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Fight Club

This piece was originally published at Patheos on January 16, 2013.

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Aggressive men wrestlingI watched Fight Club the other night. It took me several tries to sit down and watch it all the way through. It’s not the easiest film to watch, but it is one of those movies that will be difficult to forget any time soon. Moreover, the story so encapsulates the traumatic experiences of a significant number of men in our society; so long after the memories of scenes from the movie have faded, I will have instant recall of lives in pain as violence committed against others rages on in our culture.

I won’t go into it all now, but I do hope to reflect upon the movie further in various ways in future posts. Here are my immediate musings.

A young unnamed man we’ll call “Jack” (played by Edward Norton) can’t come to terms with having been raised without a dad. His dad split when he was a child and set up franchises of bedding wives and producing kids in various places, causing the same relational wounds the size of a man wherever he went.

In the effort to come to terms with his pain and the loss of a childhood and failure to become a man, Jack takes to fighting. He starts a fight club that evolves and grows and goes nationwide. In the movie, men like Jack die and rise again every night as they beat on one another. They can identify and locate their pain as it sears their bloodied and bruised bodies. They are not seeking to medicate their pain or eradicate it, but identify with one another in experiencing the pain of the depression that is their purposeless lives. Such men know hedonism won’t save them; it’s simply the other side of the nihilism that’s closing in to write them off. So they fight; perhaps through chaos comes order. Then again, perhaps not.

As profoundly disturbing as Fight Club is, it speaks to the need for people to share their pain with others. While there are no doubt many significant ways that men can grieve the apparent loss of their manhood rather than pour out violence on spouses and children, among others, coming together to listen to one another grieve serves to heal old wounds. Such safe and authentic spaces do exist, though I am sure they are often hard to find.

I know of one such place. A friend of mine is an African American pastor. Pastor Clifford Chappell helps African American men come to terms with low self-esteem. He calls this work Man-Up. Man-Up includes “Huddles” where men form relationships in small groups in safe places where they can share and release their pain. Pastor Chappell says the pain and trauma these men experience go back in many cases to the slave block, where families were divided and where the white masters became lords over the homes of their African American slaves. Many slave owners made sure to indoctrinate their male slaves that they had no worth or dignity other than what their owners allowed them to have. Man-Up would work for all men, irrespective of color. Why? Male rage today, whether white or black or that of another hue, is often bound up with realizing that our futures have been squandered. We deserve more, but all we will ever get is far less. This self-realization makes us very angry.

Instead of tapping out, let’s tap in as men as we find our humanity in sharing the loss of it with one another. Maybe we can help one another find it again. Don’t internalize and suppress it; you’ll get ulcers, perhaps even commit suicide. Don’t externalize it by beating on others, dehumanizing them, calling other men boys and robbing them of their dignity at the slave block of various forms of seemingly manly competition. Rather, personalize the pain by sharing life with other men, honestly confessing the loss of our innocence and manhood and locating it once again in relationship. Don’t go to therapy and addiction groups where you fake an addiction, like Jack did earlier in the movie. Rather, be honest with your addiction. Don’t rage against it. Real men don’t rage. Real men confess. As unbearable as the disease of lost manhood can be, we will only come to find it in relation to other men and also women and children. Together we can grieve so that together we can someday rejoice in having discovered and shared in our corporate humanity again.

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Moving Beyond the Christian-Muslim Impasse

This piece was originally published at Middle East Experience on January 1, 2013 and is reproduced here with permission.

Challenging Evangelical Assumptions

co-authored by Paul Louis Metzger and John W. Morehead

iStock_000008529485XSmallEvangelicals face enormous challenges in the pluralistic public square in the 21st century, especially among Muslims. Suspicion and fear of Muslims exist in many quarters as a result of 9/11 and other radical Muslim acts of terror in places like Spain and London and some bad habits about how most of us absorb news. We firmly believe that radical Muslims do not represent the majority of Muslims in the West, who have repeatedly disavowed terrorism. Clearly, most Muslims in the U.S. seek to live out their Muslim faith in ways that affirm and resonate with American values.

Yet many evangelicals disagree. According to one study, “Nearly 6-in-10 white evangelical Protestants believe the values of Islam are at odds with American values, but majorities of Catholics, non-Christian religiously unaffiliated Americans, and religiously unaffiliated Americans disagree.” In what follows, we make two recommendations intended to challenge Evangelical assumptions and allow us to move beyond any Christian-Muslim impasse and promote greater understanding in the pursuit of peace.

First, we believe that the Evangelical encounter with Islam must not be driven primarily by fear or by a concern for orthodox doctrine (important as that is), but instead by orthopathy. Orthopathic theology refers to the emotional aspect of the Christian life, and while Evangelicals often put great emphasis on orthodoxy (sound doctrine) and orthopraxy (right practice), we sadly neglect orthopathy as the driving force that flows from the command to love God and neighbor (Mk. 12:30-31).

Our colleague Terry Muck has described interreligious dialogue as “an expression of a fundamental emotion or attitude toward people who believe differently on the most important aspects of life.” If Evangelicals are to move beyond a suspicion and fear-based approach to Islam, we must come to love our Muslim neighbors as ourselves and rediscover a theology and practice of orthopathy that complements and supports biblical orthodoxy.

