“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?’ Then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers.’”[Matthew 7:21-23]
Sermon on the Mount, by Cosimo Rosselli, 1482
If, as we said at the beginning of this series of reflections, a good pilgrimage ought to be somewhat disturbing and uncomfortable inside, our brief visit to Rwanda was all that, and a great deal more besides. Where we find ourselves thoughtful in retrospect is around the perennially troubling question of discipleship in substance, away from a self-defeating display of mere forms or statistics. By “substance”, we mean Christian living – actions and lifestyles – proportionate to words by which people around us, especially people in the larger society who are not part of the faith community, can approvingly recognize as Christian in its truly good sense. By “forms”, we mean variously such repetitive words and actions that superficially refer to the Christian faith but are quite vacuous of depth or real substance in relation to who Jesus was, what he wanted to achieve, and how his followers are supposed to live their lives beyond a mere “yes” to baptism, ordination or consecration.
There is a particular reason why Rwanda is so context-perfect for this kind of reflection. Besides Rwanda, no other nation in the whole of Africa could claim boasting right as the most “Christian”, registering as it did no less than 94% of its citizenry embracing Christianity in the 2006 official statistics. It has rightly been the pride of the European Christian missionary “success” in the continent. That is, if numbers is the criterion. But once the horrendous details of the genocide have emerged, however, Rwanda’s “most Christian African nation” status came to be severely questioned and, with it, the question of “What difference does being a Christian make?” was again topical. That the European nations and the US which could have prevented this massive human tragedy were clearly duplicitous, blinded as they were by self-interest, has been abundantly documented. The movie “Ghosts of Rwanda” on Youtube is one convenient resource in this regard. But, on our trip, what became the most difficult to process and the most troubling, is the fact that this overwhelmingly Christian country is also the site of one of the most atrocious genocides the world has ever known. As Christians went mad with violence, neighbours hacked neighbours, priests poisoned fellow priests in the chalice, pastors orchestrated mass extermination of parishioners in the very churches of which they were pastors and, generally, where the ordained officers of the Christian churches were not directly complicit in mass killing, they were also inactive, negligent, and impotent in protecting the innocents. To be sure, there were few, but precious few, heroes who risked their own lives, and the lives of their loved ones, to shield, protect and, proactively as Christ would and Christians should, enter into compassionate solidarity and co-humanity with the victims by interrupting the mad violence. The world is forever in the debt of those heroes who, despite imminent threats to their own lives, would keep the light of Christ shining on the face of the earth. In a powerful way, they were the ones who helped us make earthly sense of the Johannine claim: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” [John 1:5]. But, what did the rest of this “most Christian nation in Africa” do for their hunted-for-annihilation “brothers and sisters” during this season of mad killing and massive crime against humanity? Here is where Fr Emmanuel Katongole’s simple question in Mirror to the Church: Resurrection Faith after genocide in Rwanda piercingly strikes at the core of our Christian predicament:
- The question is not so much whether Jesus’ message has been proclaimed in all the earth. The real question is, what difference has the gospel made in people’s lives?
In other words, have we not “over-evangelised the world too lightly”? Have we offered anything but a “Christianity without consequence” to the world?
On such troubling questions, one area which demands scrutiny is discipleship-forming narratives. The late renowned Dominican theologian Edward Schillebeeckx once wrote that Christianity is first and foremost a story and a practice, rather than a doctrine and a law. It is the story of Jesus Christ which Christians accept as good news and a way of life lived in spiritual obedience to how he lived and what he taught. Clearly, we need to rethink by what narratives are we formed in our Christian discipleship. In this regard, three issues are at once germane for discussion.
First, the Question of “salvation”
Baptism without consequence dislocates Christians from Christ.
What is the effect and purpose of baptism? A quick survey amongst young and old Christians from different walks of life readily yields the answer that the common Christian understanding is a simple equation of baptism and soul-salvation-for-heaven. So thorough going is this “belief” that one wonders whether these Christians ever seriously thought about the obligations of discipleship. Do Christians seriously think about how clever we often are in subverting the wishes of Christ for his followers and empty his teaching of any relevance in life?
Matthew 7:21-23 in this regard is a tough text, one that delivers quite a shock to the system for people who consider themselves “saved” simply because they have been baptized. If we accept that only baptized Christians go round calling Jesus “Lord”, then Matthew 7:21-23 pummels us all with a rude awakening: even baptized, and calling Jesus “Lord”, we are liable to be told in our faces, “Be gone, you evil doers, I do not know you!”
For those who respond in faith to the great Sermon on the Mount [Matthew 5-7], Jesus’ words will lead to life, produce good fruit, and a sturdy foundation. For those who do not, their path will lead to “destruction,” and they will be “cut down and thrown into the fire.” His teaching is accompanied by four pairs of contrasted warnings: narrow and wide gate (7:13–14), healthy and diseased trees (7:15–20), obedience and lawlessness (7:21–23), wise and unwise builders (7:24–27). He leaves no ambiguity as to what we ought to do and how we ought to live in order to get “there” – our desired “heaven”.
As to why the Christian praxis is in such a sorry state today, Ghandi’s famous 1927 lecture to the YMCA in Ceylon remains a valid judgment upon us: “Much of what passes as Christianity is a negation of the Sermon on the Mount.” So Ghandi, who read and meditated on Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount daily, would write to a friend, referring to Jesus’ lament in the last verses of the great Sermon: “Isn’t it more important to do what Jesus wants us to do than to call him, ‘Lord, Lord’?” Gandhi, a non-Christian, had understood Jesus so much better than people who had been baptized in his name. From Gandhi, we learn to restore the central importance of the Sermon on the Mount and to reclaim the nonviolence of Jesus.
