16 minute read
The Ministry in Babylon and Rome
The Ministry in Babylon and Rome
Roy A. Harrisville, III
The Exile
“Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (Jeremiah 29:5-7).
When the Israelites went into exile into Babylon in 587 BC, they doubted whether they could be the people of the one true God in the city of their conquerors who worshipped false idols. Babylon was as paganized a city as one could imagine. Temples to its gods and pagan carvings and bas-reliefs throughout the city declared in no uncertain terms that this was a city of common spirituality for that age. The Israelites were religious interlopers, idiosyncratic devotees to a singular God who seemed to the rest of the world morally rigid and spiritually confining. No doubt the children of the conquerors threw verbal invectives freely at their Jewish counterparts in the back alleys.
How was one to carry on with any proper devotion to the Lord in a place like that? What was a faithful person to do? Have kids - lots of them. Then they’ll have kids - lots of them. First things first: Multiply! Just like the first commandment in Genesis 1, they were to increase. They were not to fade away like the ten lost tribes after the first national disaster in 722 BC. Having children would not only be a sign of strength, but of hope for the future. It would mean that the depressed and dejected ones who had seen their loved ones butchered, their land ruined, and then watched it all fade into the distance behind them as they were dragged to a foreign city, could still have hope for the future. Their faith in this idiosyncratic God could still live in a hostile land. Not only could it live, it could also thrive, grow, increase, and multiply. That was the first thing.
Next, they were to seek the welfare of those who taunted them, spat on them, belittled them, and treated them like foreign scum. Because in serving the welfare of the conquering city, the Jews would find their own welfare. They would find that as they strove to better the neighborhood in which they lived, when they cared for their neighbors and their neighbors’ children, when they lived moral lives and became examples of healthy living to their neighbors, then their neighbors just might sit up and take notice and realize that far from bringing in a rabble of needy and sour losers, they had actually let in a powerful force for good that benefitted all.
In those 40 years of exile the synagogue system emerged, along with the Babylonian Talmud, and the realization that the God of their ancestors was not limited to the shores of the Mediterranean or the Jordan. The Jews were then allowed (by the conqueror of their conquerors) to go home. They had multiplied, they had preserved their religious heritage, and they had survived to carry on the word of a God who had manipulated history to keep them alive. They had sought the welfare of the foreign city and in doing so, found their own.
The Early Christians
“But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either. Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them” (Luke 6:27-31).1
When the early Christians first emerged in the Roman world, they were mostly the outcasts of society. Women, slaves, tradesmen, lower class folks who had little status in that status-conscious society flocked to a new faith that held out the promise of loving treatment and hope for all. At first, they were stoned to death, driven from their homes, laughed at and mocked much as their religious ancestors in Babylon must have been. They were hunted down, brought before the courts, and forced to sacrifice a pinch of incense to the genius of the emperor or suffer the consequences. Their own neighborhoods in which they had grown up and played with their childhood friends now became dark and foreboding places in which they had to sneak off in the night to assemble clandestinely at someone’s home to worship a God who had been executed by the state. In a Roman catacomb beneath the eternal city there was a piece of graffiti (now in a museum) depicting a Christian kneeling before a man with a donkey’s head who is being crucified. Below it the inscription read, “Alexander worships his god.”
It was not until the late second century and mid-third century during plagues that devastated the Roman world that the Romans began to witness the good that Christians did. The Christians saved babies that had been thrown on the garbage heaps, took them home and cared for them. When city dwellers fled the cities in batches to escape the plagues, the Christians stayed and ministered not only to their own but to their pagan neighbors. Yes, they died too. But they survived as well. They taught the Romans that charity does not extend merely to one’s family and locale, but could spread beyond the home to those one had never even seen. They refused to swap their wives with other men and led moral lives of decency and respect. To be sure, the Diocletian persecution at the beginning of the fourth century was a time of terror for the Church in which priests, Bibles, and churches were burned. But by that time the Christians had shown enough love and caring toward their neighbors that in a few short years afterward they would be declared a legitimate religious fellowship by the new emperor. They too had sought the welfare of the cities in which they lived.
Christians Today
Christians today have much in common with Christians of the first century since we also now live in hostile neighborhoods in which we grew up. A long time ago we could expect our neighbors to respect the Church, its pastors, bishops, teachers, leaders, and its moral expectations. Now when people look at a clergy collar they have visions of pedophilia in their heads, or worse, pure apathy. A few still honor the institution, but most are abandoning it for an individualized spirituality that has no substance, no form, and no meaning - only one’s convenience and pleasure. Babylon is in our backyards. How is one to minister in this context?
