an end of the year post

In less than 50 words, here was my year:

• graduated from college
• started graduate school
• moved to PA
• began work at Starbucks
• dropped out of graduate school
• quit dating deanna
• wrote a lot
• read a lot
• painted some
• still a pacifist
• met some great people and made some new friends

Best books I read this year:

• Dandelion Wine
• For the Time Being
• An American Childhood
• Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
• Watership Down
• The Omnivore’s Dilemma
• Sex, Economy, Freedom and Community

Favorite Music Albums:

• Tennessee Pusher, Old Crow Medicine Show
• Fleet Foxes, Fleet Foxes
• Andrew Bird and the Mysterious Assortment of Eggs, Andrew Bird
• A Ghost is Born, Wilco
• Drunkard’s Prayer, Over the Rhine

Most haunting quote of the year that I will take with me into 09:

Cry the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear.  Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire.  Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley.  For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.

I hope two-thousand and nine is a year of:

• writing
• painting
• quiet

“I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

Every one has those things in their life that they are passionate about. For some it is sports, or a particular sport, for others it is music, or any number of things. We form a connection with these passions to the point that, when they are rejected by others, we sometimes take the rejection personally and feel the need to defend ourselves and our passions.

So when I mentioned to one of my professors my dismay that I hadn’t found a single evangelical peacemaking organization, my disappointment in his response was certainly a normal reaction. “That’s because Jesus said that he didn’t come to bring peace but a sword,” was his reply, as if that was the end of the issue. I was probably visibly shocked, but I decided not to argue just then.

 

My disappointment in my professor’s response goes beyond a personal feeling of rejection as a result of someone rejecting a personal passion. I think my professor’s response is indicative of an overarching problem in evangelical Christianity, namely, a poor understanding of the social aspects of the gospel. It is attitudes represented by my professor that have prompted certain accusations that evangelicals only care about the soul and spiritual salvation and care little or nothing for the body and social justice.

The gospel seems to self-evidently concern itself with justice. In fact, the entire Bible is riddled with the issue of social justice. The Israelites are constantly being reminded to care for the alien, the fatherless, and the widow. The prophets repeatedly condemn rulers for exploiting the poor. The first chapter of Isaiah addresses the rulers of Sodom and Gomorrah and pleads with them to cease their vain spirituality and exercise justice and end oppression. Jesus specifically mentions that those who feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and visit prisoners are performing those very actions for Jesus himself! Social justice and oppression’s end is close to the heart of Jesus.

 

At a time when many evangelical denominations were focusing only on the spiritual aspects of the gospel in a reaction to the social gospel, A. B. Simpson presented a balanced approach to the gospel of Jesus. He argued that Christianity must seek to minister to both body and soul. To quote Simpson:

 

“There is room not only for the worship of God, the teaching of sacred truth, and the evangelization of the lost, but also for every phase of practical philanthropy and usefulness. There may be, in perfect keeping with the simple order and dignity of the church of God, the most aggressive works for the masses and the widest welcome for every class of sinful men; the ministry of healing for the sick and suffering administered in the name of Jesus; the most complete provision for charitable relief; industrial training and social elevation for the degraded classes, workshops for the unemployed, homes for the orphaned, shelter for the homeless, refuges for the inebriates, the fallen and helpless; missions for the heathen; Christian literature for the instruction of the people and every agency needed to make the church of God the light of the world and the mothering of the suffering and the lost. And there is no work that will be more glorifying to God than a church that will embrace just such features and completeness.”

(Simpson Body and Soul, 5)

 

It is easy to see, at least in the tradition of the C&MA that social justice was seen by some evangelicals as central to the church’s mission.

 

So, why the aversion to Christian Peacemaking?

 

In defense of my professor, I’m guessing that the misconception is that Christian peacemaking is viewed as social activism instead of social welfare work, and indeed it can often take on an identity of social activism. The Christian peacemaking I would like to see, however, is peacemaking that is service oriented. I think Christians need to place themselves in fractured, violent, and war-torn communities in order to be a peaceful presence, and demonstrate the Christian alternative to this world’s ways of dealing with conflict.

 

What would happen if Christians devoted as much effort to waging peace as nations do to waging war? This is the question posited by the Christian Peacemaker Teams (www.cpt.org). Would this effort not be an incredible witness to armies on both sides of conflicts? Picture Christians moving to war-torn Iraq, helping widows and orphans and those injured by conflicts, providing medical care to victims of collateral damage and food supplies for the poor who cannot get access to food due to embargos, etc. What a powerful witness that would be, and a demonstration that we are not afraid to love in the midst of physical danger.

