By Ric Hudgens, part three of a series (Part one is here and part two is here.)

Living otherwise means living according to the Great Economy.

Wendell Berry’s notion of the Great Economy contrasts with what he terms the Little Economy. The Little Economy is the industrial, globalized economic system that prioritizes profit and exploitation of resources over sustainability and community well-being. Berry’s discussion of the Great Economy is a central theme in his critique of contemporary society and his vision for a more sustainable and harmonious way of living.

The Little Economy has had detrimental effects on our environment, local community, and the human spirit. The Great Economy reveals the interconnectedness of economy, ecology, and culture. In some places, Berry literally equates the Great Economy with what Jesus called the kingdom of God. (See the essay “Two Economies” in The Art of the Commonplace: Agrarian Essays, 2003).

This connection got me thinking: how does the Great Economy challenge the local church? But of course, if Berry is right, then the question also becomes: how does the kingdom of God challenge the local church? I suspect these two questions are identical.

So I offer four ways (as Marx said “These are my principles. If you don’t like them I have more.” That was Groucho, not Karl).

Number One.

The Great Economy demands that the local church live according to a pattern of rhythm and rest. This is the natural pattern.

Until the twentieth century, no human being or civilization ever tried to escape this truth. This is how nature (of which we are still a part) works. The ancient Hebrews recognized this when they asserted that Sabbath was embedded in their origin story. It was not a later innovation, nor inherited from other mythologies, but woven into the very fabric of the way things are. To incorporate Sabbath in our lives is to work with the grain of the universe, rather than against it.

It also seems that the practice of Sabbath (rhythm and rest), is perhaps one of the most countercultural tools Christians have in our toolbox. Forcing ourselves to slow down and even sometimes stop is a fundamental need. I call it moving at the speed of soul.

The Little Economy and Sabbath exist in tension. I doubt that we can serve both. The work of Sabbath (rhythm and rest) is the primary form of communal resistance that Christians have right now. We simply slow everything down and recalibrate our heartbeat and expectations. Sabbath of course must be broader and more systemic than just taking a day off, but local churches could provide an off ramp from the speed demanded by the Little Economy. (For more on this see Walter Brueggemann, Sabbath as Resistance: How to Say No to the Culture of Now, 2014).

Number Two

Christianity is “the most avowedly materialist of all the great religions.” (William Temple, 1935). Many critics of Christianity would affirm that statement, but in a way Bishop Temple did not intend. Local churches devoted to the ABCs (attendance, buildings, and cash) may seem entirely too materialistic – but it’s the materialism of the Little Economy, not the Great one. If we’re going to speak with any relevance to the world we need more than three letters!

Centuries ago, the church condemned the heresy of “docetism” (from the Ancient Greek for phantasm or appearance). The argument had been that Jesus didn’t really have a human body, but only the appearance of one. The church said no (actually, hell no!). The Word didn’t remain word, but became actual flesh – and since this is the Easter season, I might point out that even the resurrected body of Jesus is described as still having wounds that could be felt (see this week’s lectionary reading for Easter 2). Bless your heart Thomas!

This foundational Christian commitment to actual material, our physical bodies, the topsoil, the fungi, the air, water, frogs, bees, rutabagas and turnips, is one of the most beautiful truths Christians affirm. That is why the church calling people together each week to share the material realities of bread and wine is such a powerful testimony and counterweight to the lure of digital reality and contemporary spiritualizations. That is why Christians care for actual bodies, are so strongly opposed to war, and so firmly allied with our neighbors who endure pain and suffering. Christians feed and clothe and heal and welcome everyone back to the Great Economy, to which we ourselves belong. This is what love looks like.

Three

The horrible term “church shopping” gets used today. Perhaps there is no greater indicator of how capitalism dominates our spirit. Church is not a commodity, but if that is your position right now let me provide you an important shopping tip.

Because of Christianity’s materialist commitment to actual bodies, the local church should be deeply involved in its local community. Always look for a congregation that is committed to its neighbors. If their love stops at the front door, then such “love” is neither very strong, very compelling, nor probably entirely authentic.

We breathe the same air, drink the same water, shop at the same stores, obey the same laws, and are taxed by the same governments. Why do we segregate our concerns as if this wasn’t true? The earth is the Lord’s, and we all share this space we’ve been given.

One of the sobering lessons I derived from the recent pandemic is that when we have to justify caring about other people, we can be sure we are deeply enmeshed in a very dire predicament.

For the past decade one of my favorite themes has been “the circle of the we”. The width of that circle is very revealing. It can extend no further than the end of my shoes, or it can aspire to the extent of divine love.  The Great Economy doesn’t choose favorites. 

Four

Churches are tempted to be so heavenly minded they are no earthly good, and churches are also tempted to retreat into separation and sectarianism. This impulse is often disguised as a quest for spiritual purity, but it is actually a fear of diversity and difference.

Diversity and difference are fundamental to the Great Economy. There are no monopolies, no homogenization in this economy. Every ecosystem contains multiple components, with different cycles, flows and processes. There is even diversity within diversity! We might say that the pulsating Spirit of life longs to be diverse. Diversity is the key to a healthy ecosystem and to impede or thwart it is to threaten its flourishing, to render it vulnerable to disruption.

Local churches getting materially involved with their local community will be forced to engage diversity and difference. They not only will have to learn to listen better, but they will be forced to speak in ways that can be understood outside their tribe. This will be good for them.

There’s nothing wrong with having, needing or retreating to one’s tribe. But the Great Economy demands that all of us live intertribally. Dealing well with diversity and difference contributes to and is the mark of maturity and health. 

Conclusion

In a powerful poem by the great Adrienne Rich, she writes:

Either you will
go through this door
or you will not go through.

…

The door itself
makes no promises.
It is only a door.

(“Prospective Immigrants Please Note”)

Oftentimes, we go to a church for stability and sameness, but get up from your chair right now and go look in the mirror. Do you see the same face you saw twenty years ago? Thirty years ago? Forty? We are all in constant process and yet maintainers of a continuity and constancy that is remarkable, and I would even say holy.

In the same way, a church dedicated to the Great Economy, a church in transition, will be a church in constant process while preserving a mysterious and miraculous continuity and constancy. Because it maintains the natural patterns of rhythm and rest, cherishes material bodies (whether human or more than human), never impedes the flow of love, and never draws back from those who are not identical – it becomes a powerful conduit for the divine energies of life and flourishing.

Timothy Gorringe wrote: “The best summary of John’s gospel ever written was ‘philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways. The point, however, is to change it.’”

He was quoting Karl, not Groucho.

See you next week.

Ric Hudgens is a retired Mennonite pastor slowing wandering toward Canterbury at St. Luke’s Episcopal in Evanston; while also teaching eco-ministry at Garrett Seminary and learning to be a grandpa.