The year was 586 B.C. Judah was about to go down for the third and last time. Nebuchadnezzar's two previous invasions appeared to have made no impressions whatever on God's people of the gravity of the situation they faced. They stuck fast to their belief that God's Davidic covenant promises guaranteed His intervening to save His people from ultimate destruction.
The prophet Jeremiah saw it differently. While the people looked at the Davidic promises and saw hope, Jeremiah looked at the same promises and saw destruction! Selective perception made the difference. People tend to accept as reality only those things that fit their expectations.
The people refused to look at their sins. They focused only on the bare promises and neglected to consider the conditions for their fulfillment. The resultant theology was faulty.
Realizing where such a deceptive theological outlook would lead, Jeremiah began to sing a requiem, a dirge, the nation's funeral chant. He sang that what had happened to Shiloh, the site of the Israelite sanctuary destroyed by the Philistines, what had happened to Israel, taken into captivity in the year A.D. 722, would happen to Judah. Destruction would come to Judah! The time for repentance was over—judgment day had come.
"No!" the people responded. "No matter what happens, Jerusalem will be safe and protected. It is God's city. His Temple is here; His seat is here. How could God allow heathens to come and demolish His own city? In this place is the Temple of the Lord, the Temple of the Lord, the Temple of the Lord!"
Jeremiah came back with "This catch word of yours is a lie. Your theology is deceptive!"
Central to the prophet Jeremiah's message was his warning against the deceptive theology of institutionalism.
Jeremiah's message1
Jeremiah's protest did not involve some mini-institution. Rather, he spoke of the Temple of the Lord, the greatest institution in the life of the covenant people. No wonder they almost had him killed!
But Jeremiah did not direct his attack at the Temple of the Lord itself. Instead, he directed it at the deceptive theology surrounding that sacred institution.
Without the many social institutions that impact upon and govern our lives from the moment of birth, we couldn't have collective group life. Institutions exist to satisfy human needs. But when they turn inward and focus primarily or exclusively on their own survival or quest for power, the result is the wreckage of human lives whose needs have gone unmet.
Institutions have their own peculiar histories. A small group of people with a socially insignificant beginning can develop into a complex network of institutions whose number is legion. People view some institutions as sacred, while they are willing to see others change. Some institutions are more useful to the community than others.
We must be aware of the dangers inherent in all institutions, for though once flexible, they tend to become rigid and impersonal. And once established, they die hard. Only very rarely do they deny themselves. For this reason we must continually place even our most esteemed and cherished structures under the scrutiny of Scripture, the gospel, and the purpose for which they were established.
The real danger institutions pose, however, is found not in the institutions themselves but in the theology that develops around them. Jeremiah summarized the pith of this deceptive theology as, "This is the Temple of the Lord—therefore we are safe!"
This theology is manifested in various ways:
"This is what the General Conference has declared!"
"This is what the Annual Council has voted!"
"This is what the conference committee has decided!"
"This is what the church board has agreed on!"
"This is what the seminary faculty believe!"
"This is what the administrative board has decided to do!"
"This is what the pastor preaches!"
"This is God's true church—therefore we are safe!"
"No!" cries Jeremiah the protestant. "Beware of these deceptive words! Institutions can become deceptive—even the Temple of God. Mend your ways and your doings! Live the life of the covenant people! Emancipate yourselves from the illusion of a salvation secured by an institutional religious life!"
What a protest! What a challenge Jeremiah gave to God's people! But it fell on deaf ears. The people refused the prophet's message, so the inevitable came—along with the city, the Temple was destroyed, never to be the same again.
Jesus and Jeremiah
Some 600 years later history repeated itself, with the same devastating results. The Carpenter of Nazareth laid down the hammer of His earthly father and took up the hammer of His heavenly Father to reconstruct the institutional life of His people, the nation of Israel.
Jesus' ministry paralleled Jeremiah's so closely that when Jesus asked His disciples, "Who do people think that I am?" they replied, "They think You are Jeremiah" (see Matt. 16:13,14).
Why? Because Jesus, like Jeremiah and all the other prophets, did not talk so much about being righteous as about doing justice. When Jesus, in cleansing the Temple, told the religious leaders that they had converted God's house into a "den of robbers," His words came from Jeremiah. Both Jesus and Jeremiah made known the truth that "no human institution, no matter how sacred it is held to be, can be allowed to serve as a 'cover-up' or justification for injustices." 2
Jeremiah's words just as surely challenge the church today. All of our institutions need to be placed under the judgment of Jeremiah 7:3-8: "Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, Amend your ways and your doings, and I will let you dwell in this place. Do not trust in these deceptive words: This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord.' For if you truly amend your ways and your doings, if you truly execute justice one with another, if you do not oppress the alien, the father less or the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not go after other gods to your own hurt, then I will let you dwell in this place, in the land that I gave of old to your fathers forever. Behold, you trust in deceptive words to no avail" (RSV).
