“The Collectivist Impulse of Scripture”
“And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people.” (Acts 2:42-47a, ESV).
It is not uncommon to hear the above passage cited along with the claim that the early church was Communist. There are two pretty divided camps on this take, and while I am not unconvinced about its plausibility, that’s not what I want to talk about here. A lot of the aspects of the early church— and the even earlier iterations of the nation of Israel— centered around aspects of community (specifically, being a community of Holy People, chosen by God or belonging to a local church). I believe these aspects are increasingly important to ponder, particularly now. Perhaps it isn’t helpful to use “Communist” as our descriptor, since most of us admittedly grew up on Red Scare propaganda or because we’ve seen Marxism touted as an unforgiving binary or an anti-gospel take on the world. Again, that’s not what I’m here to discuss.
The concept I want to draw out of Scripture, rather than Communism, is collectivism. Collectivism is a much more neutral term, and I think it gets to the heart of what we see in the Bible. This is not meant to be a deep exegesis, but a theme that I want to trace throughout the story of Scripture. My hope is that it will challenge us to situate ideas of Biblical collectivism within our current cultural context.
You Are Your Brother’s Keeper
“Cain spoke to Abel his brother. And when they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother Abel and killed him. Then the Lord said to Cain, ‘Where is Abel your brother?’ He said, ‘I do not know; am I my brother’s keeper?’ And the Lord said, ‘What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood is crying to me from the ground. And now you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. When you work the ground, it shall no longer yield to you its strength. You shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth.’” (Genesis 4:8-12, ESV).
Perhaps the most famous line from the Cain and Abel story is “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Here, Cain questions his responsibility for his brother and his role in the community– and also, of course, hides the fact that he was a murderer. This egregious breach of community results in an egregious punishment from God: Cain would not be able to work the earth and, perhaps most impactfully, would not be part of a community for the rest of his life. The idea here is quite simple: being part of a community (or a collective, to stay consistent with our terms) means to “be your brother’s keeper.” Firstly, this means no murder. But perhaps more importantly this means protecting your brother, advocating for your brother, financially sacrificing for your brother, forgiving your brother, and inconveniencing yourself for your brother. Ironically for Cain, God answers Cain’s hypothetical question with a resounding “Yes, you are your brother’s keeper! That is what love and community is!” Genesis introduces us to the idea of collectivism and the consequences when we fail to be our brother’s keeper.
The Nation of Israel
“When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap your field up to its edge, neither shall you gather the gleanings after your harvest. And you shall not strip your vineyard bare, neither shall you gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard. You shall leave them for the poor and for the sojourner: I am the Lord your God… You shall not oppress your neighbor or rob him. The wages of a hired worker shall not remain with you all night until the morning. You shall not curse the deaf or put a stumbling block before the blind, but you shall fear your God: I am the Lord” (Leviticus 19:9-14, ESV).
“If your brother becomes poor and cannot maintain himself with you, you shall support him as though he were a stranger and a sojourner, and he shall live with you. Take no interest from him or profit, but fear your God, that your brother may live beside you. You shall not lend him your money at interest, nor give him your food for profit. I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt to give you the land of Canaan, and to be your God” (Leviticus 25:35-38, ESV).
After God brought the Israelites out of Egypt, he began to establish them as a nation of holy, set apart people. Part of Israel’s identity as God’s people is found in the laws given to them. Throughout Leviticus and Deuteronomy, we see the ways Israel is different from its surrounding nations, specifically through laws requiring and promoting a collective spirit. In the passages above, we see a focus on the poor neighbor, the oppressed neighbor, the working neighbor, the disabled neighbor. The law does not say “do whatever it takes to succeed and profit”— it says to inconvenience yourself, to specifically not reap your full harvest, to overflow with generosity, to lose profit. And why? Because “I am the Lord your God.” These laws are each followed with an identity statement, as God is making Israel known as his nation which reflects his desire for holiness and collectivism.
The Early Church
“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace” (1 Peter 4:8-10, ESV).
“What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and filled,’ without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead” (James 2:14-17, ESV).
“But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth” (1 John 3:17-18, ESV).
In the early church, the collective impulse is frequently tied to God’s mercy and God’s love. It is clear that in the New Testament, while believers were no longer under the law, acting in a collective sense demonstrated the character of God to others. We see a subtle shift from collective acts as law to collective acts as fruit of salvation, but in both iterations, collective acts are markers of God’s people. Gifts are to be shared among everyone and are given for the edification of the church. Faith must be supplemented with works (specifically works that benefit the vulnerable). Showing God’s love meant doing the Gospel of Christ, not just saying the Gospel of Christ. The early church was not to be an insular, self-interested entity– it was to be a collective of believers with different gifts, weaknesses, and economic statuses coming together to care for one another.
American Individualism
I think we would all whole-heartedly agree that individualism is a cornerstone of the United States’ culture, for better or for worse. Admittedly, individualism has given us a lot of good— the notion of human rights is rooted in the inherent dignity of the individual, the ability to find one’s own path comes from an understanding of individuality, and individualism can even offer dignity to the marginalized or “against-the-grain” people. But, we also have to see that extremist individualism has wreaked havoc on our understanding of community and care for others— we don’t need to look any further than the COVID-19 pandemic to see that individualism at its worst turns into selfishness and alarmism. (I mean, really, just wear a damn mask.)
Much of American individualism is rooted in fear. It shows up as fear-mongering— using fear of others as justification to ignore or exclude (the immigrants are coming to steal our jobs! the insert-other-side-of-political-spectrum is trying to control me! etc, etc). It shows up as self-protection— extending our own “safety net” wider and wider as those underneath us become poorer and poorer. It shows up in straight-up selfishness— fear that we will be taken advantage of and that we must act preemptively in order to not be made the fool.
But, I would posit, if individualism is rooted in fear, then collectivism is rooted in trust. Trust both in our community to sacrificially love us and in God to provide for us (oftentimes through that community). What was the original purpose of a tithe? Surely the early church wasn’t looking to expand their sanctuary every five years or open up a new campus in another suburb— no, the tithe went into caring for the community. In a sort of ebb and flow of trust and provision, early Christians gave out of their excess and were given to out of the excess of others. (When I say excess, picture middle class, just getting-by excess, not Elon Musk excess.) What would that kind of generosity look like here, today?
Collectivism is not inherently advantageous for the individual or even for the Church, but it is good and it is holy. The practice of disadvantaging oneself for the good of the collective directly imitates the Gospel– it can be the image of Christ in a nation which praises individualism.
I want to end with this quote from David Bentley Hart, an Eastern Orthodox theologian/philosopher:
“For those of us for whom the New Testament is not merely a record of the past but a challenge to the present, it is occasionally worth asking ourselves whether the distance separating the Christianity of the apostolic age from the far more comfortable Christianities of later centuries — and especially those of the developed world today — is more than one merely of time and circumstance.”