In the meantime, I wrote a book review for a group called the Ecclesia Collective out in San Diego.  The link to that is here:

http://ecclesiacollective.org/reviews/book-review-hokey-pokey

It’s not quite what this blog is designed for, but I might as well post something here.

I’m currently reading Walter Wink’s The Powers That Be, and he does the same with several of Jesus’ statements about not resisting an enemy, including:

“You have heard that it was said, An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.”  (Mt 5:38-39 ESV)

Taken at face value, Jesus’ words seem to imply a passivity towards violence and domination, suggesting that Christians should be weak-willed and cowardly when faced with an oppressor.  However, Wink’s analysis of the cultural and political context brings forth more subtle meanings that present a much different approach to facing an enemy, each of which overcome the patterns of suppression and restore humanity and dignity to the marginalized.

Like in many cultures today, Jewish people reserved their left hand for unclean tasks, and therefore would hit other people only with the right hand.  In order to hit someone on the right cheek (as the passage says), one would have to use the back of the hand – a slap when someone of a higher social standing wishes to disrespect or demean someone of a lower class.  So, by turning the left cheek towards an assailant, the person would prevent a second slap, essentially making a person be  hit ‘straight up.’  Wink explains that for Jewish people of the time, to hit someone with a closed fist suggested equality between both parties.  In essence, then, turning the other cheek means that the second blow would not be demeaning or dehumanizing; Jesus’ words suggest a way for the attacked to assert their honor and dignity even when others attempt to marginalize them.

In this case, a study of the cultural milieu reveals a completely different meaning in the text.  Many of the greatest insights by the most popular preachers today (Rob Bell comes to mind first) revolve around explaining cultural diffrences hand-in-hand with a particular passage of Scripture.  Often hearing these explanations totally turn around my understanding of a particular lesson or story.

All of this leads to an important question: does a surface-level reading of a text like this create more harm than good?  Should we approach all scriptural analysis with the assumption that we need to know all about the context to understand its meaning, or is it possible to learn the message from a straighforward, no-research reading?  Some diferences are subtle or benign, but others suggest great departures from a ‘simple read-through.’  How do we draw the line?  Should we leave all Bible study to the trained professionals – and the books they publish?  Should all Christians become experts in Roman and Jewish history?  To an untrained outsider, there is much of the Bible (and tghe Christian faith in general) that needs some extra explaining – shoukd we simply increase the level of study required?

It begins like this: “The high priest carries the blood of animals into the Most Holy Place as a sin offering, but the bodies are burned outside the camp.”

All religious systems and teachings structure existence; they define locations, actions, and people as either sacred or profane.  Religion is a force that provides order within the overwhelming chaos of life, and often the most sacred place within a religious tradition is called an axis mundi (lit. “world axis”), that point around which all life revolves and is based.  For the Israelites, the Most Holy Place was where the Glory of God lived, and there were strict limitations as to who and when people could approach that holy place.  There is a clear division between those things that are ‘profane,’ the bodies of the sacrifices.  They are taken outside of the camp where they cannot pollute society.  They are to be avoided and abandoned.

We move on. “And so Jesus also suffered outside the city gate to make the people holy through his own blood.”

One of the greatest mysteries of the Incarnation is the dramatic departure from the traditional ways of knowing God: God is the sum of all that is sacred and holy, and humanity has learned to keep the sacred away from the profane, to venerate and treat God with utter respect.  With the cross of Jesus, however, the incarnate God chooses to stay in the profane places, ultimately suffering the most profaning and humiliating death imaginable.  How can the concepts of sacred and profane remain distinct when the holy God allows such a defiling action to occur?

Jerusalem was the place for the Jewish people.  The temple (and Most Holy Place) were there, and people made pilgrimages to that site to make sacrifices and connect with God.  Jesus did not have similar aspirations – the only time Jesus went to Jerusalem it was to be arrested, tried, and crucified.

The passage continues: “Let us, the, go to him outside the camp, bearing the disgrace he bore.”

