1 The Church and the problem of sovereign power
Thinking otherwise
As a child, I remember waiting anxiously with my parents for the arrival of the doctor. On one occasion, it was three in the morning and I had a bout of the croup. The doctor arrived wearing pyjamas and dressing gown, with a leather case and stethoscope in hand. We were greatly relieved â well before the examination. In those days, of course, there were other luminaries like the bank manager, teacher, or priest, but the doctor stood out.1 In the best sense of the word, the doctor had authority. But what did this mean? Well, it involved a combination of factors. For a start, the pyjamas and dressing gown signalled that the doctorâs authority did not depend upon dress. Certainly, the doctorâs expertise was prized. But above all, the doctor was a trustworthy figure, who cared for us. And so, the figure of the doctor was invested with authority. However, in contemporary society, the concept of authority seems outdated. Notwithstanding its apparent demise, authority is still a prominent part of contemporary church life. Whether it is the authority of conviction, bible, tradition, or office, authority is woven deeply into the ecclesial fabric. Nevertheless, there is a conspicuous failure of authority in the Church, which has to be addressed. In order to remedy this, the Church has to think otherwise, testing the limits, and remaining open to new possibilities. So what is the problem?
The problem is the Churchâs dependence on sovereign power. As part of society, however, the Church cannot completely remove itself from the influence of sovereign power. But the Church does not have to be complicit. It has its own vocation. Nevertheless, the problem is complex. Subsequently, I am focusing on key factors and their interactions. As an overview, here is an outline of the factors. First, the problem is described here as sovereign power. This is the problem of a church leader acting and believing he/she is the sovereign exception, exercising sovereign-like entitlements. In ecclesial practice, there is a preference for using prerogative over the harsher sounding entitlement or right. Second, in Foucauldian terms, we cannot stand outside the mesh of power-relations, but we can make choices about how we engage with power. Third, the choice is not easy, because laity and clergy, as well as senior clergy, become enthralled by âthe spell of monarchyâ.2 Consequently, others are marginalized. In fact, the ecclesial âmechanisms of exclusionâ affect the whole Church,3 exacerbating the plight of those who are already on the outer.4 Fourth, the Church did not invent sovereign power. It is problem in other institutions too (cf. hospitals, schools, prisons). The point here is the need for the Church to re-articulate its vocation. Finally, this is not an argument for discarding authority; instead, it is about its renewal.5 So, how will this be approached?
In terms of approach, this book is primarily a theological enterprise, which is broadly ecumenical, focusing on authority. The thesis is that sovereign power is the norm in the life of the Church.6 The aim is to explore alternative ways of thinking about, and being, the Church. In particular, this involves thinking differently about the Church by exploring four catalysts for change, which are critique, a spatial approach, the imagination, and shared wisdom.7 In this light, the book is an exercise in pre-ecclesiology, identifying catalysts for inclusion in the study of the Church. In the process, I am using interrelated strategies of critical reflection, conceptual critique, case studies, pastoral scenarios, and insights from philosophy, sociology, cultural studies, and other disciplines. Above all, I am using the work of Michel Foucault as the primary source, setting the tone for the ecclesiological critique.
In broad terms, critique is about thinking differently or otherwise (penser autrement);8 as such, a âcritique is not a matter of saying that things are not right as they are. It is a matter of pointing out on what kinds of assumptions, what kinds of familiar, unchallenged, unconsidered modes of thought the practices that we accept restâ.9 This involves testing the limits, where the limits may be exceeded, leading to âthe modification of received values and all the work done to think otherwise, to do something else, to become other than what one isâ.10 After all, though Foucault is reflecting on philosophy, theology is also an âendeavour to know how and to what extent it might be possible to think differentlyâ.11 Critique, as such, is partly a cognitive exercise, but it is more, as âit must be conceived as an attitude, an ethos, a philosophical life in which critique of what we are is at one and the same time the historical analysis of the limits imposed on us and an experiment with the possibility of going beyond themâ.12
In specific terms, critique involves identifying an unhealthy leader/follower dynamic in the Church. In this context, critique is the followerâs right âto question power about its discourses of truthâ.13 In so doing, a follower exercises a significant degree of freedom. Overall then, critique is not a matter of finding a few bad eggs in the Church, and saying here is the problem, but rather it is a case of changing a church culture that is bound to sovereign power. In contrast to sovereign power, Christianity begins with the teaching and practice of Jesus, and his friends from Galilee. The heart of his teaching is the coming reign of God, which is the creative presence of God, already but not yet fully come. As such, a sign of the reign of God among us is the creation of a certain space (ekklesia),14 an inclusive space, a space of freedom (Gal 3:28), in which we are mutually empowered. In other words, the Church is called to be a space of freedom. So, let me say more about this spatial approach.
