When Apostle Paul cites the Cretan poet Epimenides “Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, lazy gluttons”, the purpose is pastoral, not political.
Introduction: A Diagnosis Echoing Across Time. In Titus 1:12, the Apostle Paul cites the Cretan poet Epimenides: “Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, lazy gluttons.” This severe characterisation is not Paul's invention nor an ethnic slander, but a theological diagnosis aimed at confronting corruption within the early Christian community in Crete. Paul's purpose is pastoral, not political; he seeks not to condemn but to call for reform and purification.
Yet this ancient critique finds chilling resonance in contemporary Nagaland, a region proudly bearing the slogan “Nagaland for Christ” while simultaneously grappling with systemic tribalism, ecclesiastical compromise, and socio-political hypocrisy. If Paul were to address the Naga church today, would his judgment be any softer than that rendered against the Cretans?
This article critically examines the spiritual, cultural, and moral contradictions afflicting Nagaland through the lenses of Scripture, theology, ontology, and philosophy. It contends that what is needed is not cosmetic correction but metanoia, a complete transformation of heart, mind, and structure under the lordship of Christ.
1. Ecclesiastical Decay: The Empty Pulpit and the Noisy Pew
On the surface, Nagaland appears thoroughly Christian. Churches line every village and urban block; revivals and crusades abound; Christian schools and Bible colleges proliferate. Yet beneath this infrastructure lies a profound spiritual anemia. The church has become a busy institution with little cruciform depth.
According to 1 Peter 2:9, the church is a chosen people, set apart for holiness and witness. However, many pulpits in Nagaland have morphed into platforms for tribal appeasement, denominational rivalry, and motivational rhetoric. The gospel is often diluted to self-help slogans that comfort rather than convict.
Søren Kierkegaard warned of Christianity's descent into “Christendom”, an institutionalised form of religion that retains its outward form while losing its spiritual power. This critique aptly fits the Naga context. Here, Christianity has become less a transformative encounter with the crucified Christ and more a cultural marker and tribal identity badge.
Ontologically, the church has lost its essence. Ordinances are reduced to rituals; leadership is a pursuit of prestige rather than servanthood; worship is choreographed performance rather than sacrificial offering. Titus 1:16 speaks with terrifying relevance: “They profess to know God, but by their deeds they deny Him.”
2. Ontological Confusion: Identity without Essence
At the heart of this crisis lies a question of ontology, what does it mean to truly “be” a Christian? In contemporary Nagaland, Christian identity is too often equated with tribal belonging, church attendance, and denominational allegiance. Baptism, rather than being the Romans 6:3–4 symbol of death to sin and new life in Christ, is frequently treated as a cultural rite of passage.
This conflation of tribal identity with spiritual reality creates deep ontological confusion. It distorts the New Testament vision of the believer as someone who has been crucified with Christ (Galatians 2:20), raised to new life, and now lives under a new allegiance.
Martin Heidegger’s concept of inauthentic existence is instructive here. When individuals live uncritically according to inherited roles, tribal, denominational, or familial, they forfeit the authenticity of chosen conviction. Much of the Naga church reflects this: existence without essence, tradition without transformation.
True Christian ontology begins with the Imago Dei (Genesis 1:27) and culminates in union with Christ. Any loyalty that replaces this, whether to clan, party, or denomination, amounts to spiritual idolatry and ecclesiastical drift.
3. Socio-Political Hypocrisy: Christ in Name, Clan in Practice
Nagaland’s political landscape mirrors its ecclesiastical dysfunction. Governance, in principle, should reflect Romans 13:1–4, administering justice as God's servant. Yet in practice, it is often marked by nepotism, tribalism, and systemic corruption. Politicians begin speeches with prayer and end with backroom deals. Bibles are quoted on Sunday and bribes passed on Monday.
This is not merely a failure of integrity, it is theological hypocrisy. Augustine, in The City of God, warned that when earthly cities imitate the heavenly city without true conversion, they become grotesque parodies of divine order.
