Of the many things Martin Luther turned upside down in Christian theology, “do-goodism” was perhaps the most inverted.
There were essentially two crucial moves in his theology of good works. The first and most famous was the removal of “good works” from the economy of salvation. We are, for Luther (and so most of Protestantism) saved by faith alone or grace apart from “good works.” Good works do not save us.
But attending this is a lesser known but essential corollary, that precisely because works do not save, so the entire hierarchy of works is inverted, so that any works especially perceived as “holy” are in fact the most damnable, and vice versa.
Unlike the church of his time, which lauded certain good works or vocations as especially “holy” (like monastic vows), Luther inverted the system and recognized simple forms of neighbor-love in daily life as the primary space in which “good works” are done—not for salvation, but to meet the neighbor’s need.
According to Luther, God is entirely hidden in our daily vocations, and Christ is hidden in our neighbor. And precisely because we know Christ is especially found among (has a preferential option for) the lowly, the poor, the minorities, etc., whatever good works actually are will be found in the vocational economy of our participation in that preference.
Consider the many ways in which we still, in spite of the better spirits of our theology, elevate certain good works above others. I know, just from personal experience, that many still elevate (in their minds, spirituality, etc.) the special roles like clergy, as if those of us who are pastors are doing “holier” work.
This is also why some groups publish “Christian” business directories. Near our house, for example, is a Christian Brothers auto body shop. They call themselves Christian brothers because they’re…. Christian. If you go get your car worked on there, you can read free bibles in the lobby and listen to Christian music over their intercom system.
However, they also charge more (and charge more up front) than some of the nearby secular, scrappy auto-body shops.
So, although Christians might choose the “Christian” auto-body shop because they want to offer their patronage to other Christians, a Lutheran analysis might go something like this: we know whether a repair shop is “Christian” not through their labels but rather through their vocational fulfillment. Are they good at meeting the neighbor in their need? Do they do good repairs, at a fair price, and in that way loving their neighbor?
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The temptation to do “good works” is insidious. We are drawn to them at least in part because of their performative value. We want to be known as people who do good works.
This is why some service organizations are specifically designed to offer the opportunity for work-groups or teams to do “service” together. In the same way businesses market services to you in order to make your life easier, some non-profits even specialize in helping you “do good” easier.
However, there is an underlying problem with “performative” helping. The first problem is the problem of distraction: a working group from a corporation, for example, may feel they are doing good work by raising a bunch of funds for a non-profit or volunteering with a service organization.
But, if such service or do-goodism provides moral cover for them, so that in fact they continue to harm their neighbors through their regular, paid vocation, then the service or “good works” are actually, in a very real sense, bad works. They serve as cover for truly bad works.1
Some of the largest corporations in America, ones that unquestionably devalue workers, cause harm through their supply chain systems, decimate smaller businesses and communities, and avoid at every turn paying their fair share of taxes, also access the most robust ecosystems for fund-raising and do-gooding. This is no accident.
The even deeper problematic: if teams from such corporations do good in one context in a volunteer capacity while doing harm in their daily work, the two forms of work are simply incommensurable.
That is to say, you can’t make up for the harm you did in your 60 hour a week job through an hour or two of volunteering semi-annually.
The real issue: to do good in some corporate contexts requires significant risk. You will get lauded (and maybe even a bonus) for organizing a workplace team for a short-term service project. But you can get fired if you point out a harmful practice in your workplace, or champion publicly through your social media influence fair taxation of corporations to provide a basic social net for all.
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Not only this, but the reality is that much service is an empty gesture when the real fix is systemic. And when we engage in the empty gesture, we perhaps release just enough air from the balloon that it won’t pop.
I’m thinking here of one I just did recently myself.
I learned from a friend and local organizer that many our graduating seniors have unpaid school lunch debt. So I organized a fundraiser and raised enough money to pay off all the seniors’ lunch debts.
I think this is a good thing. So do many others, I imagine especially those whose debt was relieved.
But you know what would be better, would be the right good work: provide free school lunches for all.
Imagine if every single school superintendent in every school in Arkansas drove to the capitol tomorrow and demanded a meeting with the governor and legislature and asked them to fund free meals for all students, period.
There would be risk. It would be a hard campaign. But it would be the right and most impactful thing to do, far more than the piecemeal aid we accomplished and have been lauded for.
This is the kind of thing Luther was pointing out in his theological inversion of good works. It’s to say, “Your good works can’t save you, and you especially are at risk if you start to think you are a savior. Instead, do the hard local work of loving your very real neighbors.”
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In this era, we are in particular caught up in systems of do-goodism that are especially problematic. In the non-profit industrial complex, large grant making entities now exist that fund “good works.” The problem here: the funds for such works were originally skimmed from the poor and other vulnerable populations, accreted to the wealthy, and then parceled out through foundations and other instruments created by the rich in order to expand their “good works” and impact.
“The state uses nonprofits to professionalize organizing, curb activism’s ability to disrupt the status quo, “encourage social movements to model themselves after capitalist structures rather than to challenge them,” funnel money that would otherwise go toward taxes into private foundations, allow corporations to perpetuate oppression under the guise of charity, and “control social justice movements.”
I sit on the board of multiple non-profits and have started a couple of them myself, and feel quite complicit in precisely this structural problematic. I think it’s precisely (in modern terms) the issue addressed by Luther in his era.
When I consider this connection between the current work I do and the theological milieu out of which I was formed, I tend to begin to ponder what real (radical) reformation might be for us today.
I think it would start, at the very least, by us no longer fooling ourselves into thinking that some sorts of limited do-goodism are not in fact providing cover for our complicity in larger systems of injustice. It would call us to remove ourselves from the most obvious forms of complicity, then begin challenging ourselves to do the harder, more risky work of solidarity with our neighbor in their actual need rather than our own need to be perceived as “good.”
And it would mean a renewed commitment to neighbor-love in and through our daily vocations. If you work at the university, doing everything in your power to be a good teacher and ensure the university is just. If you work at a major corporation, it means no longer absolving yourself of the larger harms simply because you are one small cog, but rather vulnerably working for change.
We need to admit to ourselves that at least some of our helping isn’t actually helping. That some of our helping is actually extending or prolonging harm. If we can’t admit and see this, we won’t be able to take the next real steps necessary for real neighbor-love.
I know, some will argue that “at least it does some good.” But that’s part of the problem, isn’t it. It does “some” good, just enough to provide the moral cover. But this is like saying “well there’s a kernel of truth in a conspiracy theory.” Sure. But that’s part of the problem, right?
We in fact have used Christian Brothers for oil changes and some work on the 2008 KIA and even though it was a bit expensive, it was cheaper than the Dealer and done quickly instead of a week later. They seem to care that you are a customer, rather than just another job, and they explain why the work needs to be done and show pictures to prove that. Plus they’re easy to get to and they’ve served us well. I like the devotion books they offer as reading material.
In my opinion. You are spot on! Your writing is detailed and supportive of how I have felt and believed for years. Ideas you present have floated into sermons and newsletters. You have made it into a scholarly presentation - all need to read and ponder. Thanks.