Notes from Mennoville, PA

Embracing Intimacy

2008-01-18T19:55:00.000-08:00

Intimacy is an odd thing, I'm finding. Maybe more than odd, its mysterious. It is the end of which all of humanity is seeking. It, in its fullest sense, is the perfect communion- most complete picture of community, and the rejection of individualism and loneliness. When we work towards peace, the peace that is shalom, we enter into perfect intimacy with each other, with God, and with creation. We are made whole beings when we are intimate with each other, God, and earth. And when we achieve intimacy we recognize ourselves in other, and other in ourselves in a holy co-dependence.

What is so frustrating about embracing and working towards intimacy, is how much it requires the freeing and liberating of another person from our own grasp. It is more often the ability to let go of what is beautiful than the ability to grab hold. It is in perfect love that we allow others to flourish, and it is in perfect love that we enable that which is beautiful to be given to all of creation. It is allowing all that is living to join in a holy dance, and then to allow yourself to join that dance also.

The tendency for all of us, when we experience something beautiful, is to force an intimacy that is entirely self serving. Instead of allowing the entire world to also experience something beautiful, we become greedy and take a private ownership over that beautiful thing. This happens in our relationship to economics, the earth, God, and each other. We recognize the value of resources and so we fight for ownership, we recognize the value of land and we exploit it. We recognize the value of our own picture of God, and we force all into our own understanding. And when we feel the desire to have all of one persons being, we destroy the relationship.

Yet there is a sweet liberating freedom when we recognize that the earth is the Lord's and everything in it. When we recognize that we are not in control, then the world becomes open to us. It enables our eyes to see not only our interconnected relationship to humanity, but also to God and God's creation. There is a sweet freedom both for ourselves and for others when we experience intimacy and closeness. When we allow others to simply be, we allow ourselves to begin to experience love, beauty, and peace. And in the irony of letting go we can encounter each other and love equally and perfectly.

That Jesus sure was Sexy

2007-10-27T09:01:00.000-07:00

To think the notion that Jesus lives inside the poor is an easy or romantic teaching would be absurd. Certainly there are many, including, myself who once thought this true. It was an ideal that could only come from the privileged. From those who can see the poor and return home to write about. It comes from a desire to sensationalize what is difficult, and a hope that our deepest emotions and intentions will be good enough to enact change. It is a good intention, all this thinking about how it's sweet to be with the poor cause Jesus is there, and we should accept that. But intentions will not bring the kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. When we truly encounter all those who are human, we find that the powers creating brokeness do not discriminate. Justice, relationships, love, and life itself is far from sexy. It is the poor who make me feel uncomfortable and angry. When I sit in community meals on Monday nights I'm constantly frustrated with my conversations with the so called "poor and homeless" who I sit with. I want to scream at them and say "look chump, you're supposed to be Jesus, so why don't you pull it together, maybe shave or take a shower, and we can get to chili's for happy hour if we run." But the poor are no sexier than we are. For we are all fallen, awkward, and smelly. And life turns out to simply be the long laborious waiting and working for shalom, mixed with the hope that we don't completely screw things up before that happens.

But if there is any hope for true redemption, we must acknowledge our place in this world. Those who are privileged must acknowledge that the God who encounters the narrative of the Bible, is a God who exists primarily in the margins. God does exist in the poor, and no its not sexy. But the reign of God will not come from the empire; it will come from those who have been marginalized by the empire. The prophetic voices of those who are being oppressed will one day be realized, and the powerful, those both well and ill intentioned; will fall on our knees before the God who has been living and with the poor and oppressed.

We, as Americans, who are bold and confident in our "rightness" about the world, will one day find that we have been so drastically wrong. This is true of our government, of our NGO's, of our churches, and our institutions. It is not that we are evil, but that the principalities and powers have taken a hold of our land and have blinded us to the true alternative reality possessed in the reign of God. But those who have been hurt by our weapons, by our development projects, and by our understanding of God will one day be heard.

I find hope in this. For it reminds me that the restoration of the world will happen through but more often in spite of ourselves.

Art and Shalom

2007-07-31T19:18:00.000-07:00

What attracted me to the Anabaptist church was a theology rooted in discipleship. It was the conviction that God is "more concerned with us living a Christian life, than in speculating about it." It was living as a radical follower of Jesus- in simplicity, in poverty, in solidarity- so that we might better bring justice and restoration to the world. The commitment to peace, the subversive quality of the church, the idea of bearing Christian witness rather than yelling about it, the Socialist leaning- all these reasons are why I morphed into a Mennonite.

And yet I find that in many ways my soul is dying in the Mennonite world. I've lost creativity and passion. I've lost both the joy and sorrow of being a part of this beautiful and difficult world. And more so, I'm finding that all the reasons I joined the Mennonite church are causing me this anxiety. Ironically enough for a church committed to living peacefully, I find that in the quest for justice we've missed glimpses of shalom.

I'm reminded of the story where Jesus gets all sorts of expensive perfume poured on his feet and makes the rather disturbing statement that "the poor will always be with you." It's the passage I often ignore. It always sounds like Jesus is talking like some rich, white evangelical who is justifying their million dollar home and brand new Hummer.

