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[Book Review] Half The Church by Carolyn Custis James

April 5, 2011
book review, church and culture, social justice
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Half the Church: Recapturing God’s Global Vision for Women
By Carolyn Custis James
Zondervan Publishing
206 pages, including questions for discussion
Zondervan gave me a free copy to give away – leave a comment and I will use a urim and thummim to decide who gets it. :)

I see what you did there, Carolyn Custis James. I do hope it works.

I wanted to review this book because it addresses gender-based injustices, one of the things that I am most passionate about in life. The title Half the Church is derived from Half the Sky: Turning Oppression Into Opportunity For Women Worldwide, by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn. For those who already care deeply about these issues, that book will be a better investment of time and money. For those who are new to these issues and are curious, Carolyn Custis James’ book can be a good and heartfelt starting place, but it is frustratingly incomplete in offering what is truly needed to find the author’s goal of “God’s vision for his daughters”.

The book was birthed from the author’s awakening to the brutal treatment and lifelong misery that is endured by a large portion of the world’s population simply because they are female. It contains some heart wrenching stories of wife burnings, beatings, forced prostitution and rapes, forced and under-aged marriage, selective abortion, human trafficking, and the fact of the paucity of resources spent on girls in a world that prefers sons, to name just a few. Perhaps to keep her readers from turning away in distaste, the author somewhat underplays the raw horror of these and other injustices. The very real statistics are gruesome. There is an estimated 200 million women missing from the world’s population due to the discrimination and abuse based solely on being born a girl.

Part of the author’s goal is to awaken the church to these brutal realities, and to challenge us to move on the behalf of the powerless and voiceless, living a gospel of action and deed as well as word. James shows herself to be very wise in understanding that the conservative Western church that she addresses has been somewhat resistant when it comes to social justice issues. She is also aware that it tends to see it itself as a unique entity which looks with suspicion upon anything that is new to their understanding of things, no matter how much good might come from it. James treads on delicate and controversial topics, particularly theological ones, with a light but forthright touch. She understands where that part of the church is coming from and what they can and cannot handle. She approaches them with a style and language that will not close their ears.

James does make a strong attempt at defining the “vision for God’s daughters” in addressing the word used to describe woman at her creation, eser, which means helper. Eser does not refer to an assistant or handmaiden, rather, it is a word that is used most often in the scriptures to describe God. James likens it to being a warrior, which is empowering and sheds broader insight on the purposes of the creation of woman beyond childbearing. She also offers a compelling portrait of the leadership capabilities and the positive impact of women in society. The gist of her scriptural studies is to call attention to the essential dignity of womankind, which is something that must be held as absolute if abuses against women are to ever be stopped.

This is a book that needs to be read between the lines. There are some things that cannot be said outright without losing your audience, in this case I believe, the conservative Christians with a complementarian view of women.  (For those unfamiliar with this word, it is the theological view that although men and women are created equal in their being and personhood, they are meant to complement each other through maintaining gender-based roles and a husband-headship structure in marriage.) If you step on their views it is likely that your voice will be discounted. As I have said, James deftly skirts around the major landmines, such as the concept of wifely submission. She hints that the traditional view of submission just might create selfishness in men when they believe that women are meant to “pretend that they are less than they are” in their relationships with men. She laments that women are prized for their willingness to give in and this way of thinking leans too heavily on just a few attributes instead of embracing the “full range of qualities that Jesus displayed”. It is a shrewd and subversive way to show that the way in which submissiveness is taught in these church circles could be just as bad as the low view of women in the more troubled places in the world.

At this point, James refuses to take a stand on either a complementarian or egalitarian view of women. I think I understand her reasons. To do so would mean that she would lose much of her audience, particularly those who are complementarian if she comes out as egalitarian, which I suspect she is or soon will be. (Honestly, moving towards egalitarianism is inevitable if one continues to be passionate about gender-based injustice issues as a Christian.) But James squirms out from under the issues with a quote that insists that no-one can know what the 1 Timothy 2 passage means (that is the passage that seems to say women may not teach or have authority over a man). Actually, there has been a great deal of respected scholarly work done around that passage and other passages dealing with women (such as Ephesians 5, the “submission” passage) that can lead to a life-giving and dignifying egalitarian interpretation. To not at least acknowledge that when addressing the serious issues at hand borders on being irresponsible.

When we bring ourselves to the scriptural text, our underlying assumptions and attitudes should be challenged, and the ways in which we cooperate with the abuses of our surrounding culture should be disrupted. James gives a too easy way out to those who perhaps inadvertently support a view of women that enables abuses from facing uncomfortable but necessary challenges to what they believe. Despite all her compelling words, this group will remain largely unchanged. It is simply heart breaking that the Christian message in this part of the church in regards to women is no different from that of the “world”.

