Moving Church Past Contracts

Many of you have likely read Seth Godin’s most recent manifesto, “Stop Stealing Dreams” where he tackles the question of education in his typical blog-thought style. The whole 33,000 words are free for download if you want to give it a read.

In section 26, Godin talks about the contract of adhesion. Here’s how he describes it:

Friedrich Kessler, writing in 1943 in the Columbia Law Review, articulated a new kind of contract, one for the industrial age. Rather than being individually negotiated with each party, a contract of adhesion is a take-it-or-leave-it mass deal. The industrialist says, use this car or this software or this telephone, and merely by using it, you are agreeing to our terms and conditions. With a hat tip to Doc Searls (tk link), here’s what Kessler wrote:  ’The development of large scale enterprise with its mass production and mass distribution made a new type of contract inevitable—the standardized mass contract. A standardized contract, once its contents have been formulated by a business firm, is used in every bargain dealing with the same product or service. The individuality of the parties which so frequently gave color to the old type of contract has disappeared. The stereotyped contract of today reflects the impersonality of the market….

I am wondering if this same kind of contract of adhesion is at work in our denominations and church bodies. As we’ve seen with the public school system, what began as a beneficial move toward democratizing knowledge and creating cultural congruity has now become a relic of industrialization that does little to prepare our students for the world in which they will live and work. Similarly, denominations came about in order to create collective shared identity around principles and values a group deemed worth- the priesthood of believers, or sola scriptura. Nowadays I’d argue we see this same trend in non-denominational churches, who rally around inerrancy or a particular view of the family or something of that nature. But those same structures which were once helpful in uniting us are now, I’d argue, holding us back from the true work of being God’s faithful and creative people in the world. And while it is necessary for any organization to find a shared focus, there does seem to be a significant value difference between truly shared vision and a contract of adhesion. Do we really need a committee to write our shared vision on a piece of paper and sign it for it to be normative for us as a group? And does our contract really need to be mass produced across the world, to create other groups with values just like ours?

I’d venture most of us would say no. So why are so many of our ecclesial bodies organized as if the answer were yes?

What if, instead of a denomination giving seed money only to a group of people who want to look and speak and sound and act just like all the other groups, they were willing to hand some resources to some innovators interested in creating a culture specific to location, place, and the unique move of the Spirit? If we truly believe that God is doing a new thing, why on earth do we emphasize standardized mass contract churches? Put more bluntly, why does a new church need to put a denominational logo on their website in order for said denomination to find a reason for relationship, resourcing and respect? If discipleship and not standardization is the game, then we’re not playing it right.

To extract the ideas from our rich heritage of church reformers and place them in a straightjacket of take-it-or-leave-it mass systematization seems a great waste of resources in a world so in need of creative faithfulness.

Hi Villagers,

As many of you know, EV is a partnering sponsor for a great event in May called Children, Youth and a New Kind of Christianity, which will gather leaders, ministers, volunteers, parents, and students to spark conversations about youth and children. We will talk about innovative practices, critical issues, and controversial topics like violence, racism, interfaith dialogue, and sexuality.

Even better, YOU have the ability to participate in a direct way. Share your ideas about children’s and youth ministry through an intriguing presentation, an engaging workshop, or by being part of a panel of innovators in children’s and youth ministry. Submit a proposal by the January 12 deadline (see http://children-youth.com/get-involved/) and you could join Brian McLaren, Tony Campolo, Shane Claiborne, Ivy Beckwith, Jeremiah Wright, Joyce Mercer, John Westerhoff, and many others who will be sharing at CYNKC. For more information and to register for the conference, visit http://children-youth.com/. Join us in shaping the future of children’s and youth ministry, a future marked by hope, love, peace, and a passion for following Jesus with friends young and old. We need your help to make this groundbreaking event a success!

Also, take note: early bird registration ($189) ends at the end of January. On Feb. 1, the registration fee increases to $209.

And Our Eyes At Last Shall See Him

In our family, we saturate the airwaves with Christmas music during the Advent season. We play it in the car, and as soon as we get home, and all through dinner, and as the kids are nodding off to bed. Every year, I tend to develop a new favorite song of the season. This year, it’s “Once in Royal David’s City.” I’ve always liked the song, which I place in the category of “fun British Christmas songs” along with “Good King Wencelas” and “I Saw Three Ships,” all of which are loads of fun and take creative freedom with their relation to the actual Christmas story. (Ships? In the desert? We’ll go with it…)  “Once in Royal David’s City” was written first as a poem by a woman named Cecil Alexander, who also wrote that wonderful little Episcopal children’s hymn “All Things Bright and Beautiful.”  Someone later set the poem to music, and the rest is history. Anyway, the verse that has really resonated with me this year is this one (and if you know the Sufjan Stevens version, it’s best to hum along with it in your head while reading, to get the full effect):

And our eyes at last shall see Him,

Through His own redeeming love,

For that Child so dear and gentle

Is our Lord in Heav’n above,

And He leads His children on

To the place where He is gone.

Maybe I get a little sappy during Advent, but I keep feeling rather embarrassingly overjoyed by these lines. The idea that we will see him through his own love is breathtaking, isn’t it? This love that breaks open the whole world, this love that brings the kind of light that darkness cannot overcome, through this love we will see him, and I think we could extend that to say we’ll see everything else through it, too. Love does that. Unfailing, unending love helps us see, and it helps us see through.

The last two lines, I know, can be read in a way that sounds a bit dualistic, very earth-versus-heaven, very float-us-up-with-you-Jesus. But to me, it sounds like Moltmann. It sounds not like a separatist idea, but the idea that this love not only gives us eyes to see all good things, but also is going ahead of us and preparing a way in which we can follow. This child leads us on toward the future of God, where he has gone before us and is even now going ahead of us, opening up space after space that we might come along.

For me, one of the hallmark characteristics of emerging theology and ecclesiology is our belief in the idea that the future is something we ought to anticipate, and something we are invited and called to shape. This Advent, as we celebrate the Light coming into the world, we hold onto that present-and-future-hope from the child king that our hope is filled with redeeming love.