But what if instead of this passage being about Jesus ignoring the poor, it rather has to do with Jesus embracing glimpses of shalom. Maybe this passage speaks to us "simple" Christians who view all of life through the economic lens. Maybe this speaks to us radical Christians who embrace such extreme frugality that they've lost the capacity to enjoy. This is exactly why we have such trouble with this passage- we are such economically minded Christians who have lost the capacity to embrace the good.

Afterall, most sweet things in life are entirely opposed to economics. Love, art, novels, poems, music- none of these things make much economical sense with a world starving and at war. Yet, I become ever more convinced that if music was silenced, if poetry became obsolete, and if romance became impractical- the world would fall off its axis. The world cannot exist without these things, for they are glimpses of shalom, glimpses of hope, glimpses of the kingdom; and they bear witness to a greater reality than the current reality of hunger, sickness, poverty, and war. To deny the arts is to deny salvation.

Benny Hinn and Lord Lobster- A Battle of Good and Tasty

2007-07-14T17:35:00.000-07:00

Tonight the skies of Pennsylvania were graced with the presence of the world famous Benny Hinn (http://www.bennyhinn.org). I hope you realized the sarcasm, since there are few Christians in the world that I find more embarrassing than good ol BH. His website boasts a banner that reads "Saving the Lost at Any Cost" and from his preaching he is doing just that. From his support of Israeli occupation to his support of G.W. it is clear that he will seek to save the lost, whatever the cost may be.

And so when I heard Benny Hinn was coming to town I immediately decided to go. I don't think I wanted to go just to critisize and feel self-righteous. I could have done that without going afterall. I really think I was curious what such an event might be like. More than being curious about Benny, I was curious to see the people that would show up for such an event. Would they be poor? Would they be white? Would they be rich evangelicals? There was only one way to find out.

So I began to prepare to go see Benny Hinn. When I went to get tickets on the website, I was forced to fill out some doctrinal belief statement. I guess "any cost" doesn't count for any heathens that plan on actually seeing Benny. And well, of course I was unable to fill out the doctrinal statement with any intergrity, so I got one of my friends to fill it out for me.

With that being done I was ready to go get my soul saved. I quickly jotted down a list of ailments in case I was lucky enough to be chosen at random for healing. My list consisted of everything from my soar back and busted knee, to my lost soul. I also packed a water bottle and first aid kit in case I got slain by the spirit. I heard people get slain, and well I don't know what that means, but it doesn't sound safe.

Unfortunately as I was getting ready to leave I realized that it was lobster night at the house where I live. And I was suddenly left with a difficult decision- get my soul saved at the Hershey Arena, or eat lobster?

The lobster was delicious.

Dance Party

2007-04-12T16:45:00.000-07:00

I sat today and listened to an upbeat gospel song remixed by the artist Moby. The song is excellent, if I may say so. Before I knew it I started tapping my foot, and I'm telling you, I really felt like dancing (not a strong point of mine, by the way).

Without realizing it I sort of got lost in a daydream. In this daydream I envisioned all the people in the room with me just letting loose and dancing. Not just any old two-step, I mean dancing like they had to. Full body moving, twirls, twists, jumps, even the occasional ridiculous yelping into the air. This wasn't just hip young people, it was old people, shy people, grandmothers, children, cardigan wearers, all shapes, sizes, and colors: black, white, brown, purple. People were sweating, laughing, all had that big stupid grin of excitement that you're not supposed to have after the age of 9.

If I were smart I would just end things there. But unfortunately I tend to make a moral out of everything. I've had a friend asking me lots of questions about why I'm a Christian (a decent question, I'd say), and I've struggled to really answer why I think she should also be a Christian. I grew up with the language of heaven and hell, but I don't think this is good enough anymore. So I told her I didn't think she was going to hell. Certainly not something they teach in Evangelism 101. And I've started to think that maybe being a Christian is acknowledging that this dance party is sometime going to happen, despite what the world looks like now. One day there will be no war, no poverty, no AIDS, no weeping or crying. The rich and powerful will no longer win, evil will no longer reign over this world, and whether we want it or not we will eventually hear the music, then we'll start tapping our feet, and before we know it we'll all be dancing and sweating to the liberating gospel music remixed by Moby. And we'll be dancing for a long time, with people we never thought we'd dance with, just looking at each other with that 9 year old smile that can only come with the most foolish kind of love.

Subway Blues

2007-04-02T16:38:00.000-07:00

I was recently in Boston in route to give a talk about justice and charity. I had been feeling as though my life was becoming mathematically oriented. I've been reading non-fiction books, like a 1500 page history of the Lancaster Mennonite Conference (pretty wild, i know), or books about theories of violence and poverty, and I'd just been thinking a lot about numbers. There is _ number of homeless people in Lancaster, _ number of children dying of hunger, _number of civilians killed in Iraq. For someone who almost failed a freshman math course in my senior year, these numbers can really give me a headache.

I stood in a Boston subway (after battling a machine in attempts of winning a "Charlie card" which apparently would let me into the subway) among scores of blank faces headed home after another mundane day. Suddenly a man who I assume was homeless began playing "Pachebel's Canon" on guitar. It was beautiful. And when I needed it most, a rather poorly dressed and unattractive couple began to dance awkwardly off-tempo to this classical ballad.

