Last night I chaired a meeting for the local community on the subject of child poverty; a nearby university and various community leaders have been working together to provide services for children in need, and I invited the founder of Child Poverty Action Osaka to come and provide a bit of inspiration. And I was certainly inspired. Two quotes, very loosely translated, which have application to mission as well:
If you make your activities too respectable, only respectable people will come to them. You need to keep things really lax to attract the people who need to come.
(Which is basically what I have been saying with the idea of worse-is-better mission)
The people who come to your events are not the people you should be worrying about. They’re the ones who don’t really need help. The people you should be worrying about are the people who don’t come to you.Subject tags: theologymissiologyquotes
There are, famously, two types of people in the world: those who can extrapolate from incomplete information. I think another division between people is between those who are (predominantly) question people, and those who are answer people. I don’t mean that some people ask more questions and some people answer them; what I mean is that some people are more naturally skilled at defining the boundaries of a problem than they are at finding a solution to that problem.
And this is, as it were, a problem. Because our approach to education in the West is primarily deconstructionist; you win points, academically, by critiquing arguments, attacking positions, pointing out flaws, and so on. This is the environment in which young Westerners grow up and hone their critical skills. You need to get pretty far into academia before constructionism becomes a virtue. And yet, in our society it’s the person who crosses the line with the solution who gets the applause.
I’m definitely a question person. That doesn’t mean that I never come up with answers; just that for me the first stage in coming up with answers is sitting down and finding the right questions to ask. It takes me a long time to come up with answers, because I tend to believe that there’s actually no point coming up with an answer if you didn’t actually take the time to sit down and fully understand the question.
And yet I have so often been dismissed or denigrated: “But all you’ve done is point out the problems; you haven’t come up with any solutions.” A while back I sat down and did some serious thinking about the state of our organisation and came up with a list of fifty things we were doing that were… shall we say, suboptimal. Have I come up with any ways forward? Well, yes, give me time and I will. But you know what? I don’t actually have to.
There seems to be a common belief that there is a moral imperative upon the person who analyses and understands the problem to also be the one who provides the answers; if they don’t, they’re just grumbling and not adding any value at all. But I don’t buy into this belief at all! It doesn’t make any sense. After all, it does not take a genius to realise that deconstruction and construction are different skills, and one thing I’m realising more and more is that it’s far, far better to spend your time and effort using your skills rather than trying to get things done out of areas which are not your specialism. Right now, I’m applying the 80-20 principle to pretty much everything I do; if I’m not exercising my skills in an task, it’s probably not the best use of my time and I should be doing a different task instead.
Is it more valuable to answer the question than to ask it? Again, I think the answer is “Sure, so long as you don’t care about getting the right answer.” Question people may depend on answer people to turn their analysis into workable ideas, but actually answer people depend on question people to do the analytical groundwork which makes sure they’re solving the right problem in the right way.
I don’t actually have a conclusion here, because I’m a question person, not an answer person. But I guess we question people have to be content to be seen as complainers and criticisers, when what we’re actually doing is quietly laying the groundwork for the answer people to get the solutions. If we can work in a team where others can take our analysis and run with it, things can work really well. But if we work in a team where only solutions count, then we need to work hard to ensure that our analysis is taken seriously.Language Undefined
After listening to a particularly, uh, interesting sermon a while back I thought it might be a fun idea to put together a site like yourlogicalfallacyis.com, but specialised for preachers. Of course, most of those logical fallacies apply more generally, but handling the Bible comes with its own special set of fallacies. Here are twenty to be getting on with, but I am sure you can think of more.The ethnocentric fallacy
Oh, I hear this all the time: my culture does this, and therefore it must be what the Bible means.
In any Christian book about relationships you will find the quoted verse:
Gen 2:24: That is why a man leaves his father and mother and unites with his wife, and they become a new family.
In my culture, both the man and the woman leave their father and mother; this verse shows that the Biblical pattern is for nuclear families.The anthropocentric fallacy
This is just the ethnocentric fallacy writ large: my species does this, and that must be what the Bible means.
Gen. 1:27: God created humankind in his own image; in the image of God he created them, male and female he created them.
I have heard this taken to mean that God created humankind uniquely to be in his own image. (This is an example of an argument from silence fallacy.) I wonder if it also means that he created humankind uniquely to be male and female.Confirmation bias
My theology does this, and that must be what the Bible means. If you’re a cessationist and you think that spiritual gifts ceased with the closing of the Biblical canon, then you could advance this verse as proof:
1Cor. 13:8 Love never ends. But if there are prophecies, they will be set aside; if there are tongues, they will cease; if there is knowledge, it will be set aside.
Even though, of course, that verse is in a passage about love, not about spiritual gifts; the long-lasting effects of love will continue long after people have stopped talking.Explaining away
The counterpart: my theology doesn’t do this, and so it can’t be what the Bible means. Especially dangerous because it means that the Bible is no longer able to teach the Church anything new. Here’s one easy example:
Mark 6:5 He was not able (οὐκ ἐδύνατο) to do a miracle there,
One of the IVP commentaries, which can always be relied upon to tell you that the Bible doesn’t actually mean what it seems to be saying, states:
That Jesus is “unable” to do works because of their unbelief presumes a limitation not of his power but of his mission.
No evidence is advanced in support of this sentiment. But none is needed; Jesus is omnipotent, so the Bible must mean something other than “not able”.
There are many wonderful examples of explaining away; I think it is the most common exegetical fallacy. Anyone who tells you that “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God” is actually about very narrow gates that are difficult but not actually impossible to get through are indulging in the explaining-away fallacy; really, Jesus is saying it’s impossible, and if it wasn’t obvious before, two verses later he says so in as many words.Argument from Silence
We have no record of Jesus ever laughing in the Bible, but that doesn’t mean that Jesus never laughed. Any time a preacher says “Nowhere in the Bible does it say that…”, the correct response should be “Nowhere in the Bible does it say that a preacher should wear clothes.”
Sometimes things aren’t said because they’re wrong; but sometimes things aren’t said because they’re dead obvious.Missing the joke
And speaking of laughing, the Bible contains many rhetorical devices, including humour, exaggeration, sarcasm, satire, and so on. Preachers are normally fairly serious about the Bible and expect the Bible to be serious in return, even when it isn’t.
Luke 22:38: The disciples said, “See, Lord, here are two swords.” “That is enough,” he replied.
Jesus isn’t actually advocating armed self-defence here. Two swords against the Roman guard? Great, folks, that’ll do us just fine.The translation fallacy
Exegesis that relies on what the word means in your language isn’t really exegesis.
Matt. 25:14-15 “For it is like a man going on a journey, who summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them.
To one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one, each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey.”
Talents in the New Testament time were large—improbably large—sums of money. There is nothing in this parable about giftings or abilities. That’s just want “talent” means in English today. This isn’t a parable about gifting, it’s a parable about financial instruments and speculating on the property market.
Similarly, “son” in English means “biological offspring”. I’ll just leave that there.Implied subject
When the subject of the sentence, or the referent of a metaphor, is implied, it is often a good idea not to guess. Here are some examples where preachers often take the Sunday School Approach (“I don’t understand the question but the answer is probably ‘Jesus’ ”):
James 3:1 Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers and sisters, because you know that we will be judged more strictly.
Matt. 7:1 Do not judge so that you will not be judged.
Be judged by whom?The conventional wisdom fallacy
More generally, if you haven’t actually done the exegesis because everybody knows what it means, you’re guessing.
Zaccheus wanted to see Jesus but he couldn’t see Jesus above the crowd because he was short. (Did you notice the implied subject there?) Then Jesus comes to his house. Then what happens?
Luke 19:7 All the people saw this and began to mutter, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.”
Luke 19:8 But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”
Ah, a classic conversion story.
Except Zaccheus doesn’t say that at all. “Here and now” has been added in translation and “I will pay back” has been made future when it’s actually present. Here’s a more literal translation:
Luke 19:7 Seeing this, everyone grumbled, saying, “He has gone in to stay with a sinful man.”
Luke 19:8 But standing up, Zacchaeus said to the Lord, “Hey, Lord, I give half of my goods to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody, I pay back fourfold.”
Is he repenting or justifying himself?