The point of it all is that, in that mad world of Rwandan genocide, we catch glimpses of our own madness. At its core, Rwanda is a mirror reflecting our ugliness and the ugliness of the church. Truly, Rwanda forces upon us a much-needed consciousness of our reality as identity-thieves, calling ourselves by Christ’s name, yet following not what he taught and imitating not what he did. Rwanda is such a powerful mirror to the Church because a genocide committed by Christians, with church-leaders being complicit, ought to be a massive reminder to Christians everywhere that Christianity as an organized religion is arguably the biggest identity-theft on earth for the last two millennia. “Practical atheism” is the identity we gave this phenomenon in an earlier post; it is fraudulent living.
Second, the role of the socialising narrative
Blind tribalism in lieu of moral principles is a sad thing indeed.
In Rwanda, even high-ranking churchmen could, in the midst of the genocidal madness, say that “the blood of family, clan and tribe still flows thicker than the water of baptism”. The reigning narrative undergirding the Rwandan genocide, or any genocide, is the narrative of blood and tribe. In every genocide, the privilege of the tribe stands above all other considerations, to be enforced at all costs, regardless.
What difference, then, does baptism make? None. Not as far as the Christian narrative is concerned, in which baptism is related as incorporation into the People of God and the Body of Christ. In Christ, there ought to be no distinction of man or woman, slave or free, Greek or Jew, Hutu or Tutsi.
But if socializing narratives are an issue, and if Rwanda is a disturbing mirror to the Church, intellectual honesty would urge that one asks difficult questions that severely implicate the present ecclesial reality. Why is the Catholic Church so fundamentally and so effectively a two-tiered Church? What kind of socializing narratives have been at play for so long? What structures, systems, theologies and laws, in a word, what mentality, must give and yield, for such real ecclesial change and transformation that the laity around the world are holding their breath anxiously waiting to see happening during the current papacy of Pope Francis?
A priest, whom we imagine would regularly claim to act in persona Christi, was in reality a devil-incarnate, who planned and executed the murder of a few thousand parishioners. If the official Church were more honest, it would, in the light of the atrocities the ordained are not only capable of committing, but have actually committed around the world, tone down and revise its excessive claims on the effects and efficacy of ordination in official theology. It would, in fact, have to face up to the truth that identities depend on the narratives that serve to legitimize and sustain them. It would then begin to tell a different narrative from the elevated “tribal” one it has been telling about the clergy in the larger Church, so that the identity of the priests amongst and within the ranks of the People of God may be more humanly, and thus more accurately and more honestly portrayed. Perhaps, then, evil attachments within the official, hierarchical Church may begin to be dismantled, allowing genuine freedom for ministry and discipleship to be promoted not just for the privilege-laden ordained “tribe” but, even more urgently, for the rest of the Body of Christ who have been socialised by harmful narratives into idolatrous Christian living. John the Baptist’s categorical imperative – “He must increase, but I must decrease” [John 3:30] – seems so distant from the reality in church life today.
Third, the question of identity
Blind tribalism is anything but Christian.
So Rwanda compels us to rethink identity and allegiance.
Christian identity, solidly anchored, is decisive of the adults’ outlook towards life. Identity and vocation are inseparable. It is an immensely useful entry point for Christian reflection in any context to key into the veritable catechetical triptych sketched by the Evangelist Mark in 1:9-15 of his gospel. Over a very concise presentation in just seven short verses, Mark in his typically urgent and almost impatient fashion gives Christians an identity-based discipleship-forming narrative. Here is the narrative that ought to properly shape our outlook in life, challenge our vision and actions in Christian living, and guide our steps in Christian ministry common to all who name themselves after Jesus the Christ. Take a look at the triptych.
Piero della Francesco, Battesimo di Cristo, 1450.
1st panel: Baptism – identity-yielding, grounded in love, corresponds to gift of the Holy Spirit and call to life-mission.
- Identity is inevitably linked to vocation. Christians who are conscious of their identity, know that they are loved and blessed and have a mission. In turn, they will go out to love and bless, treasuring their freedom and humanity and practicing co-humanity and solidarity. They will live in peace and non-violence, insistent on human dignity and equality, and social justice for all. They will know their calling to live a beautiful and noble life.
2nd panel: Temptations – confronting the devil, making serious spiritual preparation, corresponds to intention-purification for ministry.
- Christians are always called to purify their intentions. We must stop justifying our elevated claims for status and privileges, especially when we are put into positions in which we know that we are supposed to serve and not be served, and that we are not to lord it over others. It is only when we truly are inspired by the Spirit that we can resist the temptations to subvert Jesus’ call to us all to enter into humble service, to be servants in His name.
3rd panel: Kingdom–Proclamation – unflinching Kingdom-orientation, corresponds to preaching and living Kingdom-values.
- It is only after we have overcome the temptations in us – our little “devils” – that we can embark upon kingdom-preaching and kingdom-living. Orientating ourselves towards works of kingdom-advancement as Jesus did all the way to the cross, Christians embrace intentional living, grounding their conscious choices on kingdom-values, away from a sectarian or “tribal”-negation of God’s will.
Copyright © Dr. Jeffrey & Angie Goh, February 2014. All rights reserved.
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