Second Sunday after Epiphany

1 Samuel 3:1-20

Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18

John 1:43-51​

There’s a scene in “It’s a Wonderful Life” after George and the angel Clarence have dried out from their icy plunge into the river, when they go to local watering hole, a place George remembers as Martini’s. The bartender Nick owns the place now and it’s a seedier and more raucous place than George remembers. And a belligerent Nick asks George, “And that’s another thing. Where do you come off calling me Nick?”

In today’s gospel, the question Nathanael asks Jesus is, “How do you know me?” but I imagine he has that same sneer and aggravated tone as he questions Jesus. Irritated. Cynical. Skeptical. After all, he was already halfway there when Philip told him Jesus came from Nazareth. Nathanael and Philip were from Bethsaida and Nazareth would have been their hometown rival, like Shelby and Kings Mountain. Eugene Peterson, in the Message, paraphrases Nathanael’s question, saying, “Where did you get that idea? You don’t know me.”

Psalm 139’s assures us that contrary to what Nathanael, or we, may think, God does know us. The psalmist declares “You are acquainted with all my ways…Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.” (v. 3-4) Returning to The Message, Peterson says it this way:

You know when I leave and when I get back; I’m never out of your sight. You know everything I’m going to say before I start the first sentence. I look behind me and you’re there, then up ahead and you’re there, too— your reassuring presence, coming and going. (v. 3-5)

John Ylvisaker’s hymn “Borning Cry” echoes the psalmist:

I was there to hear your borning cry, I’ll be there when you are old. I rejoiced the day you were baptized, to see your life unfold.

God formed our inward parts and knit us together in our mothers’ wombs, so, yes! God knows each one of us. (v. 13)

Despite being known by God, we can probably all recall times in our lives when we were incapable of hearing or seeing God.

When like Samuel we didn’t yet know God. The text says “visions of God were not widespread.” Whatever ministry he was engaged in, it didn’t include hearing God speak or seeing God move. It took Eli telling Samuel that the Lord was speaking for him to respond.

Or like Nathanael our own biases keep us from seeing God. When Philip first told him where Jesus was from, Nathanael was dismissive, asking, “Can anything good come out Nazareth?” Nathanael’s prejudice against Nazareth becomes an obstacle, obscuring his vision, so that he could not see God’s own Son standing right in front of him.

Or even like Eli who must have seen clearly once, serving the Lord as the temple priest, but could no longer see. While his eyes may have been clouded by cataracts or his vision may have deteriorated because of old age (2:22), the text can be read less literally. We know that Eli had allowed his sons to abuse the power of the priesthood, seizing the best offerings and laying with the women who came to present sacrifices. Perhaps his failure to hold them accountable for their selfishness and exploitation affected his ability to see the Lord clearly.

It is one thing to be known by God, and another to see or hear God. But, then, when we do hear God speak or see God’s work happening in the world around us, each of us must decide how we will respond.

Samuel, for one, is tentative. Eli tells him to answer the Lord saying, “Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening” and Samuel responds to voice calling out to him saying, “Speak, for Your servant is listening.” Hebrew professor Robert Alter cites a sixteenth century scholar when he wonders whether Samuel drops “Lord” from his response deliberately. Was Samuel feeling skeptical or dismissive, uncertain about who he is addressing?

However, he feels initially, he listens to the Lord and then, reluctantly he delivers to Eli the dismal but unsurprising news that the Lord intends to remove Eli’s priestly authority. (Alter, 188)

Nathanael responds more immediately with adoration and praise. He is transformed when he realizes Jesus wasn’t playing games. The recognition that Jesus had seen him and knew him prompts his reply, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” (v. 49)

How will we answer God’s call to us?

This weekend we commemorate The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. who would have been 92 if he had had not been assassinated in 1968 when he was only 39 years old. An Atlanta preacher, King grounded his calls for racial justice in Scripture and theology. On Friday, April 12, 1963 - Good Friday that year - King was arrested during protests in Alabama, and a few days later he wrote his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail”, addressing white moderate Christians who, he charged, were “more devoted to order than to justice; who [preferred] a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.”

King wrote critically, naming his disappointment that the very same people who he believed would be coworkers with God “have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained-glass windows.”

And he urged his audience to “repent not merely for the vitriolic words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people.”