The traditional understanding is that “salvation has come to this household” because Zaccheus changed his behaviour. The traditional understanding has a depressingly transactional understanding of salvation; the truth is that Jesus had come to his household.
Another example of “conventional wisdom” is the meaning of the phrase “the Word of God”; it’s not the Bible (see “Anachronism” below), but it’s usually either the Gospel or Jesus himself.A little learning is a dangerous thing
Many preachers who have just learnt Hebrew will discover that the word אֱלֹהִ֑ים used for “God” is plural. Invariably they will then go on to demonstrate how Genesis 1:1 proves the Trinity, despite the fact that more-than-one-god does not necessarily imply a triune god, and despite the fact that there exists such a thing as the pluralis maiestatis.
Knowledge of the language is a good thing, but only in as much as it leads you to knowledge of how the language is used to express thought.Disproved elsewhere
If your interpretation of a Bible verse can be made to look silly by reference to another verse elsewhere, it’s a good idea to at least recognise the existence of that verse.
1Tim. 2:14: And Adam was not deceived, but the woman, because she was fully deceived, fell into transgression.
1Tim. 2:15: But she will be delivered through childbearing, if continues in faith and love and holiness with self-control.
Verse 15 is one of those verses where it’s probably best to say “I have no idea what Paul is going on about here.” But preachers don’t like doing that as it breaks the aura of infallibility, so they guess. Any guess really needs to include a reference to 1 Co 7:8.Forced harmony
The opposite fallacy is to take two verses which say radically different things and find a tortuous way to show that they’re really saying the same thing. The Bible was written by tens of people in many different cultures over the span of thousands of years. Enjoy the differences. Understand the differences, because maybe the differences are there to teach us something, rather than to be glossed over.
What did Jesus actually say over the bread and wine at the Last Supper? Let’s ask Paul:
1Cor. 11:24 and after he had given thanks he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”
1Cor. 11:25 In the same way, he also took the cup after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, every time you drink it, in remembrance of me.”
Matt. 26:26 While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after giving thanks he broke it, gave it to his disciples, and said, “Take, eat, this is my body.”
Matt. 26:27 And after taking the cup and giving thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you,
Matt. 26:28 for this is my blood, the blood of the covenant, that is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.
Mark 14:22 While they were eating, he took bread, and after giving thanks he broke it, gave it to them, and said, “Take it. This is my body.”
Mark 14:23 And after taking the cup and giving thanks, he gave it to them, and they all drank from it.
Mark 14:24 He said to them, “This is my blood, the blood of the covenant, that is poured out for many.
Luke 22:19 Then he took bread, and after giving thanks he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”
Luke 22:20 And in the same way he took the cup after they had eaten, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.
(I’d ask John, but he’s not particularly interested.)
They can’t all be right. Which is another way of saying that one of them must be wrong.One and one makes two
I’ve heard this one used.
Prov. 18:22: He who finds a wife finds what is good
Psa. 34:10b: Those who seek the LORD lack no good thing.
Therefore nothing, because that’s not what the Bible is. Beyond the obvious ripping of verses from their context, the Bible is a collection of stories about God and His people, letters and exhortations from particular people to particular people at particular times; it is not a set of logical principles, which one can combine in deductive syllogisms to form other principles.Allegorizing
Song of Solomon is a book about sex.Paul is not God
This is a bit of a controversial one, but Paul was actually a human being with opinions, emotions, frustrations, anger, and biases. The apostle that we so often treat as the authoritative, inspired, infallible voice of God, forgets precisely who he has baptised (1 Co 1:16), angrily mistreats junior missionaries (Acts 15:38-39) and wishes castration upon his theological adversaries. (Gal 5:12). Sometimes he separates when he is speaking for himself and when he is speaking for Jesus (1 Co 7:10-12) but sometimes he does not. So when he writes giving advice to a younger apostle in his particular context
1Tim. 2:12 But I do not allow a woman to teach or exercise authority over a man.
It would be extremely strange to read that as “God does not allow a woman to teach or exercise authority over a man”. And yet…Equivocation
Equivocation is using one word to mean one thing and then insisting that the same word means something different. A classic example is this lovely verse:
1Cor. 15:22 For just as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all will be made alive.
Of course, the first “all” refers to everyone, and the second “all” only refers to that subset of everyone who confess Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Saviour.Anachronism
I often hear church members talk about what “Christians” in the Old Testament thought or did or whatever, and I used to think that this was a result of lack of understanding the big picture of the Bible. Then I heard Japanese pastors preach, and I wondered whether it was clear to them:
Psa. 33:1 You godly ones, shout for joy because of the LORD!
“Godly ones here refers to those who have been sanctified by Christ…” Wait, hang on. No matter how hard we back-project Jesus onto the Old Testament, I am not sure that this is what the psalmist had in mind, not least because he explains later in the psalm:
Psa. 33:18 Look, the LORD takes notice of his loyal followers,
those who wait for him to demonstrate his faithfulness
Similarly, when the Bible talks about “Scriptures”, it refers to the Old Testament, as it is not particularly possible for it to be referring to a collection of books determined several centuries in the future.Posterior Knowledge
Talking of back-projecting stuff onto the Bible, we can back-project things that we know now but which wasn’t known at the time. A good principle of interpretation is “It can’t mean now what it didn’t mean then”, but that of course assumes that the Bible was written to those it appears to be written to, rather than you personally.
Almost all sermons on Revelation or Daniel commit this fallacy, because they interpret the signs or the great empires or whatever based on their current position in history rather than that of the original listeners, who had no idea about Stalin or Hitler or George Bush.
Similarly, if you want to tell me that πάντων τῶν ἐθνῶν means “all ethnolinguistic people groups”, then you may need to demonstrate how the Evangelist Matthew was aware of the theories of Franz Boas.post hoc ergo propter hoc
This is a common fallacy which means “assuming that because A is after B, that means that A caused B.”
The cock crowed and then the day broke; therefore, the crowing of the cock causes the day to break.
Matt. 24:14 And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.
Preaching the gospel of the Kingdom in the whole world causes the end to come. (Yes, there are actually people who believe this.)Normative narrative
The great thing about the Bible is that, unlike Sunday school material, it doesn’t editorialise. It very rarely tells you when something was a Good Thing or a Bad King.
I’ve mentioned John Mark already, but was Paul correct to leave him behind? Answer: We don’t know, because the Bible doesn’t tell us what should have happened, only what did happen.
I don’t preach very much these days, and one reason is that it’s too dangerous. You sit in isolation preparing a message, and there’s frankly a multitude of ways of getting it wrong. I had one congregation where I did a question-and-answer session after the sermon, and they were sharp. I had to really second-guess myself while preparing because if I made a sloppy assumption they would call me on it and make me explain it. But that’s a pretty rare experience. Most of the time the preacher gets to be the voice of the church, interpreting the Scriptures without any critical oversight from the congregation at all. Sure, one or two might disagree or spot the errors, but it’s still the preacher who has the pulpit and not them.
Being a preacher is like being Spiderman: With great power comes great responsibility. Use it wisely.Subject tags: theologybible
I’m going to do something dangerous and novel on this blog and actually try and give useful practical information; at least useful and practical if you’re a missionary in Japan. A lot of missionaries run events in their churches for various reasons, but not many missionaries go to events outside of the church, run by ordinary Japanese people. We’re the opposite—we hardly ever run our own events but spend a lot of time going to other people’s (it’s a great way to meet people!), and we’ve noticed that there are a few cultural differences between how events are done in the Church and how they’re done outside. When we do do events, we try to remember these differences so we can do things in a way that’s more familiar and comfortable for non-church people.
I’m not an expert on Japanese culture, and I’m sure there are things that I’ve misread or generalisations I’m making from too small a sample. Feel free to correct me.Start and End Together
Perhaps the most important thing we’ve noticed is that Japanese events have a well-defined start, a well-defined end, and people get through the programme together.
Almost all events will start with some kind of an announcement, even if it’s only the rather uninspiring “定刻になりましたので…” (“Well, it’s time, so…”), and people really want to have an official closing. With our family church, we used to go from a closing prayer in the main room to snack time in a separate room, and people would mill about and chat over snacks, which was excellent; but after a while there would be confusion—when does snack time end and when is it OK for us to leave? So now we keep the chat time over snacks, but after a while one of us will say something like “We’ll finish Oyako Church for today, but you’re welcome to keep on chatting in here.” That allows people to stay, but it also gives people permission to leave when they want to without feeling they’re skipping out before the end.
