Deep Fried in Something Icky

Many years ago, when we were first learning how to handle our weapons in the culture wars, I had to sort through what I thought about boycotts. And where I landed is related to a point that has continuing relevance for Christians who are trying to sort out how to relate to the broader culture. I concluded at that time that boycotting is a tactic, and not a moral imperative. Sometimes it is a wise tactic, and sometimes it is foolishly employed, but we are not obligated to refrain from something because of where it came from or where it is going. We are allowed to boycott something in the hope of getting something valuable done. We are not obligated to boycott something for the sake of maintaining our own moral purity. This applies to gas stations that sell porn, to motel chains owned by Mormons, and to the short biography of your small box of Chicken McNuggets. Many years ago my wife got a panicked phone call from a woman who had heard that Proctor & Gamble had an occult logo, and that their CEO had appeared on some television show or other to declare that their profits went to Satan. My response to this (false) rumor was to say that if Satan had indeed changed vocations and moved over into soap manufacturing, that this should be thought by all of us to be all to the good. Boycott? Rather, shouldn’t we push it along?

There are two objections to this neo-monastic ideal — separation for the sake of purity — and both objections are fatal. The first is that it is an impossible ideal. What can’t be done won’t be done. (This, incidentally, is the bright side to all Obama’s spending. What can’t continue won’t.) Serious attempts at even partial consistency here will result in nothing but paralysis — and paralysis is not cultural engagement. If we are contaminated by what is done with our money after it leaves our hands, or by the history of the product we are purchasing before it reaches our hands, then all of us are contaminated all the time, all the way. On that calculus, name one clean thing in this sorry world.

The second objection is that the Bible flatly prohibits this kind of moral fussiness.

“All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but all things edify not. Let no man seek his own, but every man another’s wealth. Whatsoever is sold in the shambles, that eat, asking no question for conscience sake: For the earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof. If any of them that believe not bid you to a feast, and ye be disposed to go; whatsoever is set before you, eat, asking no question for conscience sake. But if any man say unto you, This is offered in sacrifice unto idols, eat not for his sake that shewed it, and for conscience sake: for the earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof: Conscience, I say, not thine own, but of the other: for why is my liberty judged of another man’s conscience? For if I by grace be a partaker, why am I evil spoken of for that for which I give thanks? Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Cor. 10:23-31).

God owns everything — not Satan, not the Mormons, and not Tyson Chicken. Something can have been offered up to some Baal or other in a cloud of pagan smoke, and the meat still remains the Lord’s. The history of the meat does nothing to inject demonic influences into it. It would still be appropriate to say some kind of wholesome Norman Rockwell grace over it.

Paul is very plain here that we are to do everything to the glory of God, whether we eat or drink. But he tells us to do this in a manner that makes it very clear that we should be able to do this with a well-salted French fry, deep fried in something icky. If I am spending some time at lunch with a weaker brother (for that is what he is), I would pick him up a sandwich from the Food Coop, and would not bring him a small tub of pump cheese fries from DeathMart. I would do this for conscience sake — his, not mine. The reason I wouldn’t do it for my conscience sake is that we are not allowed to have our liberty judged by the fussers and the scruplers. Love dictates that you refrain from waving something obnoxious under the nose of a brother with scruples about it. Christ died for him, so you may not do that (Rom. 14:15). At the same time, we need to reject, and reject with godly vehemence, every attempt to bind the consciences of the saints with regard to what they may eat (Col. 2:20-23). We defer to the weaker brothers at lunch, which is not the same thing as letting them teach on this.