CUSTOM OR COMMAND — WHO DECIDES?
ROBERT MEYERS

This journal’s effort to promote tolerance and understanding among Christian people can succeed only so far as its readers see with what preconditioned minds most of us read our Bibles and view the acts of religious groups unlike our own. It is only when a man finds out that he sees as he has been trained to see, through spectacles whose tint has been carefully created, that he begins to understand why other men see so differently.

When this happens he stands on the threshold of one of life’s most humbling and rewarding experiences, ready to enter into fruitful relationships with his fellows. No longer needing to maintain the troublesome fiction that he is elect in being able to see clearly, while others only peer blindly, he can relax and ponder the fact that every man looks through the lens of his own peculiar prejudices. Chastened and strangely warmed in heart, he rejoins the human race and finds a wider fellowship than he had ever dared hope for.

All of us who hope for more understanding of other religious groups by Church of Christ members must hammer away at this theme until the carefully coached resistance to it dissolves. The average man—and it is he who will ultimately make or break our hopes—simply refuses to accept the idea that he interprets every line he reads or word he hears in terms of the pre-conditioning, the “mind set,” with which he comes to it. Once he can be won to believe that he is involved in an action conditioned by everything he is, then soon or late he will see why no man or group call hold a monopoly on truth.

Like other people, we in the Church of Christ read things through the colored glasses of our own particular traditions. If we seem to see something that does not show quite the correct color, we ignore it. We are skilled at this, especially when we come to clear statements in the Bible which seem utterly foreign to our dogma and practice. In such moments we say easily, “Well, that was just a custom they had back then. It had some local and temporary importance, but times have changed and we express the same idea in a different way.”

The rationale seems to be something like this: if we still do it, it was meant to be universal and permanent; if we don’t do it, it was only a custom anyway and we need not be concerned with it. Thus we bind all practices which our traditions sanction, but easily dismiss other practices—even when phrased in identical language—which have played no part in our group history.

Unless we think that our religious group has some infallible means of deciding such matters we must ask an important question of ourselves. How do we know what is a custom and what is a lasting command? Certainly we find few guide lines in the New Testament. Writers do not bother to say, “This admonition is local and temporary and was not meant to have permanent relevance for the church.” Do we, then, bring reason and common sense to bear upon the problem?

If we admit this, we are in trouble at once because if our reason is imperfect, our interpretation may also be imperfect. What shall we do about those whose reasoning powers bring them to conclusions different from ours? Shall we predicate our right to salvation, our superiority in doctrine, on the basis of our superior reasoning powers? Who would dare to do so, yet is not this in effect what we have done?

Let us turn to specific cases and use the New English Bible for the plainest possible readings. Some admonitions in James 5 will serve as a good opener.

“Is anyone among you in trouble? He should turn to prayer.” We have all been in trouble; we have all turned to prayer. We consider this quite sensible advice, universal and timeless in its relevance to the Christian world. We would urge it upon our neighbors.

“Is anyone in good heart? He should sing praises.” We have all been happy; we have all sung out of that happiness. We are quite sure that the emotion and its appropriate expression may be urged upon anyone.

“Is one of you ill?” All of us have been at some time, some of us seriously. What advice is given? “He should send for the elders of the congregation to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord.”

Now, abruptly, watch how we shift our ground. It is not a part of the Church of Christ tradition to send for elders to come and pray. We may telephone for the preacher to come, but it is a rare case indeed when even one elder, let alone several, may be summoned to a bedside. And certainly we do not expect them to anoint us with oil in the name of the Lord. Nor do we believe, without qualification, that “the prayer offered in faith will save the sick man,” that “the Lord will raise him from his bed,” and that “any sins he may have committed will be forgiven.”

Isn’t it interesting that we rely firmly on the first two “shoulds” and blithely consign the third one to limbo? “He should turn to prayer” —this is proper. “He should sing praises” —this is proper. “He should send for the elders to pray over him and anoint him with oil” —this is old-fashioned, a purely local custom, and has no relevance to modern church life.

Just how is it that we know this? Is it perhaps because we do not send for the elders to pray and anoint, therefore a verse which says send for them cannot “mean what it says”? Is our rationale simply this: since we don’t practice it, it can’t really be taken literally? Yet isn’t it obvious that James had no notion the three actions would be differentiated, so that two have permanent relevance while the third has none?

Some promises in the New Testament we take very seriously. For example, the promise of forgiveness of sins after baptism, or the promise of being heard by God if our hearts are right in prayer. How have we decided that this promise in James about healing and forgiveness is not to be taken seriously?

Someone says, “Well, but we know that people had a custom (how we love that word when we need it!) in those days of anointing with oil. It had medicinal value, for one thing, and of course those were the days of miracles.”