King’s words challenge me. I’m uncomfortable. After all, I want to be one of the “good” Christians.

I’ve learned a lot about white supremacy, systemic racism and my own biases in the last twelve years.

But I confess that when the Capitol was attacked on January 6, I knew it was wrong, evil, and sinful, but I was ignorant of the ways in which our brown and black siblings in Christ were brutalized, watching such a very different response to the non-violent protesters, and even to the violent rioters, than we have seen before.

I know I’ve quoted The Rev. Dr. Yvonne Delk before; she is the one who taught me, “What you see depends largely on where you sit.” From where I sit, I could not see what Bishop Yehiel Curry of the Metro Chicago Synod of the ELCA, saw and shared later: that, if the rioters had been brown or black, they would have been shot. I have since heard that echoed by the voices of other black and brown siblings here in North Carolina.

During the summer, after George Floyd’s murder in Minneapolis, as our synod and denomination engaged in conversations about racial justice, The Rev. Dr. Shanitria Cuthbertson, who pastors Emmaus in West Charlotte, described conviction as “being convinced and confident that something is true.” The work of the Holy Spirit, conviction leads us to acknowledgment, admission, sight and Godly sorrow –a cycle of restoration.

What I experience when I hear Dr. King’s words is Holy Spirit driven conviction that helps me see how I perpetuate injustice and the sin of racism by my own appalling silence.

And this conviction leads me to Godly sorrow that our black and brown siblings whose inward parts were formed by God and who were knit together in their mothers’ wombs  ̶ siblings created in the image of God and imbued with dignity from God  ̶ have daily experiences where they are told that they have less worth or dignity than another person whose skin is fairer.

And that Godly sorrow leads me to want to love fiercely and out loud. King wrote in this same letter:

Was not Jesus an extremist in love? – “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, pray for them that despitefully use you?” Was not Amos an extremist for justice? – “Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.” Was not Paul an extremist for the gospel of Jesus Christ? – “I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus.” Was not Martin Luther an extremist? – “Here I stand; I can do no other so help me God.”… So the question is not whether we will be extremist, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate, or will we be extremists for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice, or will we be extremists for the cause of justice?

My prayer is that, being known by God, we will hear and see God at work around us, and respond by being extremists for love and justice.

Amen.

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost / Lectionary 22A

Matthew 16:21-28

Peter the blockhead is now a stumbling block.

It’s easy for us to laugh at Peter. He is often the voice of the disciples in the gospels, and maybe we recognize something of ourselves in his impulsiveness and desire to please, or in his attachment to playing it safe and staying comfortable.

But Jesus’ rebuke of Peter is no joke.

Having set his face toward Jerusalem (Luke 9), Jesus told the disciples that being the Messiah would mean that he would undergo suffering and be killed. It’s the first of three such predictions in Matthew’s Gospel.

And immediately, Peter responds, “God forbid it, Lord! Say it ain’t so!”

And immediately, Jesus rebukes him, saying, “Get behind me, Satan!”

Addressing Peter this way, Jesus echoes his confrontation with Satan in the wilderness after his baptism. (Matthew 4) There when the Tempter laid traps for him, Jesus said, “Away with you, Satan.”

Maybe Peter thought he was speaking up for Jesus or even protecting him, but what he was really protecting was his own human understanding and ideas about who the Messiah was, what submitting to the Lord should look like and how others should receive Him.

And Jesus calls him out for paying more attention to the human things than to divine things.

Peter proclaimed Jesus as Lord, but the prediction of suffering and death sounded profane to Peter’s ears and he was unable to reconcile how the Messiah, Lord and Savior could also be arrested, tortured and executed. He could not imagine how God could be present in the events Jesus foretold. Surely, there would be triumph and victory, not the cross and crucifixion.

But Jesus’ rebuke is not only a rejection of the temptation to remain in the comfortable and safe company of his disciples and to preserve his own life.

With his words, Jesus put Peter in his place both figuratively and literally. 

