The course of the Anabaptist was so swift, that their doctrines soon overspread the whole land and they obtained much following, baptized thousands and drew many good hearts to them; for they taught, as it seemed, naught but love, faith and endurance, showing themselves in much
tribulation patient and humble. They brake bread with one another as a sign of the oneness and love, helped one another as a sign of oneness and love, helped one another truly with precept, lending, borrowing, giving; taught that all things should be in common and called each other ‘Brother.’ They increased so suddenly that the world did fear a tumult for reason of them. Though of this, as I hear, they have in all places been found innocent. They are persecuted in many parts with great tyranny, cast into bonds and tormented, with burning, with sword, with fire, with water, and with much imprisonment, so that in few years in many places a multitude of them have been undone, as is reported to the number of two thousand, who in divers places have been killed….they suffer as martyrs with patience and steadfastness (Rise and Fall of the Anabaptists, 28).

This is part of a discussion on the PNMC Peace And Justice Forum:

I think it is time for the church to reconsider its politics.. I’m not advocating that we all try to get elected or take over the government necessarily. But I do think we might be entering a 1930’s scenario where if we think things have been bad for the middle-class and poor through the 1970’s, 80’s and 90’s, you ain’t seen nothing yet. I know I’m going to hear it from those who like to keep Jesus out of politics (and I do still harbor many healthy anabaptist political hesitations myself) but I’m becoming equally angry with a church that seems more interested in building new administrative centers and benefiting from our MMA retirement portfolios (well, up until 6mo. ago at least), but seems less interested in walking the neighborhood, asking how people are doing and searching for real ways to bring hope and healing to those who know first hand what it feels like to search for scraps beneath the “master’s” table. I’ve recently been inspired by reading about church leaders of the 1930s who searched for ways to move beyond insular spiritualism to both care for the poor AND passionately advocate for significant social change. I wonder if the coming revolt might need some committed nonviolent Mennonites who can help keep it nonviolent.
-Matt F.

I think, Matt, that you’re barking up the wrong tree. I feel I can say this as a person who is deeply involved in my communities here in Portland. I personally think that the governments and corporations and banks are so full of their own self interest, especially in maintaining whatever status quo there is, that the system itself is unreliable. I believe that if we as Christians took over the system, then we would do no better than those who hold it now (or previously). Part of the problem is the structure of the system itself, whether that be the U.S. government, capitalism, the banking system, or modern labor being controlled by large corporations. What is needed is a complete breakdown of the systems– which we will get when Jesus returns.

However, in the meantime, we need to do SOMETHING. I think the best option is to create alternative communities that can provide both an economic safety zone as well as an example to others as to how to act in God’s economy. I am not advocating dropping out of the world, but rather calling on believers to have an economic change of heart. This would look like this:

a. Our economic insentive would not be to obtain more income or property ourselves, but to invest into the community. This investment would include money, but not be limited to that. It would also include property, time and labor. Thus, we could encourage others to think about every economic decision to be about the community rather than about individual gain. Each decision would still be made by the individual, but the incentive of the individual would be different. (Acts 2:44-45)

b.The economic gain would not be on the basis of reciprocity, but on a broad concept of meeting other’s needs without obtaining anything back. A broad concept of need would include survival issues, but it would also include issues of respect, entertainment and inner peace. But, again, it is focused on what can give the community these things instead of individuals or nuclear family units. (Luke 6:30-31)

c. The focus of this economic return would be to provide the greatest amount of economic resourcing, not to those who have the most resources, but to those with the greatest needs. Thus, should all else fail, the basic needs of all the community– including the poor and outcast of society– would be met. (Luke 12:33; Luke 14:12-14; Acts 4:34-35)

d. Because all people’s needs are met, the community will draw those who are poor and outcast, who are the most economically vulnerable. While this seems unsustainable, in a cash poor society, this means that the community will be wealth in a viable economic resource– namely those able to do labor and time and who have the insentive to act in resiprocity for what they have received even if reciprocity is not demanded. Namely, a work force will be available for the community, which will make them a viable self-sustaining community. (Luke 16:1-9)

This is what we do in Anawim, with minimal assistance from our (more) wealthy friends in other churches. And, actually, I just read of a similar report in the latest issue of the MMN publication. In Argentina, many were losing their jobs. Since they didn’t want to just be sitting around waiting for their next opporunity, many in the Mennonite church decided to create a food co-op, which provided for the entire community.

What do you think?

I have been involved in some pretty strange things—a church planter of an all-homeless/mentally ill congregation; encouraging leaders of a mosque in Bangladesh to re-think Jesus; dumpster diving for Jesus, and so recently becoming the poster child for dumpster diving in Portland (Check out http://www.portlandmonthlymag.com/issues/archives/articles/0409-holy-diver/ and read a recent article about me—heck, just look at the pics!). Stuff like that. But when I got a call from MCUSA a week ago, that took the cake.

Someone nominated me to be the Executive Director of MCUSA.

At first I figured it must be a joke. Who would, in their right mind, think that I—radical pastor who has to bite his tongue every time he speaks to a middle class person—would make a good Executive Director? Someone just did it for a lark, I thought. Or perhaps I was recommended by someone who just wanted to shake things up. Well, that would do it. Me as taking Jim Schrag’s place? Just unthinkable.

But some of my friends weren’t so sure. They thought it was not such a crazy idea after all, but fascinating. My wife looked over the qualifications in the packet I received and she said, “Actually, you pretty much qualify for the position.” Scary. And perhaps MCUSA needs a little shaking up. And it isn’t like I wouldn’t work with whomever God gave me.

In thinking about it, I thought about the things I could stir up, changes I might be able to initiate in the church:

1. While continuing the focus of antiracism, I could also encourage MCUSA to welcome another significant group that are without a voice in MCUSA: the lower class. For many different reasons, those who are poor or uneducated aren’t given an equal opportunity to speak out in the Church, conferences or in most congregations. I would want to champion their cause, to allow them to have a voice where they currently have no voice.

2. I would want to service agencies to be more missional and missional agencies to be more service-oriented.

3. As an aspect of following Jesus, I could encourage the following programs:
-A church-wide memorization program of Jesus’ words
-Discussion groups on Jesus’ words and life, investigating the meaning of Jesus’ words and pursuing the living of them out

4. I could invite leaders from the Mennonite church all around the world—for instance, Columbia, Vietnam, India, Congo, Ethiopia, and Germany— to talk in our churches and to our conferences. We can only become a world-wide church if we participate in and interact with the world.

5. I could try to help us balance our church and conference budgets by encouraging volunteerism, discouraging restructuring, and using technology to try to reduce costs.

6. I would directly challenge MCUSA and its congregations to be less nationalistic. This could mean a name change for the Church, as well as seeking out means to be politically involved that does not involve partisan dichotomies.

7. Encourage educational opportunities that teach how to create peace and love. I would encourage the Mennonite schools to have outreach courses not taught by professionals, but by those who have been involved in ongoing acts of love in challenging areas. For instance we can have an MCCer teach about cross cultural communication in an urban setting; a CPTer teaching about how to deal with an angry person; and perhaps someone who has been working with the homeless teaching about how a church can begin to be pastoral to the poor, etc.

8. I would want to encourage the development of new monastic-type communities, who could then become full members of every conference.

9. I would attempt to create contexts in which the church can openly talk about controversial issues, like LGTBQ

10. I would want to introduce the idea of stewardship as being giving to people’s needs in a way that creates relationship, instead of money being a replacement for relationship.

One thing is certain: I never lack for new ideas.

However, as tempting as it would be, I think it would be wrong for me to apply for the position.

First of all, my own church, Anawim, is not yet ready to stand without me, because of inadequate leadership (although in another year, it may be.) Also, I couldn’t in good conscience put my name forward as long as a woman has not yet been moderator of MCUSA.

But most of all, I do not actually represent MCUSA, nor, I think, could I ever (unless it changes considerably). The Executive Director position is as much as anything supposed to be the voice and face of MCUSA. Even if I got a haircut, I don’t think I fit the bill. Finally, I am more of a prophetic, even challenging voice, and the members of the church are much more used to leaders who are conciliatory. I don’t think MCUSA is ready for me. Maybe next time around, eh?

I still think it sounds funny.

Love is an Orientation: Elevating the Conversation with the Gay Community
Andrew Marin
InterVarsity Press
Published: March 2009
ISBN: 978-0-8308-3626-0

If you were to meet Andrew Marin (and providing you have some experience with Evangelical culture), it might strike you that he looks, acts, and talks like the epitome of a twenty-something Evangelical guy.  His hair is cut pretty short.  When I heard him speak, he was wearing long khaki cargo shorts and an oversized striped polo shirt.  He is effusive and outgoing in mannerisms, and when he speaks, he loves to interject words like “awesome” and “pumped up” into his emotional-wallop-packing anecdotes and series of simple, Bible-verse backed points.  Stock Evangelicalish phrases seem to work their way un-self-consciously into every other sentence.

In his own words (paraphrased from what I remember), he is what his large Evangelical church in a (quite) affluent Chicago suburb raised him to be: an outgoing, straight, conservative, Bible-believing alpha-male.  And he doesn’t just appear to be this.  He truly is this, and he fully claims it.

So… this has all been just to set up some tension over everything else I want to say about Andrew Marin, his eight year of work in the GLBT (gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgendered) community, and especially his new book published by Intervarsity Press, “Love is an Orientation: Elevating the Conversation with the Gay Community.”  For those who don’t know me, I grew up very Christian and very Mennonite, went through a lot of pain figuring out my sexual orientation, am gay, and currently approach the church and the Bible with a lot of ambivalence over whether they’re fundamentally good or bad (and whether they lead one toward Christ or kill any possibility of actually encountering Christ.)  Add that to the tension.

