Unlike today’s “churches,” ekklēsiai weren’t collegia (clubs).

Otis Q. Sellers (1901-1992), his one-time New York rep Gabriel Monheim (1936-2015), and long-time friend (of them and me), fellow Christian Individualist Michael Walko, Los Angeles, December 21 or 22, 1973. Photo courtesy of “Jersey Mike.”—A.G.F.

[Also on Substack]

Almost fifty years ago, I met Gabriel Monheim (1936-2015) on the corner of Wall and Broad Streets and soon thereafter read The Bible versus the Churches.[1] Thus, my entrée to Otis Q. Sellers, from whose biblical theology Gabe borrowed while adding his special “street” touch.

As Gabe declared in the book’s last chapter: “What we have just described [in the preceding hundred pages] is Christian individualism.”[2] Which happens to be the title of my forthcoming book.

The takeaway from Gabe’s book was that belonging to any of the various social formations we call “churches” (because we’re stuck with that word) is not only not a condition of being saved, but also not even something one needs to do to prove one’s Christian bona fides. And more often than not, it’ll put you at odds with “what the Bible teaches,” something all the churches claim to care about.

You see, I had just left the Communist Party. I was not keen on joining anything.

It took time for me to get to the bottom of Sellers’s ecclesiology and plant my flag on the ground of his interpretation of the Word of God. Over that time, unfortunately, I drifted in and out of various churches. But God’s grace put my nose back in His Word and Sellers’s mining of it.

I must start somewhere. Of Aaron, Sellers noted, it was said, “And no man taketh this honor unto himself, but he that is called (kaleō [i.e., καλούμενος, kaloumenos]) of God, as was Aaron” (Hebrews 5:4). As for the major prophets:

Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel had their positions out of God and could be designated as ekklēsia [ἐκκλησία] men in har­mony with the way the Greeks used this term. The boy David was only a shepherd, but after his anointing to be king of Israel, he had a position out of God. This position is a perpetual one. Death interrupted it but did not end it. David will again be the Shepherd-king of Israel in the day when God governs the nations of the earth. See Jeremiah 30:9; Ezekiel 34:23-24; 37:24- 25; Hosea 3:5.[3]

Sellers brings this to bear on the meaning of ἐκκλησία (ekklēsia) in the New Testament:

The disciples of Christ were simply learners. They had no position out of Him. They were not ekklēsia men individually and did not form an ekklēsia collectively. However, at one point in His ministry, after a night of prayer, He called unto Him His disciples. Out of these He chose (or elected: eklexamenos [ἐκλεξάμενος]) twelve, whom also He named (ὠνόμασεν, ōnomasen) apos­tles (ἀποστόλους, apostolous) (Luke 6:12-13; emphasis added.—A.G.F.)

“The full significance of this action,” Sellers continues, “has long been ignored and stultified” by those who insist on reading back into Scripture not only themselves but also the clubs (“churches”) to which they belong and which lack that status.

The very fact that it followed a night of communion with the Father should denote its importance.

In this action, Jesus Christ, who was God’s apostle (Hebrews 3:1), gave of Himself, even of His substance (essential nature) to these twelve men, resulting in each one becoming an out-positioned one, or ekklēsia man.

Indi­vidually and personally, they were an ekklēsia, and col­lectively they became the ekklēsia to all other disciples.[4]

These twelve disciples of His became “the foundational ekklē­sia, the very rock upon which the Lord declared He would build of Himself the ekklēsia.”

In Rome, one did not join the senate as one joins a club or trade union. Membership was a function of status, office, lineage, and recognition by constituted authority. It was conferred, not self-initiated.

In ancient Athens, the ekklē­sia was the assembly of citizens who were called to deliberate. One did not “join” it. If you were a male citizen of age, you were part of it. Your status preceded participation.

The verb καλέω (kaleō) in this context was not a polite invitation. Not a “You’re cordially invited to attend,” but rather a “You are summoned to exercise your political responsibility as a citizen.” It meant to be summoned under authority, convened for deliberation, or having one’s presence required.

It carried legal and civic force. Social ontology asserted itself: it was the enactment of the Athenian polis itself. When it met, Athens was acting.

Thus, ekklē­siai (the plural of ekklē­sia) may mean “those called out,” but “out” does not necessarily mean out from; it could mean out of.