Herein lies the greatest weakness of this book. Her refusal to take a stand belies the very core of her argument. For the belief that women are limited to certain roles, that their voices are not as important, welcome or trusted in all arenas (including teaching men) and that they are to be subservient to men continue to feed the lies and misogyny that keep gender-based injustices in place. James admits that at the core of injustice lies the issue of power. Complementarianism lays power squarely in the hands of men. In not addressing this issue adequately, she becomes an accomplice to the view in the world that women are to be controlled and ruled over, and therefore can be treated as chattel.

Certainly, some will be offended by a proclamation of an egalitarian interpretation of scripture and some will turn away. Yet, because James believes in eser as the essence of woman she should therefore act as eser, a warrior for a reading of the Bible text that could shed more light on “God’s vision for his daughters” that can help to release them from the very cruelties she disdains. Ultimately, she does address the problem of gender wars in the church and acknowledges that a higher view of women will foster a healthier view of men as well.  We all are in need of a masculine presence that can engage in genuine partnership with women and that is much healthier and stronger than that of those who must quiet the voice of woman in order to serve their own egos. However, there will be no ‘blessed alliance” between men and women as described by James without an honest look at the complicity of the church in the oppression of women.

To be sure, there is a time when it is best to be very gentle and prudent in speaking a potentially disruptive message. But the issues of gender-based injustices are very real and many lives hang in the balance. This is not the time to pander to those who worship their dogma over the preciousness of people. Yes, to take a stand means she will lose readers and perhaps speaking opportunities. Yes, Zondervan would lose readers as well. (And money. ‘Nuff said.) Even so, it is time to take a stand, Evangelical Christian publishing world. It is time to take a stand, Carolyn Custis James. To do any less is an outright betrayal of those who need you most.


Advent Reflection: The Ache for Justice (week 3)

December 19, 2010
advent, church and culture, devotional, liturgical year, reflections
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The Ache for Justice and the Compassion of God
Pomegranate Place – December 16, 2010
by Ellen Haroutunian

Each week, we’ve begun with the lighting of the advent wreath. The first week we lit the shepherds’ candle, recalling the ache for acceptance in us all and the astonishing welcome of God to these folks who were considered unclean due to the nature of their work and who were cast out from polite society and from temple life. They were considered a seedy bunch. Yet they were the first to be invited to worship God-with-us, the infant Jesus. The unclean were invited to a Holy place.

Week two brought us the story of the Magi. They were astronomers and dabbled in magic. Yet their divinations showed them an amazing message from the stars and legend has it that they traveled long distances to seek this newborn King, bringing gifts that prophetically reflected who this baby was and the path His life would take. They represented the ache in the human heart for meaning, and God’s answer in Himself. And here at this coming of God into the world, in the circle of this little Jewish family, strangers with their strange ways and strange worldviews were also welcomed to worship this baby.

We are now in week three of the Advent season, when we light the pink candle. The pink candle represents joy, and it brings a beautiful irony to the story we will engage tonight. The advent candles were originally borrowed from the observance of Lent. Purple represents the idea of repentance and suffering but Lent is also tempered by hint of the coming joy of Easter and resurrection. Tradition says that the Pope used to hand out pink roses during the 3rd week of Lent as a reminder of the coming joy.  That’s where we got the pink candle. The purple of advent also is a call to repentance, that is to change direction and prepare for the coming of God, but there is great joy in the anticipation of His coming.

Read Matthew 2: 13-23 (The Massacre of the Holy Innocents)

That is an intense story, full of mystery and prophecies that would fill dozens of sermons. But there are these couple of verses that describe a horrific crime. This feels like a disconnect, almost a spiritual whiplash – weren’t we just talking about joy? How does this fit? We love the story of the Magi mentioned at the beginning of this Matthew text, who, as Dave mentioned last week, are colorful and intriguing and make it into every Christmas pageant. We love that God drew them from afar and spoke to them through means that they would understand to bring them to the Christ child. We love the story of the humble shepherds and the chorus of angels whose song echoed across the hills in the night. Many of us have a nativity set that contains such characters and many of these sets are quite pretty. Here’s one (see illustration below): it is painted with nice folk art design just like the original one, I’m sure. The stable is clean and the robes of the Magi are tidy and beautiful after their long journey, as are the robes of the new mother and father. There’s no manure and the shepherd doesn’t have B.O. Our quaint nativity scenes don’t often portray the humble reality of poverty and powerless faced by this young couple and their newborn. They don’t show the grit and the dirt, the reality into which God chose to be born as one of us.

