Happy Buy Nothing Day!

***From the '06 archives, seemed appropriate***

In order to thoroughly depress myself, I've been reading a lot of social critics lately (everything from the more humorous stuff by David Brooks to the more serious Juliet Schor and Paul Stiles).In one such book I ran across the movement started by the good people over at Ad Busters called Buy Nothing Day. The goal is to convince people to set aside their materialism for one full day (the most popular shopping day of the year, incidently: the day after Thanksgiving). An intriguing proposition indeed....

But then it dawned on me that, as a Presbyterian, I don't just have one day a year to make such a statement to this consumer-driven culture, but I can do it every week.

The Lord's Day has been described as a chance for believers -- who are unashamed citizens of the kingdom of culture six days a week -- to plant a flag in Times Square each Sunday in order to protest the rank consumerism of this age by simply saying "No! Not today...."

After all, it's hard enough as it is for Christians to stand out and be different from the culture around them. But once we surrender the Lord's Day to "the tyranny of the clock and the gods who amuse us," it's almost impossible.

Cultic Worship, Cultural Withdrawal, and the Doctrine of the Two Kingdoms

The history of American Presbyterianism is largely a history of Sabbatarianism. "If you would destroy the Christian religion," Voltaire is quoted as saying, "you must first detsroy the Christian Sabbath."

The various attempts to protect and preserve the Lord's Day—from the forming of The General Union for the Promoting the Observance of the Christian Sabbath in 1828 to the institution of "blue laws"—all serve to reinforce the sentiments of the 1814 petition from the Presbyterian General Assembly to Congress urging Sabbath observance based upon the claim that it "contributes to increase the amount of productive labour, to promote science, civilization, peace, social order, and correct morality." In the minds of American Presbyterians, as goes the Sabbath, so goes the nation.

Now for something completely different....

For nineteenth-century postmillennialists, a rationale for Sabbath observance that focused upon its benefit to America's health and vitality makes good sense. But what about those of us whose understanding of the Church's mission does not include cultural transformation? If going to church and eating home-cooked meals on Sunday is not connected to winning the War on Terror, then why bother?

As I've been arguing, one's eschatology informs all of his Christian life. In keeping with this, why must an amillennialist need to see corporate worship as a means to furthering the American Dream? Why can't our cultic worship and cultural withdrawal on the first day of every week serve to subvert, rather than supplement, the grand visions of the rulers of this age?

If the Church seeks to be truly different from the world, then perhaps observing the Lord's Day is the way to do it. As Michael Horton has written, "This sort of observance would proclaim to the world that we are not slaves in Egypt, for we refuse to surrender this day to the tyranny of the clock and to the gods who amuse us."

To those who seek to commandeer the Lord's Day for the purposes of the kingdom of man (even if they are good), we answer that the Sabbath is not for sale.

Here a Sacerdotalist, There a Sacerdotalist... Everywhere a Sacerdotalist

We have seen that evangelical and Reformed believers offer very different answers to the question "How does one 'get religion'?" The next question we will ask to determine the nature of the relationship between these two branches of Protestantism is, "What does the Christian faith look like once it is acquired?"

Again, not surprisingly, the answers differ. While the evangelical may dismiss "sacramental faith" (whether in its Reformed, Lutheran, Anglican, or Roman Catholic versions) as too institutional, "churchy," or sacerdotal, the fact is that his faith relies on sacraments a-plenty, just not necessarily the ones Jesus came up with.

For example, practices such as daily quiet times, altar calls, listening to Contemporary Christian Music, and attending "afterglows" are all considered important - yea vital - to growing in the Lord. In fact, even pastors themselves have become sacraments in some megachurch contexts. After all, the authority of the pastor's message often rests upon his witty personality, godly life, and dynamic speaking style (you know, the things that Paul deliberately did not employ, much to the disappointment of his Corinthian audience).

In stark contrast to this stands the faith as understood by confessional Reformed theology. To those of this persuasion, the Christian life follows a regular, Sabbatical pattern that centers upon the corporate worship of God by his gathered people on the first day of the week. Like their evangelical brothers and sisters they too place great emphasis upon sacraments, but only upon those instituted by the Lord himself. Baptism, then, initiates us into the household of faith, and that faith is nurtured and strengthened by means of the bread and cup of Communion.

I would even venture to suggest that the nature of confessional Reformed Christian living, particularly its dependance upon the ordinary ministry of the local church, when contrasted with the high-octane, subjective quest for spiritual experience so characteristic of evangelical pietism, is such that the former respresents what Luther called a "theology of the cross," while the latter betrays a "theology of glory."

Are dangers reserved solely for one or the other? Are these systems necessarily opposed? If so, does this mean that Reformed believers have no place for subjective piety?