Should we rail against this increasingly paganized culture of ours? Should we raise our voices in protest and insist that all our neighbors follow our lead? Shall we look down our noses at these naïve fools who think that they can build a healthy society on romantic emotionalism? We could cave into the pressures of society and “go with the flow” to preserve our own skins. Perhaps we could add more colors to the liturgical calendar, buy fancier chasubles, and add a lot more candles. Those solutions appeal to some. They might even garner attention for a short time, but in the end, it is not liturgical formalism, religious bludgeoning, or cultural assimilation that will turn things around. The outward forms of religion are not our savior. Clothing does not make the minister. Arrogant insistence only breeds resistance and following the path of least resistance is a wide road that leads to death.
Thousands of churches are closing their doors each year in this country. The younger generations are abandoning the Christian faith in droves. The COVID-19 pandemic was a disaster for any religious fellowship that met in person once a week. The sexual revolution, which is merely the re-emergence of ancient pagan sexuality, has caused the Church enormous agony and divided once healthy congregations and denominations. Thousands upon thousands who once attended worship services have simply vanished into thin air. Where once the pews were filled with young faces, now only grey hairs can be seen from the balcony. Satan worshipping clubs are emerging now in our schools. Followers of witchcraft and nature worship are growing… Christians are going into exile in their own land.
We’ve been here before. This is nothing new. Christians did not enjoy the favor of the state in the first century. Quite the opposite. Society was very hostile. People spread rumors that we ate babies behind closed doors. Nero blamed the fire of Rome on Christians because nobody liked us. We were convenient scapegoats. All but one of the apostles met a cruel death. Martyrdom was common for the Church in those days and if trends continue it may be again.
Human history moves in cycles and the cultural pendulum swings back and forth. When once a mighty empire ruled a quadrant of the globe, now only ruins and murky memory remain. Babylon is no more. The imperium populi Romani is no more. Constantinople is no more. Indeed, both Judaism and Christianity have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, societies, and cultures: Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Alexander the Great, Rome, the Sassanids, the Ottomans, the Spanish, French, German, and British empires have all come and gone.
Instead of the usual American mindset that is fixed on immediate convenience and gratification, the Church must think in terms of years, decades, and generations. Ours is an eternal faith that time cannot eliminate. Like the ancient Jews in Babylon, we must focus our attention on the long-term.
After all, it took a thousand years for Christianity to take hold among my ancestors in Scandinavia. Though St. Paul may have reached Rome by the end of his lifetime, it took many more lifetimes of constant Christian preaching, teaching, and martyrdom to see any spiritual change in northern Europe. Even though the Church was declared a legal Roman religion during the reign of Constantine, and later became the favored religion under Theodosius, its penetration into the thickskulled Vikings took a lot more than a mere hierarchical pronouncement. It took faith, devotion, and sacrifice.
It still takes those qualities to establish and maintain a Church. It always has. It is when we lose faith in faith, lose faith in the Word, lose faith in a certain future that has already broken in upon us in the death and resurrection of Christ that we lose the Church. It will not be in the trappings of the Church, the fancy clothing and ceremony, the proper way to hold the processional cross and political statements of Church conventions that will sustain the fellowship of the faithful. All that appeals to some but does not feed them. It does not nourish them. Authoritarian formalism will not conquer a world for Christ, but faith, hope, and love can.
None of the apostles were ordained. None were highly educated. None held status in society that commanded respect from their neighbors or even their own colleagues. St. Paul’s life as Saul the Pharisee was a stunning success from the standpoint of common sense and formal religion. But he considered that life to be worthless garbage in comparison to the suffering and constant danger to which he was subjected as a follower of Jesus. The appeal of success theology, which is a shallow version of the theology of glory, cannot stand up to the hostility of society, neither can arguing about distance communion and whether God can move through fiber-optic cable.
The ministry of the Church in this 21st century context of war, hatred, drug overdoses, loneliness, sexual confusion, weekend shootings, abortion-on-demand, child slavery, pornography, and empty churches cannot be pursued through formalistic concerns about when to snap the wafer at communion. But they can be pursued by proclaiming the forgiveness of sins and freedom of Christ that the sacrament delivers. They can be addressed by the announcement of an eternal love that no hate can destroy, not by political statements or ceremonial genuflection. It is the substance of the gospel that is at stake, not its trappings and packaging. The ministry must be a ministry in substance, not form.
The ministry of the Church in this 21st century context of war, hatred, drug overdoses, loneliness, sexual confusion, weekend shootings, abortion-on-demand, child slavery, pornography, and empty churches cannot be pursued through formalistic concerns about when to snap the wafer at communion.