There is a part in the Wilder's "Our Town", when one character who after seeing the world exposed for what it is, asks "Will anyone ever understand." The reply is "The poets and saints, maybe." I always loved this part of the book, because it praises imagination over science, or maybe just because it too is beautiful. I've been making attempts lately at spotting poetry and sainthood in the everyday. It's in the faces of awkward couples expressing love with awkward dances, that I am reminded of the unspeakable truths which are so easily ignored. Its like what Mary Oliver once said "stories are more beautiful than answers."

Guns, Coffee, and Camus

2007-03-25T11:31:00.000-07:00

I woke up at 5:38am to the sound of gun shots. I'm currently in Washington DC for work, and staying at a house in a rougher part of town I suppose. That afternoon I was visiting some friends who live in DC and walking through a great part of town. The houses and stores were all beautiful with all sorts of fascinating things inside them to keep my attention for the afternoon. It felt like I was in college again- inspired, comfortable, conversations full of grand plans, and coffee shops with art, music, books- all with a romantic allure to them. I felt like I belonged.

Afterwards, I hopped on a bus to go home. If I was home at the bookstore, then my bus trip quickly had me thinking "I don't think we are in Kansas anymore." The bookshops and cafes were quickly replaced with abandoned houses and fast food. And I saw that picture, that always leaves me perplexed- a homeless man sleeping on the steps of an abandoned house. This never makes sense to me. It makes me want to scream out "hey man, just go inside- there's no one in there!" But I know its my simplicity that drives me mad. In the economy of God this doesn't happen, and I look forward to that day when the kingdom is fully realized.

Anyway, I went to bed thinking about these things, and I woke up to gun shots outside. I'm not sure what happened, or if anyone was shot or anything. I heard one lone siren, but it was quickly shut off as if to say "Everyone just stay asleep, there's nothing to see out here." It's a great tragedy that if we want to, we can live our lives in the bookstores and cafes without ever realizing the "other reality" of this world. If there is hardship and violence, it becomes entertainment. All of these events in my day caused me to ask, which reality is more real- the coffee or the guns?

And so it hit me again. Neither reality is the final reality. The alternative reality that I'm choosing to embrace is the reality that acknowledges the need for justice now, and recognizes that one day the poor and oppressed will be set free, and there will be no tears, no guns, no homeless, and no abandoned houses. And so we work for this kingdom- knowing that we can't do much of anything to make it fully realized, but also knowing that its a great sin to allow this to cause apathy. This is the Myth of Sisyphus that Camus spoke of- to work for the kingdom knowing we will fail until the day when Christ gives the rock the final push up the mountain.

Encounter

2007-03-12T16:39:00.000-07:00

Tonight I had that image of myself as "authority on justice" completely destroyed yet again. I began serving and participating in community meals for the homeless, hungry, rich, poor, black, brown, white, and most anyone who feels like eating something. I sat outside the church building and watched as a man with a rather large Jerry Garcia beard came slowly toward the church with a bag in his hand.

Something about this man possessed salvation. I decided to stand next to him in line. I did not talk to him at first because I'm an awkward person and didn't know how to start the conversation. "So, are you homeless?" just didn't seem like a great way to start the conversation and yet I couldn't come up with anything else to say. I'm a bit of a dunce when it comes to conversing with people.

Finally, I came up with a good enough opening line and tried it out. "Hey" I said, "What is your name?" Brilliant. Turns out his name was Fred, and mine was Dan, and before I knew it we were having a conversation. He was very warm and gracious towards me.

We sat and ate our pasta and talked...and sometimes didn't talk...and then talked again. Fred told me how he was laid off from his job dish washing at the local bar and hasn't been able to find work since. He is staying at some mission shelter run by some good hearted, well intentioned fundamentalists. He told me how he was filing to get unemployment, but that due to his previous employers shady dealings, he was having a difficult time getting his rightful share of the economic pie. I asked him if he was looking for work. He responded so earnestly, "Yeah I'm really trying. I haven't been hired yet, but I'll keep on trying."

I asked him what his dream job would be and he told me "dish washing." Who am I to feel sorry for him dreaming of dish washing? He said he would really like to have a chocolate factory, and this appeased my story driven mind for the moment.

And then it hit me. When I actually encounter these so called people that I am working to serve, I have nothing to say or offer. I know there is no reason Fred shouldn't be employed, except that he looks homeless, and indeed is homeless. All my concentrations on books, theories, theology, service, and poverty has caused me to overlook the very people I was hoping to serve. I had no answers for Fred. In my mind all I could think was that one day he would be a king in heaven and, Lord help me, I'll be his servant.

I pray for that kingdom come, not the one that requires the death of Muslims and Palestinians. Not the kingdom for the Crystal Cathedrals and war profiteers. Not the kingdom of the sword. But the upside down kingdom, where all the people who aren't supposed to be there are living in golden mansions, and all the people who are supposed to be there have to beg those we've forgotten, for grace and mercy.

Thats enough from me.

The Revolution

2007-02-01T12:40:00.000-08:00

I'm currently attending a conference on International Development. All the big NGO's are here: World Vision, Food for the Hungry, CRWRC, and on and on. The campus at Calvin is rather nice. The Prince Conference center where I am staying is pretty nice as well.

