Mary Daly Dies

Radical feminist theologian Mary Daly has died. An appreciation in the independent Catholic paper National Catholic Reporter calls her "a mother of modern feminist theology." What does radical feminist theology sound like? National Catholic Reporter shares an excerpt from a piece Daly wrote for the New Yorker: "Ever since childhood, I have been honing my skills for living the life of a radical feminist pirate and cultivating the courage to win. The word ‘sin’ is derived from the Indo-European root ‘es-,’ meaning ‘to be.’ When I discovered this etymology, I intuitively understood that for a woman trapped in patriarchy, which is the religion of the entire planet, ‘to be’ in the fullest sense is ‘to sin.’" That's classic Daly.

The above is excerpted from an article at the UTNE Reader. To read the rest of the article: http://www.utne.com/Spirituality/Mary-Daly-Radical-Feminist-Theologian-Dies-6291.aspx

Thanks to blogger Jon for sending this along!

Christian Peacemaking Workshop

What is Christian Peacemaking?

Holy Cross Lutheran in Bellevue invites you to a round table discussion, "What is Christian Peacemaking?" on Saturday, January 30th from 8 - 10 a.m. at Holy Cross Lutheran, 4315 129th Pl SE, Bellevue.

Based on materials produced and distributed by the Lutheran Peace Fellowship, the discussion will expose and examine the various myths and stereotypes regarding peacemaking. By doing so, this session will help participants respond to the gift and call of Jesus' way of shalom. Glen Gersmehl, national coordinator of Lutheran Peace Fellowship will facilitate the discussion.

The Lutheran Peace Fellowship is a community of Christians across the U.S. and around the globe responding to the gospel call to be peacemakers and justice seekers. Based in Seattle since 1994, it offers workshops and forums, support for fellowship, brochures and other materials, and support for education and dialogue on issues of war and peace, justice and non-violence. For more information on the Lutheran Peace Fellowship, visit their website at www.lutheranpeace.org.

This roundtable is one of a series of discussions hosted and facilitated by Holy Cross Lutheran of Bellevue. For more information, call 425.746.4848.

Back in the Saddle Again

Well, that didn't take long...

Our old home church in Highland Park was short a "guest minister" for this coming Sunday, so they scraped the bottom of the barrel and asked me.

Ridin' the range once more

That's right, fans, I will be preaching this Sunday, in West Seattle. The theme: Speak Boldly. Oh yes... yes, I will.

Totin' my old .44

The Old Testament has 44 books in it (well, almost). The scripture for this Sunday? The story of Esther, a daring heroine who saves the Jewish people from disaster in Persia!

Where you sleep out every night, and the only law is right

Esther is practically a Marxist dramedy (seriously!). It is one of the only books in the Bible not to mention God at all (really!). It is fraught with tension, irony and humor (no, really!). The collaborationist bourgeoisie get their comeuppance (well, they get hanged), and the ruling class is a pawn of their own vanity and the conspiracies of capitalist climbers, and in the end the workers come out on top (well, they survive at least).

Back in the saddle again.

Yeehaw! That's right, folks, the greatest show on earth is BACK! (And, besides the Puyallup Fair, I'm preaching, too!)

Seriously, if you have any inkling, you're more than invited (I mistyped "incited" just now... hmmm) to come.

Show starts at 11AM at 8611 11th Avenue SW, Seattle WA 98106.

And who knows, afterward lunch buffet at Maharaja?!

American Pastor Welcomes Guns in Church

"I think when people first learned about this invitation to wear guns to church, many people were deeply troubled," said Terry Taylor, one of the organizers. "The idea of wearing guns to churches or any sacred space I think many people find deeply troubling."

And, um, no one thought to ask why? If they did, it wasn't mentioned in the article.
At what point does "selling out" just not begin to cover the issues?
Even more troubling: this pastor draws 150 people a week to his services.

Seattle's Labor History

Part of my heart still resides in Seattle, and many of my loyalties still with the labor movement. And in the wake of the closure of the generaly-labor-friendly newspaper in Seattle, my respect for the local alternative culture magazine has risen. So when a friend and nominal anarchist (and, it must be said, a punk rock afficionado and the happy-hour activity coordinator for our circle of friends - yes, we have one) sent me a link to this article in The Stranger, I remembered a little of why I am on this journey in the first place. Thanks, Nic.
The State of Our Unions: A Look at Seattle's Deep, Bloody Labor History - and Its Uncertain Future. (http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/the-state-of-four-unions/Content?oid=1393334)

Armstrong's The Bible: A Biography

Author Karen Armstrong has always seemed very fair, even generous, in her presentation of multiple, contrasting viewpoints. The Bible, in this same sense, does not disappoint.

