Why do some many people who go to church also dabble in some other form of religious behaviour? Why can’t we be pure like the church used to be?
Peter Heather’s Christendom details evidence of widespread syncretism as the Roman Empire first became formally Christian. While not surprising, that’s probably not how we typically picture it, imagining these problems as much later ones as the Church’s fervour waned.
For example, Heather tells the story of Abbot Shenoute who ran a monastery in Egypt who bitterly complained about monks who spent their time producing magical amulets for the general public. Temples and their rites continued throughout the Empire for a significant period of time with little change, magical guidebooks have been found that wove traditional pagan practices in with Christian ones in the same volume.
Christian councils in Asia Minor during the fourth century—a region with churches established from the first century—had church leaders ruling against syncretic behaviours from Christians who rested on the Jewish Sabbath to Church leaders who practised fortune-telling and sold magical amulets. In Antioch, the church we often most claim we want to be like the first century version of, the fourth century was a time when church goers would attend Christian, Jewish, and pagan public festivals.
Heather’s point, throughout his book, is that conversion was not such a simple process as Christian historians would like to tell. The Empire converted politically long before it converted religiously, and various forms of syncretism persisted throughout Christendom. Whether or not we agree with his broader historical reconstruction, reading his many examples my main thought was, ‘it was ever thus.’
Reading the New Testament with an eye to understanding what the various epistles’ warnings and admonishments imply about the churches they’re writing to, it doesn’t look like there was a ‘pure’ church then either. Of course, this deeply bothers the apostles, so the right answer isn’t to shrug our shoulders. We should be concerned by Christians who dabble in witchcraft, or use Tarot cards, or attend seances. We should be concerned by Christians who flirt with false religions. We should be just as concerned by the much more insidious religion of materialism and the way work functions in our lives, by an approach to life that thinks Christianity is for Sunday mornings (which is a religious decision). We should be concerned by things that themselves aren’t ‘religion’ but function like it for many people: if there’s a competition between church and football—whether professional or your kid’s league—which wins?
Our desire to be separate and distinct from the world is very low. The reason that the history encourages me is because this isn’t a new problem for the modern age. It looks different, but it’s the same type of problem Paul was addressing in Corinth and Colossae. The main distinction in the modern world is that, ignoring the most obviously occult syncretism, we generally dispute that the other thing is religious at all. We just think that’s how life works.
The modern obsession with work that means many people are sat at front of a laptop at home into the evening has dramatically changed life and church. It’s one of the reasons it’s so difficult to get anyone to come to the monthly prayer meeting now compared to fifteen years ago. Of course, the suggestion that people are choosing another ‘religion’ by not coming to the prayer meeting would seem odd to most people, as far as they’re aware that’s what work requires. For the individual it isn’t functioning religiously, but I think the system as a whole is functioning that way and should be opposed. It’s not good for us as a society to give ourselves to the gods of commerce without end. Growth is not itself a good and godly end to seek for, we should be aiming for the flourishing of households and through them cities (or towns), and through them nations.
Of course, even if you teach in church that it isn’t a great idea the way a certain vision of work has mastered our lives, most of the congregation will feel trapped in the fact that their work has a set of expectations on them. Some work doesn’t fit the mould either, work nearer to the household or land might well require some evening activity at times, there’s nothing holy about 9-5; yet the farmers I know, despite working incredibly hard, still manage to get to some midweek church things more weeks than not. What you can teach the congregation is that building the kingdom will mean reshaping this too, both recognising our idolatry where its to be found and reshaping the world of work to look closer to the age to come. It is kingdom activity to start a business with the aim of employing people well, treating them well, and learning to work together with kingdom values and outlook.
The problem with syncretism is that we don’t notice it. I’ve mused for two paragraphs on one example that bothers me, but I’m sure there are countless others. Any ‘festival’ in the older sense (i.e. not just a thing in a field with tents and music) that isn’t explicitly Christian needs some careful consideration. That consideration might rule it fine, but examining how things function—and noticing that how they function in society changes fast: Remembrance Sunday/Day as an example of civil religion has shifted dramatically in the last two decades in its political import and observance which may shift views on how appropriate it is to partake in—is vital in deciding if this is an appropriate thing to be involved with.
I understand why our forebears a generation or two ago in the UK largely decided the church was too separate from society and so for the sake of our witness encouraged people to be involved with the community. I do fear that ‘involved in the community’ has become a goal in and of itself for some, in which case its at best meaningless and most likely an enormous distraction from godly living and mission. I suspect that we overcorrected.
What I’m more concerned about is whether or not our congregations are full of authentic disciples whose lives look different from their neighbours. The answer will be, “yes and no”, I expect. While we shouldn’t stop trying, I do find it comforting to know that it has ever been thus.
At the same time, these things ebb and flow. In my experience, which is difficult to judge how universal it is, things are worse in the UK church in terms of personal discipleship than they were twenty years ago. We do need to do something.
Our success will be mixed. That shouldn’t surprise us. Only a quarter of the seed we scatter takes good root. Hit and miss, mostly miss, that’s how the kingdom grows.
Photo by Steve A Johnson on Unsplash
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