Yet I can't help feeling the ongoing tension of writing about the poor on my new work laptop; thinking about the poor in my warm, large, hotel room; and speaking about the poor in coffee shops that are somehow supposed to ease my conscious by the fact that the coffee was "fair-trade."

I question at times whether the poor, and poverty all together, is merely a means of intellectual assent. Do I truly know that the poor exist? Have I encountered the poor? Do I feel the needs of the poor? Am I ever consumed by poverty?

Its hard to say. I think often of things like revolution, when I'm now realizing that I'm the one who needs to be overthrown.

A Christmas Reflection

2006-12-17T19:56:00.000-08:00

In the traditions of Christmas, we Christians can often get worked up about how the "secular" world stole Christmas from us. Thus, there is much talk about the "true meaning of Christmas," which I suppose has much to do with celebrating the birth of Jesus.

I have admit that I oftentimes resonate with these comments. However, there has always been something a bit off about them. I suppose what has always been slightly awkward about this attempt to get back to the true spirit of Christmas is that I'm not convinced we really want it back. We want the freedom to say "Merry Christmas" instead of the more uninspiring "Happy Holidays" but we are not willing to divorce ourselves from the materialism of Christmas. We want the malls, the clothes, the toys, and the "stuff" but we want to say Merry Christmas while we do it.

What I believe is happening here is that we only want to celebrate the convenient parts of Jesus. Thus, we want to celebrate his birth (God comes to us), his crucifixion (God saves us), and his resurrection (God reigns now and again). But we are not willing to celebrate his life, which requires us to live differently from the rest of the world. When we celebrate the life of Jesus, we purchase differently, we think differently, and we engage the world differently all together.

I guess if we really want to put Christ back in Christmas we need to fully do it. We need to declare Jesus Lord over state, economy, gifts, malls, santa, and ourselves; and until we are willing to do so Jesus will continue to vacation around Christmas.

Art and Poverty, Pt. 2

2006-11-28T13:59:00.000-08:00

This entry is a response to a question given to me about whether we should enjoy art (I suppose the economics involved) with the poor in mind. I hesitate to give my response here, because I'm afraid Ted will think it too pious.

I really like the question, and I've actually been thinking about it a good bit. There are a few things to say about art before making a claim about the relationship between art and the poor. The first is that art is not neutral. It is not amoral. Every bit of art is, for better or worse, making a claim on reality and culture. No art is void of direction, not even Thomas Kincaid.
The questions then are, to what end is art done? What is art in general? What is good art? If art should be directed towards God, then is all non-Christian art in some way immoral? Can art be good and immoral? And finally, should the expense, and aristocratic feel or most European art forbide us from enjoying it?

I don't have good answers to these questions, but I do think they are important to deal with before making claims about the relationship between art and poverty.

That being said, I can say confidentely that you should enjoy art. What I am unsure about is what art you should enjoy. In fact, the word enjoy is not exactly the word we should be dealing with. Better ways of thinking about it is, what art should we "affirm" or deem "good." I enjoy all sorts of things I shouldn't.

But why do I think you should enjoy art? Well I'm confident of three things about art. The first is that art is unavoidable. It has and will be a part of every culture. Creation itself is a piece of art, and God declares it "good." Second, art is has a necessary place in poor and oppressed communities. It is not just for the rich. There is more art then the art of museums, and some of the greatest art comes from impoverished and oppressed communities. Art can, and is often, a means to physical and mental liberation. I think this is why there are so many tremendous homosexual artists- art is a means to their liberation in cultures where they feel oppression. Third, art may be the only place in modern society that has bridged the modernistic dualism of the material and the spiritual, and for that reason I find art to be one of the most credible sources of epistemology.

A world driven entire by utilitarian economics is a not a world worth living in. This is not complete thinking, and I'm curious what others would have to say.

Jesus vs. Paul

2006-11-22T08:38:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Rene Girard, in the past year my thoughts on the Bible have changed quite a bit. It was a badly needed change, and one that has produced a good amount of holy freedom. At some point, probably when I was young, someone read the Bible to me like a book of law, or a history book of how this world came to be.

There seems to be a number of problems with this thinking. I don't want to write about all of what I think the Bible is, mostly because I don't know what I'm talking about. I do think the Bible is much richer if read as a drama.

However, I think whatever the Bible actually is, flawed or perfect, its not a linear book. I think its a book that starts and ends in the middle. Jesus was not a theologian, he was God. Somehow we decided if we wanted to understand Jesus we would have to first go through Paul. Paul is a theologian, and he is useful as such, but an ethic derived from Paul should not trump an ethic derived from Jesus. Our conversations should not go "Jesus said this...but Paul said this..." It makes me more comfortable to think of "Paul said this...but Jesus said this..." I guess what I'm saying, in the battle of Jesus vs. Paul, Jesus (being God and all) should probably win. For everyone who will ask the question, "Are Jesus and Paul not in agreement?" read the comments page.

Symbolism

2006-10-19T07:25:00.000-07:00

I was walking along a path at school yesterday, surrounded by buildings and feeling stressed and claustrophobic when I almost stepped on a white flower. It was a beautiful, daisy looking thing (sorry I'm not up on my flower nomenclature, it could have been a rose for all I know), and I'm not sure where exactly it came from. I assumed it was probably a victim of a weed-wacker but I couldn't find more of these flowers anywhere around. Thus, as the flower was unexpected and beautiful I decided to read symbolism in it. I decided it was the turning point of my life, that things were going to get better (or I was going to die, but thats for another entry).