The Sabbath: Not for Sale

As I've been trying to argue, the eschatological focus of the Church’s Sabbath observance bears witness to her identity as a foreign people, a peculiar polis, and a wandering tribe dispossessed "but for a moment."

For this reason, I would argue, the Church is never to see herself merely as culture’s errand-boy or a lackey of the State, existing to make life in this passing evil age a bit more comfortable. In their book Resident Aliens, Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon echo this sentiment well:

"The political task of Christians is to be the church rather than to transform the world…[to be] a new people, an alternative polis, a countercultural social structure.... The church does not exist to ask what needs doing to keep the world running smoothly and then to motivate our people to go do it.... The church has its own reason for being, hid within its own mandate and not found in the world. We are not chartered by the Emperor."

Contrary to transformationist-driven Sabbatarianism, which values the Sabbath as "an instrument to promote and preserve the social order," the two kingdoms paradigm sets forth a version of Sabbath observance that is more than a "socially-constructed coping device" designed to make us better, more productive citizens of Egypt.

The logic of our observance, therefore, is antithetical to that of old covenant Israel and modern day Kuyperianism. It is not the preservation of the nation or the recovery of some "Golden Age" of days gone by that gets us out of bed early on Sunday morning, but the desire to faithfully maintain the ethos of our eschatological counterculture. In so doing we do not affirm the world but condemn it, employing God’s divinely-ordained tool to subvert the culture and its "idols of leisure and consumption."

The complaints and fears of many evangelicals notwithstanding, our post-Constantinian context has freed the Church from the task of legitimizing the State, thereby enabling us to proclaim that the Sabbath is not for sale.

Shall the Transformationists Win?

If keeping the Sabbath for the express purpose of maintaining the strength of America's social, political, and spiritual fabric is misdirected, then why bother? Shall the transformationists win?

I don't think Two Kingdoms advocates need to throw in the towel just yet. A semi-realized eschatology and the resulting two kingdoms framework together serve to provide a context for Sabbath observance that makes sense.

Historian John Muether writes, "[As a] dissident band of resident aliens… with the corporate identity of a disenfranchised and counter-cultural character," the new covenant church desperately needs the Sabbath in order to retain her peculiarity and distinctiveness from the world. Being a religious minority, God’s pilgrim people need to somehow maintain their "'fortress' or 'ghetto' mentalities that insulate them from the contamination of competing and more powerful (i.e. more socially plausible) worldviews." He continues:

"This is precisely what the Sabbath does [for God’s covenant people]: it enables them to live out their convictions in the context of fellow believers, providing the social support for their 'otherworldly,' or heavenly, citizenship. Put another way, a counter-cultural identity and the practice of the Sabbath become mutually reinforcing."

The corporate assembling of God’s people for worship on the Lord’s day, together with their refusal on this day to participate in the culture they affirm Monday through Saturday, is their way of testifying to the culture that they do not march to the beat of the world’s drum or organize their lives around the world’s notion of "the weekend." This sort of observance, writes Michael Horton,

"... would be a witness to the world that we are not slaves in Egypt, in bondage to the priorities of a greedy culture of marketing and entertainment…. As we refuse to surrender this day to the tyranny of the clock and the gods who amuse us, we enjoy a foretaste of heaven and also proclaim to the world that God is our refuge."

Thoughts?

Sabbatarianism Misdirected?

The religious history of this country is in many ways a history of Sabbath-observance. "If you would destroy the Christian religion," Voltaire is alleged to have said, "you must first destroy the Christian Sabbath." As goes the Sabbath, we have been continually reminded, so goes the Christian Church.

What is interesting to note, however, is that it is almost exclusively from a transformationist perspective that the ongoing validity of the fourth commandment has been insisted upon. In other words, if we desire to (re)claim the nation and her pursuits for Christ and ensure that Yahweh's healing hand will be ever upon these majestic purple mountains and amber waves of grain, we'd better get our butts to church.

"Sabbatarianism," OPC historian John Muether has argued, "was a crucial part of the agenda of nineteenth-century American evangelical social reform." This reason lay behind the institution of "blue laws," the forming of The General Union for Promoting the Observance of the Christian Sabbath in 1828, and the 1814 petition from the Presbyterian General Assembly to Congress that urged Sabbath observance based upon the claim that it "contributes to increase the amount of productive labour, to promote science, civilization, peace, social order, and correct morality." The conclusion is inescapable that "Sabbath breaking was punishable by the civil magistrate because it destroyed America’s moral and social fabric."

OK, show of hands: Do Sabbatarianism and transformationism represent a match made in heaven, or are they an unholy alliance of odd bedfellows? Why?

Working for the Weekend

Remember when you were in elementary school and you heard the teacher say something like, "Class, today is the first day of the Chinese New Year"? I remember thinking, "Umm, it's April.... Those Chinese sure are behind!"

