The modern language of “revolution,” which enables us to reflect on ourselves as apart from and—if we desire—in conflict with society, finds its roots in the French Revolution, nearly 200 years ago. Here we have both a model for insurrection and a legend to which subsequent anti-society movements could appeal. Here is the source of gruesome facts and of inspiring ideals for anarchists and Marxists alike. But here too is the stark reminder that political insurrection may be little more than a myth.
Among the many modern disciples of Marx, the most widely recognized in this past decade has been Herbert Marcuse. Marcuse thinks that man has been so manipulated by capitalism that he actually enjoys affluence and its consequent values. In an attempt to climb out of his pessimism, Marcuse expresses in his book One Dimensional Man the hope that youth and the intelligentsia will become radical and change society. How this could happen Marcuse doesn’t tell us, but French students made a good attempt to put his words into action in May and June, 1968. The failure of what was potentially a second French revolution may in the light of history prove to be the largest single pragmatic reason for the decline of youth insurgency. In an era of pragmatism, it didn’t work! But the language of the revolutionary continued to be used and was given new meaning on the university campuses, in hippie pads, and even among Christian youth.
Setting aside the problem of cultural syncretism by Christians, it appears that humanly speaking the language of the revolutionary has provided symbolic hardware that has halted the rapid decline of the youth membership of the Christian “Church.” I say “the language” because this symbolizes the potential dynamic and the existing doctrine of a body of people who have critically analyzed society and who are seeking to change it at the radix—the real root.
But how many of us, let alone those we lead, have solved the supposed dichotomy of personal salvation and salvation in society? In J. H. Yoder’s words, how do “we choose between the catastrophic kingdom and the inner kingdom” (The Politics of Jesus, Eerdmans, 1972)? To me it is further evidence of God’s sovereignty over history that he has used the radicalism of the sixties to radicalize a significant number of Christians.
While the events of history can trigger the process of radicalization, a radical movements will have substance only if it has a thoroughly worked-out ideological base. Yet the Christian has more than an ideal. He has the facts of God’s acting in history, speaking to a nation through prophets, and then personally intruding into history.
The Scriptures teach that God created the world as an expression of his own creativity and for his enjoyment (Neh. 9:6; Isa. 43:7; Col. 1:16), that he did so freely (Eph. 1:11), and that he is not dependent on his creation in any way (Job 22:2, 3; Acts 17:28) but is sovereign over the whole of creation and sustainer of it (Eph. 4:6). We know all this because God has chosen to reveal himself to created man, and part of that revelation has been that man is created in the image of his Creator. So both man and the Triune God have personality and the potential to relate to each other. Because of sin men were unable to relate to their Creator, but the Creator has chosen to redeem man. It is up to man to respond to this free gift. God has not discarded his creation because of sin. He continues to sustain it. He continues to allow the freedom for man to express his autonomy within history.
So we have a social reality over which God is sovereign and yet in which man has decided to be independent of God. God did not discard society for this reason but instead entered society to redeem those who would be redeemed. Those who are redeemed may see themselves either as a remnant or as one instrumentthrough which God can act out his sovereignty over the fallen world. There are traces in the Old Testament of a remnant mentality (see Isaiah and Jeremiah) that may be understood to support the view that there are times in history when God’s people are unable to speak to their society. But the very persistence of the remnant is in itself an instrument of God’s sovereignty. So there is some validity in a remnant attitude, but there is a far stronger emphasis in the Scriptures on being a person through whom God can overtly exercise his will.
A study of the Old Testament prophets reveals that they performed a variety of tasks. For example, Samuel had, at least initially, a leadership role; Elijah called the people to worship the One True God; Elisha was deeply involved in politics, affirming that God is King, that God is sovereign over world politics. The integrity of our humanness does not suffer by our making Jesus our Lord. Rather, it is only when Jesus becomes our Lord that we become completely free. It is in true holiness that we find our true humanness. And it is in our humanness that we choose to let God work through us (that is, through our experience, talents, feelings, and opportunities) so that he may be glorified here on earth. Our freedom from the oppressor—the evil one—has meaning only in that it is freedom to something, namely, freedom to be his.
