You Can't Unring the Constantinian Bell

An introduction for non-seminarians/pastors: "Constantinism" is a term in pop theology and refers to the ecclesiology created as a result of the conversion of Roman Emperor Constantine to Christianity. Under this formulation, Christianity had previously been a radical, counter-cultural movement. The larger pagan society/state had been hostile to Christianity and its values. But with the conversion of Constantine, Christians were expected to support the values of the broader society and the goals of the state in exchange for Imperial protection and patronage. This 'Constantinian' condition of the church continued throughout most of Western history, during which one was thought to be a Christian simply by being born within an officially Christian society. Deviations were not acceptable, hence "blue laws" which closed American retail stores on Sundays and heavy social expectations to attend church and at least nominally profess a Christian faith. In the view of many pop theologians today, we Westerners are living in a post-Constantinian age in which the church can no longer expect the direct support of the state, or even mass culture. Nor should the state expect the church to provide moral cover for its activities.

I wished to express this definition because seminaryspeak is not often understood outside of seminaries. Advocates of anti-Constantinism have pointed out something important: the Christian lifestyle is supposed to be a radical lifestyle. Jesus called upon his followers to take up their crosses and follow him. Being a Christian meant adopting very different values and anticipating persecution and even execution as the price of following Jesus. This is a somewhat different view than that which is held by many people who go to church on Sundays because they have always gone to church on Sundays or that even just showing up at church on Sundays makes one a Christian.

Constantinism has greatly led the church astray be diluting the power of the gospel message by making a nominal Christianity even possible, let alone prolific. Christianity was triumphant -- in a way -- by the conversion of Constantine, but perhaps not in a way that really mattered. If one is a Christian upon birth and there are no negative consequences in the world for being a follower of Jesus -- no cross to bear -- then one is not forced to deal inwardly with the hard issues of faith and fidelity to God. One is not tested.

Many adherents of this thesis would like to undo the calamity of Constantine's conversion and the subsequent corruption of the Church. This is a noble effort, for the high calling of holiness and mission has been largely lost in the Constantinian church. But it must be done carefully.

One common error is to say "Christianity is counter-cultural, therefore I must always oppose my host culture." This understanding is a hindrance to evangelism because it implies that the gospel is not cross-cultural or meant for all people. It asserts that a variety of cultural expressions of Christianity are not legitimate; only one. Among American Christians who take this view, it is often expressed along the lines of "Anything that America does is evil and reflective of a terrorist state." Whereas a Christian may take the view that various actions of America as evil, to march in the streets at the drop of a hat is reflective of sloppy exegesis of Christian ethics.

Moreover, it doesn't really matter how radically American Christians may wish to undo the conversion of Constantine. They can't unring the Constantinian bell. We live in a society that is either friendly or neutral to Christianity. Hollywood satires of evangelicals simply do not constitute persecution by any stretch of the imagination, or at least in comparison to the Roman experience of persecution, which usually included torture, imprisonment, and execution. You cannot simply declare your host culture an enemy culture when it is not. You will never, ever, be crucified for being a Christian in America. American culture will not declare war on Christianity as the Roman emperors did and thereby sweep away Constantinism. So arguing that American culture and/or the state is your enemy is really just silly.

Like it or not, living in a mostly Christianish society has real consequences. Many early Christians living in the Roman Empire were pacifists. They refused to serve in the military. During times when the Roman borders were under heavy strain by outside threats, these Christians seemed to be internal subversives at best and traitors at worst. These pacifists provided one Roman justification for persecution; mob violence, arrests, property seizures, and executions often followed. Such Christians may have been rather justified in refusing to serve in the army of an empire that was, ahem, killing them. They really were resident aliens, living in a society that was hostile to them.

Despite the persecution, the Roman Empire protected Christians from the German and Parthian invaders. Pacifistic Christians were in danger on every other front, but at least when it came to invading armies, these Christians enjoyed protection from the Roman state. Yet they themselves refused to contribute to this same protection that they took advantage of. Given Imperial treatment of Christians, I am disinclined to be critical of them for doing so. But once a culture stops being hostile to Christians, can Christians justify being hostile to it? Can they justify being dependent on the actions of others that they themselves consider to be sinful? What happens when the leaders of the society are not only not harmful to Christians, but are even Christians themselves? This dilemma is well-illustrated in Resident Aliens by Stanley Hauerwas and Will Willimon. In one excerpt, Willimon recounts from his experiences as a university chaplain during America's 1986 confrontation with Libya:

Sometime ago, when the United States bombed military and civilian targets in Libya, a debate raged concerning the morality of that act. One of us witnessed an informal gathering of students who argued the morality of the bombing of Libya. Some thought it was immoral, others thought it was moral. At one point in the argument, one of the students turned and said, "Well, preacher, what do you think?