Christian students cheat on exams while leading youth worship. Bureaucrats participate in revival meetings while rigging tenders. The Naga church does not lack religious fervor; it lacks ethical consistency. The mask of piety too often conceals the machinery of self-interest.
This dissonance between public Christian identity and private vice recalls Jesus’ condemnation of the Pharisees: whitewashed tombs, clean outside but rotting within (Matthew 23:27). Until tribal allegiance is subordinated to gospel fidelity, Christian witness in Nagaland will remain compromised and hollow.
4. Moral Collapse: When Truth Ceases to Matter
Beneath these institutional dysfunctions lies a deeper tragedy, the erosion of moral truth. Churches that conceal sexual abuse, families that fabricate land documents, and communities that condone domestic violence under religious pretense are not merely sinful; they are morally derailed.
Proverbs 1:7 declares that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.” Without this reverent awe, truth is reduced to utility, and ethics to expedience. In such an atmosphere, deceit is not just common, it is normalized.
Friedrich Nietzsche once warned that when Christians live as though God does not exist, they commit a greater blasphemy than atheism. This rings hauntingly true in Nagaland today, where the slogan “Nagaland for Christ” is often belied by actions that profane the name of Christ (Romans 2:24).
Paul’s admonition in Titus 1:13 is painfully clear: “Rebuke them sharply, so that they may be sound in the faith.” Without prophetic confrontation, there can be no genuine reformation.
5. Theological Renewal: Metanoia, Not Mere Reform
The remedy to this malaise is not institutional tweaking or slogan repetition. It is metanoia, a radical turning of the self toward God.
This repentance must begin in the pulpit. Preachers must stop flattering congregations and start exposing idols. Seminaries must cease producing careerists and start training prophets. Youth ministries must move beyond games and toward deep discipleship.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s critique of “cheap grace” is sobering. Grace, when separated from the cross, becomes a license to sin. Real grace, by contrast, empowers costly discipleship. It does not excuse; it transforms.
Such metanoia involves a reconfiguration of identity: from tribal pride to cruciform humility (Galatians 6:14), from public applause to private obedience, from cultural Christianity to authentic faith. Until that happens, revival will remain theatrical, and transformation elusive.
6. Philosophical Clarity: Ethics and Self-Deception
Beyond theology, this is a philosophical crisis. Jean-Paul Sartre’s notion of bad faith describes the inner lie we tell ourselves to evade truth and avoid responsibility. It is the self-deception of attending church while silencing conscience, quoting Scripture while violating justice.
Immanuel Kant’s categorical imperative insists that we act in ways we would will to be universal law. When deceit becomes the norm, from the marketplace to the mega church, Nagaland turns anti-Kantian, replacing conscience with convenience.
Hannah Arendt’s “banality of evil” further clarifies the danger. Evil today is not always monstrous; it is often mundane. It is found in familiar faces and respectable roles, while enabling systemic decay.
The crisis, then, is not just about corruption. It is about a community that has abandoned moral intentionality. Until a culture of truth is restored, theology will remain inert, and faith performative.
Conclusion: A Mirror, Not a Measure. So then, if Cretans were liars, what are we? We are a people with Bibles in our hands but bribes in our pockets. A church with revival on its lips and repentance far from its heart. A community wearing the cross as ornament but unwilling to carry it as burden.
Jesus said, “You are of your father the devil… for he is a liar and the father of lies” (John 8:44). When deceit becomes a cultural currency and tribalism masquerades as piety, we do not just resemble the Cretans, we reflect the father of lies.
Yet Titus does not end in despair. It declares the appearance of grace, grace that rebukes, sanctifies, and transforms (Titus 2:11). But this grace will not descend upon slogans or synods. It will come through truth-telling, contrition, and courage.
Nagaland must now interrogate itself:
• Not “What tribe do you belong to?” but “Whose image do you bear?”
• Not “How many revivals have we held?” but “How many lies have we renounced?”
• Not “Are we Christians?” but “Are we Christlike?”
Until we can answer these questions with trembling honesty and deep repentance, we have no right to judge the Cretansor anyone else.
Vikiho Kiba