Let me give you the one-sentence-ish summary of Marin’s biography (which takes most of a chapter in the book): he grew up a homophobic Christian who called everyone a fag; best friends came out of the closet and shocked his worldview; moved into Boystown (neighborhood where many gay boys live/hang out in Chicago) and started spending all his times with gay people in gay places; hasn’t stopped doing so for eight years.  He started the Marin Foundation to do something that seems to have never been done (at least, never for real) in the Evangelical church before: approach GLBT people to learn about their lives and build a lasting, committed relational bond for talking about God.  The rest of the book tells you stories about the people he met, lessons he learned, and a number of principles the church has to adopt to move from violent non-productive opposition to the GLBT community into productive, fruitful, authentic, relational, and loving sharing of the Gospel with GLBT people – and by “sharing” he doesn’t mean “telling” as in “I know something you don’t”, he means “you’re experiencing this and I’m experiencing this.”  You know – sharing.  (If you can’t tell already, I believe Marin is doing something truly extraordinary in his work and in this book.  I think it’s going to be very important in Evangelical and conservative-ish Christian circles.)

If you are someone who care about the church and also longs for any sort of progress in a positive direction on the church’s obsession with the gays (or… maybe I should say… overwhelming amount energy focused on the issue) I would put this book at #1 on your priority of books to read.

I won’t directly summarize the book – and I don’t want this review to be taken as a direct representation of exactly what Marin’s thoughts are.  Rather, this is my version of the core of his message.  By some coincidence, he happened to be speaking at a nearby Mennonite church the week after I finished reading the book, so my impressions are also based on his presentation that I heard there. If you’re interested in the specifics, read the book.

He recognizes a poisonous situation in the current state of affairs between the Evangelical church and the GLBT community: one of two polarized sides, each with certain rigid orthodoxies, typified by certain simplistic answers to simplistic questions (“Is homosexuality a sin?”  “Can homosexuals change?”  “Are they born that way?” “Does the Bible teach homosexuality is wrong?”) which serve as markers of tribal identity for immediately placing a stranger into their appropriate tribal identification.  For someone who might on a superficial level seem to communicate in streams of Evangelical cliches, his analysis of the linguistic manifestation of this polarized state is very subtle and quite astute.  One of the pillars of his approach is to destabilize the basis of these simplistic polarizing questions.  There’s an interesting analysis in the book of Jesus’s answers to close-ended questions.  WWJD.

He calls on the church to take upon itself responsibility for ending the cultural war between itself and the GLBT community.  He calls on the church to use the true, freedom-in-Christ-centered Gospel as its tool to end the war.  He even, I think, calls the church to take responsibility for being the originators of this culture war: his thinking goes – “since we have spent so many years defining entire humans beings by the singular aspect of their sexual behavior, is it any surprise that they have formed identities based on their sexual behavior?”  He calls for an entirely new way (new in GLBT/Christian relations) of defining others’ identity, one based on claiming that all people’s true identity is in Christ.

He has a list of points/lessons/principles for the church to follow in making a transformation.  To be honest, I don’t have the book nearby right now, and I don’t really remember many of them.  If I was working as a Christian trying to understand and relate to the gay community (which I’m not), I’d go back and look at them.  I can tell you these things for sure:

1) Andrew Marin, more than any other straight conservative Christian who believes in a literal interpretation of scripture I’ve ever known, has a true understanding of GLBT people and their lives.  Maybe he’s spent too much time with us gays, actually – at his talk, some of his off-handed remarks about gay/Christian interactions were so straight-to-the-heart my partner and I spent half the time shaking with laughter, while all the sweet presumably straight Mennonites around us only smiled or mildly chuckled in a bit of vague confusion.

2) He’s committed his life to building a bridge between the GLBT and the Evangelical communities.  He’s spent all of his post-college life so far working with GLBT organizations, churches, and communities.  Check out his foundation’s website (google “Marin Foundation”) for all the stuff that they’re up to.

3) His book is powerful.

Some of his ideas are fundamentally Anabaptist: I think he even uses the exact phrase of “an upside-down kingdom”.  However, his ideas are also VERY refreshingly non-Anabaptist on another front: he has no instinctive obsession with making sure the church is a pure place that only the pure can inhabit.  He think people should be at church because it creates a place for them to practice and experience God’s love while they’re learning and allowing God to change their lives.

Okay.  This review is long.  But, now that I’ve talked as much as I can about Marin’s book and his ideas, I’d like to say what I truly think about him and his life.  I think the reason Marin stands out isn’t necessarily just because his ideas and language are fresh.  I think there’s this authentic spiritual core that he is living from – his words and ideas are only the fruits of this core.  He’s this very normal person, as I tried to describe.  Yet, in contintually submitting to what he understands as God’s calling to live as a link between two deeply polarized communities – and through empathizing with all the pain and suffering he’s witnessed in GLBT people’s experiences in the church yet contintuing on in hope and not despair – he has identified his own life and own path with Christ.  That was my main impression, overall.  He’s someone who is in the process of being transformed by following the path of Christ, the path of suffering, of being continually misunderstood, the process of giving up whatever he thought his life was and accepting instead the reality of what God is in his life.  I suspect that there are elements of his biography that are more complex and are darker that the breezy, simplistic stories he shares in the book – times of true despair and of having to give up his own identity.  Maybe this whole GLBT/Christian divide isn’t just a calling outward for him to change the word, but has also served as his own inward calling, to force him into identification with both the suffering and the love of Christ.

Maybe these are just words that don’t mean much either, this talk about giving up one’s life.  Thinking about it, I’ve heard these words before too, and usually they don’t mean too much.  So whatever.  Get the book.  If you’re into Evangelical-type things, it’s a major one, and people will be talking.  If you think a lot about the place of GLBT people in the church and all the current brouhaha over it, definitely pick it up.  Also – if you’re just really interested in someone doing something very unexpected, and exhibiting the beginnings of a truly amazing spirituality, look at it for that.  That’s most of what I want to say.  I have a lot more personal thoughts about what this book might mean for the church and for the GLBT community, but I’ll save those for the comments.

New Heaven, New Earth: Anarchism and Christianity Beyond Empire
August 14 & 15, 2009

Location
Caritas Village
2509 Harvard Avenue,
Memphis, TN 38112

This year’s anarchism and Christianity conference, hosted by Jesus Radicals, will look squarely at the economic and ecological crisis facing the globe, and point to signs of hope for creativity, for alternative living, for radical sharing, for faithfulness, for a new way of being. We are living in a karios moment that will either break us or compel us to finally strive for a new, sane way of life. The question we face at this pivotal time is not if our empires will fall apart, but when they will fall–and how will we face it? We hope you will join the conversation.

CONFIRMED SPEAKERS
Plenary presenters
– Layla Abdel Rahim, anti-authoritarian wanderer, researcher and university lecturer, writer, and unschooling mother
– Emmanuel Charles McCarthy, co-founder Pax Christi-USA, nonviolence advocate and peace activist
– Ewuare Osayande, author, poet and political activist; founder of POWER (People Organized Working to Eradicate Racism)
– John Zerzan, anti-civilization theorist, writer and speaker; host of Anarchy Radio

Panelists
– Jeannie Alexander, Amos House Catholic Worker
– Eric Anglada, New Hope Catholic Worker Farm
– Brenna Cussen, Saints Francis & Therese Catholic Worker
– Gene Davenport, Lambuth University

– Eileen Fleming, We Are Wide Awake
– Ethan Hughes, The Possibility Alliance
– Lee Van Ham, Jubilee Economics Ministries

SESSIONS
– Anarchism and Christianity Primer
– Seeing What Greenspan Couldn’t: A New, Partnership Economy
– Jesus & the Money Changers: Rioting Against the Economic Crisis

– Nonviolence in the Holy Land: A spiritual journey and nonviolent political odyssey from the Middle East to the USA
– Anarcho-Primitivism versus a Darkening Reality
– Revealing the Kingdom in the Midst of Empire: Reimagining Citizenship, Reimagining Economics
– A Lullaby for the Planet: Undressing Ourselves for a Viable Parenthood
– Exploring New Possibilities (tentative title)
– Gospel Nonviolent Anarchism—Logos & Emmunah

RECREATION
– Community Tour – GrowMemphis
– Film screening – “What A Way To Go: Life At The End Of Empire”

More information: http://www.jesusradicals.com/conference/

I wrote this for a group of hard core youth who were into anarchy:

Injustice reigns in the earth. Capitalism is corrupt, only granting freedom to the wealthy, while the poor get ground in the dust. The 200 wealthiest people in the world, all heads of corporations, control 40% of the world’s wealth, while the poorest 20% of the world live on 1% of the world’s wealth. The 40 wealthiest Western nations have 85% of the world’s wealth.

Perhaps such disparity in the world today wouldn’t be so bad if the governments and corporations of the world were concerned with justice in the world and providing equity for the poor. Instead, the wealthy of the world use their economic power as the whip on the backs of the oppressed.

The developing countries of the world are required to pay a huge amount of interest on loans, and so unable to pay back the loans, and thus their people starve. On the other hand, the United States has a trillion-dollar debt that they can refuse to pay, if they want. The corporations of the West use Chinese labor to do the menial tasks that the workers of the West find demeaning or that don’t pay enough. Then the Chinese oppress their people, telling them where to work, how to worship, where to live and how many children to have. The world corporations are creating oppression as well in Vietnam, Mexico, Haiti, Bangladesh, Singapore, and multitudes of other developing nations. And all this, while not discouraging them to cease the oppression of ethnic, religious and political minorities.

The governments of the West, especially the United States, are controlled by the corporations, who gain benefits in how much taxes they pay, what tariffs are to be imposed on imports and which developing nations are to be given benefits and which governments are to be destroyed by the U.S. military. And even the nations that receive benefits, they receive it with a price tag that requires them to act in the benefit of the West. Colonization may be dead, but the North American and European nations are controlling the world economically through the UN, the WTO and through their diplomatic carrots and sticks.

