Do you remember the sitcom back in the ‘80s, “Who’s the Boss?” It starred Judith Light and Tony Danza. It was about an advertising executive who employs a man as her live-in housekeeper; a rather dated twist on gender roles that people found funny at the time.
The show asks, quite obviously, “Who is the boss?” Is it Angela, the driven businesswoman who actually is Tony’s employer? Is it Tony, whose easygoing manner often disrupts Angela’s controlled environment? Maybe it’s the kids, who like all children demand attention and adaptation? Or perhaps it’s Angela’s mother Mona, who lives entirely according to her own whims with no real concern for what others might think is “appropriate for someone her age”?
The show takes the stereotypical assumptions about gender roles and behaviour and turns them on their ear. But more importantly, it shows a much more nuanced answer to the question by suggesting that: no one is the boss.
What a shocking perspective, especially if we consider it as an approach to faith.
Throughout Christian history, we have been in a debate over who or what we should consider as our authority. During my training, I spent countless hours puzzling over the matter, trying to reconcile some answer that would firmly establish the authority I would reliably refer to as I worked in ministry.
Now the easy answer is, “Of course God is our authority!” But that’s also the cheap answer. It doesn’t really answer the question; it’s just an easy out. God isn’t showing up to micromanage our daily lives—not in any way that can be agreed upon by everyone. No, instead, we look to more earthly sources of guidance that we believe speak on God’s behalf.
And it is these that we take as “authority.”
Perhaps it’s a person. The obvious one, in the Roman Catholic tradition, is the Pope. For others, it might be another spiritual leader. These are seen by their followers as chosen instruments of God’s will, and what they say is what must be.
Except they are people: normal humans, with fears and flaws, biases and personal perceptions. A quick glance through history (some of it not that long ago) reveals that revered leaders are often far from divine in thought, word, or action. As a source of authority over how we should live our lives and treat others, this seems inherently unsound.
Another common authority used by the church is tradition. After all, if we have done or believed these things for years, there certainly must be truth in them. Except this too has its roots in human perception and bias, built within the confines of particular cultures and communities. Taking tradition as an unshakable authority is a recipe for stagnation, not growth.
Okay then, what about the Bible? This surely must be the undeniable earthly authority for our faith. We proclaim it as divinely inspired, containing all that is necessary for salvation. Hundreds of denominations, particularly Protestant faiths, hold Scripture as the undeniable authority to which everything is answerable.
Even ignoring the fact that the Bible is a collection of writings by many people, for many purposes, with many agendas (a fact which we absolutely should not ignore), and that it is rife with contradictions, inconsistencies, and confusion, the question remains: which Bible? Which translation? Which interpretation? All of which can give very different “authoritative” guidance.
The fact is that anyone proclaiming the Bible as their “undeniable authority” is actually saying it about their own accepted interpretation of the Bible. Nothing more.
All of these and more are put forth as answers to the question, “Who’s the boss?” And all are flawed.
The truth is that we don’t need an authority. We never have. We proclaim them only out of ego… an attempt to assert our own righteousness with divine certainty. And so we miss the point. All of these things are not authorities. They are tools to aid us in authentic conversation, which is the true practice of faith.
The moment we proclaim an authority, we stop listening. Thereafter, conversation ends, in preference to dominating, or else rejecting, the other party. That’s how we get division, schism, and the family of God squabbling over which one is right.
But when we put aside authority, we enter into a beautiful state of understanding that we might be wrong. It is there that growth can happen. It is there that God can work and we can become better. It is there that peace and love become more than just words.
Like for Angela, Tony, Mona, Samantha, and Jonathan, it’s not about who’s the boss. It’s about talking, listening, and learning to be a family.