Legend has it that the young St. Francis of Assisi had a deep seated fear and disgust of lepers and avoided them at all cost. Then, one night, Jesus appeared to Francis in a dream, instructing him to give the kiss of fellowship to the first leper he saw. Francis woke up sweating bullets, and as soon as he stepped out the door, he sees, of course, the most rancid looking leper in town limping down the street. After a moment’s hesitation, Francis walks right up to the leper and obediently kisses him, at which point the leper shows Himself to have been Jesus all along.
Now leprosy may not quite be the socially divisive scourge it was then, but since moving to Portland, I’ve noticed an ironically similar tendency in myself and others. It seems that the wider church (or at least traditionalist and seeker-sensitive churches) have become lepers of sorts for more “missional” or “emergent” churches. And bashing the church has become a method of evangelism. In fact, I’ve seen several churches that seem to include an antipathy towards the wider church as part of their very identity as a church community, if I can be forgiven the obvious hypocrisy in such an observation. Rarely a church service goes by for these churches that they do not pat themselves on the back for not being apart of the Religious Right.
One of the main reasons for the criticism is the seeker-sensitive or attractional model so popular in the wider church, a model that has a tendency to increase one church’s numbers at the expense of other churches in the area and at the expense of the church’s wider mission. But by distancing ourselves from the wider church, we’re not only guilty of the same crime, we’re taking it to a whole new level! We’re now throwing the whole church, rather than just a few local churches, under the bus for the sake of our evangelistic efforts (and sometimes… just maybe… for the sake of our pride). Instead of hiring a U2 knock-off as a worship band or building a multi-million dollar church building, we attract people by telling them, “We’re just like you: we don’t like those guys (conservatives, complementarians, republicans, dispensationalists, etc.) either.”
Rather than admitting that we in the church are all a messy mix of broken people still in need of God’s grace, we like to distance ourselves from those who are different, even within the church and even though we hardly have things together either. But whether we’re focused on distancing ourselves from homosexuals or homophobes, the effect is ultimately the same: a distorted gospel and a hindered witness. We could all be reminded that the church’s unity will itself show the world that Jesus was sent by God (John 17:23). All this isn’t to say that there isn’t a place for criticism (Jesus’ criticism was mainly directed to the religious conservatives of His day), but to question how we go about it (first of all, we’re not Jesus and we’re not perfect either) and to question where we find our identity (in the church or a theology/ideology).
And so, I must ask myself and these well meaning churches: would you kiss Joel Osteen? Pat Robertson? Glenn Beck? What about good ole W.? And before any fundies get too excited, would you kiss Obama? Greg Boyd? How about Rob Bell right in the middle of one of his… patented… pauses… for… effect?
You are so right. I’ve been wrestling with this a bit lately too. True community as being those who you least likely to surround yourself with (as Nouwen puts it) takes on a whole new meaning. In a lot of ways this is what God has been doing in my life since leading me to a conservative, evangelical seminary. Not that I don’t hold to conservative theology, but my background, upbringing, social views and experiences often vary greatly from the people I’m sitting with in class. Not in obvious ways. (Yeah, I’m a white, middle class American. How diverse.) But in much more subtle, personal ways.
I often struggle with the desire you explored to separate myself from those I think have given Christianity a bad rep (but helloo I am just as much culpable as the next). I have been realizing lately that this whole, “loving those who are not like you” concept hits way more closer to home than I thought. I have naively had a much more narrow scope on what that entailed (such as hanging out with a family from a different country, mentoring a 10 year old from a low-income neighborhood, or hanging out with homeless people). Yet in many ways, these people just may be more like me, and more enjoyable to be around, than my colleague sitting next to me in class.
My point is, I think we tend to pick and choose who those “different people” are that we are going to love, and you are right, often times they are the people right out our front door, not (just) the people on the other side of the city that we rarely even see.
Love the dialogue! Okay, here is the problem I’m havng with this “kiss the leper” business. To cut to the chase, I’m having to look at this issue from a “what does it mean to love one’s ‘enemy?'” I’m okay talking about loving the “other” (in fact I think I’m making some strides there) but “enemy”? For starters, it puts me in a pretty bad light to admitt that I even have enemies but what else do I call this person who has hurt me so deeply? What do I call this person who has shattered trust and insisted on defining me as someone who is “less than” him? Does God expect me to “kiss” him? What does “love enemy” look like? If I’m honest, I have no ideal at the moment, what it would mean for me to love this person. For know I can simply acknowledge that I feel a little bit defensive (not from you in any way) having been confronted by the outrageous command of Christ who said “love enemy” which, not surprisingly, is the same person who told Francis to kiss a leper! Greater post, keep’em coming.
“And bashing the church has become a method of evangelism.” I just did this very thing last week. And then this week I met with the same non-Christian and did the opposite. I can’t seem to make up my mind!
