Author: Paul Louis Metzger

I was invited to speak at the historic Hawaiian church, Kawaiaha’o Church, on July 7. It was an honor to be with their congregation and share this message. You can listen to me deliver the sermon or read it below.

Where do you belong? To whom do you belong? These are the kinds of questions with which we live all our days—from childhood to our elder years.

Back in 1998, when my son (our oldest) was 3, we were in Japan, hoping to land a job, after finishing my course of doctoral studies. To make a long and tumultuous story short, our perfect picture and almost certain plans for a future in Japan came to a surprising and crashing halt. We were living out of suitcases, staying with relatives for a few months in Nagano, Japan, until we decided we should return to the States. One day during our long wait my son said to my wife: “Mama, let’s go home.” My wife later cried as she shared his words with me: “We have no home.” No home in the States where I am from, or England where we lived the past three years while I pursued my doctoral studies, or Japan where she is from. But we did have one another…

A few weeks ago, my elderly and widowed mother in Illinois shared with me how much she misses my father and how hard it is to be in transition: having moved from their home of many years to a smaller place, where he would eventually die as a result of cancer. My mother shared with me that what brings her comfort now is that no matter the setting Jesus is her home…

In Luke 10, we find that Jesus and his kingdom are his followers’ home, even in the midst of uncertain and difficult journeys. The disciples were living out of suitcases—perhaps empty ones. They had no home. All they had was him, but they found in due course that he was ultimately all they needed.

In Luke 10:1-24, we find that Jesus sends them out on mission to go before him into all the towns and villages where he would go and proclaim the good news of the kingdom embodied in him (Luke 10:1).

As we will soon see, there is nothing about his followers to brag about. Jesus brags about his Father’s grace in revealing the kingdom’s mysteries to them (Luke 10:21). It is the one who sends them who gives them their significance: his disciples find their significance in relation to him. Given who God is and who we are, we dare not speak for him. But given that God sends us out in relation to Jesus and calls us to speak the good news of the kingdom, we must speak!

There were so many places to go in such little time. As they set out, Jesus calls on them to pray for more workers: the harvest is plentiful and the workers are few (Luke 10:2); the need is so great and the time is so short. Jerusalem and the cross are getting closer and closer as Jesus quickens the pace. The Lord tells his disciples not to take anything for the journey, but to depend on God and the people of peace who will welcome them on their way (Luke 10:3-9). Jesus tells them to bless those who bless them, for the kingdom of God is near in his coming (and he is coming soon!) and to warn those who don’t welcome them, for the kingdom of God is near in his coming (Luke 10:8-12).

We see here in this passage how desperate his followers are for him. They depend on Jesus’ word and find their identity in relation to his call on their lives and his promise to take care of their every need (cf. Matthew 6:33). How dependent on the Lord are we, or do we look to find our security outside his call and promise to care for us?

What is most striking to me about this passage are the comparisons and superlatives Jesus makes.

Jesus is not some pop psychologist who sets everyone at ease by telling them “I’m okay. You’re okay.” Jesus is no prosperity gospel preacher who tells people to give to others, even to God, simply to get. Rather, he is a fiery prophet who condemns the inhospitable. He tells his contemporaries that it will be better for wicked Sodom on judgment day than for the town that does not welcome Jesus’ followers who are identified with him. Sodom’s wicked inhospitality pales in comparison with such townspeople’s rejection of him and his followers (Luke 10:12).

Just like Sodom over inhospitable places whose people do not welcome Jesus and his followers, it will be more tolerable for pagan Tyre and Sidon on judgment day than for Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum where Jesus performs miracles but to no avail. The people in these places reject Jesus and his message. Even Tyre and Sidon would have repented long ago if confronted with the miracles Jesus performed in the midst of these other places. Anyone who rejects Jesus’ followers rejects him, and anyone who rejects Jesus rejects his Father. That person’s fate will be most severe (Luke 10:13-16).

Are we like the people of Tyre and Sidon, or worse, Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum, when confronted with Jesus’ miraculous presence? Depending on how our lives answer that question, the outcome could be unbelievably wonderful or catastrophic.

The disciples return and are ecstatic as they share with the Lord that the demons submitted to them in his name (Luke 10:17). Jesus is not amazed, but rather matter of fact as he receives this news. He is not surprised. He’s been there and done that many times before; in fact, he’s done even better: he is there when Satan is cast from heaven like lightning. No wonder he has the authority to give them power over serpents and scorpions and Satan’s brood (Luke 10:18-20). But still, what should amaze his followers most is that Jesus has displayed his authority by writing their names down in heaven as their eternal destiny! This is where their hope should reside!