In fact, if anything, the underlying agenda of Armstong's greater body of work in comparative religion and religious histories comes shining through in this book. Armstong in her books goes to great lengths to see the best in all viewpoints, to recognize integrity, honesty and context in every perspective - even ones she (or her readers) might disagree with - and treating ones with which her readers might agree with no less integrity or greater respect. Having read several of Armstrong's books, I think an "agenda" can be discerned: Armstrong believes that if we understand each other fairly and listen to each other generously, we can get along marvelously, and that even the most difficult questions and disagreements can be opportunities for growing in love with each other.

Armstrong says almost as much herself in the Epilogue of The Bible: "If we truly want to undertand the other, we have to assume that he or she is speaking the truth."

That being said, The Bible is an good overview of Biblical history. It moves through history at a lightning pace, hardly stopping for breath. It is a surprisingly quick read (I picked it up at an airport and read it in a weekend), and all the major Biblical historical periods, figures and movements are explained clearly and consisely. Almost too consisely at times - I wonder how much readers will get out of certain parts of it, who aren't already familiar with the material from previous study. But in this kind of introductory book covering nearly six-thousand years of ver diverse and intricate history, some summaries must be made.

Armstrong does a good job of lifting up major figures and important events in the life of the Bible, and I have always appreciated her ability to fairly capture a perspective on its own terms and yet also offer helpful, insightful commentary for the interested present-day reader. Her writing is very readable, and this text would be well suited for personal or group reading - especially among lay persons and others who might not have much scholarly experience with Biblical studies. The book would also be good for a group of mixed-level readers, as there are more than enough strings to follow if one is inspired to know more, but additional reading isn't necessary for enjoying the book and finding it useful.

I think the book would be particularly helpful for USAmerican readers, who are often caught in cultural, religio-political spasms without an appreciation of the historical place or forces at play. One unstated motive for Armstrong's biography (one in a series of "books that changed the world" from Grove Press) may be to combat the cultural phenomenon of seeing the Bible as one book that is claiming to be scientifically correct. The Bible by its very subject matter reveals the history of the Bible - its composition, interpretation, perception and use - to be incredibly varied.

The way the Bible is sometimes perceived and described in today's culture wars is not the way the Bible has always been seen, and isn't in keeping with the intentions of the narrative, its writers, or use throughout the centuries. The book, in lifting up how every age reads and presents the Bible according to its own expectations, shows that even today's post-Enlightenment orthodoxy of fact-as-truth is a lens through which we see the Bible, not as the Bible actually is. Our "scientific" expectations ask the wrong questions, set up the wrong expectations of the Bible. It's no wonder the Bible is so disappointing under these conditions! Armstrong doesn't shrink from the difficult or contradictory parts of the Bible - in fact, at times they provide the greatest impetus for commentary and creativity.

The Bible, as history, does what history at its best often does: it opens up possibilities for the future. It reminds us of the incredible variety of perspectives and convictions, offers us forgotten insights, remembers lessons learned, points out what we might otherwise overlook. In so doing, The Bible is a story of humanity, at once a history of Western civilization and the story of multiple parallel and layered understandings of what it means to be most fully human and in relationship to the Divine.

While not a scholarly book, The Bible is a book with breadth and insight, compassion and information, history and wonder. I came away from reading it feeling a deeper appreciation for the Bible as a tool in and reflection of our cultural circumstances. And for the many lessons, observations and stories peppered throughout the text, it is certainly worth the reading. But I think reading The Bible is most valuable as an example of that kind of work Armstrong would have us all do more of: applying the principle of charity toward others. In the words of linguist Donald Davidson (whom Armstrong quotes in the Epilogue):

Making sense of the utterance and behavior of others, even their most aberrant behaviors, requires you to find a great deal of truth and reason in them.

Armstrong deals charitably with all of us, and so does us a great service, enabling us to deal charitably with others - even our varied enemies.

Deliver us from amnesia

God of peace,
God of justice,
God of freedom,

We give thanks for your cadences of peace, justice, and freedom,
Cadences that have surged through the lives
of Martin,
and Ralph,
and Rosa,
and John,
and Fred,
and Hosea,
and Jesse,
and Andy,
and all that nameless mass of risk-takers who have been
obedient to your promises
and susceptible to your dreams.