When he tells Peter, “Get behind me” Jesus uses the same words he used to call first disciples, saying to them, “Follow me” (Matthew 4:19) and it’s the same words he used to teach discipleship, saying, “[W]hoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10:38)[i]

With his rebuke, Jesus reminds Peter that he is a disciple, a follower of Jesus. With his protest, Peter tried to put his own thoughts ahead of God’s ways and stand between Jesus and the calling on his life.[ii]

So Jesus tells him, “Peter, you’ve gotten ahead of yourself, and me.” “Get behind me so that you can follow me.” “Don’t be a stumbling block or obstacle on the Way.”

When we first hear Jesus’ rebuke, the scolding sounds harsh, but Jesus didn’t break off his relationship with Peter. He didn’t send him away. He got his attention, corrected him and called him back to discipleship, back into relationship centered on God’s will.

Listening to Peter and Jesus,

I wonder what I try to protect, thinking I am guarding things of God, when I’m really protecting my own human understanding and ideas. I wonder where I hold on too tight to what God has given me, placing my trust in the gifts instead of the Giver. I wonder, too, where my imagination is so limited that I cannot understand what God is doing.

Public theologian Brian McClaren has said,

the gospel is a transformation plan, not an evacuation plan. It is focused not on airlifting souls to heaven, but on transforming lives so [we] can be agents of God’s will being done “on earth as in heaven.[iii]

I need Jesus to speak into my life and call me out when I fall to the temptation to be a guardian or gatekeeper, or fail to see how God may be doing something entirely new, even if it feels frightening and unpredictable to me. I need Jesus to remind me to follow him and follow God’s will.

I wonder, too, where I fall to the temptation to play it safe and preserve my life or the life of our congregation, instead of following Jesus in suffering for the sake of the world, and where I lose sight of the promise that God is with me.

Lutheran pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “Silence in the midst of evil is evil.” The gospel gives us, as followers of Jesus, an imperative to stand up, speak out and show up — to be witnesses against injustices that are happening in our world, even, or perhaps especially, when it means we will be uncomfortable or unpopular.

These human things — intellectual knowledge and ideas, security and comfort — trick me into following devilish plans and draw me away from God and from following Jesus. [iv]

These human things tempt me to put my self and my thoughts ahead of God’s ways so I can make something happen the way I want it to, instead of trusting that God is present and events will unfold according to God’s will.

Thankfully, Jesus doesn’t walk away from me in all my humanity. Most of the time, he doesn’t even scold me too harshly. 

He patiently and tenderly calls me back to what is Holy, 
reminds me who I am as a beloved child of God, 
as a Jesus’ follower, 
a disciple of this loving and merciful, abundantly gracious Lord and Savior.

Let us pray…
Good and gracious God,
Thank you for your Son Jesus who shows us how to serve in the world according to Your Way and thank you for your loving rebuke when we put ourselves ahead of You.
Help us to follow Jesus and trust in Your will even when we cannot make sense of what we see happening;
Thank you for calling us to account when we try to limit Your power and presence in our lives; give us courage and strengthen us to deny ourselves for Your sake.
We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.
Amen.

[i] Audrey West. “Commentary on Matthew 16:21-28.” Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[ii] ibid

[iii] https://brianmclaren.net/

[iv] Joy J. Moore. “Dear Working Preacher.” Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

Say Something

Today as we celebrate Easter and proclaim the hope we receive in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, we are reminded in the resurrection story in Mark’s Gospel that we are not to be silent about God’s love and forgiveness. The women who saw the empty tomb left and “said nothing to nobody” on their way, but we are called to say something. We cannot remain mute. Each of us proclaims the gospel to the world in which we live and to the people with whom we live, work and play.

When I reflect on what that calling means for me, it’s significant that Martin Luther “understood the preaching office to be responsible for both the liberation of consciences and for raising and commenting upon issues of worldly government….” (Carter Lindberg, The European Reformations, 111) This is where I hear the call to speak out for or stand with my neighbor, to help give voice to the voiceless and to unmask injustices from which we’d rather avert our eyes.

As one pastor said, Jesus’ death and resurrection were the ultimate example of civil disobedience because Rome wanted to kill him and keep him dead permanently but he refused. We are called to speak up even when it makes people uncomfortable, even when it creates a scandal, even when it appears radical and goes against popular or well-reasoned sentiment. We are called to proclaim God’s love and forgiveness in spite of a world that tells people they are not loved, they cannot be forgiven and they are condemned by God.