It’s a maxim in Japanese society1 that one of the main ways that leadership is expressed in Japan is by keeping the group together. Recall our experience leaving a group early and how the leader handled that competently, in a Japanese way. Making sure that nobody is left out or separated by the experience is of paramount importance to the event.Be a Circle or a Triangle
This is related to the idea of how Japanese lead groups. The crux of my research into Japanese leadership turned on the idea that there are two types of group in Japanese society: compulsory groups, such as your family, village, workplace, etc. that you have to belong to because of your social identity, and free-association groups such as PTAs, interest groups and so on which reflect your individual identity.
The second type of group is often called a circle (サークル), and its leadership is, in a way, circle shaped, at least in contrast to the hierarchical, triangular shape of compulsory groups. For instance, a mothers’ circle may rotate its leadership, make use of volunteers from within the circle, generally expecting everyone to pitch in more; but a club provided by a local children’s centre (児童館), a public institution provided by the city, will have fixed leadership and a well-defined distinction between staff and users.
The problem we have is that Japanese churches don’t fit. They’re free-association groups which reflect individual identity, and which (depending on your ecclesiology) we would love to see everyone pitching in to help, but we have structured them as triangular compulsory-style groups.
Anyway, decide which you want your church to be, and structure your events accordingly; if you want full participation, you have to give up the staff-user distinction.Don’t Be Afraid to Charge
When missionaries and churches run events, their aim is—of course—to get people to come. They’re aware that people who haven’t come to a church building before find it difficult to come. We say that 敷居が高い, the barrier to entry is high. And so they try to lower the barrier to entry as much as possible. Because missionaries and pastors don’t have much money they often think that cost might be a barrier to entry, so they make programmes and events free of charge.
This is a mistake. By making an event free you can actually create another barrier to entry, by sending the signal that it isn’t worth paying for. People don’t mind paying for quality; just make sure that what you’re doing is quality. In fact, people can be wary of accepting hospitality (snacks, drinks, etc.) if they’re not paying for anything. Reserve (遠慮) is a barrier to entry in itself.
Another good reason to charge for your events, especially regular events, is that if you’re deciding to be circle-shaped, then actually having a “membership fee” (会費) can increase the sense of ownership and participation if it’s handled well.
For events that you take money for, Japanese event organisers will often take names when people pay, and offer to give receipts.Send Out Photos
What should you do with the names you take?
At many of the small group events we’ve been to, we’ve often been presented afterwards with copies of a few photographs taken at the event. This has happened at circles, nurseries, and local community events—in other words, both circular and triangular groups. As well as being a great way to cement the memory of the event in people’s lives, from a missionary perspective, this is an excellent opportunity for follow-up and to establish more contact with the people who have been to your events. Make sure you include photo printing in your event’s budget, and make the effort to follow up with people and give them photos.Keep a Count
In Japan, continuity means success. “If something continues it is felt to be prosperous”, as I recently quoted from Kosuke Koyama. And so we’ve found that Japanese events, circles and so on will prominently how many times the event has happened before: the 28th annual shogi tournament, the 50th meeting of the parent-toddler playgroup, or whatever.
When you start something that you’re likely to repeat, make sure you keep a count of the number of repetitions. Even if you don’t feature this every time, it’s good to celebrate special anniversaries—the 10th, 25th, 50th and so on—which is a good way to build your community anyway.Information Overload
Finally, a word about flyers and posters.
The usual missionary thinking has it that the purpose of a flyer is to be attractive; we spend a long time thinking about the design of the flyer to make it appeal to people. In Western aesthetics, a modern design can often mean simplicity, cleanness, nothing-left-to-take-away minimalism.
Japanese information design sense is quite different. The primary purpose is not design but information. You can see this in the information density of Japanese web sites: compare Sony mobile’s Japanese site with its English site. The Japanese site has 168 links on it; the English equivalent, less than half of that.
If your flier looks great but doesn’t contain enough information to allow people to come to your event and feel fully informed about what is going to happen, what to expect, and what will be expected of them, then it’s not fulfilling its purpose. An appealing design has to be secondary to conveying all the necessary information.
Well, those are the things that we’ve learnt, and hopefully observing the way that others do events has helped us to be more culturally appropriate when we produce our own. What else would you add to the list?
Recently I’ve been thinking of what it means to be successful as a church planter. To be honest I still don’t know what it should mean yet, or even if the concept of success is something that you can meaningfully apply to church planting, but within missionary culture I’ve seen two main criteria for success in operation: church growth, and continuity. These criteria are normally unspoken, but they’re certainly assumed. You are successful as a church planter if your church grows; and/or you are successful as a church planter if you can hand something over—be that a congregation, or a building, or in ideal circumstances, both—to a successor, foreign or national.
Let’s look first at church growth. And that of course means numbers. No, really, it’s the number of people in your congregation; nothing else. Even the people who will swear until they’re blue in the face that they care about character, discipleship and faithfulness will still be quietly counting the number of people who are coming to their activities, will still be encouraged if that number rises and discouraged if it falls. Yes, you do hear people talking about finding their confidence in God; but let’s be honest, that’s normally the consolation prize. You don’t hear that said about people who have planted big churches. The rest of us, meanwhile, have newsletters to write and supporting churches to relate to and funding to justify. So let’s take it as read that church planters want to plant big churches.
Now, an interlude. When I was in programming, I used to work on a piece of software called Request Tracker. It’s a ticketing tool—you know the thing, someone emails a support line and they get an automated ticket number back, and from then on, the helpdesk people use that ticket number to track the progress of their support query. One of the things I did for RT was to write a statistics package: you can find out how many tickets have been opened or closed in a certain time period, who was responsible for closing the most tickets, which tickets have been open for the longest, and so on.
It was interesting, but I was always in two minds about whether to release it or not. It’s a business maxim that you can’t manage what you don’t measure, but it’s also true that there’s a strong temptation to always manage what you do measure. So someone who closes lots of tickets in a day is obviously a better worker than someone who closes a few tickets a day. This of course creates perverse incentives (what’s called in the literature “distortion effects”) to up your closed ticket rate: closing tickets without necessarily properly answering the user’s question, palming off difficult queries onto other team members, and so on. I’m sure you’ve had that experience when you have contacted a technical support line.
My contention is that there’s a similar temptation to game the metrics in church planting too. Remember, even the patron saint of church growth, Donald Mcgavran, said1 “the student of church growth … cares little whether a Church is credible; he asks how much it has grown.” Little else matters other than the headline figure.
There are many theories of church growth that you’ll find in missiological manuals, but I’ve really only seen two real driving ideas in practice, and they both play into these distortion effects: first, that success breeds success, and second, that it’s easier to get people interested in church than it is to get them interested in Jesus.
The way that “success breeds success” plays out is the idea that people are more likely to want to join something that’s already growing and vibrant. So the way to game this metric is to gather a lot of people together out of nowhere, and the easiest way to do this is if they’re already Christian, because then you can avoid that difficult and time-consuming process of evangelising people. Stealing people from other churches works pretty well, and I’ve seen that used (not in Japan, but in the UK) as a way to bootstrap a denomination’s new church plant. Or if you can borrow people from another congregation within your denomination, you can set up a big church in pretty quick time. Setting up an international congregation is a great way to grow your church with no effort, because again you have Christians who are looking for somewhere to worship. Focus on church planting in areas of high population, where you’re more likely to be able to pull a crowd than in a more remote setting. Stay away from the “resistant” people so you can concentrate on the “winnable”. (Mcgavaran again.)
I don’t mean to suggest that all church planters are cheating and gaming the metrics all of the time. No. The vast majority are doing a hard job under hard circumstances and have enough integrity to try to do it right. But I am saying that the temptation is there, and it does bring results; and I know there are those who have used metric-gaming as a strategy for planting successful churches. And I’m not even saying that to point the finger because of course I’ve done all of these things myself too; not necessarily to start congregations, but to bulk up numbers for events and the like. An event with more numbers is obviously more successful than one with fewer, and if that’s the metric then heck, I’m going to game it along with everyone else. It gives a nice needed confidence boost when things otherwise don’t look like they’re going well.