 

I think there is a responsibility on the part of Christian peacemaking organizations to make sure they emphasize the social welfare aspects of their ministries in greater proportion than their activism aspects. There are several reasons for this. First, it would be in beneficial in creating a united Christian support for peacemaking from both pacifists and just-war theorists alike. Even Christian proponents of just-war theory should hate war as much as pacifists due to its obvious and unavoidably destructive nature. Consequently, if peacemakers focused on alleviating these destructive effects, while offering the victims of this destruction hope in Jesus Christ, rather than just picketing wars, perhaps their just-war counterparts would be in full support of their efforts. Perhaps just-war adherents would even JOIN in peacemaking. What I am suggesting is, rather than only fighting war by trying to change policy (still an honorable task, in this man’s opinion), work to alleviate the effects of war and prevent war through peaceful ministry. We can create peace through presence much more readily than we can through policy, and we might get some of our just-war friends to join us. There is no reason we cannot work together to alleviate the ill effects of war; even if we disagree on the justice of war, we all agree that the ill effects of it are tragedies. And even if there will always be wars (as there will always be poor amongst us), that does not diminish our responsibility to minister to war-torn regions.

 

I’ve many more thoughts on this subject, and this is certainly not a comprehensive look on the issue. This is a brief survey of the issue and some of the ideas I’m toying with. I think I will be expounding on some of these ideas in the future, but wanted to get this out there initially. I welcome critiques and further ideas on these subjects.

Christians and Government

Today in my History of Theology class a discussion concerning the separation of church and state came up, in the context of an introduction to dominion theology. It was an incredibly interesting discussion, and the subject has been on my mind for most of the day. I found myself disagreeing with my prof and about half the class. Overall I would guess our class was 50/50 on the issue, half thinking that Christians in the government can effect morality via the governing authority, the other half rejecting that notion.

To me, the notion of affecting a nation’s morality via the ruling authorities is a proposterous idea. This “top-down” mentality doesn’t work with morality any better than it does with economics! (The trickle-down theory just doesn’t work practically!) The movements that have had lasting effects on our country’s politics and morality have been bottom-up, grass-roots movements. Look at the temperance movement, the women’s suffrage movement, and the civil rights movement…In each case, it was the little people making the change.

When I pointed out in class that the Jesus and his disciples, and the early church for that matter, were grass-roots, I had a classmate try to tell me that the incarnation was a “top-down” approach. Maybe what he meant by this was that Christ came down to the nothingness of humanity from his place as God, but I don’t think that is what this classmate meant. Christ did make himself nothing, and his example is the PERFECT example of effective change from the bottom up!

Jesus of Nazareth had every opportunity to set himself up as the emperor of the world. The Jews of his day, including many of his followers, were expecting the messiah to come and start an earthly kingdom, a “top-down” kingdom that would change the world. They were looking for political liberation and self-determination. But that is not what Jesus had in mind. Instead he turned the tables, and flipped things upside down. How did he start a movement? With an eclectic group of uneducated peasants from a captive nation! And what was his method for changing the world? Dying. Christ and his gospel are the antithesis of a “top-down” approach.

It was a great day when Constantine made Christianity legal in the Roman Empire. I imagine many Christians were joyful and thankful that they could serve God openly at last. The centuries of persecution were finally over. That peace was a great thing. But, didn’t the church thrive under such persecution? Look at the book of Acts… What about today? Isn’t the church thriving in China and other places hostile to the gospel? Is the church thriving in our present day Constantinian empire (the USA)?

I am not sure that I have fully resolved this next idea in my head, but it seems to make sense to me. The ability for Christians to live and worship freely is a great thing, and not something to be taken for granted. It has not always been this way, and will not, most likely, continue to be this way. But, at the same time, persecution is good for the church. It forces the church to rely on God, it weeds out the nominal, and it is a powerful witness to the world. Maybe tranquility for the church is nice for this world, but maybe it is not beneficial for our spiritual condition. Do not trials develop perseverance, character, and hope?

Apostate churches are not born out of persecution, but are born out of the church growing comfortable. I think there is plenty of evidence for this with the Israelites in the old testament. The entire narrative of the Old Testament seems to be the Israelites sinning and doing evil in the eyes of the Lord, being taken captive (much like persecution), and then repenting and serving God again before the cycle begins again.

So what does this mean practically? I’m not sure… Should we pray for persecution? Maybe… at the very least we need to be careful not to take our comfort and prosperity (read laziness and obesity) for granted. Days of comfort often end abruptly.

When its Hard to be a Pacifist

Its days like today that it is not fun to be a pacifist. I received an email yesterday and this is what it said:

“On Thursday, May 3rd at 10:25 AM a young soldier from Franklin County will be coming home.Ryen was killed serving our country overseas and will be arriving at the Toccoa Airport on Thursday. The college is asking our students who can gather on Big A to support his family and show the community our support for one who was willing to sacrifice his life for his country.”

