Seeing Others...

Today in my Current Issues in Urban Mission class we discussed the social and theological reasons for mission. While we spent most of the time discussing the theological foundations for mission I was struck with many thoughts, too many to discuss here. However, one that is particularly sticking with me is the concept of equity in the Kingdom of God. While discussing love, we used the parable of the Good Samaritan as an example. My professor Al's friend, Jeffrey, pointed out that the good Samaritan refused to see the others through the divisive paradigms of the world, but rather saw both himself and the man in need through the eyes of God - the paradigm of the Kingdom. This allowed the Samaritan man to see the need and see the opportunity to love. He was not inhibited by his ethnicity or social norms.

This is really sticking with me because I have lately been pondering the way we perceive others: the way we judge others according to social stratifications, looks, talents, what a person can do for me, etc. Why can't I just see people for the plain human beings they are? In addition to the Samaritan, an example fresh on my mind is that of Prince Myshkin in Fydor Dostoevsky's The Idiot. I just read this book this summer and it has caused me to consider more closely the way Jesus treated other human beings. In the novel, Prince Myshkin displays an unprecedented ability to meet people in their vanity, deceit, greed, and lust, without dehumanizing or judging them! Both Prince Myshkin and the Samaritan man are incredible examples of people who simply treat others as real human beings - not based on any prerequisites, but simply as children of God, a brother or sister in the family of God.

It is not enough to see others as defined by their need or with all the attached stigmas and social classifications. I want to see other human beings as they are: made in the image of God, and so valuable that God would give God's life for them.

Marriages and Marriages

After participating in two more weddings this summer I can confidently say that marriage is a mysteriously GOOD thing. I don't profess to understand it, but there is something incredible (and beautiful, and bizarre, and life-changing, and marvelous) about the act of marriage. It is certainly the most profound expression of love that I (and all humans for that matter!) can imagine.

Because marriage is such a powerful expression of love, the book of Ruth has recently caught my attention. It's a short book found just after Judges and before 1 Samuel and it recounts the story of Ruth, a Moabite woman. The long and short of the story is that Ruth, recently widowed, finds a husband, Boaz, during a difficult time of famine. But what makes this story so beautiful is the fact that Ruth is a foreigner - a Moabitess - and would not have normally been married to Boaz, a man from Bethlehem of Judah - a Jew. In fact, Moab was actually on the other side of the Salt (Dead) Sea. Marrying foreigners was not only frowned upon in the Jewish culture but it was often strictly prohibited.

This is what makes the story so good: Boaz the Jew marries Ruth the Moabitess. But why? Deeper in the story we find Ruth practicing the old custom of gleaning (gathering ears of grain that have fallen to the ground) from Boaz's field. So not only is Ruth a foreigner in Judah, but she is boldly gleaning food from the field of a Jew! And this is precisely when Boaz notices Ruth. So he goes on to tell her to continue gleaning from his field.

Long story short: Boaz marries Ruth because of Ruth's humility and courage. But there's more. There's more to the story because, as we know, this is just one story among many other stories in the Bible. In fact, there are many, many stories all within one Grand Narrative; and that is the Grand Narrative of God's marriage with the Cosmos, specifically Humankind.

This little story of Ruth and Boaz would have little value if it didn't so appropriately display the marriage that God has entered into with humankind through Jesus. I find it no small coincidence that Jesus was particularly adamant about welcoming foreigners into the family of God. What better way to foreshadow this cosmic event than to share the story of Ruth being welcomed into the family of Boaz?

I also find it quite fascinating that Boaz invites Ruth to share bread dipped in wine (v. 2:14) in the very same way that Jesus offered bread and wine to His disciples at the Last Supper.

And is it any coincidence that Jesus would tell so many parables about vineyards and fields? So many of those Kingdom Parables portray the Kingdom in which God invites Israel to maintain and enjoy creation in a new, righteous way. Surely there is a parallel in this story for the Moabitess who boldly leaves her home on the other side of the sea to work in the field of the Jew.

It is truly something special to witness two human beings leaving their families to enter into a marriage covenant together. Seeing so many of my friends recently do this has been an awesome experience. I cannot fathom another way to express love better than through marriage. Perhaps that is because I cannot fully understand love in the first place. Or perhaps because there is no better human way to express love.