Oil did have medicinal value and was used for various ailments, along with other remedies. It was never considered a panacea, however, and since illness in general is the subject of James’ remarks it seems clear that the anointing he has in mind has at least a quasi -sacrarnental nature. We should doubtless have admitted this long ago but for our hostility to any verse that seems to justify a Catholic ritual.

As for the miraculous, is there any hint at all that James considered the ceremony unusual? He gives the advice in the same quiet tone with which he delivers the other two admonitions. Far from being a miracle, it seems rather to have been thought commonplace. But we escape too easily by naming things as miracles. Is answer to prayer not a miracle? Is forgiveness of man’s sins by a perfectly holy God not a miracle? It seems to me that one who can answer “no” to those questions has lost all sense of awe.

Since there is not even the barest hint that James thought one of his trio would be dropped, isn’t it curious that the one we do drop is the very one on which he spent most of his time? Count the words given to the idea of praying in time of trouble and singing in time of joy and compare them with the words given to the idea of calling for elder prayers and anointings and the promise of results. There is at least a strong hint that James considered the last the most important of the three. To be in trouble seems mild compared with being on a sickbed and in need of both physical and spiritual healing. Yet this apostolic advice about sending for the elders and their anointing is completely ignored. Why?

We know, don’t we? If it were a part of Church of Christ tradition to have elders anoint the sick and pray over them, we would box these verses in red ink and make them part of our arsenal of proof texts. Since they are the only clear words about the practice, they would become our bulwark, our supreme justification for obeying them. We would insist that others should do as we do, else be considered not Christians at all.

But since this practice dropped out somewhere along the line and never entered into our tradition, James’ description of it stays primly on the page and never leaps out at us in boldface. So little affected are we by it that we not only disregard it ourselves but scoff at those who think they should take it seriously. We know that James’ third comment in this section was only a custom, but how do we know it?

Let’s try again. “But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that men may not see that you are fasting …” (Matthew 6) Jesus obviously thought his disciples would fast. He uses the same language he is quoted as using by Paul in 1 Cor. 11:25: “Whenever you drink it, do this as a memorial of me.” In each case He takes for granted that a certain action will be taken; all he specifies is the attitude which should accompany it. “When you fast” and “Whenever you drink” —the assumption of a continued action is identical. Jesus foresaw his disciples’ fasting just as clearly as he foresaw their communing.

Have you fasted lately? As a religious ceremony? Someone says, “Well, but he was talking just to his immediate disciples; we weren’t included.” It might be interesting to see how often we cite words of Jesus to his immediate disciples and make them applicable to us today! Apparently our principle is to use what we need to explain what we do, or don’t do” and simply keep very quiet about the rest.

But the argument that Matthew 6 and Matthew 9:15 apply only to immediate disciples and not to us will not hold water anyway. Our problem remains. We love to talk of Jesus as our example, especially when we see him being baptized. Since he is our example in Matthew 3:16 at the time of his baptism, is he also our example in Matthew 4:2 when he fasted forty days while wrestling with a serious spiritual problem? Would you recommend that a man with a momentous decision to make should follow his Lord and fast for an extended period so as to free his mind for clearest insights? Or would you explain to him that baptism was permanent and fasting was only a local custom?

But it is more embarrassing yet. In Acts 13:2 some prophets and teachers in the Antioch church fasted while they offered worship to the Lord. We love to talk of “the early church”; here is “the early church” in action and it is shown combining fasting and worship to the Lord. Have we ever done this? Have we ever approved while our minister spoke of how we should try to restore exactly the “pattern of the early church”? What would we think if he suggested seriously that this pattern be restored?

Somehow the answer must be that the fasting part was only a custom and meant to die out, while the worship part was timeless and meant never to die out, but wouldn’t it have helped enormously if the writers of the New Testament had affixed an asterisk to all those practices which they knew were “just customs”?

Not only did these Antioch Christians combine fasting and worship in what appears to be an “approved example,” but in the very midst of their action the Holy Spirit communicated with them. We cannot suppose that the Holy Spirit communicated with them while they were involved in error, so their combination of fasting and worship must have been all right. The Spirit told them that Barnabas and Paul should be separated to do some special mission work. What happens next? “Then, after further fasting and prayer, they laid their hands on them and let them go.” Isn’t it clear that fasting plays an important role in this church’s life and that we would stress it powerfully if it happened to be in our traditions?

Is this one of the examples of “the early church” which we must follow? Like not using mechanical instruments of music, for example? If it isn’t, how are we to know which examples we must enforce upon ourselves and our neighbors, and which examples we can safely disregard as “just customs”? If we are reduced to confessing that we must use our common sense, then I repeat that this sets up a principle of interpreting which will ultimately destroy the authoritarian nature of the Church of Christ.