Christ’s “commissioned ones,” his apostles, had positions out of Him, the just as, if you will, your arm is “out” of your body, not out of the world. And so He said “I will build of me (μου, mou; genitive) My ekklēsia” (Matthew 16:18).

The first Christians, who understood themselves to be positioned out of Christ, didn’t “join a church.” The language of voluntary association reflects post-Enlightenment social forms, not apostolic ecclesiology. An ekklēsia was not a collegium or voluntary association.

In ancient Rome, there were thousands of collegia[5] (the Latin plural of collegium), groups of worshippers, religious processions, or cults (often associated with Dionysus). Besides θίασοι, there were ἔρανοι (eranoi, the plural of ἔρανος, eranos), voluntary clubs or “picnic groups” that might provide mutual aid, banquets, or financial assistance to their members.

Does this sound familiar? Thiasoi and eranoi resembled the “clubs” we call churches.

Among collegia were trade guilds (bakers, carpenters, shipbuilders, and so forth), burial societies, ethnic associations, cults devoted to deities like Isis or Mithras. With membership came initiation rites and dues, and vestments that indicated rank. You joined it by applying (or being sponsored), paying dues, and participating in rituals. Membership was voluntary and contractual. And, according to the logic of clubs, you could leave, or be expelled.

To Roman authorities, Christian meetings smelled like illicit associations of dangerous folk who met regularly, shared meals, and imposed discipline on their members. Ironically, those authorities sometimes persecuted Christians just because they didn’t behave like members of a normal collegium.

A trade guild could be regulated; a mystery cult, licensed. But a community claiming exclusive allegiance to a crucified and risen Lord and refusing to regard its gathering as just another voluntary association? Well, that risked destabilizing the imperial order from which all secular blessings flow!

The Roman Senate in session.

Again, one did not “join” the ἐκκλησία any more than one joined the Roman Senate. One was “constituted” into it, whether by civic status (in Rome’s case) or, in the case of Christ’s first disciples (learners), by divine calling (positioning).

Christian identity is ontological, not contractual. It’s about what you are, not how you “identify.” Regardless of century or dispensation, it’s grounded in your being a new person in Christ.

Individuals can decide to form or join a collegium, and that’s what individuals, even Christian individuals, have done since Acts 28:28. These social formations neither effect nor affect (neither bring about nor impact) their salvation.

Christ commissioned ones, His Apostles, identified individuals with Christ, making them ἐκκλησίαι, and they evangelized others. Apostles and evangelists were mediated between God and men, something only Christ does in this dispensation (1 Timothy 2:5). Now we can only “do the work of evangelists” (2 Timothy 4:5). This ontological status had nothing to do with meeting regularly and paying dues.

If New Testament ἐκκλησίαι were not analogous to Roman collegia, then today’s “church” practices are built on extra-biblical assumptions.

Like Roman collegia, churches have membership classes, covenants, voting rights, transfer letters, and ways to opt out.

Churches compete for their members who transfer freely in or out of this one or that. Preference governs the belonging and the transfers.

If the church is primarily a voluntary association, then belonging to this one, that one, or none at all, is a matter of consumer choice.

The forum at Corinth. remains of shops, the western side.

In the first century, however, there was no religious “marketplace”: the ἐκκλησίαι in Corinth constituted what we refer to (at least in English) as “the church” in Corinth.

If, however, the church is ἐκκλησία, then belonging was (and one day will again) be grounded in God’s action.

Today, He’s dealing with us strictly as individuals, regardless into what clubs we sort ourselves.

In support of the (in his view) non-identity of ἐκκλησία and “church,” Sellers favorably cited Emil Brunner’s The Misunderstanding of the Church (The Westminster Press, 1953), whose author tantalizingly posed these questions:

Is it a question of a misunderstanding of which the Church is guilty or of a misunderstanding of which it is the victim? Or is that the Church itself, as such, is perhaps the product of a misunderstanding? The author is not responsible for this ambiguity; it is intrinsic, rather, to the theme itself. (Brunner, Misunderstanding, 1951 Preface)

Or perhaps, partly perpetrator, partly victim, partly product? My Christian Individualism: The Maverick Biblical Workmanship of Otis Q. Sellers, to be published mid-year (God willing) by Atmosphere Press, is in the interior design phase.

