Power

It's not money makes the world go round, says Nietzsche, it's power: "There is will to power where there is life and even the strongest living things will risk their lives for more power. This suggests that the will to power is stronger than the will to survive."

There's something to this. Animals, as well as humans, risk life to dominate. Nature shows tell us it's about the right to mate. But there are pecking orders, and there's more to it than sex. It's lust, but not just that one kind.

A will for power does explain much of history. The elephants fight, and the grass suffers, says an African proverb. Winners write the history books. And the appeal of power is there for perhaps all of us. Psychologists tell us it is important to feel like we have some (if not all) control.

News stories about politicians are often told in terms of power. It's as if power is the thing that motivates them. I think that's part of it for most, maybe much of it for some. I don't personally know many politicians, but the ones I've met and talked with seem more interested in service than in a means to dominate. I'm not saying the politicians I've met are typical, but neither are sweeping statements about aspiring to power.

The church too makes much of power (some of it corrupt). In Sunday School we sing, "Our God is so big, so strong, and so mighty" and we take comfort from that, partly, perhaps, because it lets us off the hook. We're not in control, but we've aligned with someone who is.

I read a book by former Executive Editor of Christianity Today, Andy Crouch, about power. The book, Playing God: Redeeming the Gift of Power, advises accepting power to do right: fight injustice, bring peace, create beauty. He refers to power as a gift. I'm not so sure. It seems a curse. 

I'm not referring to power in all its connotations. Novelist Toni Morrison, in an interview, tells of how she learned at a young age the power of words. I think she is talking about how words can have an effect, change people, help us understand. Words like hers are effective, but they aren't a means to dominate. Also, I'm fond of the word empower, because it too is absent of aggression or the urge for the upper hand. An ability to do something is not the same as power. Are Jesus’ miracles acts of power? Ability is a skill or talent; power is something else. What I'm referring to is a desire for positions of authority, where we are in charge. 

In college one year I was an RA. I disliked the job. But at the end of the year, when asked if I wanted to do it again, I felt an urge to say yes—before coming to my senses. So I admit feeling an attraction to authority, no matter how meager.

I once suggested that God might not be omnipotent. More recently, I've wondered if God is the antithesis of power. When is power not associated with destruction, an ability to achieve destruction, the means to punish? Power is an ability, but for inflicting pain or even annihilation. If I have power over you, I can do you harm. We want power (for good, we tell ourselves and others), and we think God is like us in this except that he has ultimate power.

What if we thought of God’s superpower as being ultimately incapable of lording it over someone else? The lion shall lie down with the lamb, because the fully redeemed lion is incapable of extinguishing the life of another. Unlike the lion, who must kill to eat, we force others to do our will. Not because we have to eat, but because we want to exercise power.

To be first, you must be last. To be honored you must be a servant. That's how Jesus lived. It's how we are told to live. We may conclude from this that serving is a stepping stone to power. No, honor is not the same as power. 

I realize I'm out on a limb here, but I think it's a branch worth examining. I'm not really interested in convincing everyone that this is the sole truth, but I do want to examine our preconceptions.

I recently heard an episode of Freakonomics, in which writer Maria Konnikova explains her decision to learn and play poker. She refers to it as the best analogy to life. But if poker is the the ultimate life metaphor, then it assumes life is about winning. How about we forget about winning. And losing.

This may well be just another heresy. The Bible has many stories of people meeting an untimely end as the result of God-induced justice. But what if Jesus’ death were viewed less as a trick to conquer death and more as an indication of what God is really like? To become godly is to counter but ultimately submit to the ungodly power of others. And thereby to turn everything upside down. Jesus' message and life turn power on its head. 

The disciples thought Jesus had come to run the Romans out of town and take power. Then he goes and gets killed by them and their toadies, even though he could have avoided it. Who makes a hero of someone like that?

Ah, but he stuck it to them by rising from the dead! Except that's not how the Story goes. It's only our interpretation that makes it about power. It seems some monk couldn't resist the temptation to embellish the Lord's Prayer with "kingdom" and "power." Monks are like the rest of us. We want God to be as we would be. We want power. In the end, we'll show them!

I don't mean to imply that Jesus was a timid milquetoast. He definitely got in people's faces. He protested, even violently in the temple. He spoke truth to power. He is Truth, not Power. His protests, in fact, prompted his arrest and execution. In challenging the status quo, he followed a long line of Old Testament prophets and poets.

A friend counters that power relinquished is still power, and maybe that's the right view. God has all power, but gives it up. Or maybe the difference is that power is for others, not over others. I think this is what Andy Crouch promotes. (In the introduction to his book, he recalls reading Marilyn French's Beyond Power. I shall have to read that book. The title sounds idealistic, and ideal. And it sounds like what I'm suggesting here.)

As we learn about how long creation took and how it started, we might do well to reconsider our conception of God—or of the universe in relation to God. Traditionally, we thought God created the universe in a week, virtually through a series of six finger snaps, followed by a holiday. Maybe the big bang is a letting go, more giving than asserting*.

So much of the life of God incarnate is God powerless. What if Jesus’ death were viewed not as a trick to conquer but as an indication of what God is really like. We speak of the power of love, but love is the opposite of power. And God loves most those who have the least power or have rejected it. We think of God as omnipotent perhaps only because power is what we want. God wants nothing to do with it. God wants only love.

What if perfection is an absence of the will to power?

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* The image of creation as letting go comes to mind from reading Stephen Hawking's answer to the first question in Brief Answers to the Big Questions. (Hawking, by the way, doubts there is a god or that the Big Bang required one.)