Archive: Solzhenitsyn And the United Methodist Church

By James S. Robb

In the dog days of August 1989, I have been spending my evenings reading Solzhenitsyn’s August 1914.

Alexander Solzhenitsyn stands as perhaps the world’s greatest living author. In my mind he is the outstanding Christian writer of this century.

His excellence is all the more amazing when you consider Solzhenitsyn is Russian. For nearly 30 years he has enthralled the world with his illuminating novels of Soviet reality and, especially, his horrifying account of Stalin’s labor camps, The Gulag Archipelago.

I’ve been hooked on Solzhenitsyn since high school. But I’ve just now gotten to August 1914, his historical novel covering the Russian army’s disastrous first battle against the Germans at the outbreak of World War I.

I was hoping to be lost in literary bliss and historical reflection, but the events described in the book jarred me back to my everyday preoccupation—the United Methodist Church. In fact, as I read, it became clearer and clearer that the state of the Russian army in 1914 and the state of the UM Church today are remarkably similar.

In 1914 the Tsars still ruled Russia. The Bolshevik takeover was still three years off. However, the empire was teetering mightily.

Nowhere did that feebleness manifest itself better than in the army. For one thing, the army was equipped magnificently—to fight a 19th-century war. Whereas the Germans had airplanes and automobiles for reconnaissance, the Russians still relied upon Cossack cavalry troops to find the enemy.

Yes, the Russians had obtained radios to send orders back and forth across the battle field. Unfortunately it had not occurred to them to code their transmissions. Consequently the Germans knew Russian battle plans as soon as the Russians did. The fact is by that time the Russians were so calcified in their thinking they could not even see the need for a modem army.

That reminds me of the United Methodist Church’s deployment of buildings and personnel. Like the Russian army, the church is really well positioned to minister to last century’s America. A vigorous 19th-century Methodism put its churches right where the people were—in the rural areas and county seat towns.

But today’s Americans tend to live in big cities. The population of rural regions has actually declined, while the population of cities has boomed.

So what have we United Methodists done about it? Nearly nothing. The majority of our churches are still in farm country, while we plant relatively few new congregations in urban areas. The need’s obvious enough, but we haven’t enough vitality to do anything about it.

Another interesting thing about the 1914 Russian army was its lack of ideological unity. As I’ve stated, the Tsars and their imperial system still held sway. Yet fewer and fewer people had confidence in the old ways, even in the army.

For example, young officers tended to be university-trained members of the middle class. Like their non-army fellow intellectuals, they hated the Tsar and the Tsarist system. That was fine, except such attitudes could hardly aid the war effort. When the heat was on there was a tendency to think, “Who cares if it’s all swept away?”

Our situation in Methodism seems similar. A couple of generations of Methodist preachers have been educated to doubt (to a lesser or greater extent) the very essentials of the faith. So when the chips are down should we trust the future of our church to those who are unsure about the validity of the Apostle’s Creed?

Most interesting of all, the Russian army of World War I was led by the most inept generals imaginable. These officers were well-connected flatterers, mostly, rather than fighting men. Indeed, some of the top Russian generals of 1914 had never seen combat. They had been promoted mostly because they had friends in court and hadn’t rocked the imperial boat.

Because they were self-seekers instead of leaders these officers proved much more interested in their reputations and well-being than in the army’s actual success. They were all appearance and no action. Some were actually physical cowards. Nearly all refused to listen to good advice, relying instead on ill-tuned instinct and inadequate experience.

Solzhenitsyn describes the hapless General Artomonov, who sends his men into murderous battle, pulls them back just when their bloody sacrifices begin to pay off then lies brazenly to the army commander, saying, “All attacks beaten off. Am standing firm as a rock.” This man, the author explains, is really just a private in general’s clothing.

Are there parallels with our leaders—the bishops, superintendents and agency officials? Unfortunately, a number of them seem to have been chosen mostly because of their high visibility and good public relations. Alas, they have obtained high office only to find their church besieged on all sides. And too many are absolutely unprepared to lead in the situation.

I can think of five or ten of our leaders who have strategic insight on what to do about our collapsing membership. A few more have shown real leadership in restoring our spiritual vision. But considering the gravity of our situation, that’s not nearly enough. My main impression after reading August 1914 is that a system can falter and collapse while millions passively watch, understanding exactly what is happening.

Yet few are willing any longer to risk their lives to save the failing cause.