Like Salt (Part VII): Yes…But no…

I’m a Christian.  That is my fundamental identity.

Therefore I can’t really be anything else, at least not to the same depth of conviction, belonging, and identity.  If I confess that Jesus is Lord, I must live with the implications of that confession.  There can be no rivals of any kind.  Jesus Christ is, and must remain, supreme.  And so must my devotion to his kingdom.

The Christian movement provides good illustrations.

Perpetua suffered martyrdom in the city of Carthage around the year 200.  Her circumstances were unusual.  She was still a catechumen.  She was young, too—in her early twenties—and a new mother.  And she was from a noble, pagan family.

On several occasions her pagan father visited her in prison and begged her to forsake her Christian identity and return to her former identity as a loyal Roman.  Pointing to a vase, she asked her father, “What is that sitting on the table?”  Her father replied, “A vase.”  Perpetua continued, “Can it be known by any other name?”  To which her father responded, “No, it is a vase.”  Perpetua then said, “Neither can I be known by any other name.  I am a Christian.”

There aren’t—and can never be—modifiers to this identity.  “Christian” is enough, though we use modifiers all the time, whether theological, ethnic, racial, national, political, and the like.  If we are members of the dominant culture, as I am, we hardly know that we are doing it.  We suffer from a huge and often destructive blindspot.  It undermines the singular identity of being Christian, and it undermines the Lordship of Jesus.

Christians can be known by no other name.

But here’s the catch and complication: we still live in society.  We vote in elections, or choose not to.  We support—and likewise oppose—candidates, platforms, policies, and parties.  We shop at stores, invest money in the stock market or struggle just to get by, and pay taxes.  We work in professions and join clubs and enjoy recreation, or struggle with chronic unemployment.  We remain single, we marry, we divorce.  We attend a particular church—Pentecostal or Catholic or Lutheran.  Or we scoff at the very idea of it because it is “full of hypocrits,” which is true enough.

How can we live as genuine Christians in this, or any other particular society?  How can we obey the commands of Jesus and live like salt, and do so RIGHT WHERE WE ARE?

I would suggest we live in a “Yes . . . but no . . .” way.

Take economics.  As Americans we live in a capitalist society.  Capitalism is a system in which money makes money, ownership of goods and services are largely private and markets mostly free, competition leads to creativity and excellence, and profit and social benefit are not mutually exclusive.  In short, we can make money and still serve the common good.

Capitalism has worked wonders, too.  It is incredibly inventive, and it produces a huge variety of goods and services, often at amazingly low costs.  It helps reduce poverty, provides a steady stream of new jobs, and elevates the social and economic status of many people.  It rewards industriousness, discipline, and hard work, and it reinforces the value of higher education.

Christians can say “Yes” to capitalism.

But capitalism is not an ideal system.  The “invisible hand” that Adam Smith mentioned turns out to practice sleight of hand, too, doing as much harm as good.  Capitalism’s drive for profit causes great damage to the environment, a consequence that goes unnoticed until it is too late.  It exacerbates the disparity between the rich and the poor; people with a lot of money make more, people with little money make even less, comparatively speaking.  It appeals to materialism and greed, producing and marketing goods that no one needs.

Christians will always add “but no . . .” to the “Yes . . .”

Is capitalism Christian?  Of course not.  No system—political or economic—can be.  Most systems have some degree of both good and bad in them.  How much good and how much bad depends upon other factors—like the presence and involvement of virtuous people, for example.

Which is where Christians play a role.  Christians always say “Yes . . . but no . . .”

Even early Christians did so.  They said “Yes . . .” to the Pax Romana, for example.  They took advantage of Rome’s common language, Rome’s vast, safe, and stable transportation network, and Rome’s urban culture.  And they said “but no . . .” to Rome’s violence, immorality, and paganism.

Likewise in the case of Christians living in a capitalist society.  “Yes” to opportunity, “but no” to unjust wages.  “Yes” to growth, “but no” to a polluted environment.  “Yes” to competion, “but no” to dishonesty, ruthlessness, and lack of charity.  “Yes” to productivity, “but no” to neglect or exploitation of the least of these.

Christians reinforce what is best about a system (like capitalism), and they mitigate what is worst. They don’t baptize any system as an ultimate good, nor damn it as an ultimate evil.  Instead, they work within it, subjecting it to the rule of the kingdom.  They live in a “Yes . . . but no . . .” way.  

It is what saltiness requires.