples to come to grips with what his ministry is about. Hence the
question: What do you think what I am doing?
My guess is that the disciples failed, as on many other occasions, to grasp the heart of Jesus' question. Jesus must have asked the question in earnest, but they let it pass just as on other occasions. It was only after the tragic death of Jesus on the cross that they began to take a fresh look at Jesus' ministry, but it was already too late. By that time their devotion to the risen Christ as the Son of the living God had become too deeply set in their faith and religious consciousness to apprehend the nature of the ministry Jesus carried out in great intensity during his public ministry.
Intentionally or not, the authors of the Gospels in story after story, in incident after incident, dwell on the fact that Jesus' followers, including the disciples, failed to understand what he was doing. They not only failed to understand it, but often misunderstood it.
To give just one example. Jesus is reported to have said to his disciples: 'You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognise as their rulers lord over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be last of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many' (Mark 10:42-45; also Matthew 20:25- 28; Luke 11:25-27). 9
This is a question about leadership. We all know what leadership entails, not only in the political arena but in the religious domain. How differently Jesus and the disciples understood leadership! The gap of understanding between them was big. And the gap was to grow even bigger between them as time went on. Jesus practiced his ministry of God's rule as service to those in need, but his disciples expected his ministry to grow in number, prestige, power and authority. Is this not one of the reasons, if not the only reason, why the disciples deserted Jesus to die alone on the cross? The decision of his disciples to give up on Jesus could have been compelled by the fact that Jesus proved unwilling or unable to take on the powers of this world.
Who, then, will be admitted to what Jesus calls the rule of God? This must be the question the disciples would be prompted to ask Jesus. As if to forestall their question Jesus told them: "How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the rule of God" (Mark 10:23; also Matthew 19:19:23; Luke 18:24). To the disciples who mostly came from the working class, Jesus' answer should have sounded as good news. But according to Mark, the author of the Gospel that bears his name, this was not the case. We are told that "the disciples were perplexed at these words" (10:24), at what Jesus had just told them. Is this not strange? They should be happy, and nod their heads in approval. But they were perplexed. Why?. Is it because they expected Jesus' rule of God to be a rich life that would replace their hard and wretched life?
Jesus sensed their perplexity. But instead of softening his tone to dispel it, Jesus reinforced what he had just said with even stronger a statement. "Children," he addressed them and said: "How hard it is to enter the rule of God. It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the rule of God" (Mark 10:24-25; also Matthew 19:26; Luke 18:25). The statement seemed to make the disciples even more perplexed. No, this time they were not just perplexed; they were 'greatly astounded' (Mark 10:26; also Matthew 19:25). They were taken aback; they were shocked; and they did not hide their consternation. Why were they astounded, taken aback and shocked? Because what Jesus said about the rule of God was simply not what they expected it. They could not help asking one another: "Then who can be saved?" (Mark 10:26; also Matthew 19:25; Luke 18:26).
Is it not ironical? It was firmly implanted in the disciples' mind that the rule of God is reserved for the rich, that even though they led a life of deprivation in this world, they were going to enjoy a life of abundance in the next world. The rule of God was Jesus' central message, but the disciples failed to respond to it. Jesus, metaphorically speaking, was driving the chariot south, but the disciples were going south (nan yuan pei cheh), to use a Chinese idiom. If the disciples failed Jesus in this most crucial matter, has the Christian church done any better? We know we cannot answer the question with confidence.
You now see, I hope, how this unfamiliar question of what we think that Jesus does is very different from the familiar question of what we think that Jesus is. And what we think that Jesus does has critical implications for the task of the Christian community in this postmodern world of ours, the world relativised and diversified culturally and religiously in the midst of globalisation.