It all works, but I can’t help thinking that none of it is mission.
And the second point is linked. If numbers of bums on seats is the metric, then it’s far more important to get people through the doors of the church than it is to get them converted, transformed and living for Christ. So we do absolutely anything that gets people through the doors of the church.
Some people in missiology talk about the “funnel” strategy, drawing people into churches via church events, choirs, lessons, programmes and so on, and hoping that through those things, people get interested in Jesus. Which sometimes they do, but it’s actually very rare. And even if they don’t get interested in Jesus, we’re hardly going to kick them out of church, because they might one day and anyway they’re adding to our numbers, which is great. Except we now have to maintain the programmes which keep them there, and those programmes have nothing to do with Jesus.
See, the thing about church planters is that they love the church and they really want to build the church and so they really focus on the church, and when they evangelise, the way they evangelise is to bring people into relationship with the church, when actually the point is to bring people into relationship with Jesus. So similarly I can’t see very much of this as mission either.
But the problem is that evangelising about the church instead of Jesus can actually be a pretty effective strategy. It’s less offensive, of course. You can certainly get bums on seats with a great English programme, with counselling, and yes, even with a warm, welcoming fellowship. You can build up a good sized congregation that way. But there’s no requirement for any member of that congregation ever to have experienced Christ. They could, for all you know, all be there for the ride. As Bosch puts it astutely, “reasons why people join the church may vary greatly and may often have little to do with commitment to what the church is supposed to stand for”. Having people join “the Church” is the aim of church planting but completely orthogonal to the aim of discipleship; or to put it more cynically, the funnel strategy is a great way of getting people into churches and not discipling them.
Is that success? Does a big congregation equal success? If not, what does?
Well, the other metric of success that I’ve come across is the ability to turn your congregation over to a successor. How can you be a success without a successor?
Think about it. A church planter must plant a church. So logically you can convert a thousand people, disciple them for twenty years, and if they all go off to join different churches and you leave the country with no congregation, then you’ve failed. I am being extreme, but only a little bit; I know I am guilty of measuring people’s ministry in exactly that way. (Yes, I’m open to the possibility that this entire post is an expression of my personal prejudices rather than anything substantive about church planting itself. But I am fairly sure I’m not the only one.) I’ve known missionaries who’ve done amazing things, but at the end of their time in the country had nothing to show for it and because of that they went home to concentrate on more fruitful endeavours instead. If planting a church is the metric and you don’t have a church to hand over at the end of your ministry, then how can you possibly consider your ministry a success?
But for one thing, handing over a church still doesn’t guarantee any kind of successful ministry. I remember one Japanese pastor telling me about a missionary who planted twenty or so churches in a neighbouring province. As soon as one was handed over to local leadership he moved to another area and started another church. This is absolutely perfect, textbook church-planter behaviour. And as he was moving on all the time, he never looked back to see the carnage that he’d left in his wake; none of those churches remain today. Because he never looked back, he counted his career establishing twenty-odd church plants as a success.
Is that success?
A the same time, I don’t think “establishing a church which remains today” necessarily contains as success either. Because trying to establish something that is permanent fails to appreciate that nothing is permanent. In the long run, we’re all dead. I’ve said this before, but aiming for a permanent ministry achievement betrays a lack of trust in God as the author and agent of mission. There’s a strong temptation to want to be able to look back and point to something and say “I did that!”, to have something tangible to show for our work; and as church planters a continuing congregation is the ultimate tangible expression.
In Japan, at least, there’s a massive fixation on the idea of continuity. This is partly why I try to never run an event twice; if you run it twice, you have to run it in perpetuity. Kosuke Koyama explains the Japanese philosophy like this:
The fundamental life philosophy of the Japanese people is ‘continuity’. If something continues it is felt to be prosperous. The line of imperial succession is continuous. Everything possible will be done to ensure that the family name will be continued. Production and sales must be continued. When continuity is disrupted disintegration sets in. The ‘next-next’ eternally continuing line is the prosperous line. There is no beginning and no end. Only ‘next-next’ is.
And so for a ministry to be successful in Japan it must continue. If your church folds, your ministry was worth nothing and you go home a failure. So when we’ve tried to explain what we’re doing in terms of house church planting, the most common question we’ve had from Japanese people is “Is that sustainable long term?” (by which, of course, they mean “permanently.”)
Normally when I answer that question, I tactfully don’t mention the fact that the existing model of church is utterly unsustainable long term. Instead, I talk about how we equip the groups to look after themselves, how they have the Bible and the Holy Spirit and that’s enough for anyone, and so on.
But here’s the answer that I don’t give, but probably should: Actually, I don’t give a damn if this model of church is sustainable long term or not, because I take no responsibility for the long-term wellbeing of the congregations I establish. None whatsoever. That’s not my responsibility to take. Those people belong to God, who loved them before I arrived and who will love them long after I am gone. Their eternal wellbeing is His concern, not mine. He knows their needs far better than I do, and He can lead them to other disciplers in precisely the same way that He led them to me in the first place. My job is not to set them up for life; my job is just to disciple them as best I can for the time that He has given me with them, and after I am gone, I trust Him to provide them with what they need.
That’s probably not a very church-plantery attitude to have.
Probably I should just hunker down, start up a small congregation, hand it over to the rest of my team and clear off. There, I established something. Now my church planting ministry is successful, right?
I don’t know.
I don’t think any of the ways that we can evaluate ourselves are satisfactory. And that’s a hard thing to live with. We all want to know if we’re being a success or a failure, if we’re doing the right thing or not, and yet all the metrics we have to measure success in church planting are either too easily gameable, too meaningless, or too downright idolatrous.
Maybe that business about finding one’s confidence in God is the answer after all. Maybe I’m just showing my worldliness here.
At the same time, I’m still guilty of comparing myself against others, and I still feel jealous of those who’ve managed to game the metrics and have something great to write home about, or who’ve started something, passed it on, and made it someone else’s problem now. “It all works, but I can’t help thinking that none of it is mission”, I said. Another way to say that is: I can’t help thinking that none of it is mission but, you know what? It all works.
Yesterday I went to my daughter’s first nativity play. (Man, I’m getting old.) The local nursery has a Christian foundation, and they take the opportunity to remind people of the origins of Christmas.
But this is highly unusual. Japanese culture has a voracious appetite, and is well known for importing foreign forms, modifying them to fit Japanese society, throwing away the forms which don’t fit, and not really caring all that much about their content. Japanese curry often has pork cutlets or noodles in it. Japanese Buddhism was imported from Chinese but mixed with the indigenous Shinto to form a confusing blend. Japan is a highly syncretic culture. (And yeah, Japanese Christianity is not immune.)
And Christmas is the same. The version of Christmas that has taken root in Japanese society goes like this: Christmas is the time when Santa comes with a reindeer pulling a sleigh to give presents. People don’t give presents to each other (because we’ve got enough festivals already for that) but it’s traditionally a time for taking your boyfriend or girlfriend out to KFC for fried chicken.
And so I’m writing from a culture where Christmas is not, and never was a Christian festival, and frankly people like it that way. It’s a fun, enjoyable winter tradition.
I’ve seen a lot of Christians this year—more than normal, I feel—grousing about the state of Christmas in their societies. “Keep Christ in Christmas!” has appeared all over my social media feeds. Others, however, have thoughtfully seen the state of Christmas in their society as a reflection that those societies are now post-Christian; they see “Keep Christ in Christmas” as an attempt to claw back a cultural expression of Christianity that may have little to do with actual faith.
There’s a lot of noise out there already, so I’m not confident I’m going to add all that much signal, but it seems that the same process that happened when Japan imported Christmas—separating out the elements which fit in with society’s values (fun, consumerism) and throwing out the elements which don’t (Jesus)—is now happening in other non-Christian countries as well. And I don’t find that surprising in the least. That’s what cultures do. You can try to call them back to the content of Christmas if you like, but they’ll gleefully raid the forms.
What I do find surprising is the reaction of Christians. In facing up to a post-Christian society they’re going through a strange mix of denial, anger and bargaining all at once. “Keep Christ in Christmas”, aimed at other Christians, sounds very much like a call to be faithful to a tradition. And sure, why not. There are lots of ways Christians can be faithful to the Christmas tradition.