With this sentence the tables are turned: no longer involved in heady theological concepts, suddenly the command is to follow Jesus to those places of abandonment, enduring the suffering and disgrace that occurs on the edges of society.

Growth and ‘success’ are typically seen as getting closer and closer to ‘the center of things,’  Financial analysts dream of working on Wall Street, fashion designers long to live and work in Paris, and tech geeks plan ways to make it in Silicon Valley.  For each of their respective industries, those places are an axis mundi – “the” place you need to be if you want to make it, to be somebody.  They are the places of power and influence, of abundant financial and social capital, and these places exert a disproportionate influence on the world and its resources.

So the author of Hebrews challenges this view, instead saying we should stop seeking those places of influence, instead actively choosing to enter into those places of disgrace, abandonment, and misery.  On one level, this downward migration allows us to escape the insatiable and never-ending desire for success and influence, revealing that there remains much loneliness and brokenness in those places “at the top.”  But also, and more significantly, those rejected places have much to teach us because Jesus is there.  These deserted places offer us the opportunity to connect with the Jesus who rejected the ‘high and mighty’ locations in order to come down to be with us and create relationships with us.

The passage concludes. “For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come.”

In its most basic essence, the decision to move into a deserted place is a declaration of hope.  As an action full of symbolic meaning, it declares that those abandoned and ‘profane’ places have the potential to be touched by the restorative grace and goodness of God, and that God has already decided to participate in their sufferings and offer the joys that can only be discovered in knowing Jesus.

Poverty is a deep issue beyond simple material needs, and therefore it cannot be overcome through simple economic development alone: even as world hunger is eliminated, this basic ideological and social reality of “poverty” will remain unchanged. The divide between rich and poor is growing, and the poor are still ignored and marginalized.

Any attempt to end poverty must realize the depth of this issue. Sobrino’s says that these efforts must help the poor resolve – “Not only as the insatisfaction of their basic needs, but also as the ignorance and indignity to which they are condemned; the depredation of their cultures and the deviant offense which is done to them with respect to peoples of abundance.”

When faced with those situations of acute human suffering, it is all too easy to become numbed to the overwhelming horror of it all. People become statistics, and they lose their individuality, uniqueness, and humanity. Often, it takes those impassioned expressions of human emotion for us to realize the depth of their suffering – and to see them as human again. It took a mother’s impassioned grieving for her 2 murdered sons finally convinces the king to allow them a proper burial (2 Samuel 21), or the grief of Queen Esther to make the Babylonian king to realize the horror of his plans of genocide. Voices like Anne Frank and Elie Wiesel make it is possible to move past the overwhelming and sickening statistics to understand the full depth of the Holocaust.

Many people claim that, as advocates for the poor, they must be “a voice for the voiceless.” They must bring the concerns and stories of the poor to a society who cannot (or chooses not to) hear them. An important contribution, but it ignores the fact that the poor already have a voice and it is being ignored. Whatever work must be done must therefore help “Amplify their voices” as much as possible. Those who wish to help should not “champion their cause” but instead to work with them to enable the means to tell their own story.

The poor must be given the means of self-expression that will allow the rest of humanity to realize the reality of their sufferings and rediscover their inherent beauty and value as human beings – and the best way to do that is by encouraging and empowering their capacity for artistic expression. Through art the poor can tell their stories of marginalization, poverty and oppression in a way that allows the world to understand the reality of their experiences – making it human. It sounds a bit silly, but art just might be the next great means of fighting poverty.

Of course, this is not to say that “art,” as a pure form, will solve anything. Brutal poverty, starvation, and illness still exist today, and each demands pragmatic and creative solutions (the kind of program that an economist might develop). James had a similar criticism against people that ignored physical needs: “Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?” (James 2:15-16)

Even within James’ words is the implicit requirement to care for the lost humanity of the poor – from the beginning, he takes for granted that his audience will see the needy as “a brother or sister,” an assumption that should not be made today with our social systems that create distance between poor and non-poor. Even more, plans for economic development operate all too often as if those involved are simple “cogs in the machine,” where they fit into a master plan that ignores the cultural context or worldview, thereby reinforcing the ideology that the “Developed World” knows best, and that all others should take notes and abandon their ways of life.