In order to explore more deeply the question of what we say that Jesus does, let us take a closer look at what has been happening in the Christian churches in recent decades. There is, on the one hand, the ecumenically oriented churches and institutions. The Council for World Mission is one of them. The ecumenical movement has to be one of the most memorable events in the post World War II world. Although its vision of an organically united church has not come true, it was able to mobilise an enormous amount of material and human resources for the reconstruction of the human community for peace, justice and freedom. It has also inspired many Christians to take their social and political responsibilities as inherent parts of faith, striving arm-in-arm with other men and women in society for human rights and democracy. In the process it has contributed to social and political changes in some instances, among them the abolition of apartheid in South Africa is a notable example. But the world not only continues to be beset with terrorism and discrimination on account of race, gender and class, but is increasingly facing ecological problems and religious hostilities. We are very much aware of the fact that at the very heart of it all is profound emptiness in the depths of human souls. But the ecumenical movement, which used to be quite effective in raising consciousness about social and political issues, does not seem equipped to deal with the emptiness that today afflicts the human spirit at its most vulnerable. Is this why it has virtually been left behind by history?
There is, on the other hand, the proliferation of the charismatic movements that have been sweeping across the face of the earth. Charismatic movements draw a clear line of demarcation from the mainline churches in how they worship and what they preach and teach, while drawing to them a great number of Christians from the mainline churches. They are also invading mainline churches, changing their traditional ways worship and faith. These charismatic movements take many different forms and expressions, but they have one thing in common: they have reduced the Christian faith to saving the individual souls. Those of us who have ventured into their worship service know how it is emotionally charged and how it creates spiritual hypertension. Seized with emotional and spiritual ecstasy, worshipers, preoccupied with the well-being of their souls, relinquish responsibilities for society and the world as incompatible with their faith . The fact of the matter is that, although charismatic movements have 'mushroomed like bamboo shoots after rain' (yu how chu sun), to use a Chinese expression, society continues to be in the grip of crimes and violence and the world is not any closer to the paradise envisioned by their adherents. The irony is that because of the religious fervour practiced by some charismatic communities, religious fundamentalism is on the rise, creating more division, conflict and in many cases violence in the already, divisive, conflictive and violent world.
The post-modern world is polarised religiously. It is polarised within Christianity. It is polarised within other religions as well. And it is polarised between religions. It has been observed, for example: 'Since religion...is the principal defining characteristic of civilisations, fault line wars are almost always between peoples of different religions....Millennia of human history have shown that religion is not a 'small difference' but possibly the most profound difference that can exist between people. The frequency, intensity, and violence of fault line wars are greatly enhanced by beliefs in different gods.'10 Unfortunately, this is true. How could the Christian churches, mainline or charismatic, not take this to heart as they try to reshape the theology and practice of Christian mission?
It seems to me that both mainline Christian churches and charismatic Christian communities, in spite of some stunning 'successes' of the latter, have created a contradiction. The assertion they make for Christianity that leads to confrontation with others contradicts their promise of a world without division, conflict and violence. True, Christianity is reasserting its influence in many parts of he world today, but its own inner contradiction also leaves the rest of the world uneasy and restless. Disillusioned by such contradiction, the increasing number of people are engaged in a variety of search for spiritual emancipation and fulfilment, the search that explores the primal or pristine human religious consciousness in order to attain justice, peace, tranquillity and love.
Looking closely at what Jesus did during his ministry, I cannot but wonder whether Jesus represented a religious movement that delved into the primal and pristine spiritual forces embedded in Jewish religion. Jesus strove to bring about change in his community, from the top echelon of the religious hierarchy to the women and men marginalised in their religious community. This spiritual movement took form and content for Jesus in his rule of God. It proved to be a colossal undertaking and a costly one too. He had to pay the price for it with his own life.
Jesus said many things about his rule of God. He told stories to drive it home to the people. He created parables to shed light on it. But the heart of it all, it seems to me, is the freedom of the human spirit from captivity – captivity to greed, power, desire to dominate others, even captivity to religion. He summoned people free from captivity to the gods of their own making, and to be free for one another, for the world and nature, and for God. This must be the theological basis of our ministry. And this must be the christological ground of the ministry of the church and Christians today. Let us explore, in what follows, how Jesus toiled and laboured for freedom of the human spirit from captivity and learn how we should go about it today as we, Christians and churches, come to grips with our role in today's world.
It is not news that the world has been globalised economically. Not only the world at large but our own personal life has become globalised economically. We lament it and deplore it. Statistics abound. We have become quite adept at quoting statistics showing how economic development on some parts of the world has caused economic woes in other parts of the world. We have access to graphs and charts demonstrating a world of gap in the annual income per capita, GNPs and GDPs between the affluent nations and the poor nations. I do not know whether such statistics, graphs and charts readily available to us today were also available to Jesus in his time. Perhaps not. Even without these statistics and graphs Jesus knew how economic injustice prevailed in his society. He was not only aware of what was going on in his society, but also knew the very cause of it. And he set about trying to set it right.