But “Keep Christ in Christmas”, aimed at non-Christians, is bizarre. “Keep Christ in Christmas”? He’s not there. The values of Jesus do not fit in with non-Christian society, and so they have thrown him out.
The only version of Christ who could possibly fit into a non-Christian Christmas is a watered-down, syncretistic Christ. I don’t want that to happen. That would be even worse.
“Put Christ back into Christmas” may be better perhaps, but even that sounds much more like an attempt to both regain a lost past, (and we can argue about whether or not that past was actually real rather than imagined) and chastise non-believers for appropriating our festival in ways that we do not approve of—forgetting, of course, that Christmas itself was a cultural appropriation in the first place. The thing is, I’m not sure it really reflects Christian values to impose our preferences on those who don’t believe.
If you want to keep Christ in Christmas, that’s great! Here’s two ways you can do that: Do not be irritable or resentful; do not insist on your own way.Language Undefined
I know a lot of Christians are fond of the phrase “WWJD” - What Would Jesus Do? It seems like a simple and natural rule for life. I love the phrase too, but for a very different reason.
The reason I love the phrase is that it reminds me that, at any given time, I have absolutely no idea what Jesus would do. Because most of the time, Jesus would do something that nobody expected. Nobody at all.
He’d stop and invite a Pharisee to climb down from a tree and have lunch. He’d stop in the middle of a crowd of people and complain that someone had touched him. He’d show up at a party with six hundred litres of wine. He’d preach a sermon about the Messiah and then say “that’s me”; then he’d strip off and start washing people’s feet. He’d ride into Jerusalem on a donkey, effectively declaring himself king; he’d willingly go to the cross and die. When he heard that someone was close to death, he’d go and heal them; or sometimes he wouldn’t. When he needed to cross the lake, he’d borrow a boat; or sometimes he’d just walk across the top. When someone wanted to follow him, he’d let them; or sometimes he’d tell them to go away. When someone asked him a question, he’d answer with a good clear answer, or with a parable, or with another question, or with complete silence.
If you want a simple and natural rule of life, Jesus already gave one—love God, love your neighbour. But What Would Jesus Do? I have no idea what Jesus would do, and that’s great. It reminds me that Jesus was brilliant, unexpected—only obvious in retrospect. But most of all it reminds me that “for just as the sky is higher than the earth, so my deeds are superior to your deeds and my plans superior to your plans, says the Lord.”Subject tags: theology
I’ve been wanting to write this post for a few months and have sat down time and again to work out the “right way” to say what I want. Now I realise that if I wait until I work out the right way, I’m never going to write it, so I think I’ll just go with something a bit unpolished, if only to get something out. I hope it’s clear that the title is a hyperbole.
There are two common dogmas amongst the more enlightened parts of the mission community; first, that the way forward for Christian mission to is partnership in local churches, and second, allied to that, that local churches and local Christians know best how to evangelise their own people. These were the sort of things that were drummed into me at fairly right-on mission colleges, but I’m actually becoming more and more uncomfortable with both of them.
I won’t spend much time on the second, the idea that local Christians hold the keys for best evangelising their own. It’s a statement which is actually falsifiable with data should you choose to do so, but more to the point I think it’s highly context-specific. Certainly in my context in Japan, my understanding is that intentionally international and missionary-led churches are growing much faster than Japanese-led churches. There is much to learn from the praxis of local churches and local evangelism, sure, but we have to take both positive and negative lessons from them. Some things, we shouldn’t be doing. At any rate, I don’t think the idea that local Christians are the best at evangelism should be taken on trust.
But this leads into the first point, that missionaries should always work in partnership with and primarily in the service of local churches. Eddie said explicitly (in a post I now can’t find because I left it too late to get this written): that missionaries should expect to work for and under national church leaders. That’s not an uncommon view. But I think it is a mistaken one, and I don’t think it’s actually even partnership.
Very recently we had a big meeting between our missionaries and local church leaders, and it was incredibly obvious that the local church leaders really did not have a clear grasp of why missionaries were there, or at least why the missionaries thought they were there. They believed that we were here to serve the churches in any way that the churches needed; and much of modern missiology would agree that this is the way it should be. But we thought we were here to plant churches, and that was what we have been trained to do. If we knew that we were expected to act as interim church pastors (because that’s the need that the churches have right now) then we would have been better off going to seminaries, not to mission training colleges. We know how to evangelise, contextualise, and disciple—we don’t know how to perform a wedding or a funeral.
But is it really the case that all local churches need to grow and flourish is additional manpower?
The issue is that there is a fundamental difference between the role of the church leader and the role of the missionary. Not only are the roles of missionary and church leader different, but their priorities are different too. I interviewed one pastor who said that church leaders want to focus on the church, care and feeding of the church members, and so on, whereas missionaries wanted to spend all their time reaching out and evangelising. Now that might sound like a good division of labour, but actually this pastor was complaining. Why don’t missionaries want to focus on church activities? We pastors have to keep reining them in to what is really important. This is the problem with the “missionaries should serve local churches” view of mission: ignoring that difference and turning the missionary into a church dogsbody may assuage a bit of post-colonial guilt, but it isn’t the best thing to build up the church.
Another example: we put our new missionaries through an internship with a local church, serving under a Japanese pastor. The idea of this internship is to allow the new missionary to understand how to work in the way that Japanese churches work. Now if local churches were shining examples of how to do ministry in a particular context, then internship may have some benefit. But in the real world, the effect of this kind of internship is to condition new missionaries, who may have come with interesting and exciting ideas, to a church system which is regarded as normative and where other models of church ministry are downplayed. After a year, most new missionaries are embroiled in the minutiae of local church ministry, and have lost most of the passion for new ideas and thinking that they bring to the field.
But for me, one the whole reasons for having missionaries is that they bring a set of perspectives and experiences which are foreign. They do things differently. Recently I was working with a different mission agency on some ideas for what they called “mindset change.” The idea was to produce packages of teaching and training materials which would address what we saw as some of the weaknesses of the existing church model in Japan. We bounced some of these ideas off a national Christian leader who we thought would be sympathetic, but we were surprised by a very curt response asking us who precisely we thought had given us the right to change the mindset of local Christians? It’s a good question, and it brought a much needed dose of humility; we quickly ate our words, admitted that we didn’t have all the answers, and reframed the discussion as a way to work with local churches to discover together Kingdom values. That’s all very well. But looking back on it, more and more I feel that changing the mindset of locals is precisely what missionaries are for. True, a national church which is doing fine does not necessarily need new ideas. But then a national church which is doing fine does not need missionaries! Missionaries are needed in precisely those situations where the local church needs the stimulation that an outsider can provide.
Now of course, in a perfect world, local church leaders would have both the confidence in their own ministry and an appreciation of the difference and stimulation that missionaries can bring, and would not just use them as interchangeable additional labour. (Incidentally, I cannot think of many organisations, church or otherwise, where “appreciation of difference” can be said to be a characteristic.) If only church leaders had a good understanding of what a missionary really is for, then it would all be all right, wouldn’t it? We could each find our role and focus our activity on what we were best at. Sorry, but if I were to be cynical, I would point out that the kinds of people who say that missionaries should be working under national churches are also the very first people to complain about the lack of a good understanding of mission and the roles of missionaries amongst the church leaders within their own country—local churches, where they have the most influence, and without linguistic and cultural barriers getting in the way!
I am not saying it can’t work well. I think there are some really good examples of partnership in practice. But those examples are generally those where missionaries do not directly serve under national churches nor do national churches serve under missionaries, but where each are allowed to carry out their ministry in fellowship and in the unity of shared purposes and goals and understanding about how ministries will develop in the future. Actually, the “foreign” ways of doing ministry that missionaries inject into the national churches are more likely to be accepted and taken up if there is a certain element of critical distance between the local church activity and the missionaries’ activity, so that neither side feels threatened by the other’s difference.