Martin Luther also believed the Gospel is lived when we enter into the “liturgy after the liturgy, a work of the people flowing from worship, service to others continuing after the formal worship service.” (Lindberg, 109) As we enter into this season of new life, as Easter people, living in the hope of the Gospel, what will that look like?

Raising a Cry for Justice (Isaiah 58)

This weekend, more than 750 Christian advocates have gathered in Arlington, Virginia for the tenth anniversary Ecumenical Advocacy Days. EAD2012 unites our voices to cry for justice for the powerless in our society. Rooted in worship at the beginning of each of our days together, we are learning more about how issues like immigration policy, women’s rights, healthcare, peace, Middle East affairs, the environment and foreign aid intersect with the federal budget and discovering how we can contribute unique and distinct voices to the conversation because our positions are grounded in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

It’s been intriguing to begin to dig into the economics of the federal budget and realize how it is a moral blueprint for the United States.  Dr. Gary Dorrien from Union Theological Seminary reminded us, “If people are suffering because of economics and politics, then the church must be involved in economics and politics.” One question that can help guide us is, “What are our priorities, and do the choices we make increase income inequality and poverty or not?”

A generalist by nature, I know about three minutes of information about a lot of different subjects, so it’s been fascinating to realize how we can provide one message that impacts all of these policy areas without becoming subject-area experts. Here is our message:

As people of faith, we urge decision-makers to defend people struggling to live in dignity by funding programs that protect vulnerable populations here and abroad. Enact a faithful budget that serves the common good, provides robust funding for people struggling to overcome poverty, and exercises proper care of the earth.

As one Washington staff person reminded us, we are called to bring our voices together to cry for justice; that is our task. We do not need to get into the weeds on any one issue or attempt to maneuver specific budget lines because that task belongs to someone else. But we must make our voices heard.

No Rising Tide?

In No Rising Tide Joerg Rieger challenges the relevance of President John F. Kennedy’s well-known statement that “A rising tide lifts all boats.” (1)  As the Occupy movements have brought to the headlines in recent months, “the gaps between the very wealthy and the rest of the population keep increasing” and “life-and-death struggles are no longer just a matter for the poorest of the poor.” (3) Even New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman, who Rieger identifies as “a long-time supporter of globalization who [has] great faith in the free market” has said, “We are going to have to learn to live with a lot more uncertainty for a lot longer than our generation has ever experiences.” (2)

Rieger challenges us to evaluate our assumptions about the economy and free markets.  Observing that often we believe “the authority of economics is unquestionable and often even infallible, and in the assumption that the current system is the only one that is viable” he suggests that there are parallels between economics and religion.  He cites theologian and Union Theological Seminary professor Paul Knitter as one who has gone as far as to say that the market is a religion and therefore, should be in conversation with other religions. (6)

What would that discourse look like? What would the questions be? Rieger suggests several: “On which authorities, powers, and energies do we rely? [Are they the right ones?] What is it that gives us ultimate hope, shapes our desires, and provides reasonable levels of stability?” (4)

These questions matter because in this disparate world where we live “power and influence determine who gets to shape the world, who gets recognized, and whose ideas count.”(3)  One example of an explicit theology of economics is pronounced by Michael Novak, an American Enterprise Institute scholar to whom Rieger attributes the idea that “the status quo should not be challenged since this is the way God intends things to be.”(6)  Arguing that often the relationship between economics and theology is more implicit than explicit, Rieger suggests “the principles of mainline economics are mostly taken for granted by religious communities, presupposed as part of the way things are, and virtually never discussed in critical fashion.” (10) Because the principles are embedded, “Hope, even in the midst of the most severe economic crisis, is thus built on the faith that things will eventually get between and that the reign of free-market economics will be reaffirmed.” (7)

Why don’t we talk more about “the alternative approaches to the world of economics”? (11) How can we awaken critical self-reflection of our economic positions, and initiate a movement away from market fundamentalism which promotes adherence without “consideration of changes in context or the real needs and concerns of people?” (14-15) At this point, I am not advocating one position over another; instead what I want to do is to echo Rieger that we have a responsibility to understand more about the world in which we live and the assumptions that are built into the systems and institutions that we live within.