In the twenty-first century, economic power is absolute power. And absolute power corrupts absolutely.

The poor are crying out in opposition to the world corporate structure. Protests are happening all over the world. The world press is decrying the controls of the West- although the American press never acknowledges a peep of the worldwide outcry.

What will happen? Will the poor rise up and overthrow their oppressors? Will there be unification among the workers who will overcome the wealth and power of the corporations? Will a great class war happen that will change the economic structure of the world and set all people free economically? Will there be real change in humanity that will provide justice for everyone?

Give me a break.

Let’s look at this historically. Those who were truly poor have never been successful in rising up against their oppressors. From the rise of the Lombards in the 1400s to the Peasants’ War in the early 1500s to the Rebellion of John Brown in the mid 1800s to the ethnic cleansing in Rwanda in the late 1900s, when the truly poor violently rise up against their oppressors, it only ends in tragedy and in the oppressors having an example of why they need to oppress.

Violence and resistance can create an economic change, such as the French Revolution, the Labor Parties, the Communist Revolutions of Russia and China. But the economic benefits are limited to a particular class of people, usually the middle class. Thus, the poor are not assisted at all, but only those who had enough power to enact change themselves.
This is not real change. It is just trading one set of oppressors for another. And this is a summary of the history of the world, for the last 10,000 years.

There is, however, another way for real change to occur. There is a way for the world corporate system to be destroyed and to be replaced by justice. But it requires much more than most people are willing to give. It does not require power, but humility. Not control, but persecution and death.

We need to recognize that the only force that will change things in the world for good is God. God alone has the power and authority to change the world permanently. God alone has the compassion and desire to help the poor, the lowest of the low (Check it out in the Bible- Exodus 22:21-27). God alone, of all the powers that have ever existed, has dedicated himself to helping those who are truly in need (Psalm 146:3-9). And he has promised that any governmental, corporate or religious power that oppressed the poor, he will destroy (Psalm 82:1-8; Revelation 18:1-24).

However, God requires the poor to do one most important thing- to cry out to him for help. The poor must recognize his authority over them and then cry out to him (Exodus 22:23; II Chronicles 7:14; Psalm 18:6-17; Psalm 34:17; Psalm 107). They must turn from the evil things they do- from oppressing their neighbor and do good to all, and then God will listen to them (Micah 3:4; Hosea 8:2-3; Ezekiel 18:27). And those who are poor must ask God persistently for God’s deliverance from oppression and he will give it (Luke 18:2-8). Such humility is required from God to gain freedom from oppression (Luke 18:10-14).

And this way of life needs to be given to others who are poor. Many need to be shown and taught this way of life in order for the oppression of the world corporate structure to be destroyed. If a single person cries out against an oppressor, then that one will be delivered from the one oppressor. If a multitude of poor, all around the world, cry out against the world corporate structure, then the whole world will be changed. This means that we need a multitude of people dedicated to God and to cry out to him for justice to change the world.

But even the humility and the training of others is not enough. We need to prove the oppression. We need to show that oppression really is occurring- for no power overthrows another without proof. This means that we need to put ourselves in the front lines of oppression. We need to show God and the world that the world corporate structure is willing to sacrifice and kill others, but not itself.

How do we do this? Through non-violent, public outcry against oppression. Through standing in front of the violent and haters of the poor, and telling them to stop or they will be destroyed by God. Through praying for God’s justice in their presence.

And then letting them oppress us.

When they want to arrest us, we let them. When they want to punish us, we let them. When they want to hit us, we let them and we do not hit back. Instead, we make a public spectacle of their oppression. We give them an opportunity to show how evil they really are.

And they will be destroyed. By God. By someone God appoints. But the world will change.

Some say, How can you know this? This has never happened before! It can never succeed! Wrong. It has succeeded. And the poor have been released by this very method. Martin Luther King Jr. used this method against those oppressing the black communities, even allowing himself to be martyred. Gandhi used this method, systematically destroying the power of the British. The Anabaptists of the Sixteenth Century used this method- thousands dying for the Truth- and changed the face of Christianity. The Waldensians used this method, and caused there to be a resurgence of concern for the poor, including the powerful Franciscan movement. And all of these successful movements were sourced from one person- Jesus.

Jesus himself came to assist the poor. He brought them freedom and stood against the oppressive authorities that used their power for injustice. But rather than begin a violent revolution, he suffered and was executed as a rebel. And it was because of this that a movement sprang up among the poor that changed the ethical outlook of the world- Christianity. And through Jesus the Jewish government was destroyed and the Roman government was changed forever. And while Christianity has been used for many evils throughout the centuries, the teaching and life of Jesus has been used as an example of the most positive world changers that has existed.

Jesus’ method of world change is just as outlined above-
a. Do no evil, but do good to the needy according to God’s love (Mark 1:15; Matthew 7:12);
b. Cry out to God for justice (Luke 18:1-8);
c. Declare to the oppressors the judgment they will face from God (Matthew 10:7, 28)
d. Allow them to oppress you to display their evil (Matthew 5:38-48)
e. Teach the poor the message of freedom from oppression through the way of Jesus (Matthew 28:19-20)
f. And justice will prevail through the power of God! (Matthew 10:24-27)

The world system will be changed! but only through the way of Jesus.

The post Destruction of the World Corporate Structure appeared first on Young Anabaptist Radicals.

This is part of a discussion on the PNMC Peace And Justice Forum:

I think it is time for the church to reconsider its politics.. I’m not advocating that we all try to get elected or take over the government necessarily. But I do think we might be entering a 1930’s scenario where if we think things have been bad for the middle-class and poor through the 1970’s, 80’s and 90’s, you ain’t seen nothing yet. I know I’m going to hear it from those who like to keep Jesus out of politics (and I do still harbor many healthy anabaptist political hesitations myself) but I’m becoming equally angry with a church that seems more interested in building new administrative centers and benefiting from our MMA retirement portfolios (well, up until 6mo. ago at least), but seems less interested in walking the neighborhood, asking how people are doing and searching for real ways to bring hope and healing to those who know first hand what it feels like to search for scraps beneath the “master’s” table. I’ve recently been inspired by reading about church leaders of the 1930s who searched for ways to move beyond insular spiritualism to both care for the poor AND passionately advocate for significant social change. I wonder if the coming revolt might need some committed nonviolent Mennonites who can help keep it nonviolent.
-Matt F.

I think, Matt, that you’re barking up the wrong tree. I feel I can say this as a person who is deeply involved in my communities here in Portland. I personally think that the governments and corporations and banks are so full of their own self interest, especially in maintaining whatever status quo there is, that the system itself is unreliable. I believe that if we as Christians took over the system, then we would do no better than those who hold it now (or previously). Part of the problem is the structure of the system itself, whether that be the U.S. government, capitalism, the banking system, or modern labor being controlled by large corporations. What is needed is a complete breakdown of the systems– which we will get when Jesus returns.

However, in the meantime, we need to do SOMETHING. I think the best option is to create alternative communities that can provide both an economic safety zone as well as an example to others as to how to act in God’s economy. I am not advocating dropping out of the world, but rather calling on believers to have an economic change of heart. This would look like this:

a. Our economic insentive would not be to obtain more income or property ourselves, but to invest into the community. This investment would include money, but not be limited to that. It would also include property, time and labor. Thus, we could encourage others to think about every economic decision to be about the community rather than about individual gain. Each decision would still be made by the individual, but the incentive of the individual would be different. (Acts 2:44-45)

b.The economic gain would not be on the basis of reciprocity, but on a broad concept of meeting other’s needs without obtaining anything back. A broad concept of need would include survival issues, but it would also include issues of respect, entertainment and inner peace. But, again, it is focused on what can give the community these things instead of individuals or nuclear family units. (Luke 6:30-31)

c. The focus of this economic return would be to provide the greatest amount of economic resourcing, not to those who have the most resources, but to those with the greatest needs. Thus, should all else fail, the basic needs of all the community– including the poor and outcast of society– would be met. (Luke 12:33; Luke 14:12-14; Acts 4:34-35)

d. Because all people’s needs are met, the community will draw those who are poor and outcast, who are the most economically vulnerable. While this seems unsustainable, in a cash poor society, this means that the community will be wealth in a viable economic resource– namely those able to do labor and time and who have the insentive to act in resiprocity for what they have received even if reciprocity is not demanded. Namely, a work force will be available for the community, which will make them a viable self-sustaining community. (Luke 16:1-9)

This is what we do in Anawim, with minimal assistance from our (more) wealthy friends in other churches. And, actually, I just read of a similar report in the latest issue of the MMN publication. In Argentina, many were losing their jobs. Since they didn’t want to just be sitting around waiting for their next opporunity, many in the Mennonite church decided to create a food co-op, which provided for the entire community.

What do you think?

The post Recession Revolution appeared first on Young Anabaptist Radicals.

I have been involved in some pretty strange things–a church planter of an all-homeless/mentally ill congregation; encouraging leaders of a mosque in Bangladesh to re-think Jesus; dumpster diving for Jesus, and so recently becoming the poster child for dumpster diving in Portland (Check out http://www.portlandmonthlymag.com/issues/archives/articles/0409-holy-diver/ and read a recent article about me–heck, just look at the pics!). Stuff like that. But when I got a call from MCUSA a week ago, that took the cake.

Someone nominated me to be the Executive Director of MCUSA.

At first I figured it must be a joke. Who would, in their right mind, think that I–radical pastor who has to bite his tongue every time he speaks to a middle class person–would make a good Executive Director? Someone just did it for a lark, I thought. Or perhaps I was recommended by someone who just wanted to shake things up. Well, that would do it. Me as taking Jim Schrag’s place? Just unthinkable.

But some of my friends weren’t so sure. They thought it was not such a crazy idea after all, but fascinating. My wife looked over the qualifications in the packet I received and she said, “Actually, you pretty much qualify for the position.” Scary. And perhaps MCUSA needs a little shaking up. And it isn’t like I wouldn’t work with whomever God gave me.

