Modern theological Liberalism has been optimistic about the possibility of reforming the socio-economic systems by rational means. Similarly it has been optimistic about the freedom of individuals to determine their own destiny. Liberals were confident that the universe is ruled by divine reason, and that human rationality reflects that divinity. Working in cooperation with the laws of reason humans could make real progress toward social, economic, and political equity and justice. Even after the demise of theological liberalism following World War II, economic and political liberals perpetuated this optimism in their liberal "development" schemes to raise the status of the "less developed" nations referred to as the "Third World."

But the cultural mood was changing. The cocky confidence in the United States' power and wisdom to manage the world was shaken by events like the Bay of Pigs and the Vietnam fiasco. At the same time the failure of the War on Poverty, the loss of faith in the political system, the waning results of international development schemes, and the continual eruption of irrational violence on the international scene eroded confidence in the ability of national and international institutions to control and manage world affairs.

The management of the socio-political order was proving far more complicated and intractable than had been expected. The rational laws did not seem to operate smoothly in the social order. I remember my major professor in graduate school, himself an erstwhile liberal, introducing the word "surd" into our vocabulary. There is a mysterious irrational element in the cosmic machine, he said. There are frustrating constraints upon individual efforts. There seems to be a self-defeating element in even our best intentioned and most scientific schemes for resolving human problems. In the words of Robert Burns, "The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley!"

This loss of confidence in institutions is also reflected in attitudes toward the institutional church and its programs. Since the mid-60s we have seen a steady decline in the global programs of both the ecumenical movement and major denominations.

In theology the prophetic voices of the Barths, Brunners, and Niebuhrs were already challenging liberal optimism in the 1930s and 40s. They were making a much more sober assessments of the human situation. Reinhold Niebuhr spoke of "moral man and immoral society," and favored a realistic politics of power rather than rational idealism. In the late 1960s William Stringfellow, a lawyer and lay theologian, analyzed the social crisis in apocalyptic terms. He spoke of the demonic powers dominating human beings and ruling society by the threat of death. Paul Ricouer wrote about "the symbolism of evil." And both theologians and biblical scholars began to reexamine the New Testament teaching about "the principalities and powers."

The great development vision was undermined in part by the naive assumption of the "innate goodness" and rationality of the human heart. When a critic suggested that Niebuhr's phrase, "moral man and immoral society" might better read "immoral man and worse society," Niebuhr agreed. Part of the problem was an oversimplification of the social complexity and an unwarranted faith in the individual's ability to triumph over the system. In the fifties and sixties we were not yet so aware of the "System" and "systemic violence." The civil rights movement helped rivet that concept in my mind. And in part the secular disdain for the spiritual dimensions in the analysis and cure of the world's social problems betrayed the developers. Secularism assumed that religious belief itself was part of the problem, certainly not part of the solution. Unfortunately, as Charles Elliott points out in his Comfortable Compassion (1987), the churches bought into this secular vision.

More recently, beginning in the 1960s, theologians began to recognize that the biblical picture of "principalities and powers" offers a more realistic assessment of the nature of the social order. I am not talking about the pentecostal/charismatic revival of demonism, and missions as a war against the demonic legions of darkness. The biblical picture is far more sophisticated than that! But the recognition that there are spiritual authorities and powers -- call them social, ideological, systemic, institutional -- that control human cultures. And the theological task has been to understand the socio-spiritual nature of these powers and how they fit into God's intended order for the world.

Are they inherently evil, or are they created orders gone wrong? Are they detached spiritual personalities that impact the fallen human mind? Are they projections of the human subconscious? Are they to be identified with the institutional empires that dominate the life of individuals? Or are they the personification of ideologies, myths and rationalizations that sanction the self-centered systems which control society?

We cannot explore all of these questions, but we can make several observations which are pertinent to our topic. The New Testament uses a variety of words to describe this phenomenon -- powers, authorities, "rulers of this age," elemental spirits, angels, demons. This in itself suggests that we are not dealing with a simple phenomenon. Modern words like the "office" (of sheriff), system, "spirit of" (the meeting, mob, culture), institution, ideology, religion, tradition, i.e., those authorities that provide the rationale and control life in society, seem to translate the idea.

