​Over the past few months I have worked on a paper for presentation at this year’s annual meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society regarding the New Testament teaching of the “gathered-church” as God’s platform (the space and place) for challenging and offering an alternative to the tiers of human hierarchies. This is how God in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit addressed the issues of slavery, oppression, inequality, and tyranny.

My conclusions were affirmed (at least to me) when—after the paper was done and presented—I picked up Scot McKnight’s new commentary on Paul’s Letter to Philemon. His own thesis and conclusion offered a similar framework as I regarding what Paul was seeking to accomplish in his Letter to Philemon.
 


From McKnight’s commentary regarding Onesimus, Philemon, and Paul . . .

I don't smoke cigarettes . . . I don't go to the movies or the theater . . . I don't attend secular concerts . . . don't drink coffee . . . go to the beach . . . go dancing . . . fill in the blank.

These lines and words are familiar to most evangelical and, especially, conservative Christians. Somehow these lines have been incorporated as a part of our idea of sanctification and how we take a stand against the world–in reality how we define ourselves and the world we oppose. For most of my Christian life I had understood some certain behaviors and places, some types of entertainment, and of course houses of ill repute were sinful, evil, and down-right ungodly–and no Christian should go or participate in such.

There is a temptation, however, without some careful thought, biblical understanding, and wisdom, to identify certain activities and venues as evil, ungodly, and "pagan" (unChristian) in and of themselves–almost "just because" (and then attach a Bible verse). There is a tendency among us to simply think the early church condemned certain pagan and civil practices, prostitution, and entertainment because, somehow, such places and behaviors were inherently evil and ungodly.

Don't worry, I haven't changed–much–on this thinking, but . . . consider where we might be missing the biblical (i.e., the gospel) point. I won’t dispute the notion entirely, but we need to ask why, what makes them evil and ungodly?

In early Christianity, Nero (54–68) had accused Christians of being haters of mankind. Tacitus, a Roman senator and historian (c. 56 – c. 120), reflecting on Nero's post-Rome-burning activities, wrote in his Annals (c. 116): 

Nero's indictment of the church caught on. The gathered-church and Christians were accused of being haters of mankind and antisocial (i.e., did not participate in the approved and appropriate Roman social activities). However, it wasn't just because there was something inherently evil, pagan, or sinful in pagan temples (of course idolatry is bad in any form), Roman theaters, religious brothels (there were no other at that time–really), and after-supper symposium entertainment (which included orgies, dancer-strippers, prostitution, and, as well, sexual encounters between adult men and pubescent or adolescent boys). The accusations had more to do with who was welcome at their table (literally), who made up the gathered-church, and how their faith (the gospel and the work of the cross) now defined the concept of being human. These "pagan" practices and venues were antithetical to the nature of the church and who was welcome to participate at the common meal, the Lord's table, and in baptism. The Christian community began to abstain from such activities–and their abstention and their gathering together as church was a challenge and a display of condemnation–because in the gospel and as a result of the cross, the leveling of humanity began to be practiced by the church (i.e., its habitus as a gathered-people). Children (boy and girls), women, slaves, and individuals of differing social, economic, and work classes took on new meaning, new intrinsic value, new dignity to each other "in Christ."

Not all human beings were considered equally human or human at all. There was most definitely tiers of human hierarchies that placed a vertical understanding of people, human caste, occupations, age, gender, and ethnicity. When Christians were accused of repudiating and eschewing religious and pleasure practices and  institutions of its day—i.e., the theater, temple prostitution, races, gladiator combat, household symposium entertainment—they did so primarily because these venues supported, displayed, and maintained the social and cultural tiers of human hierarchy (now that was and is evil)—not simply because somehow these things were inherently evil. They were venues and practices that supported and maintained social and cultural habits that were inherently racist, misogynistic, de-humanizing, child-abusive, women-abusive, enslavement (i.e., slavery), and thus maintained the evil and ungodly tiers of human hierarchy. All this was challenged by the gospel revealed in the cross and displayed by the gathered-church. This is why the early church was hated. They were accused of hating mankind and of being antisocial because the gathered-church by its very nature and habitus (i.e., how a church practiced being church and how that translated into daily, mundane life and human associations) challenged the status quo of the tiers of human hierarchy. This scared, frighten, and unsettled the gate-keepers, definers, and powers of the social order.