We are a nation living with choices

Bishop Ntambo from the Democratic Republic of Congo opened the 2011 Lake Junaluska Peace Conference telling us stories.  While he told his stories with humor and grace, he poignantly illustrated how in the U.S., we have abundance we don’t even recognize because it is so woven into the fabric of our lives.

Sparkling or flat, bottled or tap, filtered or not, flavored or not, with ice or not. Here we can rattle off a half-dozen choices of what kind of water we may want to drink while in Niger “80 percent of child deaths are linked to lack of access to clean water and sanitation.” (2011 Hunger Report, Bread for the World, 19)

Cardiologist, internist, orthopedist, pediatrician, obstetrician, surgeon, oncologist, psychiatrist, dentist…In the U.S., at least the insured have opportunities to choose the doctor whose specialty will best address their needs; Bishop Ntambo related that people in his country may walk 20 – 50 miles to find aspirin and students who complete high school may be doctors because there are so few treatments and so little medicine to learn.

Private, charter, public, preschool, home school, tutors, colleges, universities, community colleges, trade schools, online degree programs, in-state, out-of-state, full-time, part-time, evening, commuter, residential, distance…in the U.S., our children have choices about what kind of education they want to pursue and where they want to study.  In sub-Saharan Africa, only 70 percent of school-age children attend primary school.

And these are the big choices we make every day: food and water, healthcare, education.  Walk down a grocery store aisle and survey the array of cereal boxes, brands of toothpaste or flavors of salad dressings.  Have you read through a Starbucks or Dunkin' Donuts' menu recently?  Surely we can recognize how we are blessed when we have sixteen choices for even the most trivial items.

God’s promise to Abraham in Genesis 12 reminds us that blessing is both a gift and a responsibility:

I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.

What blinds us to seeing how we are blessed? 

How are we being called to be a blessing in return?

Are you being called to take action?
This week, senators likely will be voting on State and Foreign Operations budget. Senate State and Foreign Operations Appropriations Subcommittee Ranking Member Lindsey Graham (R-SC) has argued strongly for a fully-funded foreign aid budget: “At a time when we’re broke at home, it remains important to remain engaged in the world and provide assistance to those who would live in peace with us.”  This is funding for programs that alleviate poverty and hunger in developing countries and for programs that fight HIV/AIDS, malaria and chronic hunger - programs that are saving lives today.  If you'd like to know more about how you can become involved, visit Bread for the World.

It’s all in the numbers

In Exodus from Hunger, David Beckmann shares the success stories from seven countries (Brazil, China, Ghana, Mexico, Mozambique, Sri Lanka, UK) who have made strides in reducing hunger, poverty and inequality in the last twenty years.  The stories told by the numbers are brought into even sharper relief when we include the global, and domestic (U.S.), figures.  

Poverty is one of the most significant obstacles to addressing many social issues.  The international poverty line has been defined as living on less than $1 a day. ¹  Mozambique has reduced the percentage of people living in poverty from 70% to 50% (2006), and Ghana has reduced the number of people living in poverty even more dramatically, from 50% to 30%. Despite their success, these numbers are still significantly higher that the global rate of 18% (2004).

Primary School Education is another of the Millenium Development Goals (MDG).  China has made education a priority and 80% of children now finish primary school in China.  While primary school is compulsory here in the U.S., worldwide UNICEF estimated that around 115 million children of primary school age did not attend school.(2005)  This figure is approximately 82% of primary age schoolchildren.²

Infant Mortality measures “the number of deaths of infants under one year old in a given year per 1,000 live births in the same year.”³  Committed to strong social programs, Sri Lanka has one of the lowest rates of childbirth deaths (9.7 per 1000) in the developing world and have expanded assistance for child nutrition triumphed despite civil war and high poverty rates. 

Political Will contributes significantly to a government’s success in finding solutions that address hunger and poverty. Despite a wide disparity in Brazil where the richest 20% owns 61% of wealth (in contrast to 46.4% of the wealth in the U.S.), the country has engaged in “a national solidarity movement” Fome Zero that balances accountability for education and medical care with contributions by its citizens toward eradicating hunger in Brazil. ⁴

Beckmann emphasizes these countries as case studies that demonstrate “healthy societies are more likely to achieve sustained progress against hunger and poverty” and point to the importance of political and government involvement in reducing poverty.  (Beckmann, 59)   

So, as we here in the U.S. approach Election Day 2011 and enter the next twelve months of campaigning and politicking, what goals and commitments will we ask our leaders to make in this arena?