The battle for the true gospel is a constant one. St. Paul fought that battle countless times. The Corinthians twisted his words and went off the rails. The Galatians listened to different preachers and tried to smother the gospel with legalistic ketchup and mustard. Paul responded with a down-to-earth theology that brought the Corinthians up short but gave them a marvelous vision of resurrection. He scolded those witless Galatians but gave them a picture of freedom the likes of which they had never dreamed. All of it was within the context of social ostracism, persecution, and death. Yet, in that awful context the Word of God came through slowly, painstakingly, inexorably to reshape hearts and minds directed not toward themselves but their neighbors, with a new sense of liberty that Thomas Jefferson never grasped.
The ancient Israelites survived in Babylon because they took the advice of their prophet and sought the welfare of the city in which they were captive. The ancient Christians survived with a bold faith in a scandalous God who gave them the courage to love their hateful neighbors and do good to those who slaughtered them. It was not institutional integrity or adherence to ceremony or an historic episcopate that changed the hearts of their oppressors. It was not stubborn religious arrogance. It was the presence of the Holy Spirit with deeds of love and mercy that made the kingdom of God break in upon the souls of their persecutors. It was the outlandish proclamation of a God so loving and kind as to give Himself in sacrifice. It was the teaching of a righteous mercy that was bestowed, given, granted, not earned.
It is the Function that Counts, Not the Status
The New Testament does not advocate for one single form of ministry. To claim that it does is to put it in a straitjacket that doesn’t fit. To be sure, leaders must emerge in every fellowship so that good order is maintained, and false teaching does not emerge among the members. But it is not the form or institution of the ministry that matters. It is ministry itself. That the Word and Sacraments are faithfully preached and administered with respect is the primary task of every minister who is called to that office. But it is not the office that matters. It is not the status that counts. Let the ancient Romans adhere to such a system. It’s not for Christians. As St. Paul wrote, “the form of this world is passing away” (1 Cor 7:31).
When we think about the ministry, it is the function that counts, not the status. The ministry of reconciliation and redemption is what counts. Moreover, it is the manner of that function that matters. To seek the welfare of the cities and towns in which we live we must discard “in-your-face” evangelism or any other condescending practices. If we are to be a part of a resurgence of Christian faith in this country, we cannot lord it over our listeners and insist that they dance to our tune. When we become authoritarians in our religious devotion, we become just another legalism among so very many.
If we attempt to exalt the ministry, it will be humbled by the very ones who crave its exaltation because they are finite creatures who attempt a mistaken guarantee of the infinite. Ministers can guarantee nothing beyond speaking the Word. The reaction to that Word cannot and must not be in our hands. As ministers of the Word, we merely cast our bread upon the waters to see what will come back. What comes back is in God’s hands.
If we attempt to exalt the ministry, it will be humbled by the very ones who crave its exaltation because they are finite creatures who attempt a mistaken guarantee of the infinite.
Too many ministers think of themselves as “gate keepers.” They think they must protect the sacraments, protect the worship, protect the Word. But that is to confine the sacraments and worship, to confine the Word to human agency. The Word is not human, and its acceptance cannot be guaranteed through human effort. The office of the ministry is not for the purpose of ensuring the holiness of that Word or the holiness of worship or the holiness of anything. The office of the ministry exists to proclaim in down-to-earth and feeble words an amazingly divine Word that has the power of recreation. Miters and crosiers can neither deliver nor guarantee that.
It was the Word that created the Church. That Word was spoken by everyday speakers who had no standing in society, no respect, and no political or legal power whatsoever. Those times are returning, and we must change our thinking to meet them. As one nominal Christian president once remarked in a very troubled time, “The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present…We must disenthrall ourselves….”2
We must throw off the old memories of Christendom. We must relinquish the old longing for social standing. Only through the gift of humble and persistent faith, and the courage that comes with it to preach the Word in season and out, can we hope to continue the movement that Jesus started. But it won’t work with fancy clothes and collars. It won’t work with formalism. It will only work when we seek the welfare of the city and minister with Christ’s mercy to those who hate us.
Roy A. Harrisville III, PhD, is a retired NALC/LCMC pastor who has taught New Testament at several institutions and has published two books with a third coming out this year – The Faith of the New Testament: A Pauline Trajectory, Pickwick, 2023.
Notes:
1The ESV Study Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2008). The ESV translation is used throughout this essay.
2Abraham Lincoln, The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, The Abraham Lincoln Association Springfield, Illinois. Vol. V, Roy P. Basler, editor. (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1953), 537.
