Embracing Intimacy

Intimacy is an odd thing, I'm finding. Maybe more than odd, its mysterious. It is the end of which all of humanity is seeking. It, in its fullest sense, is the perfect communion- most complete picture of community, and the rejection of individualism and loneliness. When we work towards peace, the peace that is shalom, we enter into perfect intimacy with each other, with God, and with creation. We are made whole beings when we are intimate with each other, God, and earth. And when we achieve intimacy we recognize ourselves in other, and other in ourselves in a holy co-dependence.

What is so frustrating about embracing and working towards intimacy, is how much it requires the freeing and liberating of another person from our own grasp. It is more often the ability to let go of what is beautiful than the ability to grab hold. It is in perfect love that we allow others to flourish, and it is in perfect love that we enable that which is beautiful to be given to all of creation. It is allowing all that is living to join in a holy dance, and then to allow yourself to join that dance also.

The tendency for all of us, when we experience something beautiful, is to force an intimacy that is entirely self serving. Instead of allowing the entire world to also experience something beautiful, we become greedy and take a private ownership over that beautiful thing. This happens in our relationship to economics, the earth, God, and each other. We recognize the value of resources and so we fight for ownership, we recognize the value of land and we exploit it. We recognize the value of our own picture of God, and we force all into our own understanding. And when we feel the desire to have all of one persons being, we destroy the relationship.

Yet there is a sweet liberating freedom when we recognize that the earth is the Lord's and everything in it. When we recognize that we are not in control, then the world becomes open to us. It enables our eyes to see not only our interconnected relationship to humanity, but also to God and God's creation. There is a sweet freedom both for ourselves and for others when we experience intimacy and closeness. When we allow others to simply be, we allow ourselves to begin to experience love, beauty, and peace. And in the irony of letting go we can encounter each other and love equally and perfectly.

That Jesus sure was Sexy

To think the notion that Jesus lives inside the poor is an easy or romantic teaching would be absurd. Certainly there are many, including, myself who once thought this true. It was an ideal that could only come from the privileged. From those who can see the poor and return home to write about. It comes from a desire to sensationalize what is difficult, and a hope that our deepest emotions and intentions will be good enough to enact change. It is a good intention, all this thinking about how it's sweet to be with the poor cause Jesus is there, and we should accept that. But intentions will not bring the kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. When we truly encounter all those who are human, we find that the powers creating brokeness do not discriminate. Justice, relationships, love, and life itself is far from sexy. It is the poor who make me feel uncomfortable and angry. When I sit in community meals on Monday nights I'm constantly frustrated with my conversations with the so called "poor and homeless" who I sit with. I want to scream at them and say "look chump, you're supposed to be Jesus, so why don't you pull it together, maybe shave or take a shower, and we can get to chili's for happy hour if we run." But the poor are no sexier than we are. For we are all fallen, awkward, and smelly. And life turns out to simply be the long laborious waiting and working for shalom, mixed with the hope that we don't completely screw things up before that happens.

But if there is any hope for true redemption, we must acknowledge our place in this world. Those who are privileged must acknowledge that the God who encounters the narrative of the Bible, is a God who exists primarily in the margins. God does exist in the poor, and no its not sexy. But the reign of God will not come from the empire; it will come from those who have been marginalized by the empire. The prophetic voices of those who are being oppressed will one day be realized, and the powerful, those both well and ill intentioned; will fall on our knees before the God who has been living and with the poor and oppressed.

We, as Americans, who are bold and confident in our "rightness" about the world, will one day find that we have been so drastically wrong. This is true of our government, of our NGO's, of our churches, and our institutions. It is not that we are evil, but that the principalities and powers have taken a hold of our land and have blinded us to the true alternative reality possessed in the reign of God. But those who have been hurt by our weapons, by our development projects, and by our understanding of God will one day be heard.

I find hope in this. For it reminds me that the restoration of the world will happen through but more often in spite of ourselves.

Art and Shalom

What attracted me to the Anabaptist church was a theology rooted in discipleship. It was the conviction that God is "more concerned with us living a Christian life, than in speculating about it." It was living as a radical follower of Jesus- in simplicity, in poverty, in solidarity- so that we might better bring justice and restoration to the world. The commitment to peace, the subversive quality of the church, the idea of bearing Christian witness rather than yelling about it, the Socialist leaning- all these reasons are why I morphed into a Mennonite.