The single motive throughout the record of prophetic activity is to bring honor to God. The New Testament picks up the same theme (e.g., 1 Cor. 10:31; Phil. 2:11), that our foremost motivation is to bring glory to our King. Two other significant motives were simply stated by Jesus: “You shall love the Lord your God.… You shall love your neighbor.”
The importance of these three motives should preclude any method or style of activity that does not in itself reflect the qualities of glory and love. Failure to be motivated by these three factors can lead to disaster, as the accounts of the Kings of Israel and Judah make clear.
Was Jesus’ attitude that his followers were a remnant, or did he see them as an instrument through which the Father could exercise his sovereign will over the world? Some have argued that Jesus’ teaching was concerned not with society as such but only with individuals. Matthew 5 is pointed to as evidence of a position radical only for individuals. Yet Jesus called a group of men to follow him, and the personal radical ethics of the “Sermon on the Mount” was to be exemplified in this group. Yoder has argued from this that “to deny the powerful (sometimes conservative, sometimes revolutionary) impact on society of the creation of an alternative social group” would be “to overrate both the power and the manageability of those particular social structures identified as ‘political!’ ” (p. 111). The very existence of a community of people who pursue a set of values different from the social milieu is radical in itself. It is not counterculture, which ultimately is a pessimistic humanism. It is, rather, the positive, affirming optimism of a God-given alternative culture.
Is the Christ-given alternative culture radical? We know that its ethics was radical in contrast to the ethical attitudes of the society of the day. But what impact was this to have on society? Jesus’ instruction to his disciples in respect to society was that they were to be his witnesses. This means to declare him, and this must include who he is and what he has done for us. The proclamation of personal salvation includes the proclamation of the Kingdom of God. This proclamation is both personal and social.
Yet it is not a proclamation of a utopian hope for heaven on earth now; that clearly would not be biblical. It is a proclamation that God and not man is sovereign, or, to be more practical, that no one, no matter how senior or junior, in any given system need be irresistibly oppressed by the motives, ethics, values, or goals of that system (see Col. 2:13–15; Eph. 6:10–18). This seems to me to be the root, the radix, to which we as members of the Christian community must cut. To get to this radix is to be a Christian radical. The term “radical” ought to be automatically implied in the title “Christian.” But to our great shame the Christian community as seen today as “the Church” has been so culturally syncretistic that the radical quality, if ever evident, will be found only at the side door; the frontdoor appearance is that of just another comfortable institution for those who have the inclination to enjoy it.
Non-Christians will object to this Christian radical position, maintaining that the only really radical approach to society is to proclaim the complete destruction of the present “system” (that is, of government, corporation, WASP values, and so on). But we know that any alternative to the present system will be just as sinful. The reason for the false values is fallen man. Marx, Mao, Che Guevara, Marcuse—all these persons recognized the falseness but not the reason. But since we, through our Creator’s revelation, can go one step further than Marx and Company, we do not get excited about the need for a radical change in the superstructure of society. Our lack of enthusiasm at this point reflects Christ’s lack of enthusiasm for political revolution. The real revolution is that Christ is King, although his Kingdom is not “of” this world but rather is “over and above” all creation (John 18:36).
This still leaves one question. Should we be issue-oriented, that is, speaking or doing something about particular issues?
Jesus certainly did (e.g., his attitude toward the Sabbath, outcasts, the rich), but this is reform, not revolution. Confronting issues is a change within the system, not a change at the radix. We should surely be concerned to bring about reforms, but like Jesus and the apostles we should make our revolutionary intent clear first.
It is up to us to be his witnesses, seeking not just to stop the evil in the world, not merely to change the unacceptable into the acceptable, but first and foremost to expose the one-dimensional (Marcuse’s term) foundation of our society by bringing to bear the spotlight of the second dimension, the vertical dimension of the potential God/man relationship.