One final thought, inspired by the story of the Japanese Orthodox church (go read it), is that sending (culturally) nth generation Christians to work under first or second generation Christians is not necessarily a great idea. This isn’t to say that those coming from a Christian background have all the answers, nor that local church leaders aren’t “really” Christian. Of course not. But people coming from cultures where an understanding of sin is a completely new idea will work quite differently to those who have a deeply culturally ingrained perspective of sin. (This can manifest itself in different ways, of course.) Similarly, those for whom grace is an alien concept will resolve problems in a way which is quite different to those for whom it is an expected part of the Christian identity. In these situations I’m not sure it is appropriate for missionaries to defer to local church leadership. I can think of a number of situations which have been handled in a less-than-Christian way to which, as subservient missionaries, we nodded our assent. I don’t think that was the right thing to do.
Balance is difficult, and we are not good at it. The whole of theological history, and of missiological history–one might say the whole of human history—is a story of pendulums swinging too far, people reacting against the excesses of the previous generation. It deepens like a coastal shelf. The issue of partnership is certainly one which is fundamental to missions in the twenty-first century, and in particular how the historical post-Christendom centers of mission, still holding the power and the purse-strings, interact with the burgeoning churches of the Global South. And yes, as Christians, our model of ministry should be “as one who serves.” But service comes in many forms. Sometimes the best service one can provide is to gently take someone aside and say “no, you’re not going about this the right way.” For that to happen, partnership needs to be a partnership of equals and friends, not masters and servants.Subject tags: theologyecclesiologymission
A few years back I tried to gather as much information as possible about the state of the Japanese church. Last time I reported on these statistics, church membership was down, church attendance was down, baptisms were down… it wasn’t a great time for the Japanese church. Periodically I wonder what, if anything, has happened since then.
Unfortunately, one of the things that has happened is that one of the most useful source of statistics, the Church Information Service, has shut down and its replacement isn’t really up and running yet. So I had to go digging elsewhere. I ended up digging in the Japanese Ministry of Culture’s religious census data.
Now of course there are a bunch of caveats to go with that data which we’ll get into as we go along, but here’s the longterm picture: Japanese Christianity has been steadily growing up until recently but there are now signs that the Church might be in decline.
Click on any of the graphs to see full size.
There’s a clear pattern of growth here until about 2005 when it all goes a bit haywire. Some of those data points are obviously askew and it’s hard to draw a consistent trend. As you can see, the error bars show that the church might be growing slightly or decreasing; we will have to wait and see.
On the other hand, if we just look at the last ten years, the trend is a bit more pronounced:
With a shorter term viewpoint, Japanese Christianity peaked in 2007 and is now starting to decline.
Of course, this information comes from the Ministry of Culture, and as far as I can tell, it’s based on self-reporting by the churches. (I can tell this because one large denomination gave exactly the same number of members three years running, which would be somewhat unlikely in a census.) It includes all kind of groups which call themselves Christian, including the LDS, the Seventh Day Adventists and some of the more unorthodox indigenous churches. It also includes Catholic, Orthodox, Anglicans and UCCJ. It obviously only includes denominations which submit statistics to the MoC. If you are part of a new denomination in Japan, congratulations; these statistics do not apply to you, and you get a free pass.
Because one could argue that this either artificially inflates or deflates the “real” figure of Christians, what I also wanted to do was to understand what was happening to mainstream Evangelical denominations in Japan. The idea here was not to get too hung up about precise figures of Evangelicals but to collate figures to examine the trends within Evangelicalism. To do that, I chose a sample of denominations to study over time. The sample I chose consists of the various Baptist denominations; TEAM (Domei); Assemblies of God; and Emmanuel. We can argue about what other groups should be in or out of a sample, but I hope we can all agree that these are fairly representative Japanese Evangelical groups.
What should come as very little surprise is that mainstream Evangelicalism in Japan has been basically flatlining, apart from the teensiest bit of growth, for years. What’s useful about this sample is that it doesn’t bounce around since 2005 as the general Christian data does, but shows a consistent trend:
Once again, looking at the more recent picture, it looks very much like we have reached a peak and are now into a decline:
We are obviously not many data points since the 2008 peak—Mombusho’s latest census information covers 2012, and there’s the potential of a “3/11 effect”—and so one should be loathe to make any strong predictions from this data, but heck, I’m going to go out on a limb and call it: Japanese Christianity has peaked.
I say this because the data in the MoC surveys resonates with the CIS information I quoted in my last post, that church attendance, membership and baptisms were all down year-on-year, and but I say it also because it resonates with the narrative I have been banging on about for ages (So yes, another caveat is that this is my personal bias.): Mrs Average Japanese Evangelical was saved in her early 20s when missionaries arrived in the mid 1950s, and is now well into her 80s. She is likely to die any time soon. The small but steady gains we have seen in evangelism over the past 30-40 years do not, unfortunately, negate the effect of the core of our mainstream churches dying of old age.
That’s a narrative that makes a lot of sense to me, is easy to understand and is backed up by the data. In fact, I would say that this is why the state of the Evangelical church has been so flat—the “new birth” rate has been equal to the death rate for quite a while now. Now I believe we are at an inflection point, where the mortality rate starts to outpace evangelical zeal. The longevity of the Japanese people bought us a lot of time, but now that is coming to an end; the congregational crisis that has been warned about for the past ten years is now at hand.
I take a certain amount of comfort from this, because the post-crisis Japanese church is going to look very different to the status quo. We will see a different, and hopefully more sustainable, church appear as a result.
And of course, I could be wrong. The error bars in that top graph show that the church could still be growing. We are only 6 years since the peak. We will have to wait and see. But even as we wait, the average age of the Japanese congregation will continue to increase.
For reproducibility, I’ve attached my data file (extracted from the Mombusho census results) as a CSV file below. Apologies if there are any errors in my transcription of the census files.Subject tags: theologymissionjapan
As a publisher, I get all kinds of interesting book proposals. Some of them come from people with, let’s say, unorthodox ideas. It’s all well-meaning stuff, but I have to find delicate ways of suggesting that perhaps this is not the kind of material I would like to publish. Eddie has just written thoughtfully on the problems of Christians not displaying adequate scepticism for anything that suits their goals. I would go a bit further and say there is a worrying flirtation with conspiracy theories within great swathes of popular Christianity.
I want to take a couple of examples from my own context, mission in Japan.
There’s an interesting and pretty common way of sharing the Gospel with people using the kanji (Chinese) character set. For instance, you can explain the concept of “righteousness” (義) as “putting myself (我) under the Lamb (羊).” That’s a wonderful and didactically useful coincidence.
But then you get people who don’t stop there. One author I came across failed to notice his own move between conjecture and explanation. He talked about “Biblical explanations which can be given to various characters”, which is fair enough. You can make up whatever explanation you like and give them to the characters, if it helps you share the Gospel. But then he went on to suggest that these explanations really were the etymology of the characters. In other words, to suggest that it isn’t actually a coincidence after all, and that the combination of characters 羊 and 我 into 義 is proof positive of either Christian influence in the development of kanji, or even further, that God is somehow revealing His Divine purpose by manipulating the universe into creating this piece of Chinese orthography. (This is a kind of failing Occam’s razor/post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy, in that it literally assumes a deus ex machina.)
As proof of this, they marshal the fact that the probability that these two characters would match up together is 10 billion to one, or some such. (Working on the basis of two characters pulled out of an orthography of 10,000, for instance.) It would be incredibly unlikely for such a combination to happen “by chance.”
Of course, this is completely bogus. For starters, not all kanji characters can combine to form other characters. There’s only 214 combining kanji (“radicals”), which shortens the odds somewhat. But there’s a bigger problem: probability is being used badly here. In fact, most of the world’s problems could be solved if people only understood how to use Bayesian probability.
Essentially, you have to be very careful when talking about the odds of things that have already happened and that you already attach significance to. For instance, it would be reasonable to give you 36-to-one odds that the next throw of two dice would turn up snake eyes. But anyone giving 36-to-odds that the previous throw of two dice, which are sitting on the table and which we can both see, turns up snake eyes is a madman. There are prior conditions at play, which we need to take into account.
For instance, out of the thousands of kanji in existence, we can only provide these kind of “Christian” justifications for a few of them. So there’s a selection bias effect right there. We also have to take into account the fact that we have provided the “meaning” (“righteousness is myself under the Lamb”) ourselves as a prior statement of our theology. How have we provided it ourselves, you might think, surely it’s right there? Well, I lied. 羊 doesn’t mean “lamb”, specifically; it just means “sheep”. Is “righteousness equals putting myself under the sheep” more proof or less proof of divine intervention than “righteousness equals putting myself under the lamb”?