As Jesus sees it, the principal cause of economic injustice is the captivity of the human spirit to greed. That is why he drives home to people how essential it is to set the human spirit free from it. We have already referred to what he says about how difficult it is for the rich to enter the rule of God. Perhaps we can also understand him to be saying, those who are driven by greed do not deserve the rule of God. When he proclaims, 'blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the rule of God' (Luke 6:20), he must also be saying, 'blessed are you who are not greedy, for yours is the rule of God.' And he does not hesitate to declare that "salvation has come to this house" as Zacchaeus, the tax collector, decided to give to the poor half of his possession and to pay back four times anyone he has defrauded (Luke 12:1-10).
If freedom of the human spirit from captivity to greed is the basic solution to the problem of economic injustice in Jesus' world, it is no different, surely even more so, in our world. Is it, then, not the task of the church to rededicate itself to it, equipping Christians for it, and calling upon other communities to strive together for it? There are reasons to believe that many men and women in search of the spiritual meaning of life will respond to that call. Together with them we can develop concerted efforts to expand the space of freedom from greed locally, nationally, regionally, and even globally.
Greed is a state of mind. It is a desire to possess things. It is an ambition to dominate others with what one possesses. Greed for material things is one of the expressions of the greed that vitiates the human spirit. Greed, in essence, is a spiritual matter. That is why Jesus exhorted men and women of his day to set their spirit free from it. He did not take a vow of poverty, although he had little possession. He did not consider poverty to be a virtue, even though he was happy to lead a simple way of life. Is he not the supreme example of how absence of greed leads to richness of the spirit? It is the richness of the spirit freed from greed that people are also seeking today. Can we talk about the task of the church in the present world if we just ignore it?
Greed (tan), hatred (chen) and delusion (chi) are the three cardinal vices in Buddhism. To be free from these vices is the Buddhist way to liberation. Monks are thus given the following exhortation:
Whatever deed, monks, has been performed without greed, without hatred and free from delusion after greed, hatred (and) delusion were done away with this deed is annihilated, cut off at the root, made similar to a rooted-out palm tree, prevented from becoming in future not subject to the law of becoming.11
I wish not only Buddhist monks but devotees to the Buddha would all
head this exhortation! Then tragedies, both personal and social, in
Buddhist nations would dramatically decrease, if not eradicated, and more
peace and harmony would prevail. The same thing could be said about any
religion, including Christianity.
The point is that since ancient times human beings have been searching for the freedom of the spirit for fulfilment of life. This awareness of being spiritual is the greatest gift God has given to us human beings. After all, the creation story in Hebrew Scripture tells us that 'the Lord God formed human beings from the dust of the ground, and breathed into the nostrils the breath of life [the spirit of life] and the human being became a living being' (Genesis 2:7).
More and more people in the twenty-first century are engaged in efforts to recover their spiritual roots crossing the boundaries of cultures and religions. Is it not our task as Christians not only to be part of this longing of the human spirit but to help mobilise religious communities to work together for the fulfilment of that longing?
The human spirit is not only captive to greed, it is also captive to power, power to conquer, to oppress, to dominate, to enslave. Human history is the history of human conflicts over such power. If empires have conquered and enslaved the body of millions upon millions of women, men and children, religion has also conquered and enslaved their spirit. If the kingdoms of this world have striven to gain the allegiance of their subjects through violent means, religion has also competed for the allegiance of believers with false promises and hopes.
Jesus was tempted by such power. He was tested by it. The story of his temptation gives us some glimpses of how he struggled with it within himself (Matthew 4:8-10; also Luke 4:5-8). What he saw with his mind's eye was "all the kingdoms of the world and their splendour." All he needed to do was to "fall down and worship" the power that created these kingdoms and their splendour. His was not merely a struggle against political power. It, above all, was a spiritual struggle, struggle for freedom of his spirit from temptation of that power. When he rejected that power with a resounding No, he gained freedom from it. For him it was spiritual liberation. With that freedom of the spirit he launched his ministry of the rule of God.