¹ World Resources Institute http://www.wri.org/chart/population-living-less-than-1-per-day-1981-2004 , accessed Nov. 5, 2011.

² UNICEF, http://www.unicef.org/mdg/education.html , accessed Nov. 5, 2011.

³ CIA Factbook, CIA, Washington, D.C. https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/rankorder/2091rank.html , accessed Nov. 5, 2011.

⁴ NationMaster  http://www.nationmaster.com/graph/eco_inc_dis_ric_20-economy-income-distribution-richest-20, accessed Nov. 5, 2011 owned by Rapid Intelligence.

Postscript on Money Matters: Occupy Wall Street

I am still watching the Occupy Wall Street movement and wondering what impact it will have and what role public Christian leaders should be taking. 

Reuters offers its analysis (October 7) arguing that although the majority of Americans are looking at our society through rose-colored glasses and do not recognize the growing division between the haves and have nots.

Kate Sprutta Elliott, editor of Gather, blogged on the Women of the ELCA website and speculated about the timeliness of a Debt Jubilee, an idea taken from Leviticus 25.  Here are more thoughts about the faith factor and the Occupy Wall Street Movement from the writers at Sojourners. They offer a one page congregational discussion guide about the movement if you provide your contact information.

On Saturday, thousands rallied in Times Square in New York City while protests continued to spread to other cities. A local favorite here in western NC, Carolina Chocolate Drops' singer Rhiannon Giddens recorded the following song, "The Bottom 99:"

The movement is gaining support although many are still questioning whether it has leaders who will move it beyond noise-making toward solutions. What is the role of our faith communities?  What is our role as individual people of faith?

Four Portraits of Poverty

While many of the Jesus stories in the gospels address the poor, few Christian texts provide information about why poverty existed in early Christian communities.  Reading the Revelation of John, the Letter of James, the Acts of the Apostles and the Shepherd of Hermas, Biblical scholar Steve Friesen examines illustrates four unique explanations for the causes of poverty and four distinct responses.  (Friesen, 18)

Importantly, Friesen reminds us that in the early Roman Empire, “most or all of the recipients of a particular text lived near the level of subsistence.” (Friesen, 21)  It is very easy to forget that texts are written in a particular context and to a particular audience.  As I read a text it’s helpful to recognize how my hearing of a text is shaped by my context and experiences, and to reflect on the meaning of the text in the very different context where it was first received.  

(1) In the apocalyptic literature of the Revelation of John, the writer describes a satanic beast who “ conquers the world, defeats the saints, and is worshiped by the whole world.” (Friesen, 22) Friesen suggests the beast is how the writer “portrays the Roman Empire as Satan’s tool, opposed to the God of Israel, and destined for destruction.” (ibid)  The domination and oppression is absolute in that no one is exempt, able to be a bystander.  The system requires participation by everyone, even, or perhaps especially, the exploited. The writer urges people to flee from the Empire’s domination: “Come out of her, my people so that you do not participate in her sins…” (Rev. 18:4)  (Friesen, 23) The suggested response is not only resistance, but anarchy.

(2) The Letter of James moves the emphasis away from the systems of the Empire and emphasizes individual responsibility.  Friesen suggests the writer follows “the prophetic tradition of Israel: one should trust God completely and act accordingly, keeping one’s life pure and taking care of those who suffer.” (Friesen, 24)  The writer contrasts “society’s system of honor and God’s system of honor” calling people to seek God and not the world, and “[advising] the community to share what resources they have….” (Friesen, 25-26)  Here the response is more like nonviolent direct action by refusing to participate in actions that hurt neighbor. 