But it’s always presented as “putting myself under the lamb”, because that’s more convincing… until you find out the truth. That rather strikes me as a cheap magic trick; it buys you a bit of short-term amazement at the expense of long-term credibility. And this is the major problem with Christian conspiracy theories—it doesn’t actually do us any good to be so damned gullible. I would not advise being obviously gullible about whacky theories and then going on to attempt to persuade other people that Jesus came back from the dead.
How do you tell if something’s a conspiracy theory? This should be common sense, but there you are. Eddie points out some obvious principles such as evaluating the source. Here’s another one: Something is a conspiracy theory if it requires secret knowledge. The character 禁 (forbid) is “obviously” two trees (木木) and God—forbidding is what happened when God told mankind not to eat from the tree of life and the tree of knowledge of good and evil. But that’s an explanation that can only possibly make sense if you already assume the conclusion. If God’s revealing himself through kanji, He’s doing it only to people who know the Bible in the first place. Nobody else is ever going to come up with such an explanation.
How do I know? Because they haven’t, and there’s another way you can tell if something’s a conspiracy: if you have to actively ignore the experts on a particular subject, it’s probably not true. In the kanji case, mainstream scholarship already has etymologies for kanji. 禁 is usually explained in terms of surrounding an altar (shaped like 示) with wood 林, marking where ordinary people are forbidden to enter. And sure, kanji etymologists aren’t going to come up with the Garden of Eden version because they don’t have a Christian worldview but hey, they’ve come up with an explanation which is equally probable, and if you are trying to overturn mainstream scholarship you have to show that your explanation is more probable. Yes, you have a higher burden of proof against you but that’s how knowledge works.
(The same goes for people who have “disproved” evolution. Well done—now simply write it up in a scientific paper and collect your Nobel prize. If you have to then go on to argue that no scientists will ever agree with you only because all of them are biased and part of the global secularist plot against you, then we can be pretty sure we’re dealing with a conspiracy theory.)
Changing the example, another one I get a lot is that the Japanese are the lost tribe of Israel. No really, people actually get into this one. Evangelical and particularly charismatic Christians tend to have interesting ideas about Israel, to the extent that I would almost say that if it involves Israel, it’s probably a conspiracy theory. The Japanese Jews madness has been going on for 150 years, since Norman MacLeod wrote “The Truth of the Imperial House and the Ten Tribes of Israel.” One of his “proofs” includes a picture apparently of “the Japanese Imperial crest” containing a lion and a unicorn. This is apparently the “secret” crest (secret knowledge again), because the official crest is widely known and looks nothing like it. Tokayer wrote another book of “proofs” that Japanese are descended from the ten lost tribes, including the fact that they use salt for purification rituals, women are not allowed to take part in religious ceremonies while menstruating, Shinto festivals include the parading of a box-like portable shrine around. (Obviously the ark of the covenant.) It goes on and on.
One can find a lot of coincidences. The problem with coincidences is that they might just be coincidences, or rather commonalities. Everyone uses salt for purification, because that’s what salt does. Almost all ancient cultures think that blood is ritually unclean; Hebrew culture was one of them. And given a big enough corpus (the world) you can always find coincidences that you are looking for. In one temple in Japan, they used to animal sacrifices not unlike those commanded in the Old Testament. (Lots of cultures do animal sacrifices.) But there are 77,000 temples in Japan, and the rest of them don’t.
When it comes to determining whether the Japanese are actually related to the lost tribes of Israel, there’s only one question that needs answering: Does their population DNA contain Y-chromosome haplotype J-P209? This is a much nicer question because it’s empirically testable. Unfortunately for the theory, the answer is no, not even a tiny bit. Once again, if you want to believe in the conspiracy theory, you have to actively ignore empirical evidence, and that’s never a good thing. The Bible warns us not to waste our time on foolish controversies over genealogies. I don’t know what that meant in its original context or how to import it into ours, but I’ll go out on a limb and say: this counts.
I’m sure none of this stuff is malicious. I don’t think people are deliberately trying to mislead. I think people have found interesting bridges into Japanese culture, interesting ways of sharing the Gospel, and that’s very, very good. The problem comes, in a sense, when you start to believe your own propaganda; when you mentally shift between “X is like Y” and “X is due to Y”. And even really smart people can actually fail to notice when they’ve done this themselves. And then other people get hold of it, and spread the fact that a really smart person has noticed that X is due to Y, and… that’s how conspiracy theories start.
People want amazing things to bolster their faith. I get that. People are predisposed to give credence to “proofs” of things they believe already. Confirmation bias is a pervasive thing. But our faith does not depend on such things; we don’t actually need to hold onto outlandish, fringe theories, especially when these things are easily disproved. It makes us look gullible and stupid, and as I’ve mentioned that’s not great for our witness.
And I get that Japan is hard and we want to find allies where we can. But if the gospel is to be the message of truth, then we need to make sure that we do not ally it with falsehoods. Although these things might appear superficially useful for evangelism, actually a little more scepticism would help others to believe.Subject tags: theology
Perhaps a key verse for Japanese pastors is John 17:12.
When I was with them I kept them safe and watched over them in your name that you have given me.
This is pretty much the ideal expectation of a Japanese pastor. I’ve heard a very good and successful Japanese pastor explain to me that, unlike in my country where people dissatisfied with a church would simply choose another church, in Japan those dissatisfied with a church would probably not go anywhere. I don’t know how true that is—I certainly know some people here who have been serial church-hoppers—but at least it gives you an insight into the mindset of Japanese pastors. Thou must never, ever cause a believer to leave the church.
This mindset has pretty widespread consequences. Ensuring that every single church member remains safely within the fold - or at least, never misses a Sunday service, which comes to the same thing - is literally the primary concern of most Japanese pastors. There are exceptions, of course, but your average Japanese pastor is content to leave the other 99 (percent) in the fields to safeguard the 1 in the sheepfold.
And so when I was working at a Japanese church I was advised not to speak about anything political, anything social, or indeed anything controversial on which there could reasonably be a difference of opinion, because differences of opinion are fatal to Japanese harmony and hence risk breaking the fellowship.
I can understand some of the reasoning. Converts in Japan are hard-won, sometimes taking years to come to faith, and so you really don’t want to then lose them. But it all goes to make up an environment whereby church will teach you about spiritual, ethereal topics, but will under no circumstances challenge you about the way you live your daily life. It’s true that some of the implications of the spiritual can be costly, especially for Japanese who are expected to carry out certain religious duties in their family. But you probably knew that as you came to church; once you’re in church, you will hardly experience any teaching or discipleship that will require anything more of you.
For some reason, and I don’t know how this has happened, being a Christian in Japan is perfectly compatible with living an ordinary, middle-class Japanese life.
But I’ve come to realise that it’s not just Japan. Over the summer I was talking with someone about the state of the UK church, and they were exercised about what they saw as the lukewarmness of UK Christians, for exactly the same reasons: Christianity is offered as something that can be compatibly added-on to the ordinary British existence.
You can be a Christian, and you can still spend all of your energy striving for a better house, a better position and a better salary. You can follow the one who came down from heaven and made himself nothing, taking on the form of a slave, and still be an aspiring social climber. Christianity can be something you just do on Sunday mornings and, if you’re really committed to the church, (we say that, rather than “committed to Jesus”) on Wednesday evenings too. Your values, basically, don’t have to change.
I wonder how much of this is because clergy in the UK are worried that, if they taught about a kingdom where the last will be first and the first will be last, they’d lose many of their church members too. And I wonder how much of it is because they don’t see any incompatibility between middle-class British values and kingdom values at all.
I am always reminded of a quote from David Bosch, critiquing the church growth movement:
We cannot be indifferent to numbers, for God is “not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Pet 3:9). AG 6 therefore rightly includes church planting and growth in its definition of the goal of mission… Still, as a measure of how effectively and how responsibly a church has evangelized, membership statistics are less helpful. As a matter of fact, authentic and costly evangelism may cause a church’s membership to decline rather than increase.