I said that, as a Christian, I could never support bombing, particularly bombing civilians, as an ethical act.

"That's just what we expected you to say," said another. "That's typical of you Christians. Always on the high moral ground, aren't you? You get so upset when a terrorist guns down a little girl in an airport, but when President Reagan tries to set things right, you get indignant when a few Libyans get hurt."

The assumption seems to be that there are only two political options: Either conservative support of the administration, or liberal condemnation of the administration followed by efforts to let the U.N. handle it.

"You know, you have a point," I said. "What would be a Christian response to this?" Then I answered, right off the top of my head, "A Christian response might be that tomorrow morning The United Methodist Church announces that it is sending a thousand missionaries to Libya. We have discovered that it is fertile field for the gospel. We know how to send missionaries. Here is at least a traditional Christian response." (47-48)

Here, Willimon has simply dodged the question. If President Reagan had been standing before him that day and asked "Preacher, what do I do? Do I bomb or not?", Willimon would not have a response. He can only declare the need to send missionaries to country X and leave the difficult questions of real consequences up to others. Willimon's vision of an anti-Constantinian church only works if it is protected by decision-makers who are willing to face up to the hard questions and answer them. "Do I bomb or not?" A mature Christian who is leader of his society knows that at the end of the day, he has to make a decision, one way or another. He may decide to drop the bombs, and must take the consequences of doing so. Or he may decide not to drop the bombs, and must take the consequences of not doing so. But the mature Christian leader faces the questions and answers them, even if Willimon will not.

Hauerwas and Willimon's formulation of a new, post-Constantinian ecclesiology is deeply flawed because it necessarily excludes from its membership a select group who must be tasked with doing the dirty work of civilization, such as making decisions of war and peace. An illustration of this flaw lies in the authors' depiction of an ideal Christian:

In the church where one of us was raised, Dorothy was a perpetual member of the third grade church school class. Every child in the church knew that, when you arrived at the third grade in the primary division of the Bumcombe Street Church Sunday school, Dorothy would be in your class. She had even been in the class when some of our parents were in the third grade. Dorothy was in charge of handing out pencils, checking names in the roll book, and taking up the pencils. We thought she was the teacher's assistant. It was much later, when we were nearly all grown up and adult, that the world told us that Dorothy was someone with Down syndrome. At the church, we were under the impression that Dorothy was the teacher's assistant. When Dorothy died, in her early fifties -- a spectacularly long life for someone with Down syndrome -- the whole church turned out for her funeral. No one mentioned that Dorothy was retarded or afflicted. Many testified to how fortunate they had been to know her. (93)

The author's selection of Dorothy is appropriate. Mentally handicapped people have many differences as a population, but one thing in common: to varying degrees, they must be cared for, looked after, and protected by other people who are not mentally handicapped.

So, too, their concept of a Christian Colony can only exist if surrounded by a non-'Christian' population which shields them from difficult questions like "Do I bomb Libya?"

And the concept of being a Resident Alien means defining Christianity not by what you are, but by what you are not. You are not like those awful pagans living outside of the colony; those who hate and oppress you. This model for the Church works out okay, right up until the point when the outside world ceases to be hostile to Christianity. When Christians find themselves not only as accepted members of society, but leaders of that society, can you simply yell 'Do Over!' and undo the change?

As much as we may yearn for those lovely days of Roman persecution, when people really were tested in their faith and Christianity stood for something rather new and different, we aren't living in that time now. In certain parts of the world, such as China and the Islamic world, sure. But America just isn't hostile to Christianity. In fact, American society and Christianity are enmeshed. Christians are fully-recognized citizens of America and largely lead it. Being a part of that society entails certain obligations, like paying for and acknowledging the protection that you accept from that society. And no amount of wishful thinking will make those obligations go away.