I confess that I like the pretty setting. It makes it easier to distance myself from the harsh realities of life faced by the majority of people in this world. Isn’t that our tendency? But then comes the gospel writer Matthew who brings us a part of the story that is almost too much to bear: the slaughter of little ones, baby boys, by the swords and spears of Roman soldiers. In church history this has come to be known as the Massacre of the Holy Innocents.

What is that horrific story doing in the midst of this pretty one?

These children were not outcasts, not strangers from afar. They were the children of the local villages, your neighbors’ kids and mine. Some doubt that this story actually happened because the 1st century historian Josephus who chronicled so much of Herod’s works didn’t mention this, but others say so many of Herod’s crimes were so horrible that it might not have seemed worth mentioning in comparison. These innocent ones, powerless and voiceless, would have been lost to history. Often, this is still the case, as it is for so many from Darfur or the Congo. The sound of Rachel’s weeping still echoes around this world.

Yet the gospel writer remembers them, right here in the midst of the Christmas story. And they are remembered on December 28th in the Church calendar each year. They are a reminder that there is no easy comfort for those who have suffered violence or violent loss, whether it be the loss of a child, or the experience of war, or even a wounded place deep within yourself. The coming of the infant Christ into a world that was far too dangerous for babies, and a world that is full of unspeakable sorrows is all that can begin to touch the depth of healing that is needed in the human heart.

We live in a world enslaved to fear. Violence is the response. The frightened human heart is enslaved by the constant drive to win, have enough, have more, to own, to grasp, to be justified in who we are. We are in a struggle that goes back to the days of Cain and Abel; where being threatened by the approval received by another brought the will to murder into a brother’s heart. There is an inherent belief in us that for you to have more (wealth, power, affirmation, beauty), means I will have less. We measure ourselves against each other and live by these comparisons as if they tell us who we truly are. The fear and pride in us creates little room for the other to flourish. That has created a world in which the helpless, the voiceless, the meek, the poor, the powerless, the loser, anyone with any weakness, is not safe.

Herod, a King of great power and influence, was afraid of a baby. He quaked at the thought of what this baby could mean to his might and success and beliefs about himself, so he crushed the helpless and innocent to keep his own life intact. I believe that here, he is a picture, even a type, of the nature of the sinful human heart. Sin is the opposite of love. Sin says, I will take from or use you or even destroy you, to protect or elevate me. We know that the powers that be would continue to fear Jesus for his message of love that brought the mountains low and filled the valleys as John the Baptist and Isaiah foretold.  He stood against the power structures of this world in a way that brought even the most pious to frustration. This would eventually bring Jesus to crucifixion.

My husband and I have had a tradition in which the Christmas tree is stripped of its limbs, broken in two and the pieces are nailed together to form a cross for Good Friday. This action foretold that Jesus is God’s response to the cruelest, coldest parts of this world. He meets us in the places of our worst rejections, where we have also been hated unto death. [Lutheran Pastor Pam Fickenscher says that] “Matthew invokes the matriarch Rachel in the midst of this story of God-with-us, the birth of a child whose name is a verb: save. God’s salvation may seem far off and inadequate to the mothers who mourn, and to people who hurt, but the promise is deeper than this moment in time. As the scripture told us, the threat of this Herod passes for a time, only to be replaced by another Herod, yet another ruler without scruples. But when this child of Rachel, Jesus, returns to Jerusalem as an adult, God enters into the fate of every doomed child, and every bereft parent” and I would add, every frightened and hurting soul.

I once heard the only answer to a theodicy, which is just a fancy word for the attempt to reconcile the problem of so much evil and suffering in this world with belief in a good God, is a theophany, that is, a manifestation or appearance of God Himself. Here in the Christmas story is our theophany. God coming into the world as a human, born of a woman, born into poverty, into an unclean place, touched by unclean people, who will eventually become the one, the Innocent One, who will also die at the hands of Roman soldiers. He’s God-with-us in every imaginable way.

The Franciscans say that if all that ever happened in the gospel story was the incarnation (God become man), it would have been enough. The coming of God into this world as one of us was enough to change everything because it sang loudly of God’s love and acceptance for humankind. But there is more. At the cross God became the sinner, the Roman soldier, the tax collector, the leper, me, you. And now heaven and earth are forever joined, the veil between the holy and the profane is forever torn open, God and man are supping at the Table together. God overwhelmed the overwhelming powers of the earth with love. And Easter tells us, love wins.