There is a lot that can be said of this situation that I'm still wrestling with. It seems that we tend to force symbolism into situations and objects when we can't explain them. The flower was ambiguos and thus symbolic. It didn't fit within the parameters of how I think things should be, and its uniqueness becomes a symbol of empowerment. The problem with forced symbolism is that its empowerment is not real. When we find something unique we tend to hold onto it a bit too much. In relationships we find a unique human-being and begin to force symbolism into the interactions of the other person that prove their uniqueness and thus their "rightness" for you.

I held onto that flower the entire day and good things kept happening to me. I had a test postponed that I thought I was going to fail, I didn't have to go to work, and even the weather seemed perfect. But as I held onto the flower I began to wear it down. The flower couldn't withstand the force of my grip and it began to crumble. By the end of the day it was a messy pile of petals and a lonely stem. It seems to me that the forcing of symbolism that crushed my white flower, is the same thing that happens in many encounters and experiences we have everyday. We make too much of them, use them like a tool, and end up crushing the whole thing. If only we could let things remain ambiguous. If only we could treat the world as an end unto itself, maybe we wouldn't be crushing it so much.

Abortion is Mean?

2006-09-29T09:39:00.000-07:00

I was pretty hesitant to write this article, because I'm convinced the blog world has no place for journaling and confessions. The blog world shouldn't be a place of relationship, its instead a place of ideas and we share our ideas in an impersonal and disconnected way, and we talk about them as though its of extreme importance, but we all know that real life happens when we are looking at each other.

All that to say I'm going to be fairly confessional for a moment. My family has been in some measure of disarray for a bit because my Aunt found out that she was pregnant with a child who had down syndrome. More so, my Aunt was at risk in the pregnancy, and thus they were forced to choose between risking the death of my aunt, leaving my baby cousin and Uncle alone, or having an abortion. The other day they had an abortion. The little boy died 5 months before he entered a very hard a cruel place, much less comforting then the womb of my Aunt.

After I found out the news I walked down a path at school and saw a girl wearing a sweatshirt that said "Abortion is mean." I had a sudden urge to tackle her into the bushes, or to say, "You don't know people's stories. The last thing someone who is having an abortion needs is some self-righteous evangelical telling them they are mean." But I walked on in a melancholy and nodded hello to her. I'm sure she means well.

Suddenly it occured to me- when we get to touch and smell real suffering, ours or someone else's, all catagories break down. Suddenly, the distinction between pro-life and pro-choice, no longer matter. Ethics breaks down, theology breaks down, politics breaks down, and we are left with a cruel realization that this world is messed up, and we have no choice but to just hold on for dear life, love the best we can, and hope that we find the pearly gates to be filled with a good measure of grace.

Suffering and Discipleship

2006-09-23T14:37:00.000-07:00

The problem of why God allows suffering in the world has been wrestled with by theologians and human beings since the beginning of suffering itself (I'm assuming). As far as I'm concerned its never been answered to peoples satisfaction, and more so has caused many people to question and even lose their faith in God.

I'm one of these people. I lost my faith, at least under the guise that I couldn't understand suffering, and ironically started to find it again when I actually saw suffering. It seems the idea of suffering without a God in the world is more perplexing than the thought of there being suffering and a God, though I could never fully rationalize this, and complete it to its theological end.

I guess the place I have come to lately, is one of looking at the problem of suffering, not through the lens of explanation, but through the lens of discipleship. What this means is that I've not given up asking the question of why people suffer, in fact I only ask it more. But at the end of this asking I've decided to fall on my knees in front of a paradoxical God and say, "I don't understand this, or you, and I'm tired of trying to, but this life is sad and often times full of evil and I wish it would go away."

Albert Camus writes in The Plague, when Dr. Rieux is talking about Father Paneloux's attempts at finding goodness in suffering, "Paneloux is a man of learning, a scholar. He hasn't come in contact with death; that's why he can speak with such assurance of the truth-with a capital T. But every country priest who visits his parishioners and has heard a man gasping for breath on his deathbed thinks as I do. He'd try to relieve human suffering before trying to point out its goodness."

I think this is the task of people, especially Christians, in looking at suffering. Embrace it with a discipleship that is more concerned with fighting against suffering than explaining it. Sure, it may be a crutch for weak-minded folk like myself, and it may even be a way of avoiding the question. But I think the question only makes sense when we enter into a relationship with it.

Art, The Novel, and Guns

2006-09-18T19:26:00.000-07:00

I have a tendency to focus all of my energies in being suspicious of white academics (ignoring the absurd irony that I fit into this catagory), under the idealistic assumption that all of my learning needs to come from outside of my own cultural situation. There might be some merit found in this, but lately I've also attempted to redeem my appreciation of things coming out of white academia. This redemption has not come with a renewed interest in systematic theology or philosophical inquiry. What has instead been redeemed for me is the power of art and the novel. To be more precise I have become convinced that, as Mary Oliver says, "stories are more beautiful than answers."