In thinking about it, I thought about the things I could stir up, changes I might be able to initiate in the church:

1. While continuing the focus of antiracism, I could also encourage MCUSA to welcome another significant group that are without a voice in MCUSA: the lower class. For many different reasons, those who are poor or uneducated aren’t given an equal opportunity to speak out in the Church, conferences or in most congregations. I would want to champion their cause, to allow them to have a voice where they currently have no voice.

2. I would want to service agencies to be more missional and missional agencies to be more service-oriented.

3. As an aspect of following Jesus, I could encourage the following programs:
-A church-wide memorization program of Jesus’ words
-Discussion groups on Jesus’ words and life, investigating the meaning of Jesus’ words and pursuing the living of them out

4. I could invite leaders from the Mennonite church all around the world–for instance, Columbia, Vietnam, India, Congo, Ethiopia, and Germany– to talk in our churches and to our conferences. We can only become a world-wide church if we participate in and interact with the world.

5. I could try to help us balance our church and conference budgets by encouraging volunteerism, discouraging restructuring, and using technology to try to reduce costs.

6. I would directly challenge MCUSA and its congregations to be less nationalistic. This could mean a name change for the Church, as well as seeking out means to be politically involved that does not involve partisan dichotomies.

7. Encourage educational opportunities that teach how to create peace and love. I would encourage the Mennonite schools to have outreach courses not taught by professionals, but by those who have been involved in ongoing acts of love in challenging areas. For instance we can have an MCCer teach about cross cultural communication in an urban setting; a CPTer teaching about how to deal with an angry person; and perhaps someone who has been working with the homeless teaching about how a church can begin to be pastoral to the poor, etc.

8. I would want to encourage the development of new monastic-type communities, who could then become full members of every conference.

9. I would attempt to create contexts in which the church can openly talk about controversial issues, like LGTBQ

10. I would want to introduce the idea of stewardship as being giving to people’s needs in a way that creates relationship, instead of money being a replacement for relationship.

One thing is certain: I never lack for new ideas.

However, as tempting as it would be, I think it would be wrong for me to apply for the position.

First of all, my own church, Anawim, is not yet ready to stand without me, because of inadequate leadership (although in another year, it may be.) Also, I couldn’t in good conscience put my name forward as long as a woman has not yet been moderator of MCUSA.

But most of all, I do not actually represent MCUSA, nor, I think, could I ever (unless it changes considerably). The Executive Director position is as much as anything supposed to be the voice and face of MCUSA. Even if I got a haircut, I don’t think I fit the bill. Finally, I am more of a prophetic, even challenging voice, and the members of the church are much more used to leaders who are conciliatory. I don’t think MCUSA is ready for me. Maybe next time around, eh?

I still think it sounds funny.

The post A Platform for MCUSA appeared first on Young Anabaptist Radicals.

Love is an Orientation: Elevating the Conversation with the Gay Community
Andrew Marin
InterVarsity Press
Published: March 2009
ISBN: 978-0-8308-3626-0

If you were to meet Andrew Marin (and providing you have some experience with Evangelical culture), it might strike you that he looks, acts, and talks like the epitome of a twenty-something Evangelical guy.  His hair is cut pretty short.  When I heard him speak, he was wearing long khaki cargo shorts and an oversized striped polo shirt.  He is effusive and outgoing in mannerisms, and when he speaks, he loves to interject words like “awesome” and “pumped up” into his emotional-wallop-packing anecdotes and series of simple, Bible-verse backed points.  Stock Evangelicalish phrases seem to work their way un-self-consciously into every other sentence.

In his own words (paraphrased from what I remember), he is what his large Evangelical church in a (quite) affluent Chicago suburb raised him to be: an outgoing, straight, conservative, Bible-believing alpha-male.  And he doesn’t just appear to be this.  He truly is this, and he fully claims it.

So… this has all been just to set up some tension over everything else I want to say about Andrew Marin, his eight year of work in the GLBT (gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgendered) community, and especially his new book published by Intervarsity Press, “Love is an Orientation: Elevating the Conversation with the Gay Community.”  For those who don’t know me, I grew up very Christian and very Mennonite, went through a lot of pain figuring out my sexual orientation, am gay, and currently approach the church and the Bible with a lot of ambivalence over whether they’re fundamentally good or bad (and whether they lead one toward Christ or kill any possibility of actually encountering Christ.)  Add that to the tension.

Let me give you the one-sentence-ish summary of Marin’s biography (which takes most of a chapter in the book): he grew up a homophobic Christian who called everyone a fag; best friends came out of the closet and shocked his worldview; moved into Boystown (neighborhood where many gay boys live/hang out in Chicago) and started spending all his times with gay people in gay places; hasn’t stopped doing so for eight years.  He started the Marin Foundation to do something that seems to have never been done (at least, never for real) in the Evangelical church before: approach GLBT people to learn about their lives and build a lasting, committed relational bond for talking about God.  The rest of the book tells you stories about the people he met, lessons he learned, and a number of principles the church has to adopt to move from violent non-productive opposition to the GLBT community into productive, fruitful, authentic, relational, and loving sharing of the Gospel with GLBT people – and by “sharing” he doesn’t mean “telling” as in “I know something you don’t”, he means “you’re experiencing this and I’m experiencing this.”  You know – sharing.  (If you can’t tell already, I believe Marin is doing something truly extraordinary in his work and in this book.  I think it’s going to be very important in Evangelical and conservative-ish Christian circles.)

If you are someone who care about the church and also longs for any sort of progress in a positive direction on the church’s obsession with the gays (or… maybe I should say… overwhelming amount energy focused on the issue) I would put this book at #1 on your priority of books to read.

I won’t directly summarize the book – and I don’t want this review to be taken as a direct representation of exactly what Marin’s thoughts are.  Rather, this is my version of the core of his message.  By some coincidence, he happened to be speaking at a nearby Mennonite church the week after I finished reading the book, so my impressions are also based on his presentation that I heard there. If you’re interested in the specifics, read the book.

He recognizes a poisonous situation in the current state of affairs between the Evangelical church and the GLBT community: one of two polarized sides, each with certain rigid orthodoxies, typified by certain simplistic answers to simplistic questions (“Is homosexuality a sin?”  “Can homosexuals change?”  “Are they born that way?” “Does the Bible teach homosexuality is wrong?”) which serve as markers of tribal identity for immediately placing a stranger into their appropriate tribal identification.  For someone who might on a superficial level seem to communicate in streams of Evangelical cliches, his analysis of the linguistic manifestation of this polarized state is very subtle and quite astute.  One of the pillars of his approach is to destabilize the basis of these simplistic polarizing questions.  There’s an interesting analysis in the book of Jesus’s answers to close-ended questions.  WWJD.

He calls on the church to take upon itself responsibility for ending the cultural war between itself and the GLBT community.  He calls on the church to use the true, freedom-in-Christ-centered Gospel as its tool to end the war.  He even, I think, calls the church to take responsibility for being the originators of this culture war: his thinking goes – “since we have spent so many years defining entire humans beings by the singular aspect of their sexual behavior, is it any surprise that they have formed identities based on their sexual behavior?”  He calls for an entirely new way (new in GLBT/Christian relations) of defining others’ identity, one based on claiming that all people’s true identity is in Christ.

He has a list of points/lessons/principles for the church to follow in making a transformation.  To be honest, I don’t have the book nearby right now, and I don’t really remember many of them.  If I was working as a Christian trying to understand and relate to the gay community (which I’m not), I’d go back and look at them.  I can tell you these things for sure:

1) Andrew Marin, more than any other straight conservative Christian who believes in a literal interpretation of scripture I’ve ever known, has a true understanding of GLBT people and their lives.  Maybe he’s spent too much time with us gays, actually – at his talk, some of his off-handed remarks about gay/Christian interactions were so straight-to-the-heart my partner and I spent half the time shaking with laughter, while all the sweet presumably straight Mennonites around us only smiled or mildly chuckled in a bit of vague confusion.

2) He’s committed his life to building a bridge between the GLBT and the Evangelical communities.  He’s spent all of his post-college life so far working with GLBT organizations, churches, and communities.  Check out his foundation’s website (google “Marin Foundation”) for all the stuff that they’re up to.

3) His book is powerful.

Some of his ideas are fundamentally Anabaptist: I think he even uses the exact phrase of “an upside-down kingdom”.  However, his ideas are also VERY refreshingly non-Anabaptist on another front: he has no instinctive obsession with making sure the church is a pure place that only the pure can inhabit.  He think people should be at church because it creates a place for them to practice and experience God’s love while they’re learning and allowing God to change their lives.

Okay.  This review is long.  But, now that I’ve talked as much as I can about Marin’s book and his ideas, I’d like to say what I truly think about him and his life.  I think the reason Marin stands out isn’t necessarily just because his ideas and language are fresh.  I think there’s this authentic spiritual core that he is living from – his words and ideas are only the fruits of this core.  He’s this very normal person, as I tried to describe.  Yet, in contintually submitting to what he understands as God’s calling to live as a link between two deeply polarized communities – and through empathizing with all the pain and suffering he’s witnessed in GLBT people’s experiences in the church yet contintuing on in hope and not despair – he has identified his own life and own path with Christ.  That was my main impression, overall.  He’s someone who is in the process of being transformed by following the path of Christ, the path of suffering, of being continually misunderstood, the process of giving up whatever he thought his life was and accepting instead the reality of what God is in his life.  I suspect that there are elements of his biography that are more complex and are darker that the breezy, simplistic stories he shares in the book – times of true despair and of having to give up his own identity.  Maybe this whole GLBT/Christian divide isn’t just a calling outward for him to change the word, but has also served as his own inward calling, to force him into identification with both the suffering and the love of Christ.