In Acts 14:2 3 Paul and Barnabas appointed elders in various congregations “and with prayer and fasting committed them to the Lord in whom they had put their faith.” Should we, when appointing elders, join fasting with our prayers? How is it that we have kept the praying and dropped the fasting? Is there a verse that says, “And whether there be fastings they shall cease”?

It is curious that when we find an example of one church celebrating the Lord’s Supper on at least one Sunday we can turn this into a binding law for all believers in all times and places, but when we find repeated examples of congregations and individuals fasting we blithely disregard its having any lasting significance. Is it possible that this might seem peculiar to some objective, intelligent persons observing our actions?

Not only do we disregard “speaking where the Bible speaks” at this point, quite neglecting the practice of “the early church,” but we compound our folly by making fun of those who do fast. We regard them as either hopelessly corrupt in doctrine, or else as amiable but bizarre eccentrics whose antics amuse us. The Church of Christ simply does not take fasting seriously. It never has, since its inception in the late nineteenth century, and this is undoubtedly why its members can glide so easily over all the passages about the value of fasting without once pausing to ask, “Say, why is it that we don’t do this?”

We are people of a pattern, we say proudly. Yet we consistently neglect some parts of the pattern while we stress others. Jesus apparently disliked public religiosity. He not only urged that fasting be done quietly and unobtrusively, but he also said: “But when you pray, go into a room by yourself, shut the door, and pray to your Father who is there in the secret place …” (Matthew 6:6). Many of us in the Church of Christ would have to admit that we do very little secret praying, and almost none at all in a room with the door shut. It never ceases to amaze me that Paul’s advice on contributing in 1 Corinthians 16 is made a law and an “item of worship,” while Christ’s advice on how to pray is so generally ignored.

Perhaps almost as important is the truth that the New Testament holds no clear sanction for public prayer by a leader. Such a practice cannot be found. But this does not perturb us. Just as we ignore the practices which aren’t in our tradition, so do we face cheerfully the Scriptural silence about those which are. With our customary serenity we simply accept it that since we are used to having public prayers in the assembly, they are fine. That they are not “specifically authorized” does not bother us as it does in the case of instrumental music. That they seem to have been viewed with grave suspicion by our Lord because of what they led to does not deter us. This is what we do, therefore this is nor to be questioned.

Jesus said in Matthew 6:19 that we should “not store up” treasure on earth. Do we store up treasure on earth? Have we any money in the bank? Better yet, have we any in savings? To be quite, quite honest, aren’t we all much alike—we have a little in savings and wish mightily that we had more?

But is there any vagueness about this prohibition? “Do not store up”isn’t that about as clear as “repent and be baptized”? Yet we interpret one to mean that anyone who isn’t baptized is lost forever while we interpret the other to mean that at one time it wasn’t right to store up treasure but it is now!

We are marvelous at evasions. Someone said to me, “Well, but notice that in those days the treasure got rusty and moth-eaten, so it wasn’t safe. Now it is safe, so that means conditions have changed.”

Do we argue, then, that because conditions have changed, the advice may be modified? What awful trouble we get into if we adopt this as our principle of interpretation. Our very life as a totalitarian body depends on our saying that advice in the New Testament must never be changed no matter how conditions may be altered. No matter how scarce water may be in the Sahara, or how unlikely that an Eskimo would get into it in sub-zero temperatures, we must not let this modify our interpretation of Mark 16:16.

No, we must drop this one quickly. It is useful only to avoid obeying Matthew 6:19, but it is dynamite when someone applies it to baptism or the elements of the Lord’s Supper.

Crowded a bit, we reply: “Of course Jesus obviously didn’t literally mean what he said in Matthew 6:19. He meant only that storing up treasure on earth shouldn’t be our primary goal.” The interpretation is lovely and convenient and one can almost hear the sigh of relief that follows it. The only problem is that it is not supportable. Jesus says not a word about “primary goals”; he simply says, “Do not store up treasure on earth:’ If there is to be a modification, we have to supply it out of our common sense and our recognition of changed times. But if we can modify his advice here, how shall we stop some of our religious neighbors from modifying his advice elsewhere when it seems to conflict with their practice?

The whole point of this article is that we must recognize our own inconsistencies before we shall know how to approach the inconsistencies of others. Once we really understand the principles by which we interpret, we shall be in position to sympathize with those who differ with us because they have been trained to read with pre-conditioned minds. Such a change in us can bring enormous dividends in improved human relationships. It is worth striving for.

