The Church's One Foundation

Randall Balmer once quipped that he'd leave evangelicalism but he didn't know where to send the letter. Balmer, who has since been ordained an Episcopal priest, seems to have figured it out, but recently someone came up with a better idea: quit the whole thing (Christianity), and do it on Facebook.

Of course I'm talking about Anne Rice, author of Interview with the Vampire and Queen of the Damned (among many others), who turned from atheism to Catholicism about ten years ago and started writing books about Jesus. Judging from interviews and articles, she retains a fairly orthodox view of the Son of God but thinks the church sucks (vampire pun unintended) and wants nothing to do with it. Any part of it. Her announcement has launched a media -- and social media -- firestorm that has been interesting to watch.

I can't say that I blame her, either for her announcement or for making it on Facebook. As to the former, she has good reasons for wanting to distance herself, and although quitting Christianity, even while clinging to Jesus, is not particularly unique or novel, it's certainly her prerogative. As to the latter, it seems to have been a savvy move; her Facebook site, 70k strong to begin with, jumped to 90k, and while I'm not one to doubt her sincerity, there's no such thing as bad publicity, and she does have to sell books. She also notes that making the announcement in a public forum has provided both the incentive and the means to quote her accurately. That -- how does one say? -- doesn't suck.

What surprises me (sort of) is the galvanizing effect she seems to have had. Reactions tend to be polar, with some anathematizing Rice, or ridiculing her, and others lionizing her and praising her bravery. Facebook posts and blogs about the development attract dozens, even hundreds, of emotionally charged comments. It seems pretty easy to connect the dots to a zeitgeist in which people are calling themselves "Jesus followers" and/or saying they're "spiritual but not religious."

I find such claims both fascinating and a little perplexing. Some of this has to do with my being engaged in the academic study of religion, an occupational hazard of which is the tendency to see religion in everything. It's also connected to my postsecularist bent, which insists that the human subject is ipso facto, a religious subject. It's also related to my more cynical observation that if one wants to find a truly irreligious person, one is more likely to find such a person not in the atheism section of the local bookstore but casually gracing the pew of the nearest church.

But even aside from all those things that mark my personal bias, these claims are a bit like those of someone running for office saying they're not a politician. The underlying meaning is something along the lines of "I'm not like those other people," but taken at face value the claims are a bit ridiculous. A person running for office is, unavoidably (and pretty much by definition) a politician. The idea that the spiritual and the religious are distinct categories and that one can choose to be one or the other is a uniquely modern luxury. Someone who follows Jesus is -- again, by definition -- a Christian, regardless of what he or she might think of particular expressions of Christianity. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that if you feel compelled to do something with Jesus, regardless of what that might be, you have not in any meaningful way escaped the orbit of Christianity. David Henson and Thom Stark both express this well.

This, then, is my version of Big Tent Christianity: the idea that we remain part of the larger theological conversation for at least as long as we have something to say about Jesus. Anne Rice is more than welcome to say she quits, to grab some communion wine and jump on the ecclesiastical version of an inflatable slide. That gesture means something, and it definitely seems to be doing some kind of work. But it's doing that work inside that big tent. Likewise, the claim to be spiritual and not religious means something, but the force of that meaning comes precisely from its being a religious claim.

So, if you need to distance yourself, do it. If you need people to know you're not like those other people, there are ways to accomplish that, and I can't tell you which of them is right for you. Join a house church. Be "emergent." Say you're quitting Christianity. Be a Jesus-follower, or a "follower of God in the way of Jesus." Call yourself "postchristian." Say you're "spiritual but not religious." Put "Jesus" down as your religious affiliation. Call yourself a heretic. Embrace theological non-realism. De-bunk everything orthodox Christianity believes about Jesus. Go on a life-long quest to systematically disbelieve each of the 5 fundamentals. Do what you have to do.

But you might as well close that tent flap. You're not going anywhere.