Maybe these are just words that don’t mean much either, this talk about giving up one’s life.  Thinking about it, I’ve heard these words before too, and usually they don’t mean too much.  So whatever.  Get the book.  If you’re into Evangelical-type things, it’s a major one, and people will be talking.  If you think a lot about the place of GLBT people in the church and all the current brouhaha over it, definitely pick it up.  Also – if you’re just really interested in someone doing something very unexpected, and exhibiting the beginnings of a truly amazing spirituality, look at it for that.  That’s most of what I want to say.  I have a lot more personal thoughts about what this book might mean for the church and for the GLBT community, but I’ll save those for the comments.

The post gay/evangelical love appeared first on Young Anabaptist Radicals.

I’ve got some new friends who had never heard of anabaptism. So I wrote a summary of what I understand Anabaptism to be. Look it over. What would you add or subtract? What would you nuance differently?

And if you aren’t anabaptist, what questions would you have?

The Anabaptist tradition
In 1525 the reformation of the church in the West was just beginning. There was a lot of excitement about Luther’s reforms, not least of all in Zurich, Switzerland. Zwingli was leading the city leaders into a reform there based on Scripture alone, but many of the reformation’s supporters there didn’t think that Zwingli was going far enough. They noticed that when he spoke about certain issues, that he was more interested in his theological point, rather than actually brining the church back into obedience to Jesus. So they baptized themselves in the name of Jesus, making each other citizens of Jesus’ kingdom instead of any kingdom on earth. This movement grew, and they were called ana-baptists by their enemies, because it was claimed that they would re-baptize their members. But in reality, the Anabaptists affirmed that they were spreading the one true baptism–an entrance into God’s kingdom through true understanding and not just assent to the society of the church. This movement has continued to this day.

What Anabaptists Believe:
1. Jesus only
“No one knows the Father except the Son”
Anabaptists hold to no theology except that stated by Jesus himself. Even as Jesus supersedes the Old Testament law, Jesus also rules over all theology that the church itself created, whether that by Paul or by Calvin or by N.T. Wright. And the focus of our belief is not a Jesus we create–such as a glorified, theological Jesus or a model of a historical Jesus or a cultural Jesus–but the Jesus of the gospels. Thus, the four gospels lead us to interpret all things through the words and life of Jesus.
Since Anabaptists affirm the superiority of Jesus, we also recognize the weakness of all things human to achieve truth or justice. Thus, any particular denomination or creed is only in a process of getting closer to or further from Jesus, but no church could ever be complete in and of itself. Various governments may attempt to achieve justice, but they all fail. Schools attempt to teach truth, but no matter how precise they are, they fail to achieve the full truth that Jesus gives us.

2. Peace
“Have salt in yourselves and be at peace.”
Anabaptists are a peaceful people. We wish to make changes in the world, but not through violence or hate speech. Rather, we believe that we need to display the actions we want in others. If we want peace in the world, we cannot create peace through violence. Yes, dramatic change must happen for the world to have peace, but God can create the dramatic change–it is our responsibility to be the ideal community the world must become.

3. Community
“Love one another”
Following Jesus cannot be done separated from others. Jesus, again and again, commands us to “love” and love cannot be done in isolation. We must support each other in communities and our communities must reach out to others outside of our community to display our love. We must also support and provide hospitality so that no one within our community has need.

4. Believer’s Baptism
“Those who believe and are baptized are saved.”
Today, it may not seem as important as an issue, but the Anabaptist communities originally began as groups who baptized only those who could understand and be faithful to Jesus. Thus, Anabaptists don’t baptize infants or assume that everyone within a particular social group is a follower of Jesus. That is a personal commitment that each person must determine individually, and lives out in their own lives.

5. Love of Enemies
“Do good to those who despitefully use you.”
Because we will not cause others to be afraid of us, that makes us vulnerable to others. Jesus showed us that even if people do disrespectful, hateful or even violent acts, that does not mean that we should return such acts in kind. Rather, we are to display God’s love even–nay, especially–to those who do terrible things to us. In order to have security, we do not depend on our strength, but on God’s.

6. Communion with the outcast
“The Son of Man came to seek and save the lost.”
Anabaptists know what it means to be outcast, because they have been rejected. But we are also to reach out to those who have been rejected by society. Rather than create another outcast group, the Anabaptists connect with those who are hated, and welcome them as Jesus would.

7. Assistance to the poor
“Sell your possessions and give to the poor.”
Jesus helped the poor with what resources he had, so also do Anabaptists. We see the needs of the poor, and rather than simply ignoring their basic needs, we meet them with love in relationship. We understand that it isn’t enough just to give to the poor, but to connect with them as well, because without relationship we cannot love.

What is the difference between Anabaptist and Mennonite?
Both Anabaptists and Mennonites have the same historical foundation, and much of their understanding of Jesus and life is similar. Historically, the Mennonites have a more complex life than Anabaptists, relating to particular ethnic groups, particular nationalities, forming denominations and mission groups and going through serious cultural changes over the last fifty years. Mennonites have often tried to follow Anabaptist ideals, but as a conglomerate of human institutions, they have often gotten caught up in the concerns of the cultures around them.
Anabaptists, however, are found not just in certain denominations or ethnic groups, nor are they limited to a certain historic line. Anabaptists are people who choose Jesus over any human institution, and choose to follow Jesus’ ethical pattern as a personal choice. They may gather in any denomination or create their own, separate communities. They aren’t bound to a particular theology or ideology, but are separate from them all. There are many Anabaptists within Mennonite groups, but they usually are a minority of them. There are also many Anabaptists outside of Mennonite groups, but count all people who follow Jesus, no matter what group they are a part of, as a part of their global family.

If you want to know more about Anabaptism, then please check out the following blogs or podcasts that give different perspectives on what it means to be Anabaptist:

Anabaptist Distinctives by Steve Kimes

Jesus Creed by Scot McKnight

Across The Pond by Tony Campolo

Woodland Hills Podcast by Greg Boyd

Blog on Christarchy! By Mark Van Steenwyk

Featured Photo by Tim Nafziger of ceramic pieces by Dennis Maust. See full size on Flickr

The post What Does It Mean To Be Anabaptist? appeared first on Young Anabaptist Radicals.

Anawim theology is the biblical theology of God’s salvation of the poor and outcast. It is strongly linked to anabaptist theology. “Anawim” is a Hebrew term that means “the poor seeking the Lord for deliverance”, is used in the Psalms extensively and is referred to in the Magnificat and the Beatitudes. If you are interested in reading a popular theology of it you can read the book Unexpected News: Reading The Bible Through Third World Eyes or check out this website: http://www.nowheretolayhishead.org/teachings.html

But I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to talk about Avatar.

I understand that some feel that there is some racism in Avatar, and I can see their point, but it would be deeply embedded and certainly not obvious to the masses throughout the world watching it. However, I believe that part of the reason that Avatar is so popular is because of the open Anawim-like theology involved. There is a general morality throughout the world that the underdog should be supported and that God is on the side of the oppressed. Avatar not only supports this, but has a pretty strong morality/spirituality. As I sat and watched it a couple times, I wrote the following principles down that I think describes Avatar’s basic support of Anawim theology:

There is a empire, ruling the world, and its focus is to increase the wealth of a limited few, even if that hurts others. Everyone within the empire is a part of this system of greed, even if they superficially attempt to oppose it.

There is an alternative system which focuses on relationships, community and spiritual power.

The secret of the spiritual community is empathy. It is the sign that one is a part of the spiritual community, the unifying principle as well as the power. One has empathy with all life. Even if one must kill to survive, empathy requires that one feels the death of the other, and give it the respect that one would demand. The minimal amount of empathy is treating other’s life as one would be treated.

All empathy begins with understanding, with listening. Eventually, one can “see” another, deeply understanding the other, placing them as an equal in importance to oneself. Those who do not have the ability to understand, to empathize, are insane and cannot exist in the spiritual community.

But some relationships have deeper empathy, a full bond. In those relationships, two share their minds, their lives, their souls. And once bonded, the bond cannot be broken except through death. This is love.

The opposite to empathy, to bonding, is fear. To fear the other is to separate from the other. To listen to the other, one must receive the other; to accept the other, one must trust; to bond with the other one must unite.

Those of the empire cannot empathize. Yes, they can understand intellectually the other different from oneself, but they cannot truly see them as equals to themselves. They are so caught up in building their own empire for those like themselves, that they cannot see the other. So they outcast those who truly empathize, because the desires of empathy is opposite to the greed of the empire.

The evil empire wants the resources of the spiritual community and will ignore all the concerns of the spiritual community to get it. On the surface, the evil empire is more powerful than the spiritual community, and the spiritual community is in threat of extinction.

For the spiritual community to survive, there must be a mediator–one who knows what it is to be spiritual and one who has lived amidst the empire. He or she must be born of both worlds, but the Mediator does not straddle the fence. The Mediator must be on the side of the spiritual community, the weak, the oppressed, if they are to survive.

In the end, there will be conflict–disasterous conflict–between the empire and the spiritual community. And although the empire seems to have the greater power, the fact is that the spiritual community has a source that is at the core of all life. The only way to connect to that Source is through prayer. Thus, though the Mediator may use many different resources, the true power is found in prayer. Prayer is what changes the course for the spiritual community.

One must recognize, however, that the Source does not take sides between the empire and the spiritual community. The Source is on the side of all life, of order and balance. However, as long as the spiritual community is on the side of the Source, then the Source will act for them. And this action is more powerful than anything else they might conceive themselves.

Eventually, the spiritual community of empathy will rule the world and force the empire out. But this will only happen when the truly are united in Empathy. Only then will many in the Empire become united with the Source of all life, and seek balance.

What do you think?

The post Anawim Theology and Avatar appeared first on Young Anabaptist Radicals.