I think, today, we're missing this element of a church's presence because of our Christendom-dependent, politically-aligning, homogenous, building-centered church experience doesn't create church in the same way the New Testament and early church was formed and acted. Through who we are as church and how we  do church (in much of Christendom today), we have no power to challenge the very places and practices of racism, misogyny, child and women abuse, slavery (of any kind), and any form of de-huminzation of any gender, age, class, or person. Perhaps, it is time and appropriate to reconsider how we do church.​

For a thread on the nature of the gathered-church as God's platform for addressing and challenging the tiers of human hierarchy >> The Seditious gathered-church.

A Household Gathered-Church: God’s Platform for Challenging Tyranny and Oppression

Over two plus millennia, the 4th century Constantinian state-sponsored move away from the household gathered-church created specific social ramifications for the church and for doing church: our building-centered ecclesiastical and liturgical habitus replaced the NT household gathered-church habitus, which has repercussions for social mapping trajectories that have restored tiered human hierarchies and re-segregated church communities into “their-own kind” of social, economic, political, and power assemblies. The household gathered-church has ceased to be God's gospel-centered, cruciform platform for deconstructing  systemic tiers of human hierarchy. As a result, this also changed how the church addresses and challenges the current state of injustice, inequality, oppression, and tyranny.
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There is a tendency to imagine that aligning ourselves, whether as individual Christians or as a building-centered congregation, with power or an influential platform associated with power is the way to bring about systemic change in prevailing tiers of human hierarchy. Tempting as this is, Craig Greenfield reminds the church, it is a trap to think “the solution to injustice is to gain power, hoping that once the roles of power have been reversed,” injustice will cease.[1] History testifies differently—Davids inevitably become Goliaths; the oppressed who seize power become new oppressors.

Yet, it was the unassumingly insignificant, powerless, absent any sense of leverage young church that infected every level of society with the gospel and it did so through gathering together—this unique community of the poor and wealthy, property-owners and professionals, business women, slaves, orphans, and abandoned-infants, ex-prostitutes and former temple prostitutes (even some current ones), religious and military leaders, and children, women, and men—at meals in households throughout Caesar’s empire and, eventually, beyond: the gathered-church of strangers and unequals. Through the household gathered-churches invading the very core of the empire, what it was to be human had been “irrevocably altered.”[2] Christianity did not simply offer an alt-system of human relationships and personal morality, but through the very existence of the household gathered-church and its habitus every aspect of the imperial system that created, promoted, and sustained tiers of human hierarchy stood condemned.

The way in which the local church gathered and reclined at table was ultimately and completely seditious to the existing system—the system that was foundational to human identity and imperial stability. Celsus, the second century critic of Christianity, described the spread of Christianity as a religion of “slaves, women and little children,” a warning and an argument against the new sect, for it disrupted the status quo ordering of life. David Bentley Hart suggests that it was “unlikely that Celsus would have thought the Christians worth his notice had he not recognized something uniquely dangerous lurking in their gospel . . .”[3] These gathered-churches were made up of unequals and strangers. Their gatherings were traitorous. Their habitus was seditious and dangerous. Their presence, like no other, threatened to destabilize all of society. It is no shock, then, that the church was scorned and persecuted.

​The gospel shaped gathered-church is not simply one of social integration, but is a scandal to any human institution that systemizes tiers of human hierarchies, be it social, civic, or religious. More than a model or a moment in church history, the household gathered-church, together with its habits, is as much a NT teaching (i.e., instruction to the church) as any other biblical doctrine. More so, everything about the early church challenged the empire, the temple-cults, the religious and political establishment, the business world, and, supremely, all human relationships and associations. Paul and the NT, indeed, did address the issue of slavery, oppression, and human inequality. The question is: does our current form of church?