Or, maybe marriage is really what love is all about. Maybe marriage is what the whole Story is about - a marriage between a wealthy landowner and a foreigner in need.

Fear and Trembling: A Dialectical Lyric

Soren Kierkegaard (hereafter, "SK") authored Fear and Trembling under the pseudonym of Johannes de Silentio. Most scholars believe SK did this to distance himself from the content. The title of the book originates from the notion that Johannes de Silentio is overcome with fear and trembling upon reading the biblical story of Abraham and Isaac from Genesis 22. In this story God asks Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac; Abraham obeys only to have his son spared from death at the last moment when God provides a ram for sacrifice instead. Despite Abraham’s insane neglect of the ethical, he is deemed the “Father of the Faith” because of his obedience. It is from this starting point that Johannes de Silentio begins his discourse.

Firstly, it must be acknowledged that, at the very least, Fear and Trembling is a cry from SK for nominal Christians to consider the depth and danger of what they claim to be and believe. While not all of his readers would be able to understand the philosophical arguments, certainly most could empathize with de Silentio’s inability to fathom this complicated story. There is no question that the mere topic of this work was aimed to agitate apathetic Christians by taking a familiar story and displaying its complications.

Moving further toward the details, Johannes de Silentio paints a portrait of Abraham as found in the Genesis account and deduces a number of claims. The first is that Abraham’s greatness came through powerlessness. The second is that Abraham had faith for this life. And the third is that Abraham must have believed the absurd, or otherwise he would have acted differently; this is why he is regarded as the Father of the Faith. From here the author then addresses problems with relation to faith and ethics.

The first and greatest difficulty is what de Silentio calls “a teleological suspension of the ethical.” What this means is that, for Abraham, the universal ethic (that which is understood by all to be moral) was temporarily suspended as the telos or goal of his behavior, and the only telos for Abraham was love for God demonstrated by his obedience. Consequently, Abraham’s faith then confirms that the single individual “is higher than the universal.” To put it more simply, Abraham’s purpose was outside the universal and cannot be related to the universal. If Abraham’s act of faith cannot be explained in terms of the universal ethic, then a new category must be created to describe it. This de Silentio deems “the absurd” and writes, “He acts on the strength of the absurd; for it is precisely the absurd that as the single individual he is higher than the universal.” From this first difficulty it may be concluded that Abraham acted in a way that suspended the universal ethic as the goal and believed in something outside of it, something absurd – in this case, God’s Will.

The second difficulty inquires whether there is an absolute duty to God. The central problem here is that the universal ethic becomes confused with the absolute: God. SK’s opponent, Hegel, argued that the universal ethic was the absolute and could be interchanged with the will of God. But the story of Abraham clearly illustrates that this is not the case. Abraham’s faith required him to act in a way that contradicted the ethical (i.e. though a father loves his son, Abraham was ready to kill Isaac). de Silentio thus concludes that faith is the most absolute allegiance to God, and the universal is subservient to it. Therefore, the individual cannot be understood by the mass. This concept is beautifully represented in the way that Abraham becomes a foreigner in his own land. From this second difficulty it may be concluded that there is no absolute duty to God, but rather the individual’s independent relation to God that is outside, above, and superior to the universal.

The third dilemma concerns Abraham’s concealment of his plan to murder his son (he did not tell his wife, Sarah, his friend, Eleazar, nor his son, Isaac). It is similar to the first two problems and yet it further emphasizes Abraham’s separation from the universal and his connection to the absolute. The unfortunate reality of Abraham’s situation was that he could not disclose his plan had he wanted. “Abraham is silent – but he cannot speak, therein lies the distress and anguish. He can say what he will, but he cannot say it in a way that another understands it.” Abraham is completely and utterly alone in his faith. However, from his actions it can be concluded that he viewed obedience to God as the only way. From this third dilemma the author illustrates that Abraham’s concealment was necessary in order to remain faithful to God.

