From Kingdom, Grace, Judgment, pages 115-16:
Every now and then at ecumenical gatherings, the Apostles’ Creed is recited; and too often someone gets the kindly meant but misguided idea of substituting the words “holy Christian church” for “holy catholic church.” In terms of the Gospel, that is a disastrous switch. The church is not, in any proper sense, Christian. Its members are indeed called Christians (though it is worth noting that the name was first applied to them, in Acts 11:26 and 26:28, by outsiders); but it is not some sectarian society whose members have a monopoly on the mystery. It is not a club of insiders who, because of their theology, race, color, or sex–or their good behavior, intelligence, or income bracket–are the only channels through which the Word conveys himself to the world. Rather, it is a sign to the world of the mystery by which the Light has already lightened the whole shooting match, by which the divine Leaven has already leavened the whole lump of creation.
Therefore, the church is precisely catholic, not Christian. It is not a sacrament to the few of a salvation that they have but the world does not. Rather, it is the chosen sign of the salvation of the entire world. And (to return to the purchase of the entire field by the man in the parable [of the hidden treasure]) the church has not only to “buy,” or “deal with,” the whole world; it must also, if it is to be any decent kind of sign at all, look as much like the world–and be as little different from the world–as possible.
Yes, I know. The church is indeed to be the salt of an otherwise bland earth. But that doesn’t mean that the church itself is supposed to be all salt or that it is supposed to turn the world into nothing but salt. Therefore, when it represents itself to the world, it probably should not first of all be seen as salt. That’s misleading advertising. You don’t put doughnuts in the window of a shoe store: that only confuses the public about your real business. Likewise you don’t turn the church into a sodality that consists only of bright, white Anglo-Saxons who are happily married, have 1.8 children, and never get drunk. Instead, you just let it be what it in fact already is: a random sampling of the broken, sinful, half-cocked world that God in Christ loves–dampened by the waters of baptism but in no way necessarily turned into perfect peaches by them.
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3 responses to “Robert Farrar Capon on Church Saltiness”
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“Likewise you don’t turn the church into a sodality that consists only of bright, white Anglo-Saxons who are happily married, have 1.8 children, and never get drunk. ”
Hmmm. Is that supposed to be the salt? I wouldn’t have thought so. Salt is savory and brings out the flavor of the things it comes in contact with. It’s not supposed to be bland, as in the example he purposely seems to be giving.
I’m not sure this is a terrific metaphor (or whatever it is). He seems to be mashing up a bunch of different ideas into something that doesn’t make much sense. I don’t think the church is supposed to be “as much like the world as possible,” is it? Because the world is, precisely, Darwinian – grinding up human beings in its evolutionary imperative, the blind survival of the strongest and fittest – and the Christian church is meant, precisely, not to be. No?
But perhaps he’s referring specifically to people as individuals? If so, it’s rather amusing, I think, to imagine that the church (or religion) could possibly do anything to avoid being “a random sampling of the broken, sinful, half-cocked world.” I mean, even though I believe in “healing” – as I know some here don’t – in, for instance, A.A.: I’m also well aware that there’s literally no hope of becoming perfect. That our flaws are deep in us and will always be with us. There’s no hope of “graduating” to some perfected level.
There’s really nothing to worry about on that account….
I must take issue with Capon. Whatever happened to Romans 12:2: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect”? What is Christ getting at with the Beatitudes if not at something completely revolutionary in terms of human nature (i.e., “the World”)? The whole point of redemption is that Christ came to save us from our recalcitrant urge to “do it our way” (Frank Sinatra) and to transform us into what he created and preordained us to be before the beginning of time (imago Dei). Christ’s work is one of regeneration and renewal. Capon’s prescription, on the other hand, sounds more palliative than curative.