The candle for this week is pink, representing joy. The passage that the gospel writer Matthew quotes about Rachel’s grief is from the prophet Jeremiah. It is significant that in his writing, after Rachel’s lament, Jeremiah goes onto offer words of hope of restoration by God. A promise of joy.  Rachel’s heart will be healed.

Yet we still wait, though the Light has come. Our swords are not bent into plowshares yet. The government that lies upon the shoulders of the Christ is not present yet. We ache for the restorative justice of God, when all will be set right and all sorrow and crying and pain will be no more. We have waited and we now wait again. But, the Light that has come into the world has remained. The Apostle John, who is known as the Apostle of Love said, we are like Him in this world. We can seek to overwhelm the world with love.

The Quakers say, When the song of the angels is stilled, 
when the star in the sky is gone,
 when the kings and princes are home, 
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
then the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost, to heal the broken, 
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner, to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people,
 to make music in the heart.

Advent reflection #2: The Ache for Meaning (guest blogger)

December 11, 2010
advent, church and culture, devotional, liturgical year, reflections
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This year we at Urban Skye are presenting a Liturgy of Peace in Denver at Pomegranate Place every Thursday evening during the month of December. Advent is a waiting time during which we may focus on the ache of our hearts and the longing for the coming of God into this hurting world. The first evening focused on the ache for meaning and the hope of God. The reflection is written by guest blogger, Urban Skye director Dave Meserve.

The Magi:  Strangers (The Ache for Meaning and the hope of God)
Pomegranate Place – December 9, 2010
by Dave Meserve

They blow into the Nativity Story somewhere “from the East,” enjoy their 12 verse cameo and then disappear into legend. All the while the Church asks, “Who are those guys?” They are The Magi and few characters in all Holy Scripture capture our imagination quite like them.

At our second week of Advent Liturgy, we consider our “ache for meaning” with these mysterious Magi as our guides.  If the response to our “ache for acceptance” (our first week’s liturgy) was The welcome of God, our ache for meaning is met in the Hope of  Faith. The beautiful irony is that this path is most clearly revealed through strange, pagan astrologers.  Not your typical models of faith, especially if you grew up a first century Jew with stories of “Daniel vs. The Magi” embedded into your earliest memories.

Our best guess of their origin is Persia (modern day Iran).  In AD 614, a Persian army swept through Palestine destroying church and synagogue but sparred The Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem when they saw a mosaic of the Magi in Persian garb.  Other than that, we know little.  We refer to “We Three Kings” because of the John Henry Hopkins verse (1857) reflecting the sentiment of the day where three gifts equals three kings.  The idea of them being “kings” comes from Isaiah 60:3,

Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.

The wise men, as we rightly call them, have become archetypal symbols of faith for all who seek and particularly for those who are outside the mainstream of religious faith.  For our liturgy, we will follow their hope of faith through three well known archetypal symbols found in Matthew 2:1-12.

I. The Star.

Apparently, the heavens really do reveal the glory of God (Psalm 19:1-4). Historians debate what celestial anomaly actually transpired to lead these astrologers. Some think a conjunction of planets in 7 BC or a lunar eclipse in 5BC.  Regardless, these star gazers where watching ones (see our “consecration of space” prayer).  Their “pagan” practice of astrology revealed to them the birth of king that was to change the course of history.  How they knew the meaning of the star is a mystery, but they recognized in its glow that a Voice not their own was beckoning to them.

Our Disney version of “the voice” does not come from the heavens but from within us.  My cynical daughters (who grew up loving Disney) now mock their ubiquitous message of “just follow your heart” as the path of all modern princesses.  In fact, they toss me that line when I question their actions with a sarcastic, “Pops, I’m just following my heart!”

The Magi and their ancient wisdom did not seek within as much as without.  They watched for a Voice not their own to guide them on their path and found it in The Star.  It was this hope in faith that animated their lives supplying a meaning they could not muster on their own.

Meaning comes through seeing God’s stars and following the Voice that is not your own.

Where do you see “stars” that speak to you?  When have you found yourself in a “thin place” (as the Celts called it) where the distance between you and The Divine is small? What leads you to perceive the wonder of Christ in a fresh way?

Lend us the eyes to see

And the courage to act

On Your revealing of the Peace Child.

May Your stars grant us meaning this Advent.

II. The Journey.

Sadly, the “journey” has become something of a tired metaphor.  Everyone seems to use it to describe the path of faith (it now finds its way into Church names) but this is all for good reason; it is an enduring, archetypal image for life and symbolic of Magi’s story.