The Chinese, I eventually realized, have a different culture than we do, and so their calendar was different.

And so it is with the Christian Church. What the world calls the last day of the weekend we call "the first day of the week" (Matthew 28:1). We structure our lives according to a Sabbatical pattern, as have God's people for thousands of years. The difference between Israel's Sabbath and the Church's, however, is that they worked all week in order to enter God's rest, while we participate in the rest of Jesus Christ before any work has been done by us at all.

Rather than seeing Sunday as "Saturday Part II," shouldn't we take it as an opportunity to protest the consumerism and Market-driven nature of the kingdom of man by refusing to participate in the frantic hustle and bustle that characterizes every other day of the week? After all, faithful attendance upon the means of grace week by week will do more to display to our children, friends, and neighbors the distinctive and countercultural nature of the Christian faith than a T-shirt that says "This Blood's For You" or a bumper sticker that reads "Got Jesus?"

And conversely, bumping into your neighbor at Costco on a Sunday afternoon subtly says to him, "Hey, we're not that different after all."

But then, our zeal to win the lost by "becoming all things to all men" may mean that the message that we're not that different is precisely what we want to communicate to the watching world.

Kuyperian Sabbatarianism?

There's no question that the Christian history of this country is a history of Sabbatarianism (albeit misdirected).

But here's my question for Reformed followers of the Dutch theologian and statesman Abraham Kuyper (read: the majority of Reformed people): If culture is in need of redemption and transformation, it would follow that culture, as such, is bad (why else would they want to change it?). And since culture is bad, there can be no legitimate cultural participation beyond the redemptive efforts of those Kuyperians who are trying to transform it. Following me so far? Christians aren't supposed to go to bad places for fun.

But if the aim of the Kuyperian Calvinist is to redeem the culture, then what good is the Sabbath for this goal? All it does is annually waste 52 otherwise perfectly acceptable days which could have been spent on cultural renewal.

For a two-kingdoms advocate, on the other hand, culture is neither demonic nor divine, but is simply the common grace arena in which the divine drama of redemption is played out. Culture is to be enjoyed because it is legitimate for its own sake, not for its redemptive potential.

So when the believer with a two-kingdoms paradigm for understanding cult and culture decides to withdraw from cultural activity on the Lord's Day, she is actually making a sacrifice.

But the Kuyperian can make no such boast, for her cult/culture paradigm demands cultural withdrawal not only on Sunday, but on Monday through Saturday too. If culture is so flawed that we Christians must transform it, then withdrawal from it on Sunday should either be assumed (since the call to shun evil is valid seven days a week), or it is an incredibly poor use of the transformationist's time.

In order for the refusal of cultural engagement one full day every week to actually be a sacrifice for the believer, therefore, that cultural engagement must be considered legitimate -- and even good -- the other six days of the week.

And it's the two-kingdoms model that allows us to make that sacrifice.

An Oasis in the Desert

In order to thoroughly depress myself, I've been reading a lot of social critics lately (everything from the more humorous stuff by David Brooks to the more serious Juliet Schor and Paul Stiles).

In one such book I ran across the movement started by the good people over at Ad Busters called Buy Nothing Day. The goal is to convince people to set aside their materialism for one full day (the most popular shopping day of the year, incidently: the day after Thanksgiving). An intriguing proposition indeed....

But then it dawned on me that, as a Presbyterian, I don't just have one day a year to make such a statement to this consumer-driven culture, but I can do it every week.

The Lord's Day has been described as a chance for believers -- who are unashamed citizens of the kingdom of culture six days a week -- to plant a flag in Times Square each Sunday in order to protest the rank consumerism of this age by simply saying "No! Not today...."

After all, it's hard enough as it is for Christians to stand out and be different from the culture around them. But once we surrender the Lord's Day to "the tyranny of the clock and the gods who amuse us," it's almost impossible.

Christian Folklore

I've been thinking about the term "folklore" recently. Etymologically, it comes from the word folk, meaning "people," and lore, meaning "story."

Folklore, therefore, means "the people's story."

Add to this the fact that postmodernity appreciates narrative discourse more than its modern parents did (they liked science), and the concept becomes rather interesting.

I think postmodernism is on to something, at least on this point.

After all, isn't the Christian faith a story, a saga, a dramatic epic about a tree in Paradise from which a wayward people were banished, only to be restored again by their dying and rising God?

Isn't the majority of God's discourse throughout Scripture -- both directly and through his messengers -- simply a re-telling of this tale?

Isn't our job as believers to be constantly recounting our folklore, especially as we re-enact and renew God's gracious covenant each Lord's Day?

I propose, therefore, that we reclaim this word from the Dungeons and Dragons fantasy buffs and give it its proper place in our theology.

Who's with me?