We have sought to engage various religious traditions in this way personally and professionally for many years.  Paul’s book, Connecting Christ: How to Discuss Jesus in a World of Diverse Paths, and John’s edited volume, Beyond the Burning Times: A Pagan and Christian in Dialogue by Philip Johnson and Gus diZerega, exemplify this quest. Paul’s volume presents a sympathetic and fair portrait of the views of other religious traditions and gives representative figures of these traditions the last word. John’s collection brings together representatives from two warring religious groups, hostile to one another for a very long time, into a dialogue without compromise.

Our work with the Foundation for Religious Diplomacy through its Evangelical Chapter also provides significant opportunities for meaningful engagement. Without eroding our convictions, we learn to approach adherents of the traditions no longer as the “other” but as friends. A desire for greater understanding has led to greater affection for these neighbors of other spiritual paths. As a result, we have come to see them, including Muslims, as they would like to be understood, and they have come to a better understanding of our biblically framed Evangelical faith.

Second, in keeping with the desire to love our religiously diverse neighbors, we recommend exposing ourselves to a variety of resources for better understanding between Evangelical Christians and American Muslims. For example, we can draw from our respective Muslim and Christian religions scriptural resources that can lead us to value people of other perspectives and ways of life. We can all point to various texts and historical events that put the other group in a negative light. We need to go in search of texts and interpretations of texts that affirm one another’s humanity, seeking first and foremost common ground before we focus on what distinguishes us.  A hermeneutic of suspicion must give way to a biblical hermeneutic framed by the love of God. You’ll find a more positive biblical model in John’s article about an Evangelical approach to interreligious dialogue that weaves together the way of Christ, love for our neighbor, and the art of hospitality.

Similarly, we need to account for a wide diversity of news sources here and abroad, not limiting ourselves to our preferred programs and publications. For example, if you watch Fox News, then watch CNN, too. If you read World Magazine, read Religion Dispatches, too. We also need to become well-versed in what those from diverse traditions read and watch. Such familiarity will only serve to enhance our communication as we dialogue and respectfully debate how best to live together as Muslims and Christians, along with other groups, in America today. Our interest in what they read and watch as well as taking the time to learn to communicate more effectively with them will demonstrate our care for them and cultivate greater mutual understanding.

We would never have opened ourselves up to becoming more knowledgeable of other paths if we did not care for them. More problematic than ignorance is a hardness of heart. Without a desire to understand, we Evangelicals will never be willing to challenge our own assumptions and challenge diverse religious others’ assumptions of us.

This point came home once again to Paul, when the President of a local mosque told his world religions class recently that his movement had the hardest time engaging the Evangelical community: whereas liberal Christians accept them, Evangelicals are generally unwilling to change their preconceived, negative ideas about Muslims.

While it is important to hold firmly to biblical orthodoxy, it is also important to hold to biblical orthopathy. Why should we expect that Muslims along with others would ever take to heart what we have to say if we don’t take them to heart?  A change in their negative perceptions toward us will likely not occur unless we are willing to change our preconceived assumptions about them. By asking God first and foremost to change our hearts, we Evangelical Christians will be in a much better position to see Muslims for who they truly are rather than what we in fear make them out be.

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How to Sustain Jesus’ Justice Movement, Part 3

This piece was originally posted at Patheos on January 14, 2013.

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Jesus, Adam and EveDo you look at those you serve as the objects of your good will and charity or as subjects who shape you—even to the point of becoming your benefactors and friends? In discussing this subject with my colleague Beyth Hogue Greenetz, she said it is a lot more difficult to get burned out on serving people when they are your friends. It may very well have been the case that the same Mother Teresa who saw Jesus in those she served saw herself as the friend of those she served. Maybe this was one of the keys to the vitality of her work over the years.

One of Beyth’s and my ministry partners at New Wine, New Wineskins shared with a group of New Wine leaders of her encounter with a man asking for money at a traffic light. As she sat there in her car, she felt moved to give him some money. She told him “God bless you,” as she gave him the gift. The man smiled and thanked her. Seconds later, he came to the window a second time and said, “I have a box of pastries.  Someone gave it to me, but I cannot finish it all.  Would you like some?” My friend said that her eyes filled with tears, as she remembered the poor widow’s coin offering to God (Luke 21:1-4). All the man had to share was this box of pastries; he wanted to share it because he was thankful. My friend was blessed and thankful for this man whom she had blessed. It is such encounters as these at the traffic signals of life that lead to our own transformation and the sustaining of a justice movement. We meet Jesus in such encounters, as we are blessed by those we bless.

Such encounters at the intersections of life can be destabilizing if we want to stay in control, if we want to be the producers and charitable ambassadors who make everyone consume our good will. At some point, we will likely run out of good will and teeter and fall when we operate from this elevated position and posture. But what happens when we are open to making new friends along the way and are surprised by the blessings we receive from the seemingly least likely of benefactors? Our service becomes a grand adventure, as we experience the richness of the widow in the temple with her two coins and the man at the street corner with his remaining pastries. Our own coffers and cups and pastry boxes will run over as a result of the bounty of God’s relational grace.