In America, one of our strongest symbols is that of “home,” especially at this season of the year.  We are routinely asked if we are going home for the holidays, or who is coming home to join you and then we sing of that sentiment.  Yet, our model of meaning from the Magi is to leave home on a journey.  All journeys of meaning involve leaving what is familiar and homey in order to experience something beyond.

Like Abraham before them who left country, people and home (Genesis 12:1-4), the Magi left the East and traveled West in search of meaning. That’s where the star led them and that cross-cultural journey seems to be important.

Professor Peter Kreeft writes of this in his article, “The Meaning of Christmas.” He articulates the need we have to mimic the Magi in their pilgrimage as Oriental wisdom must turn West to find Christ, and the West—Rome—must go East. For Christ is born at the center.

The East’s mentality is mystical and mythical. The Eastern mind has no trouble believing in the supernatural. It needs to make a pilgrimage to the material and the natural, to the Christ in whom all truths in myths become historical fact. He is the dying and rising God myths point to like a star.

The West, on the other hand, has a practical, materialistic mentality. This was  true of Rome and it’s still true of the modern West. It must make a pilgrimage to the East, to the spiritual and the supernatural. Christ is everything: Each culture  can become whole only in Him.

Whatever our journey of faith, it moves us beyond what we know in the trust that God will reveal more.  The Magi needed Jewish wisdom to complete their quest (though their trust in Herod was tragically misplaced).

Meaning comes by living faith as a journey and especially a journey with others.

We may be home for the holidays yet we can still experience a journey of faith during Advent.  Are you on a pilgrimage?  Are you on with others?  What words do you use to describe the journey you are on?  Can you trust that God is leading you?

Though our destinations lack clarity

And our roads bend and twist,

Help us lean into our journeys

With Your peaceful confidence.

May our journey grant us meaning this Advent.

III. The Gifts.

We all know of these gifts and remember nostalgically, “The Gifts of the Magi” (whether or not we’ve actually read it!)  Beyond their sentimental quality, the gifts have long held symbolic meaning for the church:

Gold Reveals that the Christ child is a King in fulfillment of all prophecies and worthy of such obedience.

Frankincense Used in worship (Jewish and pagan) and reveals the Christ  child as one worthy of worship and will be a priest for the nation.

Myrrh Valuable for its medicinal qualities and widely used for embalming, it reveals the Christ child as fully human and one  born to die for the world.

If you have a church background, you’ve likely heard these theological connections.  They do have a deep meaning.  Yet, this Advent, I’m caught by something else: these are very impractical gifts!  This is not your typical baby-shower.  Like an ancient version of the “gift card”, the Holy Family would have likely cashed these in over the next few years while they were living as refugees in Egypt.  Where’s the fun in that?

We’ve all been taught that giving is meaningful in and of itself.  True enough.  And we’ve been schooled in the “it’s the thought not the gift that counts” mentality (but try telling that to an 8-year old).   Yet, the meaning of the gift is not completely in its “usability” for the receiver.  Gifts have meaning for us because we value them.

The wise men brought gifts that were deeply meaningful to them.  They represented what they wanted to bring into the relationship with the receiver, the Christ child.  They gave to the Holy Family what they most cherished. And that speaks of a different kind of meaning.

Meaning comes in the giving of what gifts you find meaningful to share.

In the humility that “every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above” (James 1:16-17), we offer our gifts this Advent.  This is in contrast to the false humility of being hesitant to know and to show the beautiful gifts we bear.  What gifts do you have?  What do you uniquely bring to the party?  Can you own your gifts and then offer them wherever your journey takes you?

May we remember from where our gifts come

And see for whom they are most needed.

May we be generous in ways beyond us

To bring peace to others as we find peace within ourselves.

May our giving grant us meaning this Advent.

We ache for meaning in our lives and may have lost hope that this season leading up to Christmas will provide anything more than busyness.  Advent offers a way to be counter-cultural, to live in the ache rather than numb it, and to renew our hope that there is a God who gives us stars to follow.  There is a God who invites us on a beautiful (and risky) journey toward the Peace Child.  There is a God who has granted you gifts needed for others you meet along the way.

This is the God of the watching ones, the waiting ones, the slow and suffering ones.  The God who gives us a good word for our souls.

Peace.

Advent reflection #1: The Ache for Acceptance (guest blogger)

December 4, 2010
advent, church and culture, devotional, liturgical year, real church, reflections, stuff to ponder
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This year we at Urban Skye are presenting a Liturgy of Peace in Denver at Pomegranate Place every Thursday evening during the month of December. Advent is a waiting time during which we may focus on the ache of our hearts and the longing for the coming of God into this hurting world. The first evening focused on the ache for acceptance and the welcome of God. The reflection is written by guest blogger, the one and only Aram Haroutunian.