What defines us-casting out demons of whatever kind in Jesus’ name or being called and secured by Jesus? So often, I fear that I use Jesus for power encounters, getting my high from his power and anointing and benefits rather than from Jesus who truly benefits us. How I long to long for him from whom love and power and goodness flow. How I long to find my rest in him!

In closing, I wish to thank the church family here at the distinguished and historic Kawaiahao Church. There are no doubt many people who come through these church doors who long to experience the Aloha spirit that you have so graciously extended to my family and me this morning. Many who enter this memorable church may have homes, but don’t have anyone with whom to share life or who welcomes them home or who remembers them. Thank you for sharing your hearts and church home with all of us who visit here. I will never forget it. May all who enter here taste the Aloha of heaven and through your grace and care for them come to trust in Christ Jesus and journey to their eternal home.

This piece is cross-posted at Patheos and The Christian Post. Comments made here are not monitored. To join the conversation, please comment on this post at Patheos.

This is part of a series of posts on the topic of Hawaiian theology. Start with part 1 and part 2.

Some may fear the loss of authoritative control when considering the possibility of how orality may shape textuality and theology generally. Whether we are aware of it or not, orality and other forces shape our approach to texts. Those we deem authoritative shape our readings of texts. Schools of thought develop around those who are deemed authoritative.

Take for example Jesus. In Matthew 7:28-29, we find that Jesus is viewed as authoritative, as his teaching is compared favorably with the teachers in his day. No doubt, it had something to do with the nature of his claims, which were staggering in terms of how he viewed his uniqueness and his teaching’s import for their lives. Notice how he compares himself favorably with the Law–seeing his teaching and work as the fulfillment of the Law and how his disciples’ righteousness must surpass that of the religious leaders if they are to attain eternal life (Matthew 5:17-20). The wise build their lives on his teaching, which is to do the will of his very own Father, who is in heaven. Those who fail to build their lives on  his word do so to their eternal peril (Matthew 7:21-27).

As we move forward in Matthew’s gospel, we see more and more clearly how there is complete consonance between Jesus’ words and life. May that be true of all of us who are teachers!

I have noticed in the Hawaiian context how it is even more significant than it is in the continental U.S. that one is connected relationally–having relational authority, including the need to make relational connections to those with whom one speaks. Authority in this context is earned increasingly, as the relational connections are built. One needs more than degrees and titles and resumes. They have their place. But they can never replace what is of paramount importance–relational connections.

Authority can be imposed on people. But such authority does not win people’s love–only their spite and hate. In contrast, Jesus wins people’s hearts by laying down his life for them, not by ruling oppressively over them. The kind of authoritative orality arising from Jesus that forms his rabbinic school is shaped ultimately by his sacrificial life offered up for his students, not sophisticated rhetoric that may wow people’s intellect, but does not win their total trust.

Hawaiian theology as I envision it requires that its teachers give themselves, including their words. Only then are teachers truly deemed authoritative and their teachings worth writing about.

As challenging as it may be for those of us who teach in Hawaii (and elsewhere for that matter), we should become like Father Damien, the Catholic missionary who gave himself for the people at the leper colony on Molokai, not like the prototypical plantation overseer or luna. Only then are teachers truly deemed authoritative and their own teachings worth writing about.

This piece is cross-posted at Patheos and The Christian Post. Comments made here are not monitored. To join the conversation, please comment on this post at Patheos.

This is part of a series of posts on the topic of Hawaiian theology. Start with part 1.

The study of Hawaiian theology is a very intricate and fragile affair. The intricacies are bound up in part with the multi-ethnic reality of Hawaii. One must also account for the oral nature of communication historically and presently. One scholar here in Hawaii shared with me how difficult it is to study Hawaiian theology since Native Hawaiians have so often resorted to oral means of communication such as songs and chants to convey theological concepts.

How does an oral form shape a theology? For one, it suggests that personal connection to an authoritative link in the tradition of oral communication is essential. This authoritative link is viewed as a trustworthy and wise elder, not simply someone who has technical mastery of a skill or discipline in a particular field. Moreover, it requires that one take all the more seriously the recipient of the message’s own personal integrity and capacity to receive the communication. I recall the story of a discussion that took place between an elder in an indigenous community and his nephew. The nephew wished to receive wise instruction from his uncle. Before his uncle shared the information with the youth, he sized him up to see if he was mature enough and worthy of trust to share such instruction with him. The same level of scrutiny does not go into written forms of communication in that the personal connection is often lost. There is often no transmission from person to person, as in the case of person to person oral communication.