I appreciated your post, especially in light of our recent conference on Lifestyle Evangelism. I have found myself more and more tearing down the church only to reconstruct my own version of it in my own image. I suppose I think that I am a better evangelistic tool than the couple hundred people I fellowship with; those that pray for me, help me, love me and teach me. Of course this goes quite contrary to being known by our love for one another because this non-Christian is almost never offered the opportunity to participate in the love we have for one another. I admit I am working on identifying more with my family, as torn and tattered as it is, because ultimately I am bad witness on my own. Thank you.
Hi, so really an insightful piece, fun to read and challenging but I have a question I was hoping your group might be able to help me with which I believe relates to this and many other issues you have posted about of late.
My querry then is if faith is the ultimate standard for addressing the darkness in the world, in the church and in our hearts, if the only answer that will truly satisfy the cynicism hardened atheist as well as the fellowship starved, once-devotee, is that when they assault us we graciously accept as Christ did and trust that God will make all things right (a paraphrasing of turning the other cheek and finding God in the silence and horror of pain and suffering in the world) then isn’t there a kind of mystical disconnect, not un-common to enlightenment, oneness with the Tao, the Sufi drunken, love-filled, poetry induced rapture, the Greek divine madness, in short the acknowledged reality in these mentioned (and many others ommitted) of various attempts to be faithful within history, past and present, of a state wherein the truth is made apparent and before entering which truth at best can be engaged in fragments that inspire as much despair as hope?
To put it another way, I agree with you that aside from a faithful pursuit and love of the Lord it would prove beyond difficult to offer anything close to an answer to questions of God’s role in the world, much less our own. And beyond that, to perhaps realize that the questions we ask are problematic, are in fact the wrong questions. But my quandry regards not this most probable state of affairs, instead I wonder if this is in fact the case, can anything other than a joint venture towards that otherwordly experiential lifestyle prove utlimately useful?
Is this making any sense? I apologize for using mainly non-christian-centric termonology in a forum that is necessarily and wonderfully christian-centric, but I feel that any answer that is incapable of being expressed in non-specialized vocabulary is really of very little use to anyone. Not that I am implying that is the bent of an answer I would find here, but that I would be loathe to invite such an answer via a poorly worded question.
So my hat off to anyone with the time or interest to assist me. Oh, and please, should the opportunity arise, tell Brandon I say, “Hi beautiful”.
“Love the enemy” definitely takes it to a new level, Chris, I wasn’t even thinking in those terms.
To love the “other”, as in the outsider, is always easier. In that situation, one has the power, and one can still pat oneself on the back for being willing to lay aside that power to embrace the outsider. But an enemy is an enemy because they have power, so to love an enemy really puts yourself out there. It says that even though you don’t have the power, you’re still willing to make yourself vulnerable, even towards someone who is a threat to you. Even though you’re likely to get burned in the process.
In light of that, maybe I should clarify that I do think at times it is necessary to point out to people who have been hurt by Christians that the behavior that has hurt them is not acceptable and goes completely against Jesus’ teachings, keeping in mind that we all are both victims and victimizers in our own way.
And Rachel, that’s a great point. We have been handed an tradition, none of us have simply tripped over a Bible, started reading it, and came to Christ all on our own. We owe so much to those who have come before us in the faith, even if we do have criticisms. What a beautiful image, when you stop to think about it.
Adam, I hope I’m understanding you. I take your question as “is this kind of pursuit of peace and well-being possible if one doesn’t see oneself as a part of a greater movement towards God that includes other religious expressions?”
Some would respond that we can only act self-sacrificially because Christ did it first, which as anyone with much exposure to other religions knows is bunk: many have acted self-sacrificially in other religious contexts throughout history.
For me, the difference hinges on the divinity of Christ. In the New Testament, it is Christ’s humiliation, His coming down from heaven, that makes His death important and unique. Many Jews were executed by crucifixion around the same time, and many for noble causes. In the New Testament, the importance is never that Jesus simply stood up for truth or love, although He did and paid the price for doing so. The importance is the double movement: God came down to the lowest of low in the person Jesus, and was raised from the dead and back to the highest of high (Phil 2 for example).
All that to say, that is why I see a qualitative difference between Christ’s death and the death of a Christian martyr or anyone else of any religion who suffers for love or truth. I would applaud their courage and determination, and not just brush it off lightly as a meaningless death or meaningless suffering, as some Christians do. But I would add that at best we are imitating Christ’s suffering and death, never doing the same thing or accomplishing the same thing. Hopefully that distinction makes sense.
Any other thoughts?
Thanks for tackling that so quickly. Your point is eloquently made and I would agree that when confronted with the question of “aren’t well all after the same thing” the divinity of Christ is a wonderfully divisive (in the best sense of the word) point of divergence since it both elevates Him while denying not the divinity say, but at least the comparative authority of other gods (John 3:16’s wording being hard to misread).