 

An Advent Reflection
The Shepherds:  Outcasts (The ache for acceptance and the welcome of God)
Pomegranate Place – December 2, 2010

by guest blogger Aram Haroutunian

How many of you are old enough to know and remember “the garbage man”? Back in the day, there were two kinds of trash:  common, non-perishable trash, which you threw into your wastebaskets, and perishable trash – “garbage” – which you put in a metal cylinder, sunk into the ground, usually just outside the back door, covered by an iron lid.   And once a week, the garbage man would come by, and collect your garbage.  And his coming was heralded by the unmistakable stench of his truck . . . and of his clothes, along with the processional of flies;  especially during the hot summer months, when the garbage had opportunity to sit . . . and ferment.    When the garbage man arrived, it was time to scatter.

Today’s equivalent would probably be “port-o-potty man” – you know, the guy that drives around in the tanker truck with that long, hose which . . . well, you know . . .

Not exactly someone you’d invite in for lunch.

“Now there were in the same country shepherds, living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.”

Possessing only the wrong kind of reputation, shepherds were simple men with simple needs: a dry bed, strong drink, good stories, and enough open space between them and “the camp” of the religious culture.  Simple people maybe, but certainly not accepted.  Shepherds were known in those days as liars and thieves.  In court, their testimony was considered worthless.  “Who would believe a shepherd?” They were not welcome in the local synagogue, much less the temple in Jerusalem.  Being unclean, not only were they not welcome in the temple, but any contact with them would make you unclean.  They were to be avoided.   No wonder they kept to themselves.

“And behold (that’s code for “hey everybody, check this out!), an angel of the LORD stood before them, and the glory (the shekinah, the beauty, the weight, the very substance) of the LORD shone around them . . . and they were greatly afraid.”

Or, as the old King James version beautifully puts it, they were sore afraid.

Why were they afraid?   They had been taught all their life that God wanted nothing to do with the likes of them.  Perhaps even believing that God hated them.   So they kept to themselves, out in the fields . . . the untouchables.  Segregated from the rest of community.   And now an Angel of the Lord shows up in the middle of their night.   You know what they were probably thinking:  Busted!   We’re get’n ours!   He is coming to judge the earth – and he’s gonna separate the sheep from the goats. They certainly understood that metaphor . . . and they certainly knew who the goats were.

And so, shirking back in anticipation of the ultimate “come to Jesus meeting”, they are thrown a curve:

“Fear not. For behold (check THIS out), I bring you good tidings . . .  of great joy . . .  which will be for all the people.”

All the people?

“For there is born to you this day in the City of David a savior, who is Christ, the Lord.”   City of David – that’d be Bethlehem – a little, po-dunk town, 5 miles outside of Jerusalem . . . Jerusalem’s back door, if you will.

At this point the shepherds are probably thinking, “Oh no.  Here it comes.  We gotta somehow clean up our lives, and you’re going to make us march into church . . . errr . .. I mean the synagogue . . . to see this guy who’s going to “save us.”

“And this will be the sign to you:  You will find an infant . . . wrapped up in swaddling cloths . . . lying in a feeding trough.”

Feeding trough?  You mean he’s going to be outside? Among the animals? In a trough filled with hay and grain and drool and spit?  With manure all around on the ground?   Wow . . . that’s our kind of people.

And not only this, but “suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace; goodwill toward men!”

So, when God needed heralds to announce the First Advent to the camp, God chose them.  The largest gathering of angels ever assembled, sang for them.  They sang of a peace which would now be available to all people – even those outside the camp.  The irony is not lost:  the liars became the star witnesses.   And isn’t this just like God, who loves to flip everything on it’s head:  who makes the first last and the last first, where you’re blessed if you’re poor, and where you’re blessed if you’re meek?

And irony is added upon irony:  Instead of goats being separated from sheep, this “good news” was to be for all the people.  Maybe we’re all goats? Or maybe we’re all sheep?  Or maybe . . . every one of us is both:  goat and sheep.   And Jesus comes in the form of a vulnerable babe, lowering our defenses, so that perhaps we might open our hearts for just a moment – and let God into those places in us . . . . where there is stench . . . where we feel untouchable . . . unlovable . . . where if people came to see and know those parts of us – they’d avoid us, repulsed by  the stench of our “garbage”.