This last year our church determined that we would open to shelter the local homeless each time the weather went below freezing, but the city wouldn’t permit other churches to open up. We live in a fairly temperate climate, but the winter was cold, and most homeless weren’t prepared for it. After opening more than 15 nights, the city shut us down. Here is my reaction to my conversation with the city. If you are interested in our church and what our focus is, please check us out at www.NowhereToLayHisHead.org

I had a mysterious conversation with the emergency services manager of Gresham and the fire marshal a couple weeks ago. I was talking to them about the need of people sleeping on the street and how much danger they are in, especially when it gets below freezing. I spoke of Fred, whose leg was cut off a couple months ago because he had slept outside in freezing conditions. I spoke of the sixteen year old girls who have been sleeping outside all winter. And about a father and his sixteen year old pregant daughter who found themselves desperate without shelter.

And the response I recieved from them is a lot of fire codes, and how we can’t open because we don’t have 200 square feet per person and how it is acceptable to have a standard of only opening churches when it gets below 22 degrees. And they told me, “This is not a social problem,” and they said, “This is not an emergency,” and they said, “You should just let other people deal with this.” This was a foreign language to me, so I spoke of fire code with them, because it seemed to be the only language we could both understand.

Only this morning did it dawn on me what they were saying. They were saying that the fact that some people sleep out side and freeze to death is something they can live with. When they say, “This is not an emergency” it means that they don’t consider it important that Fred lost his leg. It is unfortunate, I am sure they would agree, but it doesn’t keep them up at night. They wouldn’t want the sixteen year old girls, pregnant or otherwise, to sleep outside in the freezing cold, but it doesn’t actually concern them, either. Because they have accepted that their city, their country, is a place where such things happen.

About seven years ago, I was going out to a homeless camp site to see Bill, just in case there was something I could do to help him. He had night blindness and was beginning to be mentally unstable, so I was going to take him to health professionals and see what could be done. When I found Bill, he was in a ditch, with no pulse. The paramedics told me he had died of hypothermia in the night.

To have leaders in our city help all of us, to treat us all as citizens, we need leaders who have compassion. I understand, it is difficult to have empathy. It is stressful and painful. Empathy can make you lose sleep when you realize that it is freezing outside and there are people suffering out in it. Compassion can make you wake up anxiously because you don’t know if you’ve done enough to help those in need. But a deep care of others is the only thing that will stir us to make things better for everyone. And it may cost us, but it will make our city better, it will make our county livable, and it will make our nation human.

Please, as it freezes these next few nights, think of those who are sleeping in it, and consider what can be done for them. Not just tonight, but for years to come.

The post Now I Understand appeared first on Young Anabaptist Radicals.

Recently, J. Denny Weaver spoke of his conversion from “passive” non-resistance and two-kingdom theology to an active stance against evil (reflection: can Mennonites use the term “evil”?) in Wisconsin. http://www.themennonite.org/issues/14-4/articles/Protesting_and_the_reign_of_God
While I approve of his stand, I must disagree with the theological conclusions of his article.

In speaking of two kingdom theology, Professor Weaver emphasizes the passive inaction of the theology. That it has nothing to say to oppression, that God is the God who empowers violence and the non-resistant have nothing to respond to injustice. Perhaps this is the form of two-kingdom theology that Professor Weaver learned, and I can see with a title like “non-resistance”, a theology might be prone to inaction. Certainly passivity is a concern among many who are raised “non-resistant”.

But two-kingdom theology is not about passivity. Certainly there is a passive aspect to it, even as Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would be fighting.” So there are actions that those of Jesus’ kingdom do not take. However, the foundational law of the kingdom of Jesus is active: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Love isn’t passive, but active. Like the Samaritan in Jesus story, the one of Jesus’ kingdom cannot look at one hurt in the gutter and not act.

When I learned two-kingdom theology, I did not learn it as J. Denny Weaver did. Dr. William Higgins, former teacher of the Pacific Northwest Mennonite Conference and currently pastor of Cedar Street Mennonite Church summarizes two kingdom theology thusly: “The church is a separate social entity from the rest of society which is ‘the world.’ These two kingdoms have different standards. You are either among the people of God or you are a part of the world. There is no neutral ground. This is a rejection of the Christendom conception of a church that is fused together with the state into one social entity, living by one standard.” http://26anabaptistdistinctives.blogspot.com/2008/09/distinctive-14-two-kingdoms.html

This idea of two kingdom theology is not about passive inactivity at all. Rather, it is saying that since the world is about violence, greed, polytheism and lust that its principles cannot operate in conjunction with the principles of people who live according to Jesus’ rule. It states that any attempts to fuse the ideals of Jesus and the ideals of the world end at best with compromise and at worst a hypocritical church. Two kingdom theology implies that the will of God cannot be accomplished by the methods of the world. That human systems of government, bureaucracy, power structures and oppression are inadequate to the task of producing the justice and mercy of God. This must be done by God’s people. Finally, two-kingdom theology implies that any church that works in tandem with the systems of this world are a part of the world, not the kingdom of Jesus. The two kingdoms are exclusive and we must choose one or the other.

The main criticism that two-kingdom theology would bring against Professor Weaver’s promotion of non-violent resistance is that the Professor’s theology assumes that justice can be accomplished by systems as they currently stand. Even more, he assumes that it is the only way that justice can be accomplished. Two kingdom theology is much more revolutionary than that. Two kingdom theology insists that justice and mercy must be accomplished in spite of the governments and bureaucracies of this world, which, in the end, only perpetuate one oppression or another. To think that simply “resisting” a system will change it to create justice is naïve, and misunderstanding the deep corruption of the powers.

Perhaps instead of speaking of “non-resistance” which implies passivity– which clearly neither Jesus nor the early Anabaptists held to– perhaps we should speak of two kingdom theology as “positive action.” This implies two things: First, that we refuse to take action that is negative: action that harms another or acts in a disrespectful way to authority. When Jesus said, “Do not resist an evil one”, he was speaking of responding in an evil way to evil. To be a person who refuses to “give to Caesar what is Caesar’s” or who actively participates in violence is a part of the world’s solution, not Jesus’. Thus, the citizen of Jesus’ kingdom refuses to participate in those actions.

Second, the citizens of Jesus’ kingdom act positively toward justice, using the methods of peace and mercy, without the aid of the systems of this world. The primary method is by creating communities which act in justice despite what the powers say or do. Because the citizens of Jesus’ kingdom have as their primary law, “Love”, they will love even when the governments, churches or bureaucracies of this world command them not to. They do not bow to the forces of oppression, nor do they expect them to necessarily change. Thus, the citizens of Jesus must create the change they must see.

How does this actually work? Well, in all humility, I propose the example of my own church, Anawim Christian Community. We are a community church for an oppressed minority, the homeless and mentally ill of Portland, Oregon. Because of the help of the Pacific Northwest Mennonite Conference and local churches, we have been able to organize day shelters for the homeless and night shelters when the weather is dangerous and when there isn’t shelter permitted by the city. We do this to provide sanctuary for the oppressed from the police and stakeholders of the local government who oppress the homeless. We do this to provide mercy for those considered unworthy of assistance by the majority of our community. We do this to make the dehumanized human again, and to help those who wish to become active citizens of Jesus’ kingdom because they have been rejected as citizens of the community they were raised in.

This is two kingdom theology in action. Yes, it is a quiet revolution. But we consider it more effective and immediate than picketing city hall. We do not participate in violence, in protests or even in anger. But we act. And because of our acts, people eat, receive shelter, receive protection and live to see another day.

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God created us without us;
but God did not will to save us without us.

~ Augustine of Hippo

I have always found good company with the apostle Paul in his letter to the Romans when he writes about the groaning inside all of us: “for we do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit intercedes with groans too deep for words” (Rom 8:26).

Does it seem a little unholy to start a conversation about the triune nature of God by paying attention to the groaning in our gut? The Trinity doesn’t belong there, right? Shouldn’t we start up in heaven? Isn’t it a bit self-centered to turn a sermon on the Trinity into a sermon about us? Isn’t God supposed to be way over there, or way up there? As the prophet Isaiah says, “I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty” (Isa 6:1a).

Now, to be fair to Isaiah’s vision, God isn’t completely distant: “The hem of God’s robe filled the temple” (v. 1b). There is a point of connection between heaven and earth, and that is the Temple. But in Romans, Paul seems to think that God’s presence is even more intimate than that: God is in us, in our groaning, in our sighs, in our prayers, God’s Spirit is a companion with our spirit. Here’s what Paul says: “When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God” (Rom 8:15b-16). Through the Spirit, God becomes intimate with us, interior to us, completely familiar, a companion. The Holy Spirit is present in our spirit, groaning with us, crying out with us. And with the groaning we begin to get a sense for the Trinity; we become the site of the work of all three persons–Father, Son, and Spirit. Our bodies become God’s home. God rests with us, and in us, not as some outside power, not as some cosmic clockmaker, not as some bearded old king on a throne in heaven. God isn’t an outsider to our lives. God isn’t like a king or a president who might choose to save us by sending his troops. God doesn’t send others to do the dirty work. God sends God. That’s why we confess that Jesus is God. If Jesus is not God, then we worship a God who refuses to jump into our mess, then we serve a God who doesn’t like to get dirty. If Jesus is not God, then we praise a God who doesn’t want to get too close–a God who refuses intimacy, who refuses the risks that come along with becoming our friend, our companion.

This is why the language of God’s sovereignty sometimes leads us astray. When we say that God is sovereign, we probably picture God as one of those kings who makes decrees from on high with an entourage of servants at his command. We picture God as a president who claims victory while never living in the trenches–a distant God, always once-removed from the action. And if that’s what we mean when we call God sovereign, then we don’t really believe in the God who is Trinity, which is simply another way of saying that we don’t have a clue about what happens on the cross. Because on the cross that kind of sovereign God dies. Or, to put it more provocatively, the crucifixion kills our picture of a detached God. The crucifixion of Jesus kills our image of God as the sovereign victor who sends other people to do the dirty work, the risky stuff. The true God, the God revealed at the crucifixion, is intimate with humanity, familiar with our flesh. At the cross we see how God sends God to accomplish our salvation.

