Rules

Richard Rohr wrote—

“If you keep the law, the law will keep you," we students were told on the first day in the seminary. As earnest young men anxious to succeed, we replied, "Yes, Father!" We knew how to survive in any closed system. I'm afraid we spent so much time in that world that it became the whole agenda. Canon Law was quoted much more often to us than the Sermon on the Mount before the reforms of Vatican II, and now the young priests are being taught in much the same way as I was. A strong emphasis on law and order makes for a sane boarding school, or an organized anything, for that matter. I really get that. It probably made it much easier for the professors to get a good night's sleep with one hundred twenty young men next door. But it isn't anywhere close to the Gospel. The Gospel was not made to help organizations run smoothly. The full Gospel actually creates necessary dilemmas for the soul much more than resolving the organizational problems of institutions.

The Gospel was not made to help organizations run smoothly. 

Fr. Rohr could not have written anything that chills a church official more than that simple thought. We hunger for organization. We long for consistency. We want nothing more than stability. We desire a status quo status. That all makes things so much easier to deal with, eliminating the wild cards, the conniptions, the conundrums, and all else that keeps us anxious. Catholic seminaries are not the only institutions to invoke a rulebook to instill order. We in the Presbyterian Church have done a marvelous job crafting a rulebook to grant us officials all that we seek—the Book of Order is a marvel of law and order! Granted, recent changes made the system of government a bit blurry as the Form of Government truly is a fog machine, with a lot left up to individual presbyteries and sessions to clearly interpret for their own work, but, still, if you want to know how to cross t’s and dot i’s as a Presbyterian, the BOO will pretty much give you everything down to the ink and nib with which to write the codes for work and worship. So, to hear that the Gospel itself stands contrarily to our efficient attempt to bring effectiveness to our fellowship is more than a little worrisome.

But truth is truth. Jesus pretty thoroughly tossed aside the rulebook as he reinterpreted the practice of faith and gathering. He did not seem all that interested in being sure all was done decently and in order. Instead, he reworked obedience into a wide application of two main guides—the love of God coupled with the love of neighbor. Not much else was delineated. The right thing to do or the right thing to say was completely dependent on who was present, what they were doing, how they were, and what would connect them to the life-giving and life-affirming presence of God. Every other practice or dictum must—must—meet this standard. Moreover, what was right in one circumstance may not fit in another; what helped one person might be directly wrong when dealing with another; and what was good in one situation might not be at all appropriate in another.

Confusing, no?

It is then no surprise at all that we church officials accept the Gospel, but then ignore it as we seek to establish order within the communities we shepherd. Like many a member of the Sanhedrin before us (who had to deal with Jesus directly, may God bless them), we find ourselves invoking the absolute necessity of law as we navigate conflict, calls, and contracts—love be damned, it does not order chaos!

Yet, it does. That is right there in Genesis 1. Love brought creation into being, established its order, and sent it on its way. Love is the source of human existence. Love is the essence of the commission given us by God as creation began. Love is the foundation of what it is to be human, and it will be through the experience of love that twines souls together that we will find the most exemplary state of being any person can experience. 

So, what am I to do, newbie presbyter that I am? If I can’t hammer folks over the head with the Book of Order, the manuals of operation, and codes of conduct that are the lifeblood of the books left for me in my office by my predecessors, what am I to do?

Love somebody.

And there it is. Jesus rises from the tomb of legalism once again. 

Love somebody.

The church is most fully itself when it runs on love. That means things may get really fuzzy from time to time. So be it. Most conflict arises in the church because somebody does not feel anybody else is listening to them. They feel isolated and defensive. They feel left out. They believe their values are rejected. They fall to a whole host of inner demons that ply on our feelings of hurt, devaluation, and certainty that no one really cares who we are or what we think. Things can get pretty onerous as a result, too. There is nothing like someone feeling cornered to leads to outbursts of violence—verbal, emotional, and, yes, even physical. Meeting someone in love has the power to defuse the situation. It can rewrite it. It can lay a welcome mat down for reconciliation. Yes, it takes two to really dance, but without that first move in love, nothing happens. 

Love leaves lots of room for everybody. As we replace judgment with acceptance, argument with affirmation, and correctness with communion; remarkable transformation becomes entirely possible. 

To sum up—human beings were created to be families—that’s right there in Genesis, too. Now, immediately we may try to legislate what a family is, but let Genesis—all of it, not just select chapters—speak for itself. We discover that families are moms, dads, and kids; but families are also tribes, nations, priesthoods, royals, wanderers, and, yes, even religious gatherings. The church is family. Now imagine the catastrophic mess that would occur if we attempted to organize our family by a Book of Order—I can just see the horrendous cataclysm at my dinner table when my children were little had I decided the best order for us was something akin to the Book of Order! No, we had to work through love, and love got messy, but love saw us through to where we are right now—two parents of flown-the-coop kids who seem to have their heads on more or less straight. So, too, might the church be. We are family. Families run on love.

Love somebody.