And yet into those very places, Jesus comes, mild and meek.  Into the spit, and the drool, and the manure.    St. Paul wrote:

“For God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty; and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are.  That no flesh should glory in His presence.” (I Cor. 1:27-28)

“And the Word became flesh, and pitched his tent among us.  And we behold His glory.”

Lo, in the silent night
A child to God is born;
And all is brought again,
That ere was lost or lorn.

Could but thy soul, O man
Become a silent night!
God would be born in thee,
And set all things aright.
~ 15th century

Synchroblog- Immigration: Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses…

September 6, 2010
church and culture, conversations, politics, real church, search for real church, social justice, Synchroblog
15 Comments

This is part of a larger synchroblog, which is when many bloggers write on the same issue. This month, the topic is immigration. This is a tough, complicated issue. In our extremely fragmented and polarized nation there are loud voices on all sides. Some are angry that people are entering our country illegally, thus breaking our laws. Some are voices of fear, particularly when immigrants bring in unfamiliar religious or political thought. Some are voices of resentment, especially when it comes to added taxpayer burdens and the scarcity of available jobs and resources. Still others speak out for compassion and human rights.

I felt I needed to seek a wiser, more informed voice to address all this. Wisdom is so often found in recalling our larger stories. So, I called dad. He is almost 82 years old. He has served in public offices for years. His grandparents immigrated to America though Ellis Island.

Dad reflected on the system that was in place to receive and process the massive influx of people coming from Europe and Asia during the earlier decades of the 20th century. These were people who were searching for safety, political asylum, religious freedom, hope and opportunity. Thousands and thousands poured in on huge ships. As is common to our fallen human condition, preference was given to more affluent passengers. Those from “steerage” class were put through the most rigorous testing to be allowed admission. There was a hospital on or near Ellis Island in which passengers sick from their long journeys could recover, though some were ultimately refused and sent back. Often, their rejection was due to a diagnosis of tuberculosis, yellow fever or other diseases against which there was little effective treatment at the time. Also, if a person was deemed unable to support themselves and likely to end up on welfare, they also would be excluded. It was a system with considerable flaws and strengths but in the end most people were admitted. The question is, what is the system in place now, particularly when it comes to our struggling Mexican neighbors?

I am not sure why our recent government administrations (of either flavor) have not done much to create a system of fairness, welcome and safety at our southern border. To do so is essential because the issue is much, much larger than the problems inherent in the influx of undocumented people. The lack of such a system can bring much harm to those who are least able to protect themselves. There is the harsh reality of human trafficking, which imprisons and exploits thousands or perhaps millions of men, women and children. The incidence of this modern day slavery is at an all time high. There is also the dodgy demand for cheap labor. It seems that those who use the cheap and often unprotected labor that undocumented peoples provide have more power and influence on border issues than those who don’t. And I wonder too, about the influence of the drug cartels. They are powerful and malicious and they can threaten or buy elected officials on both sides of the border. Are these types of perpetrators the ones who are really calling the shots when it comes to immigration on our southern border?

Despite our economic woes and internal splits, we are still the land of opportunity, the land of hope. And of course we are NOT the Kingdom of God, but we are a place where, at least in theory, everyone has a voice and certain inalienable rights. Of course people would want to come here. My heart aches for those who have been maimed or killed in their efforts to cross the border and find a new life and new opportunities in the United States. Those of us who have never felt so desperate are fortunate indeed. We need a reasonable and compassionate system in place to facilitate the immigration of struggling people into the United States. Without that, Dad says, people will continue to die in the desert. They will continue to fall prey to unscrupulous opportunists. The powerful and greedy will continue to control their lives and ours.

So how does the Church respond? In a recent gathering of friends we shared the Bread and Wine together and reflected on the surprise of the gospel. There were stories such as that of a man who heard a piece of gossip – a sex scandal- of a rival of his who was a fellow pastor with a large ministry. He felt enraged at the hypocrisy, and felt quite smug about the information, knowing it would take down this guy and put an end to his ministry. But then he heard Jesus say, why would you do that? Why destroy him? He felt compelled by Jesus to seek the man’s friendship. As trust was built, confessions were made and healing was started. The gospel is so often a surprise; it’s so different from the letter of the law. It always has in its center the heart of a person, the immeasurable value and preciousness of another. It has a passion for rescue and restoration. We have too often become sin managers and are so easily offended at the idea that someone has broken the law that we forget the larger purpose of our call. We indeed are our brothers’ keeper.