Now, the Holy Spirit is how God takes even one more step closer to us. The Spirit draws God even closer, maybe even uncomfortably close. Remember the beginning of the Gospel when the Holy Spirit descends upon Mary’s womb and gives her a son, Jesus. Now that’s close, very close–entering a womb is uncomfortably close. And we have Paul in Romans 8 using, interestingly enough, pregnancy language to talk about how the Spirit is at work inside all of us–not just Mary. Each of us is groaning in labor pains, Paul says, undergoing the travail of the Holy Spirit, awaiting God’s redemption in our midst, feeling the good news being born inside of us. At this point the Spirit reveals an important insight into the nature of God. That is, God doesn’t overpower us. God isn’t a super-sovereign, doing what he wants whenever he wants. God doesn’t rescue us as if he were a SWAT team or a Navy Seal operation. God doesn’t act like a foreign invader of our lives, forcing us to join the mission. None of those images describe God. Augustine of Hippo made this point when he said, “God did not will to save us without us.” God doesn’t save us without us. God doesn’t use external force to get us to do the right thing.

Let me offer a few images to help us get a sense for what God is not. God is not like a surgeon who stands next to her patient and operates on the heart. God is not like a mechanic who looks under the hood and repairs the engine. God’s life is much too intimate with ours for those images to be true. God saves us from the inside; God heals us as if healing her own body. It’s hard to talk about this stuff. Our language seems to break down. The doctrine of the Trinity seems to push us into the limits of language and shows us that the best way to understand is to feel it, to be drawn into this relationship, to feel the Spirit working in your life, to listen for the groaning in your gut.

Let me offer one more picture of the way God works in our lives through the Holy Spirit. This one involves the 1995 BBC production of Pride and Prejudice. The story centers on the relationship between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. Darcy is a gentlemen and one of the richest men around. Elizabeth comes from a humble family. Mr. Darcy falls in love with Elizabeth even though he shouldn’t because of their class difference. It would be a scandal for a man like Darcy to marry someone from the inferior Bennet family line. Yet he can’t help himself, and everything comes out one afternoon when he storms into Elizabeth’s room and professes his love. But it’s all wrong; he gets everything wrong. Darcy doesn’t understand love. His kind of love is one that compels from the outside. Darcy knows his position of social power over someone as humble as Elizabeth. If he wants Elizabeth, he can take her and insult her in the process. Here’s what he says in his profession of love: “My feelings for you have taken possession of me against my will, my reason, and almost against my character!” Darcy knows that a person of such high standing shouldn’t love someone of such low status. So he admits that his love is unnatural, and insults Elizabeth’s family. Not a very wise move. Darcy doesn’t know that you can’t come from on high and force someone to love you, that you can’t make love happen on your own terms; he doesn’t know that love is not coercive. When Darcy finally gets around to the proposal part, he goes on and on about how his kind shouldn’t associate with her kind. He says, “I now hope that the strength of my love may have its reward in your acceptance of my hand.” The strength of my love. Darcy thinks the strength of his love, the sheer power of his passion, should get him what he wants–a “reward,” he says. Elizabeth’s acceptance is a reward, something he earns through his confession. There is no need for him to think through whether or not he has made himself lovable. Darcy doesn’t think twice about whether or not he deserves her love.

Mr. Darcy’s love comes from one high, from the position of a gentlemanly sovereign, a benevolent aristocrat. That’s not how God loves. Now, I should say a little more about how Darcy’s character develops–Katie, my wife, would not be happy with me if I left you with a bad impression of Mr. Darcy! Elizabeth rejects Darcy’s declaration of love from on high, and so Darcy begins to learn that love must first become familiar, intimate. Love comes from companionship–so he spends the rest of the movie learning how to be a companion, and how to love Elizabeth’s strange family. And it’s this companionship that gets at what Paul is saying about the Holy Spirit. God is in our depths, groaning with us. God’s love comes through intimate companionship–walking with us, praying with us, crying out with us. God doesn’t overpower us. God’s Spirit is a hidden presence–willing to go unnoticed, willing to be a humble companion. That is how the Trinity begins to unfold in our lives. It starts as a groan, something beyond words, a sigh. Perhaps a sigh from exhaustion with your life, or a disgruntled groan about the way the world works. You don’t know what to say or how to change things or where to go. You’re just plain stuck, without options. Yet the Spirit is there: your groaning companion, Paul says. The Holy Spirits turns that feeling in your gut into a simple prayer–or, as Paul says, “a cry,” a cry to the one who bore you, the creator, the mother of us all, “Abba! Father!”

The Trinity doesn’t make much sense as a doctrine. But that’s how it goes with the mystery of God. God is not a mystery for us to sit around and think about. The Trinity names an experience, an encounter, a relationship. The Trinity comes as a feeling in our gut, a prayer we don’t know how to pray, a desire we can’t quite get a handle on. This experience is how we know the Trinity is on the move. The best we can do sometimes, the best we can say when we don’t know what to say, the best we can do when everything seems completely unsatisfying, is to go with our gut and groan. For our hope is that our deep sighs echo with the Holy Spirit who leads us into the intimate love of God, a God who is already our companion, a hidden presence among all God’s children. As the apostle Paul puts it, the Trinity comes with a cry:

When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spirit [the Holy Spirit] bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ. (Rom 8:15b-17a)

~

This is an excerpt from J. Alexander Sider and Isaac S. Villegas, Presence: Giving and Receiving God (Cascade, forthcoming).

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There’s a building boom on the Bowery these days. It’s been happening for a while, but the last couple years have witnessed an escalation in development, turning the neighborhood into a hip destination point.

Fifty years ago the Bowery was the largest skid row in the world. There were gin joints and flophouses on every block. That’s all gone now, thanks to the forces of gentrification. In their place are condos, art galleries and upscale eateries. Only one skid-row relic remains: the Bowery Mission.

Some of my earliest memories are of sitting behind the Mission’s pulpit in the 1960s, looking onto a sea of expectant faces while my father preached. In retrospect I realize the men behind those faces were awaiting the sermon’s conclusion so they could get their grub.

I also remember Dad leading Mennonites on walks where we’d see groups of men lying on the sidewalk. Such scenes became increasingly rare in the 1980s, though, for by then the bars were disappearing.

Yet the Mission has endured, even thrived. In 2009 it received $15 million in contributions (up from $7 million four years earlier).

Mennonite involvement with the Bowery Mission has a long history. Mennonites never had any ownership stake in the Mission, but have supported it heavily with money and in-kind contributions. For decades groups from Lancaster have come here to give weekend programs.

Recently I became curious to see how things have changed. So on a chilly Saturday in February 2011, I strolled down the Bowery to Prince Street, entered the Mission’s auditorium, and took a seat up front for the 6:30 program.

The Mennonites that night were introduced as the “New Haven youth group.” They sang for a spell and then their minister took the pulpit. He preached from Romans, something about being accountable to God. Unfortunately, his message was riddled with clichés and I had difficulty staying focused. The brother sitting next to me was snoring. The brother in front of me was holding an audible conversation, with himself.

I’m not wrapped too tight either, frankly, and was soon engaged in my own internal dialogue. “Why can’t you say something new,” I queried silently, “something I haven’t heard a billion times before?” Nothing new came. Obviously the minister wasn’t tuned to my frequency.

After the service, seating for dinner commenced. The Mission’s dining space is limited and I could tell it would be a while before I got my grub. So I sat back, relaxed, and stared at the ceiling. I stared at the verses on the walls. I stared at the pipes of the century-old organ. I checked out the crowd behind me. There were about 50 men (and several women), waiting and staring. None inebriated. Just folks down on their luck.

I wondered why the New Haven group didn’t take advantage of this waiting period to mingle with us. Nothing heavy, just friendly chit-chat. But too late … they were already on their bus heading home to Lancaster.

A week later the service was given by a group from Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania. They opened with hymns and testimonies, followed by a message from their deacon, a man named Weaver. Deacon Weaver wasted no time getting to the nitty-gritty. According to him, the Bible says everyone is headed one of two places.

I wished he’d cited chapter and verse for that claim, since I’ve never found it stated in so many words. Sure, I know boilerplate revivalist rhetoric when I hear it. But this is the 21st century. Are Mennonites still recruiting with threats of hellfire? Were references to eternal torture ever an appropriate way for pacifists to win souls?

In any case, Weaver’s words did not fall on fertile ground. No one responded to his altar call. Later, though, the call to dinner got a unanimous response. I wondered: Do the Mennonites realize that everyone in the audience is there for one reason?

The Mission’s website says they dispense hundreds of meals daily. A worthy endeavor, to be sure. Yet the meals aren’t exactly free. The homeless do pay, with their time and their presence at services. The Mission, in turn, uses the presence of the homeless to justify its existence.

It’s a symbiotic relationship. And a reasonable trade, I suppose. After sitting through hour-long services I’d feel I earned some food too, or something. Maybe a dividend check for a piece of that $15 million pie.

Why, I asked myself, is it assumed that people from the streets need the gospel treatment? Is being homeless the same as being lost?

Having few possessions used to be a hallmark of following Jesus. Apparently we’re too sophisticated nowadays to take Jesus seriously when he urges us to not become attached to material things. (Matthew 6:19-30) But are we so far removed from his perspective that we no longer acknowledge the spirituality of life on the margins?

The service the next Saturday was given by some Old Order Mennonites from Weaverland Conference. As they filed up front, each one carrying a hymnal, I had the feeling we were in for a treat. Sure enough, what followed was a stirring hour of four-part a capella singing. No sermon, no altar call. It was exhilarating as well as bewildering.