What brought about this realization, which I suspect I'm a little behind in, was a question by a great professor at Eastern, Betsy Morgan. In a formal discussion on the place of the church and America five years after 9/11, she asked a simple and intriging question: does art have any place here?

It seems that in my particular life it has been novels that have been most instrumental in my thinking. Notes from the Underground allowed me to see humanity in its most raw and existential form. Snow by Orhan Pamuk, allowed me to understand better what is beautiful, and what questions I'm really interested in. The Brothers K by David James Duncan, allowed me to see the humanity of supposed enemies, and the meaning of families. Kite Runner forever changed the way I view immigration.

All of these relationships we develop with books creates a subtle and powerful change that systematic thought is incapable of doing. Whether it be Yoder, Barth, Chesterton, or any other theologian, they will never be able to grasp the ambiguity and speechless truth that is captured in a story.

Pretty unclear thoughts at the moment. But it could be going somewhere.

Praying with Muslims

2006-09-15T16:40:00.000-07:00

I was hoping to wait until my mind went away from Islam before I wrote again, but my mind seems stuck on the idea of Christianity and Islam. I had class again last night, and the questions and comments went back again to "how to convert Muslims." The general assumption is that if we could just sit down with Muslims and "prove" to them that their religion is wrong, then they will be converted into "the faith."

It would be pointless to say all the ridiculous things about this line of thinking, and I will try to avoid the temptation. But I think the fundamental assumption doesn't have to be a bad one. To want to convert Muslims to Christianity could actually be an act of love...especially for people who believe all Muslims will spend eternity in hell if they don't convert.

This lies the confusion for me. At the core of the questions and comments in my Islam class, is not love but fear. Many evangelical Christians seem to be pretty scared of Islam. I'm not sure if the fear stems from thinking all Muslims are terrorits that are destorying the world, or whether it has something to do with the fears and doubts in their own hearts about their own faith. I shouldn't make assumptions.

Whatever it is, I'm pretty uninterested in proving Muslims wrong. I think it could be exciting to discover some commonality between Christianity and Islam. For example, could Christians begin to pray Muslim prayers? Christians pray Judaic prayers often, even contemporary ones, and at the heart of Judaism is a greater rejection of Christ than that of Islam.

I've attempted to pray Muslim prayers as a Christian. Is it so absurd to pray the poetry that comes out of Islam to Jesus? What is hard for me is wondering whether this could be a place of reconcilation for Christianity and Islam, or whether my prayers are actually a great disrespect to Islam. Thoughts?

Encountering Islam

2006-09-07T18:37:00.000-07:00

I am currently taking a class titled "The Heritage of Islam" at Eastern University. My class is predominately composed of people who are hoping to evangelize to Muslims or understand terrorism. I noticed this particularly in my class tonight as we discussed our reading for the week.

The reading was mostly informative. The book, written by Muslims, was about the basics of Muslim belief, how Islam got started, the life of Muhammed, and so on. When the professor asked the class what they thought of the reading, students one by one would bring up places in the reading where Muslim beliefs were contradictory or "historically wrong."

Eventually it got to the point that I was so disgusted by people's comments I contemplated becoming a Muslim. The problem with people's comments was that they were engaging in a conversation with a Muslim, and as that Muslim was talking they were listening for loophools and inconsitencies. Granted it was a book, but I think this model carries over to the way in which many evangelicals "evangelize" to Muslims. They are engaging with Muslims for the sole purpose of proving them wrong.

Martin Buber writes that all means are an obstacle to encounter. When we engage in conversation as a means to an end we miss the encounter all together. Thus, we really have no concept of what Islam is, because we are too busy waiting to prove them wrong; to listen to what they are actually saying. Thus, the engagement becomes entirely selfish. It is then the Christian dicating the conversation, the purpose, and ideally the end. Why are Christians so threatened historically and presently by Islam?

Life is Beautiful

2006-09-02T13:32:00.000-07:00

I decided it was ok to love Jesus in a town called Soroti, in the east of Uganda. I was, or should have been a junior in college, but decided instead to take some time away from school for reasons I can't remember. I think I wanted to be in solidarity with the poor or something. Anyway, off I went to Uganda, for an undecided amount of time, to I guess think for awhile. I was not a "christian."

Turns out Uganda had lots of refugees, and some crazy war in the north. It seemed interesting so I decided that maybe I would go to one of these refugee areas, and explore for a bit. I was a bit gloomy in these days, and probably went to the camps to confirm my suspicion that life was hell.

Unfortunately for my ego, I found the refugee camps to be beautiful. Heart-wrenching and sad; but beautiful. The kids were "sledding" down a mountain of sand, on some pieces of plastic stolen from a UN food container. The adults were laughing at my awkwardness. And I, well, I wanted to cry, but I kept smiling like a big idiot.

It would be some time later before I realized this, but I did not decide it was okay to love Jesus because I thought it was Truth, or right, or radical, or whatever. I decided it was okay to love Jesus because he is beautiful. When I see beautiful things I'm reminded of him. Granted my love is always marked with some measure of heresy and vulgarity. But its love just the same.

That's why I think its easier for me to love Jesus in autumn. I think the fall is beautiful, and it reminds me of Jesus. I don't know if that's good enough to get me into heaven or not. I guess I hope to die when the leaves fall. Otherwise I might have some trouble at the pearly gates.

