Continuing our reflections on transgression, this service seeks to expose the way that religion can so often be used as a type of alchemy that seeks to use faith as a raw material from which to derive spiritual, emotional and even material wealth. We can see this inauthentic approach to faith at work when we look at some popular forms of prosperity teaching, or the fact that much evangelism is founded on the promise of heaven or the fear of hell rather than the love of Christ. Yet such self-interested faith is not always so blatant and often exists in more subtle forms.
While the modern emphasis upon the correct interpretation of doctrine is placed into serious question by those involved in the emerging conversation (as discussed in the previous section), this insight opens up a way of understanding the teaching of Christ as a way of showing us how to engage in the fluid project of interpreting correctly – that is, in a way that reads our tradition with an eye towards one’s neighbour, offering love, liberation and healing to the other. Once we admit how the complexity of life, our profoundly limited horizon and the ineffable nature of God make it impossible to reduce the scriptures down to a single set of ethical principles, we are able to follow the trajectory of Jesus, who taught us to interpret our tradition in ways that bear witness to love.
In order to delve into these ideas, this service was designed as a parody of self-centred Christianity in which we believe primarily as a psychological crutch to escape reality, or in order to explain reality, at the expense of transforming reality. By beginning with a subtle parody which becomes more blatant as the service progresses, we created an environment in which people would initially countersign the content of the evening before beginning to see the consequences of that endorsement.
From the very beginning this service has a distinctly different feel from its predecessors. The room is well lit and the music is upbeat. On the stage there is a table with a bottle of champagne and a chocolate cake. Beside this table there is an armchair with a lamp beside it. A welldressed man is sitting in the armchair reading the Bible. Once everyone has arrived, someone stands at the front of the stage and begins to speak:
I would like to begin this month by reflecting on three experiences. First, I want to mention a conversion I had a few days ago. Second, I want to talk about a book I read a few months ago. Third, I will recall a sermon I heard a few years ago.
Starting with the most recent event, a few days ago I found myself in conversation with a guy who had such a deep faith that he absolutely, totally and without equivocation believed in God. He was the perfect example of someone who suffered no doubt, uncertainty or anxiety in the face of the world. During this conversation I felt personally strengthened in my own faith and thought to myself, ‘Thank you, God, that religion offers us certainty and security in a world full of ambiguity, offering us answers where there are so many questions, meaning when everything can seem so meaningless, and purpose to help us cope with our otherwise vacuous lives.’ I thanked God that my faith helped me cope with the dark shadows of life, comforting me that a good God is in control rather than indifferent cosmic forces.
Then there was the book I read by an author who argued that the core principle and outworking of faith was one of happiness and pleasure. And I thought to myself, ‘Thank you, God, that the heart of the gospel is good news, that it lightens our heavy loads, offering a community who care for us and a belief system that fulfils us.’ And I thanked God in my heart that I could love myself because I was loved.
Then there was the sermon that I heard on the subject of prayer. The speaker, a well-known Christian, was reassuring us that at the core of prayer there are three little words: ‘Please help me.’ And I thought to myself, ‘Thank you, God, that this sermon has shown me the truth that when we are burdened and in trouble, you are at hand to help; that if we ask for a fish you will not give us a stone; that if we ask for bread you will not deliver a scorpion; that you long to bless your children and give in over-abundance; that if we have financial needs, family problems or issues at work, you will lavish upon us more than we could have imagined.’
After this the person sitting in the armchair closes his Bible and puts it down. He then turns on the lamp and begins to share his testimony. This takes place in three distinct parts with some music and poetry between each section. The first section sounds much like the beginning of any typical testimony, detailing a difficult past and the search for answers. During the first pause he gets up, cuts a piece of chocolate cake from the altar and sits back down.
The second section of his testimony builds upon the first by explaining how coming to faith helped him find new hope and a spiritual home. During the second pause he stands up, opens the champagne bottle, pours himself a glassful and takes it back to his seat.