At this point it may seem as though Abraham was deliriously devoted to God and had given up on his family, namely Isaac. But this was not the case. In fact, it is here that the entire paradox of faith is born: Abraham believed that by obeying God he would regain Isaac through the absurd (that which is outside of the universal ethic). When called to the task, Abraham resigns his claim to Isaac because God is the absolute; but then, through faith, Abraham believes he will regain Isaac through the absurd because God is Good. This is evidenced in Abraham’s reply to Isaac in Genesis 22:8, “God will provide himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” It is the greatest of paradoxes, but, if Abraham is the Father the Faith, then it must be so. What Johannes de Silentio is arguing is not simply the moral of the story but a genuine ontological claim! If Abraham is the epitome of faith, then his actions must transcend that which is known as the universal and relate to a far superior reality. Certainly a story such as this ought to elicit at least the smallest of fears and slightest of trembling!

Ultimately Fear and Trembling is about the foundation of faith: love. It exhibits the paradox that the one who loves God must renounce everything, and yet regains it by faith through the absurd. The one who loves God loves God alone and nothing else. The one who loves God needs nothing else nor desires anything else. However, through one’s love for God one gains everything. Abraham loved God alone and resigned everything, even his family. And yet through his love, he gained faith in the absurd and regained everything, including his family. “Only one who draws the knife gets the Isaac.”

The Strength of Simon of Cyre'ne

On April 10th, Good Friday, I walked The Stations of the Cross in the impoverished neighborhood of Kensington in North-East Philadelphia. From street corners through parks to empty lots and a baseball field, I walked and listened and stared as I watched Jesus taking His final steps to the Cross.

In the fifth station a man named Simon of Cyre'ne is asked, compelled, or forced to carry Jesus' cross to Gol'gotha (Matt. 27:32). It was at this station, standing in the middle of Joseph Conrad Park, that I was overcome with the weight of a burden - a heaviness that I could neither specify nor disregard. A rush of fear overwhelmed me as I questioned if I too might have to carry the Cross for a leg of the journey. My legs were weak as leaned against the fence in the middle of the park. All that came to me was fear and apprehension as I did not feel fit for the task.

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To carry the Cross! Is there any burden heavier than this? Is there any other burden at all? How frightening a thought! How appropriate to tremble in fear at the call to carry the Cross (Luke 14:27)!

And yet, for the person who knows God's Love, there is a strange appeal in the notion of carrying the Cross. There is a beguiling understanding in the depths of one's heart that, no matter how odd and upside-down, the burden of the Cross must be so! For the Cross is not the end, but rather the beginning. The Cross is the very instrument through which redemption is made possible. Jesus' Way is the only Way. The Way of the Cross is the only Way that leads to the Life.

Therefore, the Cross becomes not the heavy burden that crushes a person unto death, but the light load that brings purpose and joy. Jesus said, "For my yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Matt. 11:30). Surely this is more than a satirical quip! A yoke, of course, involves two persons together sharing a load. Jesus is not offering a "pie in the sky" life of luxury, but rather a kinship of suffering.

In his Gospel of Sufferings, Soren Kierkegaard writes that, "when the need is greatest, help is nearest ... the greater the suffering the nearer to perfection" (p. 23). Accordingly then, the weight of the Cross is the yoke that brings us side by side with the Perfect One. Further on Kierkegaard writes that whenever one learns from suffering "then it is always something about himself and about his relation to God" (p. 57). If this be the case, then the burden of the Cross is not only the means by which we share with Jesus, but also the same way that we come to know ourselves as Children of God. For Christ also suffered in order that He learn through obedience (Heb. 5:8) and become Perfect through suffering (Heb. 2:10).

To carry the Cross! Is there any burden lighter than this? Is there any other burden at all? How appropriate it is to rejoice at the opportunity to learn the Way of the Cross in order to become yoked with the Perfect One!
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And so I stood in the center of Joseph Conrad Park, afraid to take the next step, afraid of the burden of the Cross. The fear is real. It is what gives the burden weight. The self-love is real. It is what gives the Cross Its cost. But it is Jesus' Way. And Jesus' Way is the only Way. So I moved along to the rest of the Stations filled with this heavy reality. And truthfully, I still felt a disconnect from the burden; as if there was no way that I could possibly carry the Cross.