Deliver us from amnesia
concerning their courage in the face of violence,
their peace-making against hate,
and their hunger for you in a devouring economy.

Deliver us from amnesia:
turn our memory into hope,
turn our gratitude into energy,
turn our well-being into impatience.

That these same cadences of your will may pulse even among us.
Amen.

-Walter Brueggemann
prayer after Martin Luther King Day, 1999

Country First?

One of the benefits of having moved to Europe has been the convenience of limited exposure to U.S. politics. In fact, during both the Democratic and Republican Conventions I was in Russia, which afforded me only snippets amid other international news. But what I saw horrified me.

So far, I have not mentioned politics this electoral season - partly because I haven't been posting much at all, and partly because I have enjoyed being apart from the morass of voices and images that bombard Americans during electoral cycles. But there is something I feel I must say.

Presidential hopeful John McCain's choice of slogan, "Country First", virtually prohibits any support by Christians, and is in fact an anti-Christian phrase.

The whole point in the followers of Jesus using the phrase "Jesus is Lord" is to contrast themselves with the politics of the Roman Empire, where Cesar is Lord and Savior. In Empire, the Empire is what saves. In Empire, "peace" is achieved by domination, violent suppression of any resistance, and control (and upward movement) of wealth.

With John McCain raising the banner of "Country First", Christians are given a choice - nation first or Jesus first. Even for non-Christians, I can imagine there being a great many ideas, principles or values that would come before "nationstate": human rights, abolishing poverty, eliminating hunger, healthcare for everyone in the world, love, genuine peace, and so on. But for Christians, the issue is particularly pointed because of our history with power.

At the Republican Convention, one crowd-member who got the thumbs up from McCain was holding a sign that read: Peace Through Strength. Obviously, this person wasn't a Christian, but McCain claims to be a Christian. What church is McCain attending - what gospels is McCain reading - that do not contrast the peace brought by a suffering, sacrificing messiah on the one hand with the violent, double-speak politics of empires on the other. "Peace Through Strength" is a phrase Christians shoud react to in horror. Jesus is a model of strength through weakness, of self-sacrifice. The New Testament is an inversion of the military-messiah into a spiritual and peaceful one - the radical and surprising choice of vulnerability, love and creative resistance over security, power over others and domination. "Peace Through Strength" is antithetical to Christian values, to the Christian tradition, and strikes violently at the very heart of Jesus' life, message and meaning.

It is a fundamental element of Christianity - often lost in the overwhelming rhetoric and noise of our secular, capitalist, military-industrial culture - that we are given a choice whom we will serve. The choice is cast in different ways at different times, but they all have the same bottom line: Jesus' way or the way of Domination, Jesus or Empire, Jesus or some other entity that offers a different set of values, priorities and strategies. It is no different for American Christians now.

Now, in all honesty, I don't think McCain is an anti-Christ, or that he realizes what he is doing, or that he is intentionally peddling an anti-Christian message. He is a pawn of Empire, too, willing to do whatever he can to get more power. And he is using the slogan in a way that seems softer, warmer, than it might otherwise be seem in more clear circumstances. McCain and the Republicans want "Country First" to mean "thinking about others before yourself" - which is a noble sentiment as far as it goes. But the problem is - as it always is with allegiances - the slogan wants to enlist people's support under this warm and fuzzy pretext of caring about other people, but once they are on board with the slogan "Country First" will take them far from "caring". Appealing to nationalism only serves to remove people's ability to make decisions for themselves, remove their own value system with one that serves the empire's interests. What I am saying is that "Country First as Caring for Others" is a lullaby lie, meant to put you to into moral slumber. Rather than clarifying and proclaiming people's values, the phrase is meant to subvert and subject people's values to those of the Nation-state, to those in power, to the mechanisms of Empire.

I'm not advocating in this post voting for Obama. This isn't a partisan attack. My concern here is that we who would be followers of Jesus are aware of the profound choices being asked of us. "Country First" is no innocuous political phrase. "Peace Through Strength" is no simple proclamation of American sentiment. We are being handed opportunities to abandon our commitments to Jesus, wrapped in the American flag and to the sound of parading bands and applause.

Let us pause and consider what Jesus would want us to think or choose in these instances. Let us ask who's values are we being asked to uphold and make our own. Let us ask what else might be more important, what else might come before country, first.