A thought with regard to this line fo reasoning, Krishna, the sometimes supreme being and sometimes avatar of Vishnu was also born of an immaculate conception, was hunted as a baby by a king that felt threatened by him, lived a human life performing miracles and in some accounts died. Granted the differences are far more numerous and the notion of a sacrificial act on god’s part for mankind’s behalf does not stand to reason with the vedic faiths, or at least would be most difficult to argue. However I simply thought I would draw the comparison as food for thought. Particularly Krishna Conciousness (george harrison’s gig) bears striking resemblences to Christianity.
Now I make these observations not as a psuedo-intellectual under-researched challenge to the legitimacy of the Christian faith or the wonder of Christ, but rather because they are both fascinating and, for me, encouraging. It, if nothing else, lends credence to the notion that God has always made Himself accessible, even if we have failed to engage Him; His attributes and nature manifesting in a variety of contexts.
However my previous post, while poorly worded, was not exactly inclined in that direction.
What I meant to ask was, given that the only way to know something is to know it, and to know it we most likely have to experience it are we not, perhaps, limiting ourselves and God, or perhaps God then ourselves?
I do not believe that all religions are the same, that all gods are the same, that all are equally true. To say so would betray nothing other than a startling lack of reading and knowledge on my part. Many faiths are pointedly different and will say so to anyone with the time to inquire.
Their stated goals also differ. Markedly.
My question is more geared at the seeming inability to prove something ever, vs. the seeming ease of discussing a shared belief with someone who has had the same or a similar experience.
And with this in mind I wonder if the leap from expereincing God in a variety of contexts is surmountable? Is it so unlikely that God exists and always has existed within the culutres that have never used the greek word Jesus that we cruelly separate from the Hebrew word Yeshua and the English word Joshua? It would make more sense for an omnipresent omnipotent Creator to be both of those things. It may appear that I have returned to the all streams to one sea arguement but I assure this is not the case, the difference may appear subtle but it my mind it is vast.
Finding God in a full sense would necessitate experiencing Him in more than one context, I should think. And so I suppose my question is do you feel this context must be one that in culturally/linguistically/geographically specific? Even historically?
To save some time, I am vaguely familiar with the work of Charles Kraft and wrote my thesis on the interaction between Christianity and Japan which led to the religions failure to become a power there. To that effect I am aware of the arguement that Christ and His teachings transcend culture, I would rally around that cry happily, but I would champion it not as our European crafted, western value infused Christianity being capable of integration in any place at any time. Instead I would agree that God can be Himself anywhere at anytime. And with that in mind, to put it even more simply (forgive the needless labrynthine nature of this diatribe) can we find God anywhere in any situation and if so are we only willing to find Him in certain forms at certain places and if that is also true, what does that say about us and our belief in and experience of God?
always a pleasure
Okay, I think I have a better idea of what you’re asking, and I didn’t mean to imply you were denying the divinity of Christ or were making the “all streams lead to the sea” argument. Really interesting points. I’m not familiar with Charles Kraft, but I definitely think it’s interesting that when Christians have immersed themselves in a culture, used their vocabulary for God/gods, and started with whatever mutual experience, they’ve consistently found much greater success (from what little I know, it sounds like you are much more knowledgeable on the subject) than by imposing some entangled Western-cultural-religious package on them.
But on the other hand, Christ was a culturally/linguistically/geographically specific person. And so in that sense, I wonder if He and His teachings don’t transcend culture. It might be helpful to think that He, His teachings, and even the Bible as a whole always need to be translated and retranslated, even just with myself. That may help with the danger of domesticating Him by me or my context, or by a culture as a whole (the West has some great examples of that – the German Christians under Hitler!).
So to give a hopelessly simplistic and short reply, I think you’re right on. To use your words and hopefully to better connect things back to your original thoughts, we should definitely look to see God’s workings everywhere, but we should exercise some caution: if we see God everywhere it should make us wonder if we are truly seeing God anywhere, or maybe not hearing His “no” along with His “yes” to us and our cultures. But Christians (maybe humanity?) as a whole tend to err on the side of limiting God by being blind to the truth in other cultures and historical eras, I would definitely agree (or say if that’s not your intention). Hopefully you can see my logic, I’ve wandered around a bit and don’t have time to clean it up :). It’s always hard to trade short (or I guess fairly long?) posts on such a complex issue with someone you don’t know, I hope I’m doing justice to your questions.
It definitely sounds like you have some well-thought out contentions behind those questions… if you’d like to write a post developing it a little more, we’d be happy to post it (probably… I’d have to check with the blogging team) and then you might be able to get some more feedback than just me :)… you can email me an attachment if you’re interested. We’ve been trying to keep posts under 750 or so words, but we’re flexible.
God’s yes and His no, I like that. I will have to think about that, for some time no doubt. Thanks.
I will try to send something your way once I frame it into something more concise. Thanks again.