Moreover, the oral framing of theology suggests that there is greater flexibility since the process of communication is more dynamic and evolves more than with written communication. This statement should not be taken to suggest that there is no concern for precision in that in some contexts teachers and students go to great lengths to convey accurately the tradition. Nonetheless, oral communication involves a level of spontaneity and organic development often lacking in written communication. Once communication is fixed in writing, there is the tendency to fossilize it rather than see it as part of a growing, dynamic tradition.

One would hope that greater attention to the growing, dynamic nature of such a tradition would guard participants and students of such dialogical endeavors from becoming ideological and argue that their interpretation alone has validity. Rather, it is hoped that they situate themselves in a manner so that they listen to others’ perspectives and articulations of tradition in the effort to preserve and develop the tradition and keep the conversation going. It is my conviction that the dynamics that go into the making of Hawaiian theology convey a more open, egalitarian and less authoritarian posture than is found in many other contexts, for example, in the continental United States, for the heart of communication is talking story together in an ongoing, dialogical fashion.

Theological dialogues are more intricate and fragile than monologues in that there is give and take and response and differentiation as well as synthesis as the dialogue proceeds. Any relationship that is truly relational is intricate and fragile and any textually based theology could learn a thing or two from a model of theology that is based in talking story. For theology to live it must be spoken and practiced in dialogical relation to others. I would much rather talk theological story around a table with people of one heart and unique perspectives than dictate from podiums to blank slate brains. Besides, the latter do not exist. Everyone has something to share. The real question is: will I take time to listen, learn, and enter into the conversation in a vulnerable and transparent manner that involves risk for all people at the table? To be continued…

This piece is cross-posted at Patheos and The Christian Post. Comments made here are not monitored. To join the conversation, please comment on this post at Patheos.

What is Hawaiian theology, and what goes into the making of it? The answers to these questions are far beyond my comprehension because there are so many facets to them. Still, they are worth exploring. This post begins to explore them. Along these lines,  it is worth addressing questions of cultural preservation as well as transformation and the contextualization of the gospel in the Hawaiian culture, as with any culture. Not that one ever answers fully such questions, but if one is not addressing them, it is quite likely that by default dominant and even hegemonic cultural forces that may be alien though present to the Hawaiian context (or any context for that matter) end up co-opting and reframing the categories in service to empire so that what is distinctively Hawaiian is lost.

These are not esoteric issues to me that have no pertinence to my life and work, or those for whom I care. I constantly reflect upon them wherever I am—whether in places like the Pacific Northwest, England, Japan, or in Hawaii, where I am teaching a class on comparative theology presently. In this course, I am analyzing categories and themes present in many forms of Western theology and Black theology, as well as giving sustained consideration to theology developed in distinctively Hawaiian terms. My ethnically diverse colleagues and I in the class are wrestling through these issues in a robust manner. I have found our discussions very enriching and thought-provoking.

We have noted the complexity of getting at a distinctive Hawaiian theology, and for numerous reasons. For one, there is the multi-ethnic texture of Hawaiian culture. It is not uniform. Given that such diversity is not separated out into various remote spheres, but is lived out in close proximity to other ethnic heritages on a small group of islands, one has to be able to articulate how the various ethnic strands distinctively contribute to the making of a uniquely Hawaiian theology where their particularity is accounted for in synthetic and dialectical relation.

Some Hawaiian jokes and songs reverberate with generalizations that speak to the cultural particularities and how they come together on these islands, such as “Mr. Sun Cho Lee” by Keola and Kapono Beamer. The song closes with words getting at how amazing it is that the various ethnic groups can live together given how much fun they poke at one another.

One cannot develop a theology based simply on such songs, although they do shed some light on the situation. Theology has to move beyond sound bites. As Hawaiians themselves say, people need to “talk story with one another.” In other words, people need to enter into dialogue to unpack the meaning of such songs’ lyrics, even challenging the generalizations where appropriate. People and their cultures are more than generalizations. While generalizations have some staying power because they get at certain dynamics that are present in a given culture, they are often reductionist in outcome. Thus, it is important to immerse oneself in people’s lives in given cultural settings, getting to know their stories and the songs and chants that arise from within their souls and what gives rise to them. Such inquisitiveness and curiosity do not convey weakness and an infantile mindset, but rather an expansive spirit. Moreover, such qualities are essential to the development of contextualized theologies against the backdrop of amorphous and hegemonic theologies of empire. To be continued…

This piece is cross-posted at Patheos and The Christian Post. Comments made here are not monitored. To join the conversation, please comment on this post at Patheos.