The Mirage of the Purple Church

Purple is an illusion. When our eyes see red and blue wavelengths at the same time, purple is “made up” by our brains: “Our brain…remodels the [linear] visible spectrum into a color wheel and pops in a palette of purples – which doesn’t exist – as a solution to why it’s receiving information from opposite ends of the visible spectrum.” An optical illusion becomes what is perceived as real.

For some time, churches have been trying to make sense of Republican and Democratic clashes of perspectives in their midst and even gave it a name: the purple church. Church leaders actively seek ways to live together in spite of the differences between red and blue. The current political and social climate amplifies the increasingly challenging options of “riding the line” in order to avoid upsetting anyone, addressing the very real value of holding the community together, and/or the growing disorientation as perspectives of one another shift.

If we want faith communities where people code switch or leave individual ways of being outside of the sanctuary walls to fit within them, then purple churches are how we accomplish it. We can leave politics outside of the church, failing to acknowledge that politics, at its simplest definition, are the approaches we undertake to build community together. We can proclaim messages that unite by amplifying similarities and downplaying (or simply ignoring) differences. Yet a faith community is not about either/or, inside/outside, majority/minority, or right/wrong. It is in the complexity of living together, being transformed by others, and continuing to “show up” for one another that illustrates our unique call to an interconnected and relational communal life.

I believe the Church is one of the last places where we are to bring all that we are and all that we hope to be. It is the place where we carry with us what is acceptable to the world as well as the parts we are often pressured to hide. This is a holistic community; a space where our supposed messiness is honored as the full identity which makes us who God has created us to be.

We have fallen short of this call by focusing on sizing one another up to gain understanding which is, at its best, incomplete. While it is comfortable to put people in categories or center some ways of being while downplaying others, it distorts the abundant diversity of God’s creation. One aspect is amplified when it comes to blue and red, in this case, partisanship, rather than upholding the whole self. Practicing standing in the complexity of individual and communal identity avoids a melting pot of false unity.

The mirage of the purple church is enticing: drinking from the well of cordiality and “going along to get along” creates niceties on the surface. This is especially true as the landscape around us is so volatile and requires new capacities in order to address the unknown. But there is a cost to bear if we continue on this path. A commitment to our theological values and one another is lost by consuming the comforts at the mirage of the purple church.

Here are some questions to open the conversation:

• What is considered normal in our church? What viewpoints or topics make people uncomfortable?
• What values shape the church’s life together? How do these values shape the decisions, actions, and engagement which you are willing to undertake?
• Where are the underlying feelings of fear, anxiety, or risk? How can these spaces and places be explored courageously?
• What is at stake for me to seriously engage people with differing values and beliefs?
• What capacity/skill building is necessary to grow together as a church?