And yet I find that in many ways my soul is dying in the Mennonite world. I've lost creativity and passion. I've lost both the joy and sorrow of being a part of this beautiful and difficult world. And more so, I'm finding that all the reasons I joined the Mennonite church are causing me this anxiety. Ironically enough for a church committed to living peacefully, I find that in the quest for justice we've missed glimpses of shalom.

I'm reminded of the story where Jesus gets all sorts of expensive perfume poured on his feet and makes the rather disturbing statement that "the poor will always be with you." It's the passage I often ignore. It always sounds like Jesus is talking like some rich, white evangelical who is justifying their million dollar home and brand new Hummer.

But what if instead of this passage being about Jesus ignoring the poor, it rather has to do with Jesus embracing glimpses of shalom. Maybe this passage speaks to us "simple" Christians who view all of life through the economic lens. Maybe this speaks to us radical Christians who embrace such extreme frugality that they've lost the capacity to enjoy. This is exactly why we have such trouble with this passage- we are such economically minded Christians who have lost the capacity to embrace the good.

Afterall, most sweet things in life are entirely opposed to economics. Love, art, novels, poems, music- none of these things make much economical sense with a world starving and at war. Yet, I become ever more convinced that if music was silenced, if poetry became obsolete, and if romance became impractical- the world would fall off its axis. The world cannot exist without these things, for they are glimpses of shalom, glimpses of hope, glimpses of the kingdom; and they bear witness to a greater reality than the current reality of hunger, sickness, poverty, and war. To deny the arts is to deny salvation.

Benny Hinn and Lord Lobster- A Battle of Good and Tasty

Tonight the skies of Pennsylvania were graced with the presence of the world famous Benny Hinn (http://www.bennyhinn.org). I hope you realized the sarcasm, since there are few Christians in the world that I find more embarrassing than good ol BH. His website boasts a banner that reads "Saving the Lost at Any Cost" and from his preaching he is doing just that. From his support of Israeli occupation to his support of G.W. it is clear that he will seek to save the lost, whatever the cost may be.

And so when I heard Benny Hinn was coming to town I immediately decided to go. I don't think I wanted to go just to critisize and feel self-righteous. I could have done that without going afterall. I really think I was curious what such an event might be like. More than being curious about Benny, I was curious to see the people that would show up for such an event. Would they be poor? Would they be white? Would they be rich evangelicals? There was only one way to find out.

So I began to prepare to go see Benny Hinn. When I went to get tickets on the website, I was forced to fill out some doctrinal belief statement. I guess "any cost" doesn't count for any heathens that plan on actually seeing Benny. And well, of course I was unable to fill out the doctrinal statement with any intergrity, so I got one of my friends to fill it out for me.

With that being done I was ready to go get my soul saved. I quickly jotted down a list of ailments in case I was lucky enough to be chosen at random for healing. My list consisted of everything from my soar back and busted knee, to my lost soul. I also packed a water bottle and first aid kit in case I got slain by the spirit. I heard people get slain, and well I don't know what that means, but it doesn't sound safe.

Unfortunately as I was getting ready to leave I realized that it was lobster night at the house where I live. And I was suddenly left with a difficult decision- get my soul saved at the Hershey Arena, or eat lobster?

The lobster was delicious.

Dance Party

I sat today and listened to an upbeat gospel song remixed by the artist Moby. The song is excellent, if I may say so. Before I knew it I started tapping my foot, and I'm telling you, I really felt like dancing (not a strong point of mine, by the way).

Without realizing it I sort of got lost in a daydream. In this daydream I envisioned all the people in the room with me just letting loose and dancing. Not just any old two-step, I mean dancing like they had to. Full body moving, twirls, twists, jumps, even the occasional ridiculous yelping into the air. This wasn't just hip young people, it was old people, shy people, grandmothers, children, cardigan wearers, all shapes, sizes, and colors: black, white, brown, purple. People were sweating, laughing, all had that big stupid grin of excitement that you're not supposed to have after the age of 9.