Giving

2006-08-31T18:46:00.000-07:00

There is a critique of downward mobility (I'm taking this term from Shane Claiborne) that says, as we remove ourselves as best as we can from a position of priviledge and power, we are ultimately being self-righteous and self satisfying. In other words, it is well and good for us to renounce the luxuries that we could have and live lives that strive for weakness, but someone is still going to have to feed the girl in Africa who is starving. Instead, we should place good people in business that will make money and do good with that money.

I don't all together disagree with this. The world needs fair and righteous business people, CEO's, and companies in general. However, I still think these people need to embrace an ethic of downward mobility. Is it wrong to think of a CEO living a modest, simple, and relatively meager life? Is it impossible for us to think of people who could be making millions, instead giving up their priviledges (not necessarily jobs) to live a radical life?

However, the original question remains, what about the girl in Africa who needs a meal? Shouldn't we use our money to take care of her? Well, I think the fundamental problem with this question is that it assumes someone who lives a life of downward mobility is unable to give to that girl.

There is a strand of Anabaptist thinking that says there is always enough. Enough for ourselves. Enough for others. No matter how far we push downward, we will always be able to give more. It would be wrong to assume that "the poor" (whoever that really is) are unable to give. In fact, its really quite arrogant.

One of my greatest moments of shame was when a Ugandan friend, Erinah, called me from Uganda to say hello. She called a few times just to say hello and tell me she was thinking about me and praying about me, then the phone call would get cut off after 2 minutes because she would run out of money on her card. Eventually, I said to her, "Erinah you need to not use your money to call me. Use the money for school fees and books. I'll call you instead." Click. She hung up. I talked to her later, and asked what the problem was. She said to me, "Dan, I'm not a poor person, I'm your friend. I will call you when I want to." That was that. She still calls me. And so maybe we should strive for downward mobility (though with grace on ourselves) and as we give up ourselves, we can continue to give more.

Was King Arthur Kind or Kind of a Bastard?

2006-08-29T09:33:00.000-07:00

Thoughts on a few events in my day:

Situtation #1: I went out with a friend a bit ago and paid for her meal for the third time in a row. In my head I was thinking how swell of a guy I was, and that she'll probably just fly over the table and kiss me at any moment in gratitude. But as I waited with puckered lips, she instead says, "I don't like that you pay for me all the time, its patronizing."

Situation #2: Homeless man comes up and asks for money. She relucantly gives but says she hates to later. I ask why, assuming she thinks they'll go spend it on booze (which for God's sake, let the poor drink some beer). Instead she says, "Its just such a power issue. Its keeping me above and him below."

Conclusion: Our (the historically "priviledged") attempts at blessing others seem to be marked with hierarchy and oppression. Both micro and macro...giving to the poor (even using the term "the poor") seems to be a way to keep those historically in power, above those historically not. In gender, a man being kind can actually be an attempt at keeping himself in control. Its an attempt at dicating the feelings of the person we are with. We want to dicate how the world works. Thus, kindness is given with expectation. In "development" we create a system of charity in which the priviledged can remain priviledged so long as they are charitable. In other words, make all the money you want from whoever you want, so long as you donate some to a "good cause." The powerful stay powerful.

Question: How do the priviledged bless the world? Certainly we can't just drop off the face of the earth?

Answer (maybe): Instead of development, maybe we should deconstruct. Concentrate not so much on making the world as rich as us, but in making us poorer. Allow ourselves to be blessed, to be given to, to be shown love. Destroy the catagories that keep the world in boxes, and begin to encounter the world. Don't give to "the poor" but give to people. The business of saving the world just needs to end. I believe a better model to be for us to enter into the deep crevase of the world where sorrow and joy co-exist. As my friend Erik says, the opposite of love is economics. Love in the encounter of everyday life.

Thoughts not Credo

The Beach

2006-08-25T12:11:00.000-07:00

I've spent the last week or so on the North Shore of Massachusetts, visiting friends, relaxing, regrouping before the new semester. Lately my mind had been working past its capacity. I was a bit depressed, and was feeling a great need for some sort of retreat or escape from Philadelphia. So I left for Mass, where I spent the days watching my friends kids, and my nights drinking Chimay and/or box wine. The nights were heaven, but relaxation can be a tricky thing when you are spending your days with kids from the ages of 4 to 9.

It rained the majority of the week there, which I liked since I have this strange conviction that rain makes me a better person. I think my melancholy sometimes forces me to stop. It produces silence. And most importantly it encourges me to drink obscene amounts of coffee- a source of joy. On one particular day the rain let up, though the clouds didn't, and we decided to take a chance at going to the beach. So off me and the three kids went.

The beach, called Crane Beach, was strangely beautiful. It was large but not crowded. We set up our beach display by the water, and I sat down with Anne Lamott on my lap, and the nice ocean breeze forbidding me from further activity. The water was much too cold for anything to live in without turning to ice (so I thought at least), but the two older kids decided to brave their way into the water anyway. The youngest daughter, Annika, stayed by the water, chasing the outgoing tides, and fleeing the incoming tides. I sat with my book, taking in the whole scene, relaxing, watching, reading with no patricular hurry. Pure bliss.