When push comes to shove, I believe Ryen died for nothing. I believe that Ryen’s life had value, but he was a soldier commanded to fight in an unjust war and the loss of his life for the “defense of this country” is meaningless. But that makes me sound as heartless as a war-hawk…Ryen’s death is a tragedy, as is the loss of all human life. I don’t know why it happened and I wish that it hadn’t. His death was as senseless as those that have died in Darfur, or the shootings earlier this year in Aliquippa. Death, wherever it happens is a tragedy. My honest condolences go out to Ryen’s family. It is the individual lives affected by war that make it so tragic. It is not nations that feel the pain of these losses, but fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers. It is the weak–children, poor, and marginalized–that suffer the most.

There must be a better way to peace.

“Sure as a hammer finds a nail, death is the only way to peace” ~Derek Webb

It is Christians dying for others–socially, emotionally and yes physically– that can bring the world peace. Jesus inaugurated the kingdom through his death, and we are called to follow suite. Only through radically associating, and relating to the hurting can we effect peace in this war torn and restless world.

It is not guaranteed to be successful, but a human history of war has never brought peace: the “war to end all wars” (WW1) led to the “war to make the world safe for democracy” (WW2) which has led to more war, and a world hostile to human life (including democracy!). When will we learn?

“Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” ~George Santayana

Anabaptists, Pentecostals, and Homophobia

I never finished The Politics of Jesus, though it is definitely on my list of books to read. I am an expert at returning books late to the library and unfortunately The Politics of Jesus was well overdue so I needed to return it. In its place, I checked out A contemporary Anabaptist Theology as well as Artists, Citizens, Philosophers: seeking the peace of the city, an Anabaptist Theology of Culture. I’m further along in this second book and I am finding it quite fascinating. I’ll post more comments on it hopefully as I get further along.

In addition to familiarizing myself with the Anabaptists, I watched the riveting and controversial documentary Jesus Camp this week. For those of you unfamiliar with the film, it is a documentary about an extremely charismatic pentecostal children’s camp in North Dakota. Critics of the camp argue that they are manipulative and forcefully indoctrinate their children with right wing conservative propaganda. Although I think most critics are a touch harsh, I must admit that their were parts of the film that made me feel uncomfortable, namely when a group of children prayed over a cardboard cutout of George W. Granted, however, I am not the biggest Bush fan anyway. Regardless of my opinion about this particular pentecostal church, I find myself having to remind myself that this particular church does not represent a majority of Pentecostals, and it certainly doesn’t represent all evangelicals.

In an ironic bit of Jesus Camp Ted Haggard is captured preaching against homosexuality and mentioning that “sin will find you out.” Obviously this film was shot and released before the current scandal hit the media…I was listening to Tony Campolo’s thoughts on the whole issue when I heard him mention Haggard’s meth addiction. I didn’t remember hearing about it before, and as Tony pointed out how ridiculous it is that evangelicals (as a majority) are not outraged about his use of meth, I found myself agreeing. Why are we so homophobic? Why are we not as equally outraged by Ted Haggard’s addiction to an elicit substance as we are his homosexual actions? As I talked to one of my professors about this, it was brought to my attention that our difference in opinion on this subject is most likely due to our beliefs on sin. As a result of this conversation, I now have a lot more questions about sin. Is there an hierarchy of sins? Are some sins worse than others? Why have evangelicals (in general) picked homosexuality and abortion as their “worst” sins while neglecting the atrocities of war and injustice to the poor (this last one which is mentioned biblically far more than these others)?

The Politics of Jesus pt.1

I’ve been reading through The Politics of Jesus by John Howard Yoder, and I must say, it has been quite thought provoking. For anyone interested in a good, serious diologue with pacifism, this is probably the best biblical approach to it that I have read (granted my reading on the subject is certainly not exhaustive).
If there was ever a man who could have waged a just war, it was Jesus of Nazareth. If there was ever a man who had just cause for war, it too was Jesus of Nazareth. If there was ever a man who had the authority to wage a just war, again, it was Jesus of Nazareth. Finally, if there was ever a man who had the power and military following to win a just war, it was Jesus of Nazareth.
Yet, as easy as it would have been for Christ to usher in his kingdom through armed conflict, he chose to die instead. Why is it then that we as Christians today fail to see our own death as a serious possibility for ushering in God’s kingdom? Why do we argue for ‘just war’ when our savior so seemingly set the precedent for our socio-political action in his death? Yoder puts it like this, “Jesus’ rebuke to the unseeing pair on the road to Emmaus was not that they had been looking for a kingdom and should not have been. Their fault is that, just like Peter at Caesarea Philippi, they were failing to see that the suffering of the Messiah is the inauguration of the kingdom.”