Kosuke Koyama declares: "On this basis, Christians can and must be critical about institutions related to the church. We are not called to serve institutions as our end. That would be idolatry. Institutions are only humble means by which we may participate in God's work in history." 3 We are called to serve God and humanity by the proclamation and practice of a gospel of liberation from all forms of oppression.
The institutions of the church, where the outworking of the gospel in justice and liberation should be manifested in the most creative ways, are sometimes the very embodiment of injustice. This happens when people are lulled into a false sense of security based on the deceptive theology: "This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord—therefore we are safe!" At such times the words of judgment from Jeremiah and Jesus must be allowed to cleanse God's house as they did the Temple of the Lord in their day.
As pastors, upon whom the mantle of the Old Testament prophets has fallen, we must carry on not only a priestly ministry of intercession in behalf of individual people, but also carry on a prophetic ministry of denunciation and annunciation regarding institutions and their actions. Denunciation involves denouncing a dehumanizing situation in institutions, while annunciation involves the announcing of a more human structure reflective of the gospel. 4
Where are the Jeremiahs?
Why are there so few Jeremiahs today? There are several reasons.
One reason is economics. Let's face it, when it comes to a choice between standing up for principle and putting food on the table, most people will compromise and choose the latter. This is economic expediency.
A second reason is politics. The desire to avoid being labeled a radical and losing out politically in the church will sometimes cause a person to compromise. Everyone knows what happens once you are labeled—no one will touch you! So it is more comfortable to go along with a group decision—even one that may be wrong—than to stand alone for truth.
But how can people live with the decision not to stand for principle? People do it by rationalizing, by convincing themselves that what they did was not all that bad. That, in fact, it was the right thing to do because of the economic and political circumstances. They have turned the tables and believe themselves to be on the side of right and justice, when all along they have compromised.
Such is the process whereby pharisaism develops within the church. And the way of pharisaism is the way of indifference—personal devotion to God divorced from genuine concern for people.
A third reason that there are so few Jeremiahs today is a narrow definition of sin. This is the failure to see sin as did Jesus, Jeremiah, and all the prophets—not only as personal wrongdoing, but also as a social infraction of God's holy law. Euro-American theology has been affected by the Western preoccupation with the individual (which is not totally wrong). It has given rise to a privatized spirituality that sees religion exclusively in the personal dimension at the expense of the social (which is wrong). As Rosemary Radford Ruether so aptly states it: "The apostasy of Christianity lies in its privatization and spiritualization. Privatization means one can be converted to God without being converted to each other. Spiritualization means one can declare that the Christ-nature is realized inwardly without having to deal with the contradictions of an unregenerate world." 5
Failure to see sin in its social dimension leads many good people to think human injustice is not their area of responsibility. "Our job is to save souls and not to become involved in political power struggles," they declare. But social sin, as opposed to personal sin, is transgenerational—it "continues across generations. It is historically inherited. Individuals are socialized into roles of domination and oppression and taught that these are normal and right. Discovery that the social system of which you are a part is engaged in chronic duplicity and contradiction, then, comes as a shock. . . . One has to reevaluate not only the social system, but one's own life in it; not only what you have actually 'done,' but even more what you have accept from it." 6
A fourth reason there are so few Jeremiahs is because of theological reductionism—"the exclusive use of biblical and doctrinal language in the interpretation of the church." 7 James M. Gustafson declares: "Many make the explicit or tacit assumption that the church is so absolutely unique in character that it can be understood only in its own private language." 8
The church is not only a divine institution—the body of Christ—but also a human institution with social, political, and economic dimensions. Yet when it comes to clarifying the nature of the church, we define it only from a biblical perspective. Thus, our understanding of the church is restricted to the theological dimension. Yet all the while the church, functioning as a social institution and within history, continues to affect people's lives politically, economically, and socially. This restricted perspective masks the political, economic, and social sins taking place within the church.
The church, then, develops a unique message, but it has hardly any understanding of the diverse people to whom the message is to be given. It has even less understanding of the political, economic, and social contexts in which people find themselves. All of this can result in the likelihood that no one will listen to what the church has to say. Therefore, what we thought was "present truth" may actually become past truth, with no present relevance.
As pastors, we must realize that the church is not an abstract entity operating in a social vacuum. It is a social institution involved in history. And as such, it must take into consideration the concrete situation in which it exists.9 Therefore, the pressing concerns of our age—apartheid, nuclear annihilation, racism, sexism, abortion, poverty, and hunger, just to name some—must be on the agenda of a world church concerned with developing a global strategy of outreach.