Slaves. Informing slaves they are to obey their masters was self-evident in the Roman context. How slaves were viewed, especially as household members, is completely reoriented in the Ephesian household-table. Slaves are told to be obedient to their masters (6:5a), but not out of obligation, but from mutual respect: Slaves, be obedient to those who are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling (6:5). Paul presents the phrase “fear and trembling” differently than we typically hear it. In English “fear and trembling” has a range of connotations: fear of failure, nervous anxiety, cultural respect for someone of higher position. In the NT, however, when fear and trembling are juxtaposed they suggest something positive rather than something negative. Paul joins the two words to indicate the disposition people should have toward each other (1 Cor 2:3; 2 Cor 7:15; Eph 6:5; Phil 2:12).[12] This is reflected in that the master is to show “the same” (ta auta, 6:9a) mutuality to household slaves. Along with being welcomed as equals at table (and in the kiss and as recipients of baptism), this turned the household world of the master upside-down, having rippling effects throughout the empire as the recreated household reflected a seditious reconciliation “in Christ.”​

​A Household Table-Waiter Preaches. Luke’s story of Stephen’s sermon before Jewish leaders (Acts 6:1–7:60) is framed by the gathered-church household-venue (5:42; 8:3; cf. 2:46). At some point the widows of Hellenist converts were being overlooked in the daily serving of food (Acts 6:1c) at the deipnon (i.e., supper) component of the gathered-church. The Acts 6 setting assumes a house-venue (from house to house, Acts 5:42) where the Greek-speaking widows were to have found a place at table (certainly a trajectory application of the distributed Spirit upon aged women!) As a response, the twelve (apostles) determined their role was prayer and the ministry of the word (Acts 6:2) and that reputable, Spirit-filled men were to be selected to serve (diakoneō) tables at the deipnon and care for the widows. Men! Not slaves. Not women. This was an astonishing trajectory application of the gospel and the inaugural distribution of the Spirit. Men did not do this in a Greco-Roman household. Furthermore, when Luke choose his very first scene afterward for the “ministry of the word,” he does not pick one that included an apostle; it was a table-waiting lay-person from among the household gathered-church, Stephen.

Furthermore, we should not treat lightly the “house” theme in table-waiter Stephen’s defense before temple-leadership, for he draws upon a text that deconstructs temple-imagery and his trajectory application constructs God’s new dwelling of “house.” Stephen quotes Isaiah’s words to Jewish exiles to stress that the Most High does not dwell in anything made by human hands (cheiropoiētois):

​The Leveling Story: Relistening to Narrative Choices that Formed the Gathered-Church
The hermeneutical and interpretive value of narrative choices made by NT authors are often overlooked in forming our understanding of “church.” Such choices, particularly Luke’s in Acts, speak to the church’s formation and of its habitus (i.e., behaviors) that described who they were as a gathered-people (i.e., their social definition, associations among each other, and boundaries).[1] Here, I am selective, noting only a few narratives choices that highlight the formation of the household gathered-church as the gospel spread into the Gentile world.
 
The Acts-House Movement, Day of Pentecost, and the case-study of Cornelius’ conversion. We should consider the hermeneutical and instructive nature of the church as a house movement. Although some early Christian witness occurred in the temple and synagogues, the NT is clear that the household-venue was the primary space of the local gathered-church. There are a number of texts indicating a gathered-church in someone’s house: . . . greet the church that is in their house (Rom 16:5); Greet those who are of the household of Aristobulus (Rom 16:10); Greet . . . the household of Narcissus, who are in the Lord (Rom 16:11); Aquila and Prisca greet you heartily in the Lord, with the church that is in their house (1 Cor 16:19); Greet . . . Nympha and the church that is in her house (Col 4:15); To Philemon . . . and to the church in your house (Phlm 1:1–2). Additionally, other texts affirm and indicate the formation of “household” as church (e.g., Eph 2:19–22; 1 Pet 4:17; 1 Cor 1:16; 16:15; Gal 6:10; 1 Tim 3:15; cf., 2 Tim 1:16; 3:6; 4:19; 1 Pet 2:5; cf. Acts 12:12; 14:27; 15:30; 20:7–8).[2]