These "authorities" become institutionalized and harden into "traditions," which in turn condition the self-definition of individuals. We encounter them in the slogans, symbols, and organizations of society. They define and dictate the spiritual (as defined earlier) mode of cultural patterns and relationships. They define "justice," "wisdom," social values, the meaning of "human," the status and roles of individuals in society, etc. They provide rationalization for the social order, e.g., concepts like karma, dukkha (suffering), chance or fate, private property, self-defense, free trade, individual rights.

The Powers dominate through a system, which Walter Wink calls the "Domination System," that controls and constrains the possibilities of individuals. Although the System has its origins in human society it is not completely under the control and management of human individuals. It takes on a life, identity, goals and dynamic of its own, and in a kind of frankensteinian reflex conditions the definitions, values, assumptions, social classifications, and myths with which a culture operates. David Bakan characterizes the core values of this system as "self-assertion, self-protection and self-expression" (Wink, 1992:57). Wink, himself, emphasizes the basic myth as "redemptive violence."

Two more things need to be said about these Powers. First, they are not essentially evil or demonic. They were created by God as part of the human reality. God did not create demons. The institutional system which is the concrete manifestation of the Powers is of human origin and embodies the spirit of the society. Thus its demonic expression is actually a reflection of human idolatry, autonomy and self-centeredness. Paul says in Colossians that all these "thrones, powers, rulers and authorities" were created by Christ and for him (1:16). But they have become perverted and alienated ("fallen") through their idolatrous self-centeredness. And the results of their idolatry are anarchy, dehumanization, violence, and death.

Second, as their creator and redeemer Jesus Christ is their "Lord," and through the cross he has "disarmed the powers and authorities" and exposed their foolishness (Col. 2:15). And in Ephesians 3:10 he says that God intends for the church to make that lordship known to these "rulers and authorities in heavenly realms." So the principalities and powers are redeemable, and the church has a mandate to make known God's original intention/plan for them. This is the basis for the church's intervention in the social, political, economic aspects of culture. But note carefully that it is an intervention characterized by the cross and God's power of resurrection.

As a case in point, consider the phenomenon of poverty. Poverty is not simply the lack of material wealth. In that respect poverty is a relative term. Neither is it caused or cured simply by the supply of material goods or money. Poverty can only be fully understood as a dehumanizing social syndrome where the poor have internalized the values of and adapted to the violence of an unjust system (the "powers"). It is a cultural network of co-dependence in which the poor see themselves as "nobodies," "second class citizens," "failures" who are somehow guilty and deserving of their fate (karma). Wink tells of the South American peasant woman who was surprised to find out that the Bible nowhere said that she had to suffer!

So we have a system that has been manipulated by the powerful for their own self-serving advantage, and accepted/internalized by the weak for their own survival. The ultimate sanction for the system is the fear of deprivation and death. The rich fear the poor masses who want what they have, and the impoverished masses fear the physical violence, humiliation and loss of life which the rich can inflict. All this is institutionalized into an ideology that rationalizes poverty and a legal system that enforces the socio-economic order. This is a rough sketch of the complexity of the inner workings of the "Domination System," i.e., the "principalities and powers," as they have been perverted through idolatrous self-interest.

Charles Elliott, in his book, Comfortable Compassion? Poverty, Power and the Church (1987), explains how inadequate the secular presuppositions and models of development are to deal with this situation, and how difficult it is for the churches to confront it with the radicallity of the gospel.

At the end of chapter 8 Elliott comes to what he calls the core of his argument:

What I have tried to show, both in analysis and anecdote, is that the Churches have over-invested in approaches to development that are not necessarily destructive or unnecessary, but which are inadequate by themselves and which are very easily subverted into countersigns [of the Kingdom of God]. The school becomes a school for the elite. The agricultural project becomes an agricultural project for the successful, progressive farmer. The hospital becomes a disease palace. The Church development office becomes another middle-class, top-down bureaucracy. That is not to deny that they do a perfectly respectable job and a job that perhaps has to be done. It is, however, to call in question whether that is the real vocation of the Church, and whether it is likely to produce an authentic pattern of development which fully reflects biblical understandings of the nature of man and of society." (Pp. 116-17; Emphasis mine.)