The LORD takes his place in court;
he rises to judge the people.
The LORD enters into judgment
against the elders and leaders of his people:
“It is you who have ruined my vineyard;
the plunder from the poor is in your houses.
What do you mean by crushing my people
and grinding the faces of the poor?”
declares the Lord, the LORD Almighty. (Isaiah 3:13-15)

The prophets held the unique role of being God’s voice for the society: while the nation ignored and marginalized the impoverished, the prophets reminded the powerful that their wealth came through “grinding the faces of the poor.” The use of the word “face” is significant: those in power live at a distance from the poor and therefore they cannot cross the barriers that have been created to dehumanize their relationships with the poor. In ignorance (or perhaps downright malice) they cannot see that their actions harm and damaging fellow human beings. The oppressed have faces, stories, and are loved by God. The prophets’ voice made sure that they remembered that.

Ultimately, when Jesus came to earth he chose to live among the poor, (2 Cor 8:9, Php 2). He explained that he was sent for them in particular (Lk 4:18-21). And, in his life and teachings he aimed to humanize the poor, to know their names. Of all the characters Jesus mentions in his parables – a prodigal son, a shrewd woman, friends and family members – only one has a name: the beggar Lazarus (Lk 16:19-31), while the rich man in the parable remains nameless.

Jesus’ work with the poor cannot be reduced to the fact that he fed five thousand people, or that he was able to heal the crippled of their illnesses. What is most remarkable about Jesus was not these healings and miracles, but the fact that he removed their anonymity and restored their humanity while the rest of society ignores or marginalizes them. “It isn’t that Jesus healed lepers, it’s that he touched lepers.”

Jesus statement, “The poor will always be with you,” has been understood as a near-universal truth throughout human history. Poverty and hunger have defined life for the vast majority of the inhabitants of our planet for as long as human beings have walked the earth.

Spurred on by a remarkable combination of improved global infrastructure, creative thinking, advanced problem solving, and marketing appeal by Bono, there has been a recent departure from this view. Suddenly, those who strive to “Make Poverty History” aren’t ignored or dismissed as pie-in-the sky dreamers or idealists. Economists and policymakers are making pragmatic and well-executed plans to eliminate global hunger.

And, in many ways, this approach has done great things. Programs in many Latin American countries, and especially China & India, have grown healthy middle classes, and development plans have successfully fed the hungry, created jobs, and improved the quality of life for millions of our world’s poor. As the world begins to focus its energies on these major humanitarian crises, they are achieving results. Has Jesus’ observation been proven wrong?

One of the major issues that this program faces is a very simple one: exactly what is “poverty?” It’s a question with no easy answer, but certainly it goes beyond a simple materialistic definition of “lacking” some basic good. Jon Sobrino says: “We indeed believe that the generic term ‘poverty,’ with all its historical fluidity, has no substitute that expresses the negation and oppression of humanity, the shortage, the disdain, and that many millions of human beings do not have a voice or name.”

And that issue is far deeper than simple issues of hunger – that kind of poverty deals with long histories of prejudices, conflict, and exclusion.

The life that I led here before college was that of any typical high schooler.  Focusing on school, extracurriculars, and friends, on getting the driver’s license and video games.  Even though it’s only been a few days since I’ve graduated and moved back to my hometown, the thought of returning to this life after a very eventful senior year of college has been a bit of a shock.

More than any other (non-African) stage in my life, this past year I spent a great deal of my time and energy serving others.  Now, I didn’t do it as deeply or intentionally as I should have, but nonetheless it was a major part of my day-to-day life as I finished up at school.  At times, it was exhausting and disappointing.  But, throughout the entire year I never doubted that my service to others was in some way more real than the previous 3 years of college had been.  It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t always “successful,” but I learned a lot and I formed relationships with people I never would have met otherwise.