Furthermore, the gathered-church, depicted in NT narrative and biographical texts, did not invent, but adapted the typical Greco-Roman banquet-meal for their own household gathered-church venue (form). The banquet-meal typically divided into two-parts: first, a full meal (deipnon, supper) and, then, an after-meal symposium. The second component, among the Greeks and Romans, tended to be a prolonged time of drinking and entertainment, including speeches with discussion among the guests. The two components were bridged by a cup raised (or poured libation) of wine in honor of the Emperor with added praise or blessing of household deities, temple gods, and/or the benefactor or honored guest of the evening’s banquet.[3] The gathered-church, as it spread throughout the Greco-Roman world, celebrated the Lord’s Supper by breaking bread at the start to indicate the (broken) body of Christ now gathered, by enjoying a meal to which all were welcome (to recline at table), and, then, by lifting a cup of blessing in treasonous celebration of the risen (traitor, criminal, yet risen) messiah-king Jesus.

Some imagine and describe the coming of the Spirit in Acts 2 as spectacular, more in keeping with a concert or stadium sporting event, than simply akin to someone’s family or dining upper-room. We speculate on the details, but we do know it started in a house (2:2c) and was evident to those who had gathered near, around, and outside that upper room (2:6). Greco-Roman banquet meals would have been somewhat public events,[4] where non-guests, a ring of on-lookers as it were, could easily observe the banquet event. So, it makes sense that onlookers would have observed the after-effects of the Spirit (cf., Acts 2:8–11). Amid non-guest reactions, some mocked, “They are full of sweet wine” (2:13). The reference to “sweet wine” was neither strange nor culturally unfitting. The gathering in the house’s upper-room would have been a household deipnon celebration (it was Pentecost after all) and potential drunkenness would not have been an incongruous assumption. Peter offered, however, an explanation (at the symposium?) by drawing on Joel’s promise of the Spirit.

There was a plethora of OT Spirit-promises available to Peter, yet Joel 2 was chosen. Moreover, given the nature of speeches at that time, no doubt Peter was more verbose and quoted from elsewhere as well in his full Pentecost sermon. Still, these words are Luke’s narrative choice and should be seen as having hermeneutical and interpretive influence on our understanding of “church”:

Albeit eschatological, the use of Joel 2 highlights a trajectory application meaningful for Luke’s formation of “church.” The issue of “tongues” (here known languages, Acts 2:6c) is intimately related to the redemptive turn that now all will hear of this gospel in their own language and the distribution of the Spirit would be on all demographics, social caste, gender, and age. In fact, Peter’s ending (Luke’s choice of ending) affirms this: And it shall be that everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved (v. 21).
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After Peter’s message, the narrative, then, directs our attention (2:43–7) to the “added” believers (v. 47b) among households (i.e., house to house, 2:46b). The mention of “breaking bread” (v. 46b) and “meals together” (v. 46c) suggests the first gatherings took place at a household deipnon. The “added” that were continually devoting themselves to the apostles’ teaching (v. 42a) suggests the after-meal symposium was the venue for apostolic teaching. Thus, the first habitus of the newly formed gathered-church was shaped by the promised distribution of the Spirit across demographics, class, gender, and age within household-venues amid the celebration of food (a deipnon) and instruction (a symposium).
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The narrative choice of the Cornelius story, one of the longest in Acts (10-11), should be considered a second-Pentecost, for Luke records Peter’s explanation that the Spirit fell “just as He did at the beginning” (11:15; cf. 10:44–45). This repeat Pentecost affirms a trajectory application of the first (Acts 2). The Spirit falls, again, in a house (10:22; 11:12, 14), yet specifically a Gentile’s house. Typically, commentary follows Peter, that is, the apostolic reach into the Gentile world, in which when he preaches and the Spirit falls upon new believers outside of Jerusalem. However, it is Peter (i.e., and, thus, the reader) that is being taught something about the gospel and the church as they spread into the Gentile world. Luke’s telling of the story affirms this: When they heard this, they quieted down and glorified God, saying, “Well then, God has granted to the Gentiles also the repentance that leads to life” (Acts 11:18).