First, the expression space of freedom comes from Foucault. In particular, Foucault, in reflecting on his approach to the analysis of the present, declares: âIt does not consist in a simple characterization of what we are but, instead â by following lines of fragility in the present â in managing to grasp why and how that-which-is might no longer be that-which-is. In this sense, any description must always be made in accordance with these kinds of virtual fracture which open up the space of freedom understood as a concrete space of freedom, i.e., of possible transformation.â15 This is a touchstone quotation for this book, in the way it spells out the meaning of critique, which can be summarized here by the question âhow does the Church, and its authority, actually work?â Moreover, the Church, by following its own lines of fragility, and examining its own fractures, opens up âthe space of freedomâ. The lines and the fractures constitute the difficult truth the Church is called to face in every generation. In so doing, the Church renounces sovereign forms of power. Second, I am using the phrases the space of freedom and the open space of freedom interchangeably. The addition of the qualifier open is partly coloured by the Christian practice of ekklesia, picking up the democratic ethos of the early liturgical assemblies. Third, the concept of the space of freedom will be used as an alternative to the often implicit, but largely dominant, monarchical model of ecclesiology. At this juncture, however, it would be helpful to prefigure something about the character of the Christian space and the concept of ekklesia.
In terms of the character of the Christian space, it is important to note the story of the haemorrhaging woman (Mk 5:24b-34), who is doubly polluted by virtue of gender and affliction.16 The issue, however, is not so much the healing, which is important, but that Jesus invites her into community (Mk 5:34). In so doing, Jesus transcends boundaries that were used to differentiate and marginalize others. Moreover, the writer highlights the significance of this action by sandwiching the story within another story. Tellingly, the temple gatekeeper had to wait until Jesus welcomed an unclean woman into community, âThe despised woman as the poorest of the poor has symbolic priority in the Church. As such, she also represents the hosts of other oppressed groups in need of Godâs favour.â17 In so doing, Jesus sets the ethical standard for his followers, as he embraces the unclean.18 Like a Foucauldian disruption, Jesus sets new norms.19
In terms of ekklesia, though rarely used in the Gospels (Matt 16:18; 18:17), it eventually came to encapsulate the Churchâs identity. In broad terms, its theology goes like this: The Church is called to be a certain kind of space (ekklesia), open to the reign of God, rendering itself as a space of freedom (Gal 5:1, 5:13). That is, in contrast to the practice of empire, the ekklesia of God is an open space. In this context, followers of Jesus are called to a discipleship of equals,20 where there is freedom. This is not freedom as license, but the freedom to live with compassion for others. I will explore this in Chapter 5 by reading Gal 3:28 as an archetypal example of this kind of space. As such, Gal 3:28 is an iconic text, which provides insight into the character of ekklesia as an open space of freedom. In this space, love creates a unity (Gal 3:26â29) that leads to freedom, âFor freedom Christ has set us freeâ (Gal 5:1). This sense of freedom, with its political implications, is underlined by the fact that many members of the Church at Galatia were not Jewish or Greek but Galatians, who were regarded as barbarians by the Romans.21 Nonetheless, the other is a full member of the liturgical assembly. In Christ, then, a unity is established that embraces differences. In other words, Paul has taken up a baptismal practice of the early church and made it the centrepiece of his letter to the barbarians (i.e. the marginalized other). Subsequently, church as ekklesia is an embryonic spatial approach, which can be built-on using Foucaultâs spatial approach. All this is in contrast to a contemporary Church, under sovereign power, which is hierarchical, focusing on the instrumental value of persons and pursuing order over love. It is inherently exclusive, a culture of conformity, partly because of its commitment to unitary speech (discourses) and uniform behaviours, but also because of a lack of critical awareness. This is reinforced by the sacralization of obedience.
In conclusion, I am optimistic about the potential for ecclesiological transformation. The optimism is premised on the incomprehensible mystery of God and a realistic view of the Church. By realistic, I am referring to the notion that in order to address the problem of sovereign power, the Churchâs culture has to change. This involves changing how its leaders and followers are formed. In Foucauldian terms, this is the problem of subject formation. In particular, Foucault draws attention to the link between subjection and the subject, that ...