So, now I face the tension between the habits and lifestyle of my first 18 years, and the lessons and challenges of my past 2 years’ experiences.  I’m realizing the dangers of an artificial, suburban way of living that ignores and marginalizes the suffering that exists in this city.  Not trying to be cold-hearted or malicious, the culture sets up barriers and boundaries against these experiences because they challenge and scare us so deeply – but in the process of separating ourselves from suffering we end up closing ourselves in, as well.  It seems more artificial and less real than what I had (only briefly) experienced during the past year.

“Woe to you who add house to house
and join field to field
till no space is left
and you live alone in the land.” Isaiah 5:8

When Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt, it was easy to think they had everything set: they left with the plunder of the entire country, they had a God-given leader, and they had daily guidance and provision from God. It seemed their future was golden, but they ultimately spend 40 years wandering in the desert essentially learning how to be a people of God.

Turns out, they weren’t exactly ready to make a full transition – there was still a great deal of Egyptian culture within them. There’s a common phrase: “It took 4 weeks to get the Israelites out of Egypt, but 40 years to get Egypt out of the Israelites.” Their longing for Egyptian food (Ex 16:3), water (Num 20:2-4), and security (Num 14:1-3) shows how their affinity for the life they had experienced as slaves.

But even then, there never really was a clean break with Egypt. Their Egyptian captivity remained central to the basic concept of Israelite identity, and they were to remind themselves of that fact over and over again. When they presented the firstfruits of the soil to the priests, they were instructed to say the following words:

“My father was a wandering Aramean, and he went down into Egypt with a few people and lived there and became a great nation, powerful and numerous. But the Egyptians mistreated us and made us suffer, putting us to hard labor. Then we cried out to the LORD, the God of our fathers, and the LORD heard our voice and saw our misery, toil and oppression. So the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with great terror and with miraculous signs and wonders. He brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey; and now I bring the firstfruits of the soil that you, O LORD, have given me.” (Deuteronomy 26:5-10)

Every year, the Israelites were to repeat this story, to imprint the narrative into their basic identity. Their past still impacted and influenced them, not only as a vague sense of personal history but also in shaping how they treated their fellow human beings. So often the commands of the Pentateuch come with the admonition, “Remember you were slaves in Egypt,” for commands as diverse as obeying the Sabbath (Deut 5:15) to caring for the homeless among them (Deut 24:17). Their past shaped who they were (their identity) and also how they acted and behaved on a day-to-day basis.

Even the other drastic changes throughout the Bible are not complete breaks with the past. Even Paul, perhaps the most dramatic convert who forsook a life of legalism and fundamentalism for a message of grace and hope, never fully distanced himself from his past life. Nonetheless, he recognized that this growing faith in the risen Christ was supported by its “root” of Judaism and its religious practices (Ro 11:18).

Closure is a good thing. It helps us prepare the future without the ‘baggage’ that blinds us to future possibilities. Nonetheless, our current identity and personhood is not simply a statement of where we are at this moment. We are the product of our pasts: the years of experience in different environments all have contributed to who we are, and they will continue to have a strong impact on our lives for a very long time.

So, as I graduate from college, the task is to remember all the experiences, the lessons, the relationships. I should recognize that they will always play a role in shaping who I am at any moment in my life. Even though I move on from one phase of life, I will still be deeply connected to and changed by the people I’ve met, the struggles I’ve faced, the times I’ve failed, and the grace that’s been in it all.

]]> http://ericlange.wordpress.com/2008/05/17/moving-on-severing-all-ties/feed/ 0 ericlange http://ericlange.wordpress.com/2008/05/11/losing-self/ http://ericlange.wordpress.com/2008/05/11/losing-self/#comments Sun, 11 May 2008 05:11:33 +0000 ericlange http://ericlange.wordpress.com/?p=56 ]]> Much of the joy and struggle in following Jesus is the abandonment of self in order to follow the pattern and example of Jesus. It’s a path of self-denial, of choosing to suppress one’s own desires and prerogatives in order to accept a lower position (which, ultimately brings life and joy to others – 2 Cor 8:9).

“Nobody should seek his own good, but the good of others.” 1 Corinthians 10:24.

