Christian Cliquism

Call me weird, call me loony, but this post had its genesis in a dream I had last night.  Like, in my dream, I was thinking about this topic and, when I woke up, I continued thinking about this topic.  I suppose funny things happen whenever you doze off into la-la land.  In a way, I suppose, this is not surprising, because yesterday's post concerned business and Christian communities.  Then, my brother called yesterday and I shared about how, at the church I'm at now, the college group is about 10 people.  "Oh wow," he responded, "and I thought my Methodist church is small..."

And one thing led to another, and we started talking about community, again.  Communities form for different reasons.  One of my brothers' criticism of a college group of a church I once attended was that it was very cliquey.  There was a Christian college... okay, Wheaton College was nearby, and during the school year, the Wheaties hung out with each other, leaving the UIC people floating.  Now, while that may be the case, the fact is that the Wheaties can "gel" together easily is because we have shared experiences.  We all have that one professor who just was awesome, and we have one professor who's just dense and only God knows what he was talking about.  We all went to that one chapel where some amazing speaker preached heaven and earth, and we all went to that one unfortunate chapel where a couple were basically bull****ting about dating relationships (and I was not kidding - I pulled out my linear algebra textbook and found that to be a much more enlightening reading).  And similarly, the UIUC people can gel easily together because they had the same collective experiences that Wheaties do not share. 

Now, I'm not legitimizing cliquism.  All I'm saying so far is that there is a sensible reason for it.  We all have our shared experiences and because of those we connect with each other.  Your parents did not meet on that first date out of nowhere.  They must've met somewhere and had something that resonated with each other.  Otherwise, they'd remain strangers to this day, and you wouldn't be reading this.  I almost want to say that this cliquism is biologically-based.  After all, do parents really need to teach their kids how to join a clique?  No - it's almost something that junior high schoolers and high schoolers know instinctively.  In fact, the challenge of parenting seems to be to ensure their kids don't join the wrong clique, isn't it?  Yes, my kids should be in the math team clique, but in the breakdancing one?  Oh my goodness, my child will faaaaill! 

But it's not a high school phenomenon.  Most of us go to college (if not all), and we are justifiably proud of them.  I've never met a University of Illinois (Urbana) alumna(e) who wished ill upon their alma mater.  In fact, we seem to be amazingly vocal about it!  There was one Wheaton alumnae who came out of closet (he's gay) and lives in New York.  However much he was dismissive of Wheaton's policy against homosexuality, he still admitted he loved Wheaton.  "Nice place with nice people," he remarked, "and good food."  With universities, there's something additional on top of that, because universities for the most part have a history behind it, or there's something to be proud of in that university.  My friends at U of I are justifiably proud of their sports team, the Fighting Illinis.  Wheaton remains proud of their most famous graduate Billy Graham, as well as other graduates (John Piper, anyone?).  There's something that connects us with our university narratives, and we love to brandish that to those not in the know. 

I make the claim, however, that for all of us Christians, Christianity offers us a combination of shared experience and a "university" narrative that makes any University rivalry looks sorry in comparison.  Our Christian narrative stretches back thousands of years, beginning with the story of creation.  It includes the Scriptures, but also church history.  Of course, there are times of great triumph.  We like it when Jesus rose from the grave, when Constantine converted to Christianity... or at least some version of it, when Billy Graham brought millions to Christ.  But included in our narrative are times of great corruption with great injustices such as racism and even genocide done in the name of Christ.  We can, of course, sanitize our story through denominationalism.  Oh, the Catholics did those baaad, baaad things, and the mainline Christians did those other baaaad, baaaad things, but we evangelicals, we're perfect.   No - that's not how life works.  If my brother did something horrible, I can't just go, "Well, he's just someone that used to be my brother..."  No!  He still remains my brother, like it or not.   It is a sign of tremendous spiritual immaturity to view other Christians as strangers when really we all are in the same boat together.

Our "university" narrative, on the other hand, is our identity that we rally around.  Being an Illini or a Wheatie is not so much about graduating from U of I or Wheaton College, but more about having lived in an environment that exists at U of I or Wheaton College.  Of course, there are places like U of I or Wheaton.  Rutgers University up north at New Brunswick, NJ has the same U of I feel.  Princeton has a dashingly beautiful campus, just like Wheaton.  But it's not the same, is it?  And it's this uniqueness that makes us proud of our identity as Illinis or Wheaties.  We don't like it when someone else talks down our alma mater for no reason.  We don't like it when someone from the outside says "U of I or Wheaton College is overrated."

I think being a Christian is like being in that university narrative.  Except we are not graduating - we're still living in it!  No, we don't have sports teams, we don't have a kooky-cool mascot, and in some parts of the world, we don't have a nice, safe, suburban campus.  But being a Christian means that our lives, our identities, our pride is staked in Christ.  It is an identity we should be jealous about, because it is something we value tremendously.  We have a history that we identify with, not because we are Jews (because we are not), but because the stories of the Scriptures speak to our current experience.  And the stories of church history speak to the truth of the Scriptures (oftentimes, a repeat of Romans 3:10).  But it's the being identified as Christian that makes us proud.  It's like being identified as an Illini, Wheatie, Princetonian, etc.

Here's the simple application (some of you are probably bored stiff and are looking for applications): the only reason cliques remain a challenge in the church is because there's something more compelling about another identity other than the Christian identity.  We are more compelled by our identity as Wheaties or Illinis, ordained pastors, seminarians, graduate students, professors with PhD's, etc. that we prefer to be identified in those categories than being identified as Christians.  Why would there be church conflicts stemming from dialectic groups (Mandarin/Cantonese, etc.)?  Because being Mandarin or Cantonese is more important than being Christian.  Why do singles often feel uncomfortable in churches?  Because being married and having children is more important than being Christian. And, of course, is a Chinese church a safe place for those without college degrees, who are struggling in school? Who aren't majoring in the "right majors"?

The point is stark and simple: when being identified as something else is more important than being Christian, we separate into cliques because we rally with those who identify with the same something elses as we do.  So what happens when there's this one kid who is interested in something nobody else is?  Too bad for that one kid, right?  Or what if there's his one kid who just behaves a little strangely?  Sucks to be him/her, right?  And what if there's this one kid with a sub-par GPA? 

If we take our Christian identity seriously, we need to take seriously the importance of realizing that all other identities are subservient to Christ.  Recently, a friend on Facebook posted a news bit about World Youth Day, which was recently held in Madrid.  It was a news bit from Singapore, and someone on that news bit said, "When I was there, I felt proud to be a Singaporean."  Unfortunately, methinks that person didn't "get it".  World Youth Day is not about which country is which - that's for the United Nations, not for the Catholic Church's WYD.  And I think we fall into the same trap when we think that our churches are more about our interests and cliques than about Christ. 

When we dismantle our cliques and stake our identities in Christ alone, we become less of an agglomeration of random entities and interests, and become more of a community.  Only then can we truly become a witness to a world where communities are fast disappearing and replaced with agglomerations of individual entities with interests.   Only then can the church be some semblance of order in an increasingly chaotic world.