(3) The Acts of the Apostles neither addresses economic injustice nor does it criticize the Roman Empire.  In fact, in contrast to our other texts, the author of Acts describes the assemblies as people with more resources and existing above subsistence levels. (Friesen, 30-31)  Here the emphasis is on charity; Friesen writes, “the author presents personal gifts and household hospitality (rather than redistribution)” as the way to address the poverty of the neighbor. (Friesen, 28)  

(4) The Shepherd of Hermas presents a fourth and final portrait of poverty.  Suggesting the poor are dependent on the wealthy for survival, “Hermas portrays charity as an individual act that gives material aid to the poor and help the rich survive the final judgment.” (Friesen, 34)  It ignores the causes of poverty and credits wealth to the blessing of God. (Friesen, 35)

The four portraits contradict one another, lending credence to Scroggs’ argument that the Bible is better understood as a foundational document for Christianity than as an authoritative one.   They also spotlight the ambiguity and complexity that are present in religion.  (Friesen, 36)  What is hopeful about this examination is that we find the freedom to live into the questions and work toward understanding.

Friesen, “Injustice or God’s Will” (p. 17 - 36) in Holman, Susan, ed. Wealth and Poverty in Early Church and Society.     Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008.

What Does the Bible Say?

New Testament professor Robin Scroggs argues that identifying the Bible as an authoritative source – one that is decisive about modern social issues – creates obstacles to genuine dialogue.  Instead he suggests that we dismiss the language of “biblical authority” and replace it with an understanding of the Bible as a foundational document for Christianity.  He is careful to affirm that the New Testament is “absolutely indispensable in learning what it means to be Christian.” (Scroggs, 25)  For its critics, the question of authority creates a focus on textual variances, historic inaccuracies, and the conflicting theological positions of the different biblical writers.  Scroggs suggests that an understanding of the Bible as a foundational document would create freedom to move the focus to how the Bible guides us in the ambiguity of life.

While I agree the debate on scriptural authority contributes to a lot of division and strife, I am uncomfortable with Scroggs’ suggestion in the abstract.  I am concerned about what could be lost in translation and hold in tension an interest in defending scriptural integrity without falling into biblical fundamentalism.  However, the reticence vanishes when I take up the question in the context of studying Christian responses to poverty; there, Scroggs’ arguments resonate.  

Scroggs, Robin. 1995. "The Bible as Foundational Document." Interpretation 49, no. 1: 17-30. ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials, EBSCOhost (accessed September 17, 2011).

Child Brides

Often news stories blur together but this weekend, I read an article about child brides from National Geographic. It was shared on Facebook by The Girl Effect an organization working to break the cycle of poverty in developing countries by focusing on providing education and opportunities to girls and getting them to adolescence whole and healthy. Read the article and watch the video and read why it haunts me.

This video by Stephanie Sinclair and the article by Cynthia Gorney are all connected through a documentary project at the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting: Too Young to Wed: The Secret World of Child Brides.

Why this story haunts me I cannot imagine either of my two daughters marrying, even though they are years older than the girls in this story.  However, that isn't what makes this story so startling. What keeps rattling around in my thoughts and haunts me about this story is what I have in common with at least some of the parents of these children. Pay attention to the conversation that takes place between an activist and a father in the article and to the words of the girl in the video who "escaped" child marriage and instead was introduced into child prostitution.  These child marriages, which are conducted illegally and covertly, are, at least some of the time, preemptive. At least some of the families believe that giving their daughters to marriages at the age of five, seven, or even eleven is a way to protect their daughters against rape and other violence. Is there anything I would not do to protect my daughters from violence?

While it doesn't make child marriages any less disturbing, Sinclair and Gorney's work makes me ask harder questions before firing off an indignant email or letter.  How do families survive, how do children find safety and security, and what are the obstacles that people face?  If legislating no child marriage has failed, what are the possible solutions?  I don't have easy answers but I think looking at each other as daughters, sisters and parents is a start.

The Girl Effect documents the extraordinary odds that face girls and explain how difficult it is for girls to stay in school and reach adolescence.  The National Geographic article introduced readers to a half-dozen organizations who are working on this issue.

There's a beautiful shot in the video when the narrator says: "Childhood is not for cooking and cleaning and having babies. It is for education and having friends and having fun."  I'm not sure what the next steps are, but I hope more of us can live into a future where children the world over can  spend their childhoods being children.

Invisible People

Barbara Ehrenreich is a journalist who wrote about the lives of working class poor in Nickel and Dimed. More recently, she published a collection of satire exposing divisions and inequalities that Americans, particularly the working class poor, experience in the workplace, home ownership, healthcare and religion. Sharply critical of both red and blue, right and left, Republican and Democrat, her essays are biting assessments of modern American culture and society.