This concept is different than simple ‘volunteerism,’ or ‘philanthropy’ (when interpreted with the worst connotations) in that the act of service is life-changing and challenging: it requires the individual to abandon certain methods and patterns of life in order to reach out to others (with the promise that they will find Jesus in that action – Mt 25:40).

At a very simple level, this attitude is evident in how a follower of Jesus will resolve disputes: Paul simply says that it’s always better to be cheated and wronged than to create divisions between groups (2 Corinthians 6:6-8).

This attitude is fundamentally at odds with the “stand up for yourself” attitude, certainly, but it certainly doesn’t mean simply “be a pushover,” or “be a nice guy.” Because, when this attitude is taken to its extreme – taking up one’s own cross to follow Jesus (Mk 8:34) – this service is an intentional act of self-giving that becomes a strong challenge to the status quo. Jesus’ death on a cross – the ultimate act of self-denial – challenged the political, religious, and social systems of power of his day, ultimately defeating them in his resurrection. Jesus’ life hints at how, through submission (and being cheated), one can overcome oppression by transcending it.

This self-denial should be a complete act that transforms all aspects of life. The prophet Zechariah challenges a group of priests whose spiritual focus was not properly centered:

“And when you were eating and drinking, were you not just feasting for yourselves?” Zechariah 7:6

This act of self-giving seems to be quite complete, and something that should occur at every level. There’s the high-level, conceptual act of ‘taking up your cross,’ and also the simple thing of realizing why (or for whom) one eats their meals. Every aspect of life is changed and transformed when someone stops living for themselves and begins to think of God and others (Mark 12:29-31).

So how far does this go? Can it get down to every moment? Or, at some point does a person lose his/her individuality and personality for the sake of ‘being others?’ Or, is it only then that we can truly understand who we were meant to be in the first place?

‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’ (Matthew 25:40)

It’s a pretty sentence, and it’s also a nice idea. No one’s against serving the poor as concept. The problem is when it stays at this idealistic level – when the poor begin to have names and faces, serving them can become far more difficult.

Sometimes, the ‘least of these’ are inarticulate. They can be slow to “get it.” They aren’t pretty. They can even smell really bad. Even worse, they’ll take advantage of your good nature. They don’t really want help – they just want to use you.

So how do we respond in that situation? Some might say that these weren’t the type of people Jesus mentioned, and that “you gotta be smart” to make sure that you’re dealing with the right people. It’s too easy to waste time, energy, and money on people that will never change.

As Jesus went on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him.

While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew’s house, many tax collectors and “sinners” came and ate with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and ‘sinners’?” (Matthew 9)

Certainly one thrust of this criticism is that Jesus has chosen to identify with a group of pariahs, social outcasts and marginalized peoples – and that Jesus is somehow dirtied or changed in the process.

But this question can also be read as a type of warning. Ask a typical Jew of the time who, of all the people in society, is the greatest cheater, he/she would undoubtedly say a tax collector, someone who cooks the books to increase personal profit by selling out their nationally heritage to collect money for Rome. The fact is, Jesus was associating with people who, in essence, made a living out of using people. Why would they treat Jesus any differently?

So what was different about Jesus? What makes him able to interact with tax collectors and not be cheated, to be around drunkards and suddenly they all magically sober up? I’m sure Jesus had a finely tuned sense of divine discernment – he could cut to the core of every person, see through their crap, and transform their lives.

“Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, ‘Jesus, Master, have pity on us!’

When he saw them, he said, ‘Go, show yourselves to the priests.’ And as they went, they were cleansed.

One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.

Jesus asked, ‘Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine?’” (Luke 17:11-17)

So, even though Jesus ‘helped’ all ten people, only one person had the goodness to return to Jesus. Did Jesus’ healing simply not work?

Fact is, it’s much easier to only focus on ‘the good ones,’ giving up on those bad eggs that just don’t seem to get better. But that’s the major challenge – as we become more and more like Christ, I suppose we get better at seeing the beauty in every person, acknowledging they were made in God’s image and are deeply loved by their Creator. And it’s my own personal sinfulness that most often keeps me from seeing that.