Notes

[1] Gabriel Monheim, The Bible versus the Churches, self-published, 1977. I tell the story of this meeting in my forthcoming Christian Individualism: The Maverick Biblical Workmanship of Otis Q. Sellers, but you can read an ancestor of its preface on my site: “Discovering Otis Q. Sellers: an autobiographical vignette,” July 9, 2019.

[2] Chapter 22, “The Conclusion of the Whole Matter,” 103.

[3] Otis Q. Sellers, “Ekklēsia Men,” Seed & Bread, No. 115, n.d., ca. late 1970s. Emphasis added. Further quotations from Sellers in this article are from this study.

[4] Sellers held “they could not be an ekklēsia collectively unless each one was ekklēsia personally.” That is, the individual didn’t become out-positioned by joining a collective that jointly bore the characteristic of being out-positioned. “The United States Senate (a legislative ekklēsia) is an example of this. It must be made up of a hundred men who individually are senators, men whose positions are out of their states. You cannot become a senator by joining the Senate, and you cannot form the Senate by organizing a hundred ordinary men.”

[5] The Greek equivalent: θίασοι (thiasoi), the plural of θίασος (thiasos).

Religionless Christianity: the afterword to “Christian Individualism”

Moody Bible College student Otis Q. Sellers (1901-1992), in 1921.

Below is a draft of the afterword to Christian Individualism: The Maverick Biblical Workmanship of Otis Q. Sellers, the title of a book-length (103K-word) manuscript I hope to publish in 2025. A search of <Otis Q. Sellers> on this site, which I invite you to do, will return many hits. The book chapters that will, once published, precede this afterword originated as posts; familiarity with them, however, while helpful, is not necessary. Standing apart from them, it is (I hope) intelligible enough to stimulate interest in the larger work. It’s long as posts go, but I’m hungry for feedback. Comments are welcome! So, print it out, or send it to your e-reader, or scan it ocularly.

Does this have anything to do with Dietrich Bonhoeffer? Not directly, but see the fourth reference note.

I wish my visitors a happy, healthy, and prosperous 2025!

Anthony G. Flood

* * *

Allow me first to clarify something that might bother many of you upon reading the title. What Sellers called his walk in Jesus Christ seems to express a contradiction in terms. If Christianity is one of the world’s “great religions,” there couldn’t be a religionless version of it, right?

Wrong. 

What Is Religion?

For one thing, “Christianity” refers to nothing in the God-breathed Scriptures. Reading Acts 11:26, we learn that Jesus’ disciples were first called “Christians” in first-century Antioch (present-day Antakya in southern Turkey). But nothing then corresponded to the abstraction “Christianity,” religious or otherwise.

Being justified by faith, we have peace with God (εἰρήνην πρὸς τὸν Θεὸν, pros ton Theon ) through our Lord Jesus Christ (Romans 5:1). That faith is neither a true nor false religion. We are the blessed ones against whom God will not count our sins (Romans 4:8). What religion can give the peace that comes with knowing that?

The only religion (θρησκεία, thrēskeía) that God gave anyone—that is, the only system of outward worship, ritual practices, and religious devotion, rites and rituals, prescriptions and proscriptions governing one’s relation to Him—is found in the תּוֹרָה (to-rah), commonly referred to as the Law of Moses. Continue reading “Religionless Christianity: the afterword to “Christian Individualism””

Theological exploration at the New York Hilton, December 1982

[Postscript on Creationism added December 18, 2024]

The coverage of the murder of United Healthcare’s CEO near the New York Hilton Midtown hotel (1335 Sixth Avenue from 53rd Street to 44th Street) reminded me of a happier, pre-digital-age event with which I’ll always associate that building: the annual convention of the American Academy of Religion, 42 years ago this coming week. In those days I ran the mailroom of Philip Johnson’s architectural firm[1],  but I asked for and got a workday off. Into my diary went these words:

Sunday, December 19, 1982

Full day at the American Academy of Religion conference. It cost $30, but it was worth it to mingle with hundreds of theologians. The publishers had their impressive displays I couldn’t believe all the new books that are coming out. Should have talked to Clark Pinnock (1937-2010) when I had the chance. Didn’t see [Norman] Geisler.[2] Maybe he won’t be there until Tues. when he reads his paper on creationism. I enjoyed being well-dressed, eating breakfast in a nice coffee shop after registering, having a bite at Amy’s around 5, getting into a few (not nearly enough) conversations, including one with an Episcopal[ian]  priest, Frederick Fox who went over the options of a theological career with me, giving me a few leads. The final address of the evening, attacking the documentary hypothesis as a literary fiction, was surprising. Called Gabe [Monheim][3], Mom, and Mike [Brennan] to tell them the highlights.

