". . . build my church . . ."

"The Church," Jocotepec, Jalisco, Mexico, 2019

“Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this [that Jesus is the Messiah, the son of the living God] was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades [place of the dead] will not overcome it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” (Matthew 16:17-19, NIV)

The book launch for Isaac Janssen, MDiv (October 1^st at Common Word in Winnipeg) precipitated a lot of discussion late into the evening on the future of “the church.” A friend talked about experiences of visiting churches in Winnipeg and compared them as regards music quality, sermon delivery, attendance, liveliness and so on, and since we’re faced with traditional, “old-line churches” declining in numbers and non-denominational, big tent “churches” thriving, it’s not surprising that a question should arise about what Jesus had in mind when he supposedly said, “. . . I will build my church.”

I raised a question that had been bugging me, “What do we really mean when we ask, ‘Do your children go to church’?” It’s obviously not about attendance at a building on a regular basis so much as it’s a euphemism for, possibly, “Do your children continue the faith and practice of their parents, grandparents and beyond, or have they either dropped out or moved elsewhere in their beliefs and practices?”

I, for one, have difficulty imagining Jesus saying these words (I will build my church). I don’t find in the rest of what’s reported about his speech and mission anything to indicate that his goal was to found an institution to compete with or displace traditional synagogue. What seems more consistent to me is that an early—but already-established institution bearing his name—felt bound to set its authority and legitimacy in stone and that this brief narrative had that purpose in mind. (Bible scholars are invited to pounce on this conjecture.)

Either way, the outcome has been the same; a world-wide institution exists that haphazardly and inconsistently follows and spreads the news that “Jesus is the Messiah, the son of the living God.” And it’s called, “the Christian Church,” or “the Holy Catholic (Universal) Church,” and because it has difficulty visualizing itself as simply a spiritual movement, has institutionalized itself, has ended up robed in the adornments of institutional religion.

Isaac Janssen, MDiv attempts to touch on this as directly and concretely as possible by focusing the question at a micro-level, in the living faith-and-practice journey of one Ike Janssen who becomes for Lewishall Mennonite Church the hereditary but self-doubting stand-in for the Apostle Peter, “on whom I will build my church.” Like Peter, Ike is human and would himself—as a man—probably agree that “Jello” would be a better designation than “Rock.” Institutions by their nature become hierarchical; the elevation of humans with feet of clay to positions of power and authority will inevitably strain the edifice, blunt its purpose. Jesus lesson in washing the feet of his disciples set a pattern that defies the very concept of an edifice-church, and begs for its rethinking.

It all makes the question of “what will save the church?” a bit of a non-starter. It’s not about saving the church, it’s about saving humanity from itself. Christ taught us where our best hopes lie: in generations that believe in and practice justice and mercy in humility (Micah 6:8), in shining a bright light into others’ darkness and providing salt for their bland lives. At our best, our little “churches” and our larger “conferences” have done this remarkably well, especially when their communities were kept strong and focused on their calling. It’s when our convictions, our values falter, when our communal spirit drifts and then disintegrates that the institutions that house them stumble and inevitably die. It’s when the question, “ Ask not what your church can do for you; ask rather whether or not the church around the corner provides you with an opportunity to engage in the salt and light mission.” (Apologies to JFK.)

It’s true, youth find spectacle and the rhythms of celebratory emotion attractive. Coupled with the promise of eternal salvation bought with one short confession and a dash of euphoria, it’s possible to fill huge tents, arenas, theatres with enthusiastic crowds. Sports and rock concerts also do that successfully. But although the big tents may qualify as “churches,” they are not necessarily aligned with the essential values in, for instance, the Sermon on the Mount.

So, do your children “go to church?” Maybe they’ve said good-bye to the institution but the values they learned in a “church” community context remain deeply embedded in their vision and lifestyle. But when we ask each other, “Do your grandchildren ‘go to church?’” will essential “Christian” values still motivate them, or will they lack a community in which these values are nurtured and practiced?

Very good questions these. Climate change, globalization, cyberspace developments, mass migrations are stark reminders of the fragility of cultures, nations and, possibly, life on earth itself. There was never a more urgent time for the followers of Jesus to model to the frightened, the angry, the disappointed world that under the tutelage of Christ, hope and joy are more than possible. It’s not the if but the how that should always have been our focus.