I have talked to some kind hearts who leave water bottles and other supplies in the desert and provide places of respite for the travelers who are crossing into the US. They believe they are obeying God through these acts of civil disobedience. I love their compassion and I do believe they are obeying a higher law. But these acts alone are not enough. Let’s remember the reason our grandparents and great-grandparents came here. Let’s remember the compassion and cruelties of the past. It is up to the government to establish a reasonable and compassionate immigration policy as is fitting to the history of the United States, a nation of immigrants. It is up to the Church to preach the welcome of God. The radical and undeserved hospitality of God is the scandal of the gospel. May we live it well. After all, we are exiles too.

Links to other bloggers will be added as they come in.

Steve Hayes Christians and the Immigration Issue

Matt Stone - Glocal Christianity  Is Xenophobia Ever Christlike?

Mike Victorino at Still A Night Owl – Being The Flag

Liz Dyer at Grace Rules – Together We Can

Sonnie Swentson-Forbes at Hey Sonnie – Immigration Stories

Bethany Stedman – Choosing Love Instead of Fear

Pete Houston at Peter’s Progress – Of Rape and Refuge

Joshua Seek – Loving Our Immigrant Brother

Amanda MacInnis at Cheese Wearing Theology – Christians and Immigration

Sonja Andrews at Calacirian – You’re Right

Kathy Escobar at Carnival in My Head – It’s a lot easier to be against immigration reform when you have papers

Jonathan Brink – Immigration

Peter Walker at Emerging Christian – Immigration Reform

Beth Patterson What we resist not only persists but will eventually become our landlord

K.W. Leslie – the Evening of Kent – American Immigration

Christine Sine – Godspace – Immigration Reform- Yes, No, Don’t care

Not in my baqyard? Thoughts on the “Ground Zero” mosque

August 18, 2010
church and culture, community, conversations, generative Christianity, interfaith dialogue, Kingdom, politics, real church, stuff to ponder
7 Comments

How do we respond to the Cordoba Project, aka The “Ground Zero Mosque”?  Some say the placement of an Islamic place of worship near the hallowed ground of 9-11 is just plain insensitive. Others say to refuse it is a violation of the first amendment which guarantees freedom of religion. Still others say, well it’s not about freedom of religion because there are other precedents for not allowing something of this nature near a hallowed site, such as, land use disputes that battle a casino construction too close to a historic battlefield. That point seems to most deftly avoid the real issues of the heart. People are resentful and afraid. It is all about fear of this religion.

What is the Christian response to all this? It seems that in this day in which our country is more polarized than ever, and fear and self-preservation seem to have the loudest voices in the land, that we need to take extra care not to forget who we are. What is most unique about Christianity is the visible, radical hospitality of God who not only welcomes the other, He became the other, and ate and drank, lived, laughed and wept with the other.  Without the reality of the incarnation of God in the person of Jesus, we are just another moralistic system. Jesus is our precedent for how to treat those who are “different” (whatever that means), even those who are (real or perceived) enemies.

Radical hospitality cannot be offered without radical forgiveness. Indeed, I wonder if they are the same thing. Forgiveness opens the spaces of the heart that were slammed shut due to hurt, fear and shame. It’s easy to whip up feelings of fear and resentment for political gain, but where are the voices of forgiveness and reconciliation? And, where are the voices that preach the laying down of the desires of the ego so that Christ might be visible in us? These are some of our core Christian values.

What Bin Laden -who does not represent most Muslims- wants most is to goad us into a Holy War. Us against them. Religious beliefs against religious beliefs – tricking us into believing that Christianity must prove itself by postures of domination and power. Jesus took a radically different route by setting a table in the presence of his enemies. Of course some of his enemies couldn’t bear to sup with him, but that didn’t void the invitation.

What would it look like to put aside our own fears and harrumphs and accounting of offenses and set a table of hospitality?  Might it look like blessing the Islamic Community Center (whose community also lost people on 9-11) to proceed in peace? Remember, offering peace and reconciliation is rarely a nice, fluffy, feel-good process. It hurts. It is the embodiment of the gospel. And, it is the best way forward into healing.

**********

In addition, please check out the blog of Samir Selmanovic, a Christian pastor in NYC who is one of the most reasonable and empassioned voices in interfaith dialogue today. Find him at www.samirselmanovic.com. And read his book! (my review)

And once again because we all think way too highly of ourselves and need to laugh at ourselves a bit, the link below is some related humor on the issue. Jon Stewart and company rightly ask, should an entire religion be judged by its biggest assholes?
(sorry, can’t imbed)

http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/mon-august-16-2010/mosque-erade

A sad but good NYT article-How Fox Betrayed Petraeus

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