Not only the empires and kingdoms of this world have succumbed to the temptation of power and become enslaved to it, the Christian church too has often failed the test of power. We know from the reading of the history of the Christian church that as the church gains political power, it loses spiritual power, and as it becomes enslaved to the power of this world, it forfeits the power of the spirit given by God. The same thing happens to other religions too. The search of the human spirit for fulfilment prevailing in the world today is the search to regain freedom of the human spirit from the political power that dominates them and from the religious power that controls them.
If we have to talk about a mandate of the church, clearly here is one. We are called first to gain freedom from captivity to power, the power to dominate others with our beliefs, the power to invade the spiritual space of others with our "mission" in the name of our God. We are also called to work with others for freedom from captivity to power, be it political power, economic power, or religious power. Our primary task is not to "missionise" the world, but to find ways to freedom from captivity to power, beginning with ourselves and our church and extending it to the communities around us. We are called to play an active role in the globalisation of freedom of the human spirit from captivity to power and for a human community not dominated by brute power but by the power of love.
Is this not why each section of the Koran begins with the phrase, "In the Name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful"? In Hebrew Scripture and in the Christian Bible as well as in the Koran there are stories, teachings and injunctions that cast deep dark shadow on the face of the compassionate and merciful God. But there are also stories, teachings and injunctions that make the face of the compassionate and merciful God shine in God's creation and in human community. Is it possible for all of us to work together to let that compassionate and merciful face of God shine more and more in the dark recesses of the human heart and in the frightful abyss of the world? As we all are very much aware, human beings in the twenty-first century, including us Christians, will increasingly subject to all sorts of power to manipulate, dominate and dehumanise human beings not only through science and technology but through religious activities that exploit the vulnerability of men and women in the world of stress, uncertainty and fear. Do we not have an urgent cause here as church and Christians if we must talk about what we call "Christian mission"?
This leads to the matter of freedom from religion. Freedom from greed and freedom from power, yes, but is not freedom from religion self-defeating? There will be those who object that what we human beings need most is more religion and not less religion, more loyalty to religion and not less of it, more commitment to religion and not less of it. We see efforts towards more religion everywhere, at the place of worship, be it church, temple, or shrine. We are urged to be more loyal to the religious community to which we belong, whether it is Christian community, Buddhist community or Muslim community. That is why religious fundamentalism is on the rise. As to us Christians, how can we engage ourselves in evangelisation, in converting others to Christianity, if we are not more committed to Christianity and to what it stands for all these centuries?
But let us remember that the word religion can be traced back to a Latin verb ligare, meaning 'to bind, or to bind together.' Religion, however it may be understood, binds believers to a belief system, to rites and rituals, to the religious community to which they belong as members. Buddhism is taught in numerous sutras. Islam derives its faith from the Koran. Judaism is shaped by the Torah. Christianity finds the source of its faith in the Bible. Your faith is tested by these sacred scriptures and their interpretations by the religious authorities. To deviate from the official teachings is to make oneself suspect in matters of faith and morals. The Buddhist sangha has its codes of conduct. The Christian church has sacraments. The mosque, Muslim place of worship, commands the devotees of Islam which means in Arabic submission to God. To set oneself against one's religious community is to make oneself an outcast and thus liable to be persona non grata.
Religion binds individual believers to itself and it binds together all its believers to its scriptures, its teachings, its codes of behaviour, and its hierarchical structure. Religion makes us unfree. You may argue that in complete submission to one's religion, one gains true freedom. But this is not always the case. Martin Luther, the reformer in 16th century Europe, is an example. 'At its height,' it is said, 'Luther's rebellion centred in the question of man's [sic] differential debt of obedience to God, to the Pope, and to Caesar.'12 Religion is not simply a matter of binding oneself to God. Many other things come between believers and God, matters such as the Pope, Caesar, scriptures, traditions, teachings, creeds. Perhaps believers are more bound to these other things than to God.