Seriously thinking of taking off Tues. to catch all the goodies. But I’ll probably have to settle for Geisler at 1:30 and [Edward] Schillebeeckx [1914-2009] at 8:00. Raymond Brown is tomorrow night at 8:00.

I was definitely in my element today. Hope it’s a sign of things to come. Continue reading “Theological exploration at the New York Hilton, December 1982”

Otis Q. Sellers in New York, 1978

Bill Scotti, Frank Marrone, Otis Q. Sellers. Spring 1978 Conference, Holiday Inn New York City.

Last night I received from my friend Sam Marrone a snapshot of Otis Q. Sellers speaking with his father, Frank, as his uncle Bill Scotti looks on, and I thought I’d share it here. It was taken at the Holiday Inn on West 57th Street in Manhattan.

The event was the Word of Truth Ministry‘s 1978 New York spring conference.  That year Gabe Monheim put Sellers’s writings in my hands. (See my recollection.) Gabe’s urgent invitation to me to attend the 1978 sessions did not prevail, but my reading and thinking continued. My personal introduction to the man happened the following year. Due to a falling-out between Sellers and Monheim, under circumstances not favorable to the latter’s memory, the spring and fall 1979 conferences would be his last in my city. To Sam I owe my recent awareness of some of the details of that estrangement, wholly unknown to me at the time. I’ll probably reserve the telling of that story for my prospective book’s last chapter.

Otis Q. Sellers in his study

Sam’s history with Sellers is a bit longer. His parents began taking him to the semi-annual conferences in Philadelphia, hosted in a private home, in 1953. Sam was raised a Christian Individualist and, 66 years later, remains one. Along with the photo, Sam gifted to me a complete run of Sellers’s magazine, Word of Truth, 1936-1965. It is invaluable for my research into his life and thought. I can’t imagine how, if ever, I would have acquired it apart from his generosity.  Thanks, Sam.

Discovering Otis Q. Sellers: an autobiographical vignette

March 22, 1978. A crisp 50-degree Wednesday in the Big Apple. Jimmy Carter was President. Saturday Night Fever was in the movie houses.

A New York University grad, I was studying for a doctorate in philosophy at the City University of New York’s graduate school. Still living at home in Bronx, I earned my keep by sorting and internally delivering mail at Fried, Frank, Harris, Shriver & Jacobson—“Sargent Shriver’s law firm,” I’d tell friends and family. (Never saw him: he was based in the Washington, DC offices.) Fried, Frank was then leasing several floors of the Equitable Building, 120 Broadway. In chapter 8 of Wall Street and the Bolshevik Revolution Antony Sutton devoted a chapter to the conspiracies that transpired in that storied edifice. I remember reading that book during my tenure in the law firm’s mail room. (See my post on this.)

During one lunch break I encountered Gabe Monheim, a semi-retired engineer from Red Hook, Brooklyn, then in his early 40s. The temperamental and cultural opposite of Otis Q. Sellers (1901-1992), an elderly Los Angelino formerly of Wellston and Cincinnati, Ohio.

Otis Q. Sellers, 1901-1992

It was where Wall and Broad Streets intersect, a crossroads for me between philosophy and the Bible, a dividing line I’d crisscross many times. But for Gabe, I may never have heard of Sellers. And you wouldn’t be reading this. (I mention Gabe in a post that complements this one.)

Gabriel Monheim, 1936-2015

I had been working in the financial district for three years, and Gabe had been preaching there (and further south at the Battery) for even longer (having once worked at the engineering firm Ford, Bacon & Davis), but I never noticed him. We pay attention to what we’re looking for, and I wasn’t yet looking for what he was offering. I wasn’t attuned to his message. At a distance, all street-corner preachers looked and sounded alike.

Until that day.

Continue reading “Discovering Otis Q. Sellers: an autobiographical vignette”