We cannot assume that appropriate technology and small entrepreneural projects will result in the kingdom of God, i.e., the kind of interdependent community that Jesus advocated. When, for example, we help impoverished farmers on to the economic escalator with a loan and/or appropriate technology, we are inducting them into the "System" -- a system of greedy profit making. Whether the individual is greedy or not, the superhuman powers that inform and control the system exercise constraints and define success or failure. So long as the entrepreneurial project stays small we can control the effects to some degree, but unless the farmer has been resocialized in the kingdom of God, i.e., "born again," there is little or no chance of systemic change.

Therefore the mission of the church, concludes Elliott, is "the creation of an alternative consciousness (emphasis mine), which in the spirit of the magnificat and beatitudes puts the poor and the powerless at its centre, that is the true task of the Church in development." And he explains,

This alternative consciousness is not paternalistic or condescending: it is a consciousness that turns upside down the priorities and assumptions of twentieth century industrialised, secularised acquisitiveness (whether capitalist or socialist) and judges relationships, structures, and economic ties not by what profit it brings to the dominant partner but by how much it enlarges the life chances of the subordinate partner. . . . The rich and powerful, in other words, have to learn to use their wealth and power not for their own aggrandisement, but for the goals set by the poor and powerless. And that is metanoia. Conversion. Revolution. Gospel (ibid. 117-18).

The coconut project in Bangladesh is an excellent example of an entrepreneural job creation project. It gives some 50 women and men a chance to improve their economic situation. After we had toured the various processes, just before we left, all the workers gathered to have their pictures taken with the visitors. Then as we were ready to get into the car and leave, the women gathered around our wives with outstretched hands begging "Take me with you." How can this mindset be changed?

Characteristics of a Program for Transformation

Gustavo Gutierrez has said, "The core of human and social transformation is spiritual. Without the change in attitudes and behavior implicit in metanoia (conversion), humans remain self-centered creatures. Sin, both individual and institutionalized, is a basic deterrent to social transformation. Sin has been defined as the `social and cosmic anti-creation' resulting in injustice and exploitation; racism and oppression; alienation and anomie" (Sine, 1983:81).

In his contribution to the "Evangelism and Social Responsibility" Conference (Wheaton, 1982) Wayne Bragg offered a "Transformation" model to go "beyond development." "Transformation," he said, "is intended to:

1. enable persons to become fully human;

2. change social and economic principles to conform to the Kingdom principles of peace, justice, and love manifested in the community of God;

3. transform both the material and spiritual dimensions of life as a joint enterprise between God and man [sic]."

I would like in closing to call our attention to some characteristics of a program of intervention aimed at this kind of transformation. Focus on the spiritual dimension of our work will affect our understanding of "service" -- our program priorities, and our way of operating. It is not enough to simply add a spiritual component to our otherwise secular program. I suggest the following.

(1) An agapeic approach which willingly makes itself vulnerable in unilateral conciliatory service after the pattern of Christ (Phil. 2:6-11). Christ is the pattern of agape, not some principle of self-abnegation. Agapeic service is service of Christ in the fellow human being. It does not hesitate to take the towel to wash others' feet, or if necessary to die for them. However, it serves "in the name of Jesus," i.e., by his power and according to his command -- "ourselves your servants for Jesus' sake."

This will call for the spiritual gift of tactful discrimination. We must be true to our own deepest experience and understanding of the love of Jesus. He did not always give people what they wanted or thought they needed. On the other hand, as servants we must not dictate the terms of our service.

(2) An incarnational approach in which service includes solidarity with and dependence upon those we attempt to serve. This adds the dimension of identification and compassion. Of course we cannot in any full sense become incarnate in a foreign culture, but we can take an empathetic stance. I have tried many times to put into words what an incarnational or solidarity stance might involve. Here is my latest effort.

(a) Accepting the parameters of the cultural pattern as the limiting context for work, and freedom to contextualize (freedom from "legalism"). Jesus operated very self-consciously as a first century Jew. Of course he broke through some of the cultural barriers this imposed upon him, but he lived, ministered and died as a Jew. (Note our difficulty with some of the Jewish things he said and did, e.g., "I have come to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." ". . .should not feed the children's bread to the dogs.")

(b) Being respectful, taking the culture seriously and learning to know its values from the inside.

(c) Being genuinely dependent upon and appreciative of the hosts' hospitality and sustaining support. I am convinced that genuine interdependence is fundamental in a spiritual approach to social and material services: listening, learning, adopting cultural styles. I think MCC's "partnering" stance is incarnational.