As Jesus sees it, people, from the religious authorities to men and women who are poor and deprived, are enslaved by their religion. In contrast, he is remarkably free from his own religion and sets about freeing people from it. He does not even hesitate to set the Sabbath on the right side up when he declares: "The Sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the Sabbath" (Mark 2:27). He is breathtakingly free when it comes to his religious tradition. He affirms, on the one hand, that he comes "not to abolish the law or the prophets but to fulfil" (Matthew 5:17) and, on the other, makes it known that he is not bound by his religious tradition when he says to his listeners: "You have heard that it was said, but I say to you..." (see Matthew 21-48). Do you see the correlation between 'fulfilling the law and the prophets' and 'but I say to you'? This correlation is what underlines the spirit and method of Jesus's hermeneutic. It is the hermeneutic inspired by his freedom from captivity to his own religious tradition.
What we need today is this freedom from captivity to religion if we want to break out of the stalemate allegiance to our own religion has created. I know many of us who believe in the cause of the ecumenical movement have championed religious dialogue and even advocate it as an integral part of Christian mission. But are we not also tempted to draw a line to set ourselves apart from people of other religions? There is a theological border line we are not prepared to cross. As to those Christians and churches who seek conversion of others as their primary mission, redrawing the lines of engagement and the terms of contacts is the last thing they would do. It is as if Jesus had never said: "You have heard that it was said.... but I say to you..." What they believe and teach is frozen in the past, not able to meet the challenges and demands of the post-modern world of cultural and religious pluralism.
As we try to grapple with the task of the Christian church in today's world, should we not first take steps to gain freedom from what has bound us religiously and theologically? Is it not an essential part of our responsibility to work towards trans-community of the human spirit freed from the stereotyped teachings, theologies and structures and to be free for the fulfilment of the purpose of life we all seek? At the very heart of our effort to break an impasse in Christian mission, is the theological impasse we must break. The problem of Christian mission is the problem of Christian theology. Reconstruction of Christian theology must then precede reconstruction of Christian mission. Are those engaged in Christian theology in Asia bold enough to venture into this uncharted but exciting course of reconstruction work? Is the Council for World Mission willing to play a part in it
1 See Josef Zmijewsky, Die Apostelgeschichte (Verlag Friedrich Puster Regensburg, 1954), p.59.
2 Everett C. Harrison, Acts: the Expanding Church (Chicago: Moody Press, 1975), p.40.
3 F. F. Bruce, Commentary on the Book of Acts (London: marshall, Morgan & Scott, Ltd., 1954), .p.39.
4 Augustine, The City of God, trans. Marcus Dodds (New York: The Modern Library, 1950), p.111.
5 See Martin E Marty, A Short History of Christianity (New York: Meridian Books, 1059), p.213.
6 See Roland H Bainton, Here I Stand, a Life of Martin Luther (New York:/Nashville: Abingdon-Cokesbury Press, 1950), p49.
7 See D. Preman Niles's unpublished paper, 'The mission thinking and partnership journey of CWM (Council for World Mission): a Review,' p.6.
8 Note , for example, J. N. D. Kelly's observation that says: "From the beginning baptism was the universally accepted rite of admission to the Church; only 'those who have been baptised in the Lord's name' may partake of the eucharist. Whether or not administered originally in Christ's name only, as numerous New testament texts appear to suggest, in the second century it was administered in water in the threefold name [of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit]" (see his Early Christian Codctrine [San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1978], pp.193-194).
9 These words may not be exactly how Jesus said them and "are bound up with the leadership struggles that ensued in the Christian communities," they at least "vaguely reflect something Jesus might have said," and "echo his ideas, although they have been adapted to the controversies that raged over leadership rank in the Christian movement at a later date" (see The Five Gospels, the Search for the Authentic Words of Jesus [New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1993], p.95 & p.227).
10 See Samuel P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilisations and Remaking of World Order (New York: Touchstone/Simon & Schuster, 1997), pp.253-254. "Fault line wars" are "the communal conflicts" that "have become violent," that is, "conflicts between states or groups from different civilisations" (The Clash of Civilisations, p.252).
11 Anguttaranikaya (PTS edition) 3, 33, 2 I p.135. Quoted by Hans Wolfgang Schumann in Buddhism, an Outline of its Teaching and Schools, trans. Georg Feuerstein (London: Rider and Company, 1973), p.54.
12 See Erik H. Erikson, Young Man Lutther, a Study in Pschoanalysis and History (New York: W.W. Norton, 1958), p.49