I spoke with a member of the group and he schooled me on the origins of Weaverland Conference. One of the reasons they left Lancaster Conference was because of their opposition to innovations like mission boards and revival meetings. Aggressive proselytizing, in their view, is worldly. It invokes an unacceptable sort of emotionalism. Hellfire preaching just isn’t the Weaverland way.

The following week’s group was also from Weaverland Conference: two busloads of young people singing under the direction of Eddie Martin. Like their colleagues the previous Saturday, they rocked the house.

This time, though, the program was interrupted midway for words by minister Richard Burkholder. He spoke about traffic directions, green lights and red lights, water turning into vapor and life as vapor, then concluded with something from Revelation. He walked up to the edge of an altar call without giving one.

I remember taking umbrage, again, at the implication something was amiss with the eternal status of us audience members.

Why do church folk think the unchurched are further from heaven than they? Didn’t Jesus say sex workers and tax collectors are ahead of preachers and deacons in the line to enter the kingdom? (Matthew 21:31) That would leave Bowery folk in a good position. Would it not?

Without a doubt, many people on the Bowery suffer from mental illness and need professional help. For those enslaved by drink, there’s only one way to salvation: Alcoholics Anonymous.

To the extent the Mission provides access to quality medical care, social services, A.A. meetings, etc., they are doing God’s work. But evangelistic services and altar calls, in my view, are antiquated window dressing, put on primarily for the sake of funders.

After this I wanted to visit another soup kitchen to see how it’s done elsewhere. Four blocks north of the Bowery Mission stands St. Joseph House, run by the Catholic Worker.

I’ve appreciated the Catholic Worker ever since reading Dorothy Day’s book Loaves and Fishes and realizing her affinities with historic Mennonitism: simple lifestyle, pacifism, communalism, concern for social justice.

Catholic Worker facilities are known as “hospitality houses.” The word “mission” is not used. Dorothy thought it condescending. They operate under the assumption that people from the streets have something to teach those of us who live above the poverty line. This is why, in CW parlance, the homeless are “God’s ambassadors.”

I stumbled into St. Joe’s one Friday for early lunch. I was seated with six others and handed a bowl of vegetable soup, accompanied by dark bread and strong coffee. On one wall was a picture of Martin Luther King, Jr. On another wall was a picture of Dorothy, with the quote: “What we would like to do is change the world.” Jazz was playing in the background. On dish-washing duty was a Quaker I recognized from the 15th Street meetinghouse.

During the course of my meal I was asked several times whether I needed anything. At those particular moments I did not, yet I appreciated the manner in which I was asked. I could get used to this, I thought to myself.

It was in the Catholic Worker dining room that I experienced my own hour of decision. I decided, when time comes I’m on the street in need of three squares and a cot, I’ll know where to go. And where not to go.

*****

Charlie Kraybill lives and works in the Bronx. He is a member of the Marginal Mennonite Society (search for our Facebook page) and the Pink Menno Campaign. Email: carlosnycity@gmail.com

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We are Marginal Mennonites, and we are not ashamed.

We are marginal because no self-respecting Mennonite organization would have us. (Not that we care about no stinkin’ respect anyway.)

We reject all creeds, doctrines, dogmas and rituals, because they’re man-made and were created for the purpose of excluding people. Their primary function is to determine who’s in (those who accept the creeds) and who’s out (those who don’t). The earliest anabaptists were also non-creedal.

We are inclusive. There are no dues or fees for membership. The only requirement is the desire to identify oneself as a Marginal Mennonite. We have no protocol for exclusion.

We are universalists. We believe every person who’s ever lived gets a seat at the celestial banquet table. No questions asked! Mystic-humanist (and anabaptist) Hans Denck was quoted saying that “even demons in the end will be saved.”

We reject missionary activity. Christian mission, historically, goes hand-in-hand with cultural extermination. We love human diversity and seek to preserve it. Thus, we oppose evangelistic campaigns and mission boards, no matter how innocuous or charitable they claim to be.

We like Jesus. A lot. The real Jesus, not the supernatural one. We like the one who was 100% human, who moved around in space and time. The one who enjoyed the company of women and was obsessed with the kingdom of God. The one who said “Become passersby!” (Gospel of Thomas 42), which we interpret as an anti-automobile sentiment.

We endorse the Sermon on the Mount. Or at least the sayings within that can be identified by modern biblical scholarship as authentic. The sayings emphasizing love, mercy, compassion, nonviolence, and non-attachment to material things. We recall that the earliest anabaptists were known as “Sermon-on-the-Mount people.”

We recognize that focusing on “authentic sayings” might say as much about us as it does about the historical Jesus. There are many Jesuses around these days. We choose to hang with the merciful and inclusive Jesus of the Sermon, as opposed to the judgmental and exclusive Jesus of the church.

We are unapologetic humanists. We believe in art, evolution, relativity, paradox, synchronicity, quantum mechanics, string cheese theory, and putty tats. We value irreverence, outrageousness, and a strong cup of tea. We aim to help raise the collective consciousness, as well as the awareness we are all One.

We strive to animate the spirits of Jalaluddin Rumi (d.1273), Hans Denck (d.1527), George Fox (d.1691), Leo Tolstoy (d.1910) and Dorothy Day (d.1980), among others.

We are weirdly drawn to the example of 12 anabaptists who ran through the streets of Amsterdam in the nude in 1535.

We believe God has a funny bone as big as the cosmos, and wants us all to lighten up.

Our favorite color is lavender. Our favorite flavor is rainbow.

 

Visit the “Marginal Mennonite Society” Facebook page, and “like” us.

(The MMS was created in February 2011.)

Manifesto last revised: November 2011.

Email: carlosnycity@gmail.com

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On the great day of judgment, all of humanity was gathered in a celestial banquet hall. It was a huge space, with a massive round table in the middle. The table was so big that it accommodated what seemed to be hundreds of thousands of people, probably more. As one looked to the left or the right, there were people as far as the eye could see. Yet somehow, by some supernatural optical phenomenon, one had no trouble seeing clearly everyone seated directly across the table. In a position of prominence was the Almighty herself, who interestingly had an appearance not unlike the way God was portrayed in Monty Python’s “Life of Brian,” yet whose Voice was unmistakably feminine. After a while, some grumbling was to be heard, as people began to take notice of who was present. Finally, a lone voice cried out, a voice with a thick Brooklyn accent, saying, “Hey God, I’m happy to be here, of course, but I see my old neighbor Moshe sitting over there and I know that rotten sonofabitch rascal ought to be in the other place. What gives?” And the Almighty replied, in soft mellifluous tones reminiscent of Lauren Bacall (who was seated to my left, by the way): “Well, just as I asked all of you to love your neighbors no matter what, and to forgive others over and over again, why would you expect me to do any less?” As those words sunk in, heads nodded around the room, and some were heard to say: How can one argue with divine logic like that? The Almighty continued: “Don’t allow your eye to be filled with envy because I am generous.” More murmuring and head-nodding. “As for the other place,” the Almighty said, “there is no other place. Being here with Me is all there is, all there ever was, all there ever can be. What a horrible notion to think I would send anyone away forever. That’s punishment out of all proportion to the crimes, is it not? In any case, it doesn’t matter, because I’m now going to render my Final Judgment. And here it is: I judge you, each and every one of you, every single human being who has ever lived, to be my children, my friends, my lovers, whom I cherish with all my heart. I welcome you to this special banquet, prepared just for you.” And there were audible gasps, and many sighs of relief, to be heard around the room.

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Love, compassion, joy, and equanimity are some of the hallmarks of the teachings of Jesus. But those concepts didn’t originate with Jesus.

He found them tucked away in the nooks and crannies of the Torah. Almost every saying in the Sermon on the Mount is a commentary on passages from the Hebrew Scriptures. The genius of Jesus was the way in which he put his own “spin” on the Scriptures, highlighting and elevating the positive aspects of God’s personality, while ignoring and rejecting the negative aspects.

The ideals of love, compassion, joy, and equanimity weren’t the unique property of the Judaic tradition, however. They could also be found earlier, and further east, in what is now India, Nepal, Bhutan. In the Fifth Century before Jesus, a man named Gotoma developed a body of teachings based on what are called “The Four Immeasurables”:

1. Unconditional love: An unselfish interest in the welfare of all sentient beings;

2. Compassion towards everybody: Wanting others, without exception, to be free from suffering;

3. Sympathetic joy: Being happy with the good fortune of others;

4. Equanimity: Regarding every living being as equal, with no distinction between friend, enemy, stranger.

Gotama became known to history as The Buddha.

So: Where did The Buddha get his inspiration?

Can there be any doubt that the source was Divine? From where else could the inspiration have come? What source other than God could lead human beings so long ago to organize their lives around the high-minded concepts of selfless love and universal compassion? I submit that there is no other possible source.

If we recognize the divinely inspired nature of Buddhism, it stands to reason that adherents of the Buddhist way are already, to use Christian terminology, “sanctified.” They have divine approval. They’re accepted, by God, just as they are.

It then follows that it would be wrong to attempt to dissuade Buddhists from the Way they’ve been given. In fact, one could argue that the holy lives of many Buddhists put most Christians to shame, and that Christians could learn much at the feet of our Buddhist sisters and brothers.

In my mind it is shameful that, if Christian missionaries had their way, all Buddhists would be converted until not a single one were left. How much poorer the world would be without the Buddhist witness.

Given the above, I would like to call on all Mennonite mission agencies (in particular the Mennonite Mission Network and Eastern Mennonite Missions) to place a moratorium on proselytizing activities in Buddhist countries, and/or in countries where Buddhists are targeted for conversion.

At the same time, I call on Christian missionaries everywhere to consider changing their orientation with regard to the Buddhist world, to recognize that the light of divine truth may be found in that world as well.

I would encourage all Christians, in future, to visit Buddhist lands, with open hearts, not for the purpose of preaching, but rather to seek out the truth and beauty in Buddhist cultures, and to bring those discoveries home for the appreciation and edification of believers in their own countries.

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