Why Religion At All?

I was having a discussion with a friend recently - a friend who has been reading a lot of books in the "New Atheism" movement. (I don't know why they call it "New Atheism" - except that perhaps it's a new movement, a resurgence or renaissance.) And perhaps it's the fact that we share so many sympathies on the subject that I found it difficult to answer her questions the way she seemed to want me to. None of my answers were apparently getting at her fundamental question. So she sent me away from the discussion with something to think about: why have religion at all? Wouldn't our efforts and energies be more constructively placed elsewhere?

It got me to thinking.

Even if we take the most natualistic definition or description of "God" - God being the experience of neurons firing in our heads and our brains being bathed with certain chemicals as a result (as some recent articles have suggested, our brains might be hard-wired to come up with the idea of God) - that doesn't mean that the experience isn't valid or even helpful. It is much the same thing as love - our brains doing certain things with certain data, causing emotional and intellectual reactions, moving us to do (or avoid doing) certain things. Even knowing this, the most convinced neuroscientist doesn't give up on Love.

But the question is not about "God" - whatever that is or how it is experienced. The question is about religion: is it necessary or helpful for people to become the best they can be - as individuals and as a communal whole.

Obviously, this critique (in part) is reacting to the enormous and horrific narrow-mindedness of various fundamentalisms and the religiously-infused history of the 20th century. The Holocaust was committed by Christians as Christians, capitalizing on centuries of Christian anti-semitism. World War I saw every country - on each side - declaring God on their side, with the attendant implicit divine blessing on unthinkable death and destruction. The New Atheist critique is also laying claim to the Human Rights culture that has been growing since the 18th century and has oftentimes been explicitly beyond religious distinctions in its call for fair treatment of all people. (Curiously, the New Atheists don't lay much blame for the horrors of the past at the feet of nationalism, capitalism, imperialism or colonialism. But that might just be too broad a front to engage the world on. And, it must be said, the New Atheists are English-speakers from the Northern Hemisphere, whose nations and cultures are steeped in capitalist rhetoric of "freedom" being equated with "buying power.")

I will have to save a larger discussion of this for another post - or perhaps a book - but I do believe that American Christianity deserves this New Atheist critique. Religion in the Western world (Christianity, Islam and Judaism) has been astoundingly complicit in (if not outrightly encouraging) nationalism, prejudice and violence. We have directed enormous resources at our own comfort while neglecting (if not capitalizing) on the suffering of others - most horrifically when our comfort comes at the expense of others. New Atheism raises some profound and legitimate questions that Christians (my community) should take seriously - searching inside and among ourselves for a Christ-like response rather than reacting in fear and offense, and continuing to ignore the fundamental premise of their complaint. (Recognizing that the Christ-like response might be to change the way we are acting, speaking or thinking.) With American Christianity the way it is, I can't blame anyone for wanting to be an atheist. The questions resonates inside me deeply: why be religious at all?

To begin an answer, let me start with the analogy I mentioned earlier: love. Is it necessary for love (both the neurological "happening" and the experience of love in people's lives) that we have ritualized behaviors and communal expectations? Of course not. People can feel love without dating or marriage, monogamy or... whatever. I must admit that my partner and I decided to get married (almost five years ago now) without knowing precisely why - but that I have found our marriage to be profoundly moving and formative for me. I have been made a better person by my marriage in ways I never imagined or was aware of - and part of that was, honestly, giving myself over to the convention of the ritual relationship, and exploring my new personhood within it. But my partner and I certainly don't begrudge any of our friends or family who don't get married, who only date or live together, or have even decided against romantic relationships for the present. We also don't begrudge our friends and family who have gotten married - and for most, marriage has served them well, while others not quite as well. I can imagine a person who has neither the need for nor would be helped by "marriage" or even monogamy - who can have healthy, honest, full relationships with people in ways that I am unaware or incapable of. My way of being in relationship is not the only right way. I don't think for a moment that "marriage" is necessary for love, or for a person to fully actualize themselves, or to grow in compassion toward others, or for a thousand other virtues that flower from healthy intimate relationships.

Is it necessary for people to participate in an organized religion in order to find fulfillment and become healthy individuals? Of course not. I can imagine someone being healthy and dynamic, self-aware and challenged, compassionate and sensing a call to profound generosity and vulnerability, without being taught or encouraged to within a ritualized framework. Those people, I would probably find enviable.