However, later that same afternoon I attended a Peace rally outside Collissimo's Gun Shop on Spring Garden St. Upon my arrival I was asked to help hold a gigantic sign that read: ACT NOW TO END GUN VIOLENCE. As we unrolled the colossal sign I was amazed at its size, it must have been over 50 ft long. But the real shock came when we picked up the dense, canvas piece of propaganda. It was much heavier than I had imagined. Nonetheless, four others and I managed to display the sign adequately for the next 45 minutes.

During the rally I gazed over my shoulder at the wooden cross standing tallest among the banners on the stage. While I stared at this symbol - with all of Its weight - I also felt the fatigue in my own arms, shoulders, legs, and back as I held the sign. It sometimes happens in a moment: when the clearest of messages seems to occur and then disappears only leaving that which you know to be True.

Consider This: You're Brilliant!

Not a day goes by that we don't take many things for granted. But particularly among these is our ability to reason. Human beings are brilliant creatures and have been born into a world full of potential and responsibility. Unfortunately, however, we rarely stop to think about the implications of such an amazing capability as human reason and logic.

C.S. Lewis writes that, “Acts of thinking are no doubt events; but they are a very special sort of events.” And, “They [acts of thinking] are insights into, or knowings of, something other than themselves" (Miracles, p. 25,26). If I have understood Lewis correctly, then acts of human reason are (at the very least) a unique kind of behavior that allow one to perceive something other than or outside of oneself. This basic concept is helpful in understanding the uniqueness of human reason and ought to provoke human beings to consider the implications of such a capability. Instead of discussing the nature of reason and logic, I would much rather present my thoughts on their implications.

Working out of this foundational concept – that acts of reason are insights into other-than-self realities – there are crucial implications for all human beings, especially for Christians. The first is that humankind is relational: we have the unique capability to relate to that which is outside of our own being. In other words, we are made for relationships. And not just with other human beings but with the whole of creation as well! If we are to take this implication seriously then we ought to consider how we relate to both one another and all of creation.

The second implication is that through reason we have been given the ability to value. This facet of human reason is intimately linked to the character of God. Since the earliest accounts of God’s interaction with humanity, God has been a God of value – a Being that judges and measures all reality unto Himself (or Herself or Itself). Therefore, through value we can assess, analyze, and critique everything with which we relate in a manner not unlike God. Because God has bestowed to us this wonderful ability to make inferences based on value, we must act accordingly. It is with great care that we ought to assess and discern that which God values so that we may live in a way pleasing to God.

Without reason there is only assumption (and not even educated assumption! It’s practically impossible to imagine what assumptions without logic would be like; perhaps we might be more like animals?). A Christianity based on assumptions is far too dangerous for my liking. However, the gifts of reason and logic allow human beings to study scripture with critical minds. This will no doubt lead to the use of explanatory methods and other critical study methods.

Although these are not all of the implications, human reason must be acknowledged as a unique act of knowing that allows us to relate, to value, and to study critically all of reality outside of our own selves.

Aristides on the Early Church

The more I learn about the earliest followers of Jesus, the more I am challenged to consider what it means to live as a Christian today. The many accounts and letters in the New Testament certainly reveal the revolutionary behavior of the early Christian communities, but possibly even more stirring are the accounts of those who witnessed the early Christians living the Way of the Kingdom of God - a lifestyle so upside-down and contrary to the norm that pagans were both irritated and amazed.

Consider the following picture painted by Aristides, a philosopher around A.D. 125:

They walk in all humility and kindness, and falsehood is not found among them, and they lone one another. They despise not the widow, and grieve not the orphan. He that hath, distributeth liberally to him that hath not. If they see a stranger, they bring him under their roof, and rejoice over him, as it were their own brother: for they call themselves brethren, not after the flesh, but after the spirit and in God; but when one of their poor passes away from the world, and any of them sees him, then he provides for his burial according to his ability; and if they hear that any of their number is imprisoned or oppressed for the name of their Messiah, all of them provide for his needs, and if it is possible that he may be delivered, they deliver him. And if there is among them a man that is poor and needy, and they have not an abundance of necessaries, they fast two or three days that they may supply the needy with their necessary food.