By the third section his words are more extreme. He speaks of the happiness and security he now feels in his faith. He also describes how he gives a little money to the poor, prays at church, attends Bible studies and socializes with his Christian peers. During this time he also shares about the material and spiritual blessings that he has received from God. Having said this, he takes his cake and stuffs it greedily into his mouth, then swallows it with the aid of his champagne. He then claims that this champagne and chocolate cake is the true body and blood of Christ.
Everyone is then actively encouraged to come up to eat the chocolate cake and drink the champagne as Communion. At this point the atmosphere turns very dark. Even though people are being actively encouraged to come up to the altar, nobody moves. After a prolonged and difficult pause the following parable is read, as if from the Bible:
Jesus withdrew privately by boat to a solitary place, but the crowds continued to follow him. Evening was now approaching and the crowds, many of whom had travelled a great distance, were growing hungry.
Seeing this, Jesus sent his disciples out to gather food, but all they could find were five loaves of bread and two fishes. Then Jesus asked that they go out again and gather up the provisions which the crowds had brought to sustain them in their travels. Once this was accomplished there stood before Jesus a mountain of fish and bread. He then directed the people to sit down on the grass.
Standing before the food and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks to God and broke the bread. Then he passed the food around his disciples and they ate like kings in full view of the starving people. But what was truly amazing, what was miraculous about this event, was that when they had finished the massive banquet there were not even enough crumbs to fill a starving hand.
In closing the following story is told:
I remember seeing a sticker that said, ‘If Christianity was illegal, would there be enough evidence to convict you?’ That evening I had a dream that it was true and that I was summoned before a judge.
The prosecution has quite a case against me. They begin by offering the judge dozens of photographs which show me attending church meetings, speaking at religious events and participating in various prayer and worship services. Next they offer up as evidence some of the religious books that I have been reading, followed by some of my religious CDs and trinkets. After this they step up the pace and reveal to the court many of the poems, pieces of prose and journal entries that I have written about faith. Then, in closing, the prosecution twist the bloody knife that they have skilfully used by offering my Bible to the judge. This is a well-worn book with scribbles, notes, drawings and underlining throughout – evidence, if it were needed, that I have read and re-read this sacred book.
Throughout the court case I have been sitting in fear and trembling, saturated by sweat. I know deep in my heart that, with the evidence against me, imprisonment or even death is a strong possibility. At various times throughout the proceedings I have been on the verge of standing up and denying Christ. But while this idea haunts my mind, I resist the temptation and remain focused.
Once the prosecution has finished presenting their case, the judge proceeds to ask if I have anything to add, but I remain silent and resolute, terrified that if I open my mouth, I might be weak enough to deny the charges made against me. I am then led away while the judge ponders my case.
After about an hour I am summoned back to the court-room in order to hear the verdict and receive word of my punishment. The judge enters the room, stands before me, looks deep into my eyes and states, ‘Of the charges that have been brought forward I find the accused not guilty.’
‘Not guilty.’ My heart freezes. Then, in a split second, my fear and terror are transformed into confusion and rage. Despite myself, I stand before the judge and demand that he tell me why I am innocent of the charges, in light of all the evidence.
‘What evidence?’ he replies in shock.
I start by pointing out the various poems and journal entries I have written, but he simply replies that they only show that I have a way with words.
I then refer to the services I have spoken at, the worship meetings I have participated in and the conferences I have attended.
But again he simply smiles and tells me that it is only evidence that I am a public speaker and a bit of an actor who pretends to be what he is not – nothing more. And then he says that such foolishness would never be enough to convict me.
The dream ends as he looks me in the eye and says, as if informing me of a great, long-forgotten secret: ‘The court is indifferent towards your Bible reading and church attendance; it has no concern for worship with words and a pen. Continue to develop your theology, and use it to paint pictures of love. We have no interest in such church-going artists who spend their time creating images of a better world. We exist for those who would lay down that brush, and their life, in a Christlike endeavour to create such a world.’
At the end of the service the remainder of the champagne and chocolate cake is handed round and people are encouraged to talk about how they felt during the service.