On being world citizens
This means that we must develop a world citizen mind-set. Let me explain. As a people, we live in a society that has developed from an agrarian to an industrial and now to an information society. We have moved from a nationalism concerned with uniformity to an internationalism concerned with diversity. The Seventh-day Adventist Church is an international religious organization, with an institutional presence in more than 180 countries. It is perhaps the most ethnically diverse denomination in the world today. Yet in this age of cultural diversity and pluralism, the church is still pushing the outmoded industrial society's assembly-line model of uniformity as a methodology of mission. A new age demands new methods! To stay relevant, we must not only respond to change; we must anticipate, it!
America suffers from a "political myopia"—a failure to see the needs of the broader world society and to realize how our politics affect the rest of the world. We tend to focus on American wants and needs and how American interests can be safeguarded.
In the push for a strong North American Division, the same thing may be happening within the Adventist Church. I am not opposed to our having a separate organizational structure for North America. What scares me is that this move may be intended to protect power interests in North America. Because there are now more Adventists in the Third World—the non-White world—than in North America, the next leaders of our church will probably come from the Third World. And with a shift in leader ship comes a shift in power. My concern, then, is that strengthening the North American Division may be a means to stave off those power shifts.
What I am saying here is that what we see happening in the American political scene, we are also seeing in the Adventist political scenario. But we need to realize that "God so loved the world, that he gave ..." Above all peoples, Adventists must become world citizens—a people who rise above partisan politics to be concerned with the needs of all of God's children—because we are, first of all, Christians. Such an orientation would transcend our partisan, national politicking and maintain a healthy balance between the realms of church and society.
As pastors, we need to inspire our church members to become world citizens. This means that we must learn to think about how our decisions and interests impact the rest of the world, both our denominational family and those not of our church. And it means that we must place the needs of a world society and church family above our own interests.
Now, please don't get me wrong. I don't mean by this that we should not have pride in our country. We can never forget our nationality and sense of peoplehood. But we must allow Christ to be our example in politics, in ethical decision-making, and in global mission strategies. And He loved the world so much that He gave, not took.
On what do you base your theology?
Jeremiah's message of present truth was as relevant to Judah as the next day's headlines that spoke of the invasion from the north.
Why?
Because his message was based not on the deceptive theology of "this is the Temple of the Lord—therefore we are safe!" but rather on the correct theology: "the Lord of the Temple—therefore we shall obey!"
Institutions must not judge truth. Ultimately, truth must judge institutions.
The year was 1845, Abraham Lincoln was before Congress, speaking against war with Mexico. To him it was apparent that such an action would merely be an excuse for the slaveholding states of the south to gain more territory and thus ex tend slavery.
James Russell Lowell (1819-1891), poet, professor of language at Harvard, and later ambassador to Spain and Great Britain, supported this protest by writing an eighteen-stanza poem entitled "The Present Crisis." Describing the controversy over slavery, the opening stanza reads,
"When a deed is done for freedom,
through the broad earth's aching breast
Runs a thrill of joy prophetic,
trembling on from east to west,
And the slave where'er he cowers,
feels the soul within him climb
To the awful verge of manhood,
as the energy sublime
Of a century bursts full-blossomed
on the thorny stem of time.
A shortened version of this poem became the text of a well-known hymn appealing to the national conscience: "Once to Every Man and Nation." The emphasis of the hymn was on truth—the word appears in every stanza. 10
James Russell Lowell's concern, as that of Jeremiah and Jesus, was to stand for truth, even if that should place him in the minority.
What do you stand for? On what do you base your theology?
1 Much of this section is taken from Kosuke
Koyama, Waterbuffalo Theology (Maryknoll, N.Y.:
Orbis Books, 1974), pp. 187-190.
2 Virgilio Elizondo, Galilean Journey: The
Mexican-American Promise (Maryknoll, N.Y.:
Orbis Books, 1984), p. 74.
3 Koyama, p. 189.
4 Paulo Freire, "Conscientisation," Cross Currents,
Spring 1974.
5 Rosemary Radford Ruether, "Rich Nations/
Poor Nations: Towards a Just World Order in the
Era of Neo-Colonialism," in Francis A. Figo, ed.,
Christian Spirituality in the United States: Independence
and Interdependence, Proceedings of the Theology
Institute of Villanova University (Villanova,
Pa.: Villanova University Press, 1978), pp. 82, 83.
6 Rosemary Radford Ruether, "Social Sin,"
Commonwealth, Jan. 30, 1981, p. 46.
7 James M. Gustafson, Treasure in Earthen Vessels:
The Church as a Human Community (New
York: Harper & Row, 1961), p. 100.
8 Ibid.
9 Paulo Freire, "Education, Liberation, and the
Church," Risk 9, No. 3 (1973): 34.
10 Edward E. White, Singing With Understanding
(Warburton, Australia: Signs Pub. Co.), pp. 352,
353.