Sometimes, her assessments read more like rants and I wonder if she doesn’t stray into hyperbole some of the time. What kept me reading were the poignant stories she provided from everyday life:
• an unemployed man, three years too young to collect Social Security but vulnerable to age discrimination in hiring practices, who chose to commit a non-violent robbery so that he could find a bed and food in prison
• enlisted personnel in the Unites States Armed Services who were enrolled into food stamp programs at enlistment because their entry-level pay grade does not provide a living wage
• the uninsured patient whose routine procedure was billed at a cost nearly five times that of an insured patient, driving that uninsured person even further out of reach of financial stability, let alone security

While I appreciate satire’s role is to hold up human behavior for exposure, ridicule or scorn, I think it acts as a megaphone and, by itself, is an inadequate way to motivate anyone to take action and actually pursue or implement changes that will help us better meet the needs around us. How do we work with people who are experiencing poverty here in our neighborhoods and communities? How do we create opportunities or provide services that help span the gaps that exist, so people don’t have a reason to find incarceration more livable than freedom and others don’t die of treatable illnesses because going to a doctor costs too much? How do we make the plight of “invisible” people more visible, without sacrificing integrity?

This Land is My Land, This Land is Your Land

While I resisted the allure of the local AAUW’s book sale last week, I succumbed when I received the list of books required for my daughters’ summer reading and my own fall coursework.

One of the books my oldest daughter is reading in Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. Ms. Angelou grew up in Arkansas in the 1930s and tells the story of growing up there amid blatant racism, discrimination and abuse. I am reading her book alongside my daughter.

Living in the south, with memories of being bused across Norfolk when schools were being desegregated in the 1970s, I am not naïve about our region’s history and I know it would be foolish to say that racism and segregation have been obliterated. Racial bias has become more subtle, but our communities are still segregated. What I admit I don’t yet understand is how that changes us.

This fall, I will be taking a seminary class titled “Dismantling Racism”. In our faith communities, it commonly is recognized that Sunday morning remains the most segregated day of the week in many parts of our country. Tied into the question of how we worship with one another, or don’t, is how we live and work with one another, or don’t, and the related issues of race, segregation, discrimination and immigration. While I don’t hear or see people mistreated the way the blacks were in Arkansas eighty years ago, I know people are hurting anew now, and I hope to understand how we can care more deeply about each other as God’s children.

The first assigned book I am reading is Searching for Whitopia – An Improbable Journey to the Heart of White America. The author, scholar and commentator Rich Benjamin recounts his experiences as he lived and worked in three “whitopias” - thriving communities “that have posted at least six percent population growth since 2000 [and] the majority of the growth …is from white migrants.” (Benjamin, 5) Sharing his experiences, Benjamin is careful to describe the people he encounters as three-dimensional characters. He presents stories that reflect people’s fear, hurt and anger and as the reader, you may agree or disagree, but there is no doubt that the people he meets are real living, breathing human beings, not three-eyed monsters that media headlines and soundbites create.

Benjamin’s observations echo my own: “The majority of whites in predominantly white communities across our heartland are endearing and kind….Direct interpersonal racism is no longer acceptable.” However, he tackles what goes unsaid in too many of our communities: “Discrimination and segregation do not require animus. They thrive even in the absence of prejudice or ill will. It’s common to have racism without “racists.” (emphasis mine, Benjamin 184-185)

And recognizing that actions can also contribute to deeper division, Benjamin is candid about the consequences of some of immigration policies and stances taken in the U.S. He acknowledges how numbers about population shifts have stoked fears. He writes about the vicious cycle that was set into motion when we stigmatized all Latino immigrants, both legal and illegal, though, reflecting that the indiscriminate writing off Latino youth led to indignation which in turn produced greater scorn by whites. Benjamin writes, “Whether or not our country treats these youth like its bastard stepchildren, someday they will become its full-blooded heirs.” (Benjamin, 83)

Dr. Benjamin’s statements ring in my ears, and I reflect on how his and Ms. Angelou’s words speak to our lives today. I wonder what it means for how we live together in creation, when we acknowledge that we are all God’s beloved children, and, celebrating the 4th of July and the freedom Americans have, what we mean when we sing, “This land is my land, this land is your land”.