I don’t know if churches deliberately water down their message out of fear of offending people; that’s a difficult call to make, and not my call. But I do know that the obsessive impulse to keep members at all costs cannot help but impede authentic discipleship, and blunts the difficult message of Jesus.Subject tags: theologyevangelicalismjapan
また、使徒たちの間に、自分たちのうちでだれがいちばん偉いだろうか、という議論も起こった。そこで、イエスは言われた。「異邦人の間では、王が民を支配し、民の上に権力を振るう者が守護者と呼ばれている。 しかし、あなたがたはそれではいけない。あなたがたの中でいちばん偉い人は、いちばん若い者のようになり、上に立つ人は、仕える者のようになりなさい。 食事の席に着く人と給仕する者とは、どちらが偉いか。食事の席に着く人ではないか。しかし、わたしはあなたがたの中で、いわば給仕する者である。（聖書、ルカの福音書）Subject tags: japantheology
First of all, if you haven’t read this article, drop everything and read it. I’ve been recommending it to everyone recently, as there is so much—positive and negative—that can be drawn out from it. Now I want to try and draw out a few ideas about it.
First, what the hell is going on with Zen Buddhism? As one friend commenting on this pointed out, the kind of monasterial training described in the article involved torturing someone to the degree that simply not being tortured was enough to make them feel happy and fulfilled. (“Sure enough, it was such easy work compared with his training that he felt happy all the time.”)
The West rather romanticises Zen, and so kicking Zen around rather feels like kicking a puppy (and normally I try to stick a strict policy of non-denigrating other religions). But as Karel van Wolferen points out, everything in Japanese culture was deliberately imported for a motive, and Zen is no exception. Zen Buddhism was popularised in Japan to encourage people, especially those in the samurai classes, to free their mind from their temporal circumstances. This was done precisely because their temporal circumstances were so bloody awful that if the samurai thought about that long and hard enough there’d be an uprising against the government. Zen was a big win for the Kamakura bakufu: whereas the opiate of the people merely puts you to sleep and makes you forget your suffering and pain, Zen training teaches you that the very suffering and pain itself is the path to enlightenment. Much of this same thinking finds its way into the samurai codes of nobility and so on, and that’s woven into the very fabric of Japanese society. But as the story in the article makes clear, suffering and pain doesn’t lead to enlightenment, it leads to post-traumatic stress, hospitalisation and death.
Second, as the article points out, suicide in Japan is both a major problem and a normal part of life. Everyone knows someone who’s affected by it. When I first arrived in Japan I was horrified and heartbroken that someone had chosen to end their life by jumping under the train before mine; now I am mostly acclimatised to it when it happens, worrying only about the affect on my onward journey. It’s seen and accepted—perhaps even tacitly encouraged—as an acceptable way for people to resolve unresolvable problems in their lives.
Part of this is because there is no historical moral understanding of the sanctity of life; part of this is that there is no real cultural concept of redemption; I don’t mean that in the Christian sense, but in the Holywood sense, “holding onto a sense of personal worth, despite everything”, and holding onto a hope that one day things can be different. In Japan things cannot be different, because your past, your guilt and your shame follow you around with no way to dispose of or settle it. There are a few forms of acceptable suicide in the bushido tradition: suicide rather than capture and defeat, following one’s master into suicide (junshi, 殉死), but also there was suicide as a way of protesting against or persuading one’s lord, known as kanshi. (諫死) In other Buddhist traditions, self-immolation, setting oneself on fire, plays a similar protest role. I think it would be helpful to understand many of the Japanese suicides as a kind of kanshi, a final protest not against the intransigence of one’s lord but against the intransigence of one’s circumstances.
Third, the link between Zen monasteries and hikikomori was fascinating. Somewhere between half a million to a million Japanese adults are hikikomori; it is essentially an act of retreat from the world, usually beginning with refusal to go to school and then refusal to leave one’s house and eventually one’s room. It is as much a form of self-seclusion as the monastic retreat, even if the reasons are quite different. (Or are they?) Perhaps we should be looking at a hermitage-model retreating community as a way of allowing hikikomori to withdraw in a controlled and controllable manner?
Finally, Japan has cultural difficulties with counselling and dependency. The basic relationship between two people in Japan is, in transactional analysis terms, a Parent-Child relationship. In fact, the Japanese terms for patron and client are 親分 (parent-part) and 子分 (child-part). The whole of society is structured like this; there are very few Adult-Adult relationships. While writing this, my daughter reminded me that Jesus referred to his disciples as “my brothers”.
Senior and junior (先輩・後輩) roles in work and school, teacher and pupil (先生・弟子) roles in teaching (and discipleship), all of these natural consequences of a Confucian hierarchical society, combine with the Japanese desire for amae to produce a strong web of dependency relationships permeating through a person’s life.
Those involved in counselling and pastoring in Japan need to remember this strong natural tendency towards dependency, and the fact that Japanese people will naturally want to enter into a Parent-Child relationship with them. One Japanese counsellor, Nobuo Tanaka, writes with refreshing honesty that:
In thirty years, not one person has, to be honest, come to me for a real consultation. It might take the form of a consultation, but in reality they are looking to me as a substitute father or surrogate mother. So no matter how much I show them the solutions, it’s a waste of time. The consultation is a formality or an excuse to meet me; really what they come seeking is not a solution to their pain, but they come seeking love.
In other words, many people coming to the church see the pastor or pastors’ wife as a surrogate parent, and come unconsciously seeking the acceptance that they did not receive from their physical parents or caregivers.
This is insightful, but I also want to point out that Tanaka, with thirty years of experience counselling in Japan, falls into the trap of dependency and of acting in the Parent-Child relationship model himself. “I show them the solutions”, but “it’s a waste of time.” This is the model of counselling that is prevalent in Japan, and that clients expect—I go to the counsellor, he listens, he cares, and he just gives me the answers I need. The counsellor feels great about this, because it validates their wisdom and their expertise, but nobody moves forward. Mitsuo Fukuda writes about this in the pastoral context:
There are two ways in which mentoring can descend into a codependency relationship. The first is that the mentee starts to want to depend upon the mentor. When the mentee is satisfied with human relationships within a pseudo-family, they want to remain there. It is natural for those who have experienced family break-down, but then come across the tenderness that they have been looking for, to always want to remain within that intimate relationship with the mentor.
But as long as they remain there, they cannot enter into a one-to-one personal relationship with their heavenly Father. The mentor must point out that the destination point of their search for a father figure is when they are embraced in the bosom of the Father and Creator.
Another danger has its roots in unsolved issues within the mentor themselves. In particular, there can be a tendency for the mentor to want a dependence relationship where ‘I give him help and he relies on me.’ If someone who is still searching for a parent figure themselves starts trying to mentoring others, they end up using the mentoring relationship for their own self- confirmation, self-worth and self-actualization.
- Mitsuo Fukuda, Mentoring Like Barnabas
And this is why Nemoto ended up having a nervous breakdown: actually, far from developing his “clients” to a place where they were able to solve their own problems, he created more and more “children” with an unhelpful dependency on him, to the point that even when he was hospitalised, “they didn’t care that he was sick: they were sick, too, they said; they were in pain, and he had to take care of them.” The New Yorker piece, with all its romanticisation, fails to step back and evaluate this man’s effectiveness as a counsellor—did he actually help people, not in the way that they asked for but in a way that would allow them to live as Adults and not as overgrown Children?
John Piper, after recently spending a few days in Japan, writes about the need for Biblical counsellors because it would be a great strategy to grow the Church. Well, he’s right—although of course we also need Biblical counsellors because there are a lot of broken people who God loves that are on the brink of self-isolation, despair and suicide.
But such counsellors will have to be aware of the cultural dynamics of Japanese counselling and yet at the same time be prepared to work in a model which is unlike any practiced in Japan; they would have to be able to avoid the need to please others, which is often a temptation in missionary work, and focus on their clients’ long-term growth and wholeness, over short-term contentedness.
More than anything else, though, we need a grounded understanding of how to do effective counselling within that Japanese context, without giving into co-dependency and providing a counter-cultural way beyond Parent-Child relationships towards healthy adult interdependence. Right now, we don’t really have one, and Nemoto certainly doesn’t have one.Subject tags: theologyjapansociology