How often we have seen an evangelist smashing a clenched fist into his palm and driving a Biblical “NOT” deep into every listener’s head. “Forsake NOT the assembling of yourselves together!” “Except ye be born again ye shall NOT enter the kingdom of heaven!” No qualifications here. These “NOT’s” mean exactly what they say. But can you imagine the same evangelist powerfully intoning, “Do NOT store up treasure on earth! “? The “NOT” in Matthew 6:19 really does not mean what it says at all. But we are confident that we know what it does mean and that we may safely interpret its language to accord with our practice.

Have we ever pitied the poor benighted “sectarian” who watches us leap dizzily from verse to verse, tagging the ones that “mean exactly what they say,” and blacking out the ones that “mean something else besides what they say”?

Jesus gives similar advice in Matthew 6:34. “So do not be anxious about tomorrow; tomorrow will look after itself.” Do we accept this as it stands, without any modification or “interpreting”? Most certainly not! Most of us have bought insurance and wish we could afford more. We do not trust tomorrow to look after itself; we are going to do a little looking after it ourselves. As a matter of fact, so far are we from taking this verse “exactly as it stands, without adding to or taking from,” that we now have some Church of Christ insurance companies formed with the express purpose of helping us all look after tomorrow!

The thought occurs disquietingly that some very literal-minded reader may suppose me to be arguing that all these verses should be interpreted quite literally. Not at all. I would agree with a non-literal reading of Matthew 6:34. I view it as a hyperbole which needs “interpretation” in the light of the twentieth century before it can beneficially be followed.

But just who is to decide such a thing? Who is to tell us when a statement, apparently clear and unequivocal, is to be interpreted flexibly? Whose “common sense” is to be enforced upon all believers? When we strip away all equivocation and come right down to naked fact, isn’t it true that we have simply accepted our own corpus of interpretations and arbitrarily declared that none others are valid?

Suppose, for example, that some “sectarian” doesn’t interpret 1 Cor. 16:1-2 in such a way as to rule out all other times and methods for supporting the work of the church. Do we extend to him the charity which we demand for ourselves in this matter of interpretation? Or do we assume that it is only we who can safely be trusted to know when to be literal, and just how literal to be?

If we want to consider other “neglected scriptures,” we may think of several admonitions given in Matthew 5: “You are not to swear at all.” “If someone slaps you on the right cheek, turn and offer him your left.” “If a man wants to sue you for your shirt, let him have your coat as well.” “Give when you are asked to give; and do not turn your back on a man who wants to borrow.” Probably not a one of us follows these admonitions literally, even though we cannot be positive about the degree of literalness which our Lord meant to attach to them.

And despite 1 Timothy 2:8 our Christian ladies dress with elaborate hair styles and wear gold, pearls, and expensive clothing. We have been in congregations where the total value of all these items on a given day would surpass the total benevolent expenditures in that church for an entire year.

I am not recommending, therefore, that we all wear white muslin robes and leave off ornamentation. But if we can flexibly interpret 1 Timothy 2:8, despite its clear prohibitions, can we not at least muster up a little compassion for the man who disregards our labored conclusions about church music or frequency of communion?

Perhaps we should try sitting down to John 13 and reading it as if for the very first time. We might underline such comments as these: “Then if I, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example: you are to do as I have done for you.”

Have we considered what a treasured verse this would become if it read: “Then if I, your Lord and Master, have submitted to baptism, so also ought you to baptize one another”? Or, “Then if I, your Lord and Master, have sung only without an instrument, so also ought you to sing”? Every young man beginning to preach for us would memorize these words and work them into every sermon he delivered. They would be recited from lectureship podiums and graven in stone upon our buildings. We would feel that no “sectarian” could possibly resist their power and clarity.

But they only order us to wash one another’s feet, and we are sure that times have changed, and besides we simply have no such practice as that in the Church of Christ. So we are positive that it is all right to disregard what Jesus said here, interpreting it in such a way as to square it with our twentieth century practices. Should we not be chastened?

I do not plead that people ignore the Bible. I plead rather for a recognition of the principles by which we interpret. We simply must ask ourselves why we insist so strongly on a rigidly literal interpretation in one place while we are amazingly elastic in others. If we learn that our practice influences our interpretation, then we are at least ready to look more compassionately upon our religious neighbors.

A dear friend of mine wrote the proper conclusion to this article when he printed his own poem in this journal more than two years ago. Imagining a typical authoritarian church member arguing with a “confused sectarian,” he represents the former as saying:

You are to blame for not agreeing

That what I tell you is true.

You are to blame for not seeing

That my eyes can see for you.

I hear you say you are doing your best

To grasp what truth you can,

To serve God, you say, in little things,

To love your fellow-man.

But you are self-deceived, by Satan led,

A cursed child, hell-bent,

Because you fail to understand

That what I say is what He meant.

—Friends University Wichita, Kansas