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Where Do We Go After Newtown?

This piece was originally published at Patheos on January 11, 2013.

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iStock_000002423703XSmallA tragedy like the mass shooting in an elementary school in an affluent, well-educated community unnerves America. If a tragedy like this had occurred in an impoverished region, it might not have had the same guttural impact. We might expect such mass violence against children to occur in places where education and economic levels are low.

As a society, we put a lot of stock in solving our problems through education and economics. While education and economics play key roles in cultivating communities, they are not sufficient. What is missing? Perhaps even scarier than realizing that such grotesque acts of violence can occur in unthinkable places is that we are not quite sure what to do. The banning of assault rifles, the training of teachers in weapon usage, the installation of more police officers, the reduction in violent movies and video games, the return to traditional values including strengthening of family bonds and religious connections have all been offered as remedies. What if these recommended solutions don’t help us move forward as a society after Newtown?

Could part of the problem be that as Americans we tend to think that by sheer will power and ingenuity and rigorous adherence to various codes along with education of various kinds and economic uplift, we can solve anything? Maybe it will take us realizing that we don’t have solutions, that no community is safe no matter our solutions, before we can come to a point of real resolve. Perhaps then and only then we will come upon a conversion moment. Quick and easy answers are harmful, if we want long-term solutions. Quick and easy answers only last so long. I am not calling for paralysis, but for a sense of perceptive desperation, not unlike what you’ll find at an AA Meeting. We cannot resolve our courtship with violence as a society. We are in need of a higher power, a greater force, divine aid.

Whatever you want to call it, defensive posturing that entails our saying someone else or some other group is to blame will only lead to further violence. We’ll never be able to move through and beyond the tragedy of Newtown if we fail to come to terms with the tragic flaw that resides deep within each of us. What happened there can happen to anyone of us, and inside every one of us. Coming to terms first and foremost with this truth is the first step in moving forward after Newtown.

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Are You Smoking What You’re Selling?

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This piece was originally published at Patheos on January 10, 2013.

iStock_000004868431XSmallWARNING: Not smoking what you’re selling severely harms you and those around you.

This post is not about the legalization of marijuana or what smoking can do to one’s lungs, but about the authenticity of one’s faith. I wish we could make it illegal to smoke anything other than what we ourselves are selling.

A while back, I asked one of my seminary classes to reflect upon a movie clip from Walk The Line and to relate it to our Christian witness. The movie is about the life and music career of Johnny Cash. During the discussion, I asked my students to consider with me traits about Cash that appealed to people. One of the students remarked, “Cash smoked what he was selling.” What the student intended by his comment was that Cash was genuine. He didn’t claim to have it altogether, but he was singing from his heart. There was congruence.

The movie scene in question takes place in Sam Phillips’ recording studio. A young and not-yet discovered Cash is auditioning for the great record executive and producer. He sings a well-known gospel tune in hopes that Phillips will record him. Phillips is unimpressed. Gospel music like Cash sings doesn’t sell, Phillips remarks. Cash needs to come up with something that’s real—something that goes to the very depths of his being and expresses his heart cry to God. From all appearances, Cash had chosen to sing that gospel tune because it was safe. It was quite popular. But it wasn’t authentic. It was canned the way Cash sang it. Just as Phillips is about to bring closure to the session and say goodbye to Cash and his band and their lone audition, Cash decides to risk it and share a song that he had written, and which came from his heart. After all, he was desperate—his one chance to audition was up. Cash’s band did not know the song—he had never shared it with them, but had kept it to himself until now. Now everything was at stake, for Cash had to put not only his singing and guitar playing on the line, but also a song that he had written from the heart based on a painful past experience. The song was Folsom Prison Blues. Well, the rest is history. As you likely know, it became a big hit. But it really would have been history for Cash if he had not chosen to risk it all and sing that unknown song.

We may never make it big by being authentic and singing our own music and from the heart, as was the case with Cash. More important than making it big, though, and/or playing to opinion polls and to a fan base as many do, is speaking and singing and smoking what we’re selling. We may be selling something. But are we really smoking that brand when no one else is watching, or listening, as the case may be? Cash wasn’t smoking the gospel tune that he sang for Phillips that day. But when he sang Folsom Prison Blues, it was obvious that he was smoking its brand when no one else was around.

Do we smoke what we sell or do we smoke a different brand than the one we sell? In Christian witness to the gospel, and in various other spheres of life, do people really see us, hear us, know what we think, or are we hiding behind some generic or popular brand, playing it safe, all in the effort to protect ourselves from getting hurt? Do we say and sing we love Jesus, when deep down inside we don’t? Do we say everything’s wonderful about our lives, when we actually hate them? Do we share only our successes, and never our failures? Do we fail to share truth in love with others because we fear that they will reject us, if we do? Do we fail to share with others that we love them because we’re afraid of appearing like fools? In the end, when we play such games of incongruence, we really do hurt ourselves and those around us.

So, what brand are you smoking today? Is it the one you’re selling? If not, kick the habit and start smoking your name’s brand.