Then Annika, shame on her, came up to me and asked if I wanted to make a sand castle. I pretended not to hear her at first (I know I'm a bastard), but she just kept on asking every few minutes. Then I tried to convince her that she should make her own castle, and that I could judge it. She said ok, but clearly thought it was an aweful idea. I went back to my blissful scence.

Then Anne Lamott quoted Martin Buber, the Jewish philospher who I just so happened to be reading at the time, "All actual life is encounter." I thought to myself how nice a quote it was, then moved on. But the quote kept ringing in my head- all actual life is encounter. In my head I thought, "What the hell God, you are really ruining the only solace I've had in weeks." I'm convinced that God is really a poor thinker. But I embraced the idea anyway and asked Annika, "So you still want to make that castle?" Of course she did.

We worked on the castle, and I got pretty into it. Our castle turned into a village, which turned into a town, then eventually a city with roads, houses, castles, government buildings, and so on. Pleased with our work, and chilled from the weather, we journeyed home for lunch, where I told my friend Paul, Annika's father, about my experience with the need to encounter actual life, and the lesson Annika gave me.

We sat down for lunch, and got ready to pray. But before we could pray Annika picked up her chair and moved it so close to me that it was actually touching my chair. We proceeded to eat our lunch, awkwardly and happily close to each other. Me and my four year old theologian. Paul smiled at me and said in his very Canadian way, "Good quote, eh?"

Why I'm a Mennonite

2006-08-18T15:03:00.000-07:00

I've spent much of the last year thinking about things like peace, justice, the church, governments, and so on. I haven't made all that much progress, but I did start attending a Mennonite church, and embracing Mennonite values. What has really attracted me to the Anabaptist tradition is the stress on discipleship. As Arthur Gish wrote, "The Anabaptist were more interested in living a Christian life than in speculating about it." The stress on discipleship has lots of implications; most attractive to me (as I grew up in an academic reformed tradition) is the stress on simplicity, love, stewardship, silence. But I'm really interested in talking about the stress on non-violence. I'm awfully curious about pacifism, and have even called myself a pacfisit at times. I've been challenged by a few people on this, and thus, have tried to explain my thinking. I'm hoping there are some insights others have as well.

Most critics of pacifism say that 1. It doesn't work 2. It's selfish. These criticisms are pretty true. At least rationally, pacifism doesn't work- though it can, and the hope is that it will, but that is not the point. The point is in discipleship. As Christians, pacifist refuse to use means that go against the teaching of Christ to achieve an end. It's sort of like a fundamentalism that takes the words of Jesus literally despite what earthy rationale says. I really think pacifism's appeal is that we live in a post-modern world, and to think that anyone can get such a handle on justice that they have the right to kill another person is simply absurd. So, yes, pacifism may not work. But war doesn't seem to be working either. So pardon my oversimplification, but it seems to me that if our fight for justice isn't going to work, it might be good to lean to the side of pacifism.

As for it being selfish. This is the most serious attack against pacifism. The criticism is that pacfism is sort of an ultra piety that ignores the needs of the poor and oppressed. The real problem as I see it, is that Anabaptist pacifism came out of their own suffering. As they were being persecuted and killed post-reformation by Calvinists and Catholics, they chose to respond to their own suffering by turning the other cheek. As they migrated into America and Western Europe, and are finding themselves in freedom, peace and prosperity, they are facing a new challenge of being pacifist from the ivory tower. To be passionately pacifist in a peaceful nation is no great feat.

So why do I hang out with mennonites? Why do I call myself a pacifist? Does it mean anything? Well in some way I think I am standing in solidarity with Christians around the world, in places of war, who are choosing to "turn the other cheek." I'm a Mennonite out of respect for the many thousand Mennonites scattered through the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and throughout Northern Uganda, and the world, who are responding non-violently to their own oppression. It's not self-righteous. I don't think my pacifism means much of anything in America, and thus I've tried to be careful about how I talk about it. If anything I'm a agnostic or curious Mennonite: one who is fascinated by mennonites and wishes he could be one. Or to rephrase Kierkegaard, "I'm becoming" a mennonite. I think that people who are able to "turn the other cheek" have a better understanding of Christ than I do, and thus I'd like to learn from them.

What's absurd about my pacifism, is that, yes, I think I would kill a member of the janjaweed, Hitler, a terrorist, and many other people. The only difference is that I would never call it just or righteous. I would kill because I don't really believe God is active and working. I don't trust God so I take matters into my own hands. Pacifists pray for God's justice. Maybe this is what Christ is talking about with faith moving mountains. That's not to say we remain passive to people's oppression. Christian Peacemaker Teams are being killed while they stand up for those who are being oppressed. The mennonite church is very active in justice matters around the world. Possibly more so than any other church group.

So to conclude, part of why I'm a mennonite is out respect the way in which the church has historically responded to their own persecution, and is continuing to do throughout the world. I'm not really a mennonite because I'm a good pacifist. Its more that I think I can learn from people who are active pacifists. Try your hardest not to think of Relevant Magazine, Sojourners, Tony Campolo, Jim Wallis, Haurewas, Yoder, and especially myself, when you think of pacifism as a response to global injustice. Instead think of people who chose pacfism as a response to their own oppression. It's my hope that one day in my life I could respond the same way to my own oppression. I can't now though. Thoughts?