In 1963 Schulz introduced a new character to his Peanuts Gang, and his name was “5.” He had twin sisters named “3” and “4” respectfully (you can spot them in the famous dance scene of “A Charlie Brown Christmas”). Five’s full name was 555 95742, which was also his family’s zip code (placing him in Rancho Cordova, CA outside of Sacramento). His father, in naming his children numbers instead of names, was protesting, or at least surrendering, to the system of reducing human lives to numbers and statistics. Thus, the commentary Schulz might have been giving is that you’re more than just a number!
As a child, Schulz’s humor often evaded me: what did Snoopy mean when he said, “I’m bad with names. Did he say ‘5’ or ‘V’?” As an adult trying to keep up with house numbers, phone numbers, bank numbers, insurance numbers, social security numbers, passwords, etc., Schultz’s humor is alive while his commentary is poignant. Note that his character was introduced during the sixties, when Social Security numbers were not assigned at birth. If anything, the numbering system has worsened in the past fifty plus years, and we tend to forget that people, faces, and lives stand behind the statistics and numbers society forces upon us.
In one way, the healthcare in America is an example of how the numbers become more important than person they are servicing. When I sat in the examination room talking to my internal medicine doctor, an epiphany came to him and I told him, “You need to write book.” He looked at me with a puzzlement. He was beyond the age of retirement, but his body appearance was much younger. He walks with a bounce, and joy emanates from him. He’s a good doctor, and very good at his job. He’s wanted to walk away from medicine and into the less stressful life of retirement, but the hospital knows the value in having a good physician. For years they allowed him to reduce his work schedule and responsibilities in order for them to have the best doctor on staff. He looked at me and inquired, “What kind of book?” I responded, “I bet you made house calls as a young doctor, didn’t you?” He laughed and confirmed what I suspected. I continued, “You’ve see so much change in healthcare and, no doubt, you have stories. Never mind the advancement in curing diseases. You remember a time when the patient was a person you visited in their home, instead of running patients through your office doors like cattle to maximize the number of people you see.”
There was a time when numbers were far less prevalent than today. Banks offered loans to customers based on loyal friendship, and less on a bottom line. Stores kept a tab knowing that customers, who were also their neighbors, would make good on payment when the crops came in. And doctors made house calls, in part to keep contagious diseases isolated, and in part because of the personal relationship doctors had with their patients.
As Schulz seemed to have foreshadowed, our society is driven by numbers. Churches are far from immune. When consumers are reduced to a number, customer service erodes. When churches reduce membership to a number, or a ministry to a project, (i.e. the bottom line) the church devolves into a machine cranking out another product for the consumers to consume, use up, and then discard like a piece of junk. Serving one another erodes in the process.
Statistics are present everywhere, and even surface in the Bible. However, tension exists when the Bible addresses these statistics and numbers. Paul refuses to keep track of how many he baptizes (1 Cor. 1:16), while Luke freely records the number of those baptized (Act. 1:15; 2:41; 4:4). David sins when he instructs Joab to count his fighting men (1 Chron. 21:1-7), while the book of Numbers is dedicated to determining the number of people in Israel, especially the fighting men. While 5000 men present was far too many to feed, one boy’s lunch ended up being more than enough food for Jesus to feed, with twelve basketfuls for left-overs later (John 6:1-13). Some sort of balance must be reached in working with people; real people with real lives are behind the numbers often posted.
Numbers aren’t everything, but numbers mean something. Churches track their numbers through attendance and contribution. Spotting trends, and knowing the ebb and flow of people’s decision to attend the assembly and to give their offering, are important for the leadership of the church. Growing churches usually realize that the larger the church grows, the smaller it must intentionally become, in part to avoid reducing individual members to a mere number. But when numbers become the defining moment for decisions, then we run into two moments of crisis. First, when decisions are made with numbers being the bottom line, then where is faith? Isn’t that the issue the disciples faced when Jesus fed the 5000? They saw the numbers, but Jesus challenged them to work out the problem beyond the number (Mark 6:37a). They failed. Could it be that Jesus was challenging the numbers mentality, and pointing them (or us) to act in faith beyond the numbers?
Secondly, when churches make numbers the bottom line, we’re simply mimicking society’s system of reducing human lives to impersonal numbers and statistics, instead of an active counter-culture approach to the numbers. The message sent is that we don’t care, and people no longer matter as a person. We just need to fill the auditorium or make the program a success. As one person reminded me once, “If church members don’t speak to me outside of the church building, then I know they don’t care about me.”
I’m not sure if Mr. Schultz foreshadowed something or even foresaw the future. I’m pretty sure he was making social commentary on current events. That said, by introducing his readers to quirky kid named, “5,” by telling us his father was rebelling against the use of numbers, he was warning us about something. At least maybe in the church, people need to be prioritized over numbers. If not, we might as well assign a numerical value to each individual, and I’m not sure if we want to go down that road.
bonum dolar!
(i.e., Good Grief!)