If I were smart I would just end things there. But unfortunately I tend to make a moral out of everything. I've had a friend asking me lots of questions about why I'm a Christian (a decent question, I'd say), and I've struggled to really answer why I think she should also be a Christian. I grew up with the language of heaven and hell, but I don't think this is good enough anymore. So I told her I didn't think she was going to hell. Certainly not something they teach in Evangelism 101. And I've started to think that maybe being a Christian is acknowledging that this dance party is sometime going to happen, despite what the world looks like now. One day there will be no war, no poverty, no AIDS, no weeping or crying. The rich and powerful will no longer win, evil will no longer reign over this world, and whether we want it or not we will eventually hear the music, then we'll start tapping our feet, and before we know it we'll all be dancing and sweating to the liberating gospel music remixed by Moby. And we'll be dancing for a long time, with people we never thought we'd dance with, just looking at each other with that 9 year old smile that can only come with the most foolish kind of love.

Subway Blues

I was recently in Boston in route to give a talk about justice and charity. I had been feeling as though my life was becoming mathematically oriented. I've been reading non-fiction books, like a 1500 page history of the Lancaster Mennonite Conference (pretty wild, i know), or books about theories of violence and poverty, and I'd just been thinking a lot about numbers. There is _ number of homeless people in Lancaster, _ number of children dying of hunger, _number of civilians killed in Iraq. For someone who almost failed a freshman math course in my senior year, these numbers can really give me a headache.

I stood in a Boston subway (after battling a machine in attempts of winning a "Charlie card" which apparently would let me into the subway) among scores of blank faces headed home after another mundane day. Suddenly a man who I assume was homeless began playing "Pachebel's Canon" on guitar. It was beautiful. And when I needed it most, a rather poorly dressed and unattractive couple began to dance awkwardly off-tempo to this classical ballad.

There is a part in the Wilder's "Our Town", when one character who after seeing the world exposed for what it is, asks "Will anyone ever understand." The reply is "The poets and saints, maybe." I always loved this part of the book, because it praises imagination over science, or maybe just because it too is beautiful. I've been making attempts lately at spotting poetry and sainthood in the everyday. It's in the faces of awkward couples expressing love with awkward dances, that I am reminded of the unspeakable truths which are so easily ignored. Its like what Mary Oliver once said "stories are more beautiful than answers."

Guns, Coffee, and Camus

I woke up at 5:38am to the sound of gun shots. I'm currently in Washington DC for work, and staying at a house in a rougher part of town I suppose. That afternoon I was visiting some friends who live in DC and walking through a great part of town. The houses and stores were all beautiful with all sorts of fascinating things inside them to keep my attention for the afternoon. It felt like I was in college again- inspired, comfortable, conversations full of grand plans, and coffee shops with art, music, books- all with a romantic allure to them. I felt like I belonged.

Afterwards, I hopped on a bus to go home. If I was home at the bookstore, then my bus trip quickly had me thinking "I don't think we are in Kansas anymore." The bookshops and cafes were quickly replaced with abandoned houses and fast food. And I saw that picture, that always leaves me perplexed- a homeless man sleeping on the steps of an abandoned house. This never makes sense to me. It makes me want to scream out "hey man, just go inside- there's no one in there!" But I know its my simplicity that drives me mad. In the economy of God this doesn't happen, and I look forward to that day when the kingdom is fully realized.

Anyway, I went to bed thinking about these things, and I woke up to gun shots outside. I'm not sure what happened, or if anyone was shot or anything. I heard one lone siren, but it was quickly shut off as if to say "Everyone just stay asleep, there's nothing to see out here." It's a great tragedy that if we want to, we can live our lives in the bookstores and cafes without ever realizing the "other reality" of this world. If there is hardship and violence, it becomes entertainment. All of these events in my day caused me to ask, which reality is more real- the coffee or the guns?

And so it hit me again. Neither reality is the final reality. The alternative reality that I'm choosing to embrace is the reality that acknowledges the need for justice now, and recognizes that one day the poor and oppressed will be set free, and there will be no tears, no guns, no homeless, and no abandoned houses. And so we work for this kingdom- knowing that we can't do much of anything to make it fully realized, but also knowing that its a great sin to allow this to cause apathy. This is the Myth of Sisyphus that Camus spoke of- to work for the kingdom knowing we will fail until the day when Christ gives the rock the final push up the mountain.