(d) Making penetration of the culture with the spirit of Christ the aim of the mission, not the rescue of individuals from it. As much as possible one does not attempt to substitute one's own modern culture/religion, but to introduce Jesus. We seek to incarnate the Spirit/spirit of Jesus. The question is how Jesus would impact the culture.

(4) A participatory approach in which "service" means the active inclusion of the "poor" whom we serve in their own transformation. (Peru "Declaration Towards a Wholistic Transformation in Latin America," Mission Focus, 3/89, p. 15) This would include what Samuel Escobar called a "Eucharistic" approach in which those who receive help are expected to voluntarily and generously share from the benefits they have received. In this regard Escobar is concerned that we share "the Christological sources of [our] compassion and spirit of service" (1988).

In her book, India, India (McGraw Hill, 1967) Lisa Hobbs tells about a trip to a Maharastran village with Father Ferrer who was director of the Roman Catholic Seva Mandal (Service Society). They were going to locate and dig a well in the village. But Father Ferrer saw it as more than a well-digging project. He saw it as starting "a quiet revolution there." He explained, "The Mandal means simply Society, and that is what we have formed to help the farmers -- a cooperative society but with a difference. We don't just want to feed the people; we want to give them an understanding of all the forces that can change their lives...."

When they arrived, Ferrer spoke to the villagers about our one humanity under the one God, and of the responsibility such "brotherhood" lays upon us to freely share our wealth. He asserted the basic gospel, although he did not identify it as such, principle that in order to receive we much give. And then, before he agreed which farmer should get the first well he engaged the farmer in a spirited public conversation which ended with the farmer promising to pay back the full loan, half of the first year's profits even though they were small, and beside that to give one-third of his fifty acres of land so that others could live -- and to do all this voluntarily and in good grace. Only then did he agree to go and locate the well on the farmer's property.

Then he comforted the man, "You are frightened. Remember. When you give you become rich. And the more you give the richer you become. You do not believe, but truly it is surprising" (pp. 198ff.).

This is an excellent picture of participatory development!

(5) A transformational approach in which service is defined as empowerment. In his "Anabaptist Vision," written in 1943, Harold Bender wrote, "Discipleship is a concept which meant the transformation of the entire way of life of individual believers and of society so that it should be fashioned after the teachings and example of Christ."

In a recent issue of MCC Contact John Lapp has written that we do not want to simply be ameliorative but transformational. The word transformation has taken the place of development in some Evangelical circles, and I think it is a good exchange. Not only has the concept of "undeveloped" or "underdeveloped" nations lost favor, it is questionable from a gospel point of view whether the word development is radical enough to describe goals of Christian intervention in any case.

Whether or not we have used transformational language, I think that it has been essential to the MCC and mission boards' goals. I would like to think that this is at least the implicit reason for adding peace as a dynamic, transformative ideal to the explicit agenda of every service program in MCC. The reorganization of the Peace Section in order to more carefully integrate it into the total mission of MCC-US is clearly a move in the same direction. Shalom as a transformative ideal has been given a functional role in the various programs, namely, "to discover and live out the gospel of peace in all areas of life."[3] This is a call for a more explicitly spiritual, in contrast to technical, dimension in our service programs.

If we seriously define our peace mandate as a mandate to transform and empower the "poor," then we must raise the question of how they are to be motivated, in the words of the Peru Declaration, to be "agents of their own transformation." And if, as the MCC U.S. Women's Concerns Mission Statement puts it, we choose "to use our power to empower others rather than to dominate," we must consider how we do this. We raise this question to a new level of importance.

If we remember that Jesus' preaching of shalom and justice was mainly to the poor, perhaps we can take our clue from him. How did he expect them to be motivated and energized to share, serve, bear each other's burdens, etc? According to John 6 they would receive such nourishment from partaking in the body and blood of Christ, not from eating the bread which Jesus miraculously provided.

[3]. John R. Burkholder and Howard John Loewen have pointed out that there has been a major transition in the Mennonite understanding of the implications of our peace position. We have moved from a stance of "withdrawal" in which peace was understood in a more passive mode, to a stance of "transformation" in which peace is understood in dynamic terms ("Peace in the Mennonite Tradition," in Baptism Peace and the State in the Reformed and Mennonite Traditions, Bender and Sell, editors, 1991).