I am not nearly so strong, creative, self-aware or self-challenging. To be honest, if it were up to me, I would probably spend most of my existence comfortably within my own prejudices, feeling a sense of distant concern for the poorer situation of others but that's about it, and would likely find my own righteous indignation adequate for sustaining my views about myself and my world. I would likely be quite comfortable not holding myself within a community that demands critical introspection, not being held accountable by a community, or wrestling with a tradition and the inheritance of millions of lives before mine. I feel like a pretty ritualistic person, so I'd probably come up with my own significant ritual acts - but there would be little basis for me to share these with others or invite their participation in them with me. But, if I didn't have religion in general - and progressive, peace-church Christianity in particular - I just wouldn't have the personal hutzpah or gumption to really set myself to work on these tasks. And I'd be a worse person for it.

In the end, I'd have to say that religion isn't necessary for a full and happy life. I'm just saying I couldn't do it. By being a participant (and now a minister) in a Christian community, I am opened up to challenges and ways of being that I don't think I would have were I not here. (I also think most everyone could benefit from being in a union. And, really, I probably begrudge people not being union more than I begrudge anyone being irreligious.) I also wonder if people who haven't been brought up in a religious community - or who's experiences have been markedly different than mine, even - can't know what they're missing.

I've been both religious and secular in my life, been both theist and atheist, and I like myself better as a minister in this particular Christian peace church. It isn't that I just "feel better" - sometimes being a Christian fills me with profound sadness and awareness of suffering, and being a Christian also denies me easy answers to many of life's truly difficult questions. I am constantly pushed outside my prejudices and self-centered thinking. I am pulled to engage with, feel for, and perhaps even love people that I don't like, don't care being around, and disagree with. (I don't always do very well at this, it must be said. But forgiveness and grace are also Christian tenets.)

I don't like it when religions - Christianity in particular (since it is my larger community - teach prejudice and superiority. When someone is religious, or admits to a belief in God (not necessarily the same thing), one thing that can signify is that they are confessing they don't know everything, that there is more that they are subject to than they can know or explain, but that they feel it nonetheless. To use the word "God" can oftentimes do one of two things: it can open people up or close them off, it can say 'I am seeking the truth' or it can say 'I have the truth,' it can mean 'I am open to connection and genuine growth' or it can mean 'I am right and if you don't agree with me then you are at best misguided and at worst evil.' I cannot express strongly enough my disdain for religion that does the latter - and I assume it is to this variety that the New Atheism is responding. And there's plenty of that kind of religion around - it seems they own most of the television channels and radio stations, have the biggest churches and promote retrograde politics. I wish the New Atheists good luck in their quest to break the hold of this kind of religion on people's minds and hearts.

But there is also the kind of religion that opens people up, that seeks to love and grow, and seeks to change the world not to be more like 'us', but to be more like a generous, just and loving God would want it to be. And there as many different kinds of being faithful to that kind of God as there are ways of loving. Religion isn't necessary for that to happen. But for some of us it really, really helps. For me, it is indispensible.

Remembering Resistance

By Flannel Christian

While visiting congregations in Germany, my partner Christie and I stumbled upon a surprising memorial. We were walking around a medieval cathedral in Braunschweig and on the ground lay a stone marking the spot where a memorial briefly stood. The stone read: “Here stood from 1 September 1994 until 1 January 1995 a memorial to military deserters. After twice being vandalized, it was on New Year’s Day stolen altogether.” It was the first time I had ever seen a memorial for a memorial, and I realized how difficult it is to remember unpopular ideas sometimes.

Not only is a monument to deserters rare (I had never heard of one before!), and not only was this monument attacked three times in four months, but the entire monument was stolen altogether! Who steals a whole monument? Someone who desperately wants us not to remember – someone who wants us to forget. Without the memory of those who went before us, we are more likely to just go with the crowd, obey orders, buy into popular ideas, and not question the powers and principalities of this world.

As Christians, we cannot afford to forget.

At every turn – from the television to history books to parades on holidays to international politics – war and violence are lifted up and praised as the ultimate good, the ultimate sacrifice, the ultimate service one can do for one’s country or family or community.

But where are the stories of those who refused to fight? Where are the stories of those who were so horrified by war that they chose not to follow the crowd? Where are memorials to their sacrifices, their courage, their vision? Where are the histories of the deserters, stories of their bravery, songs about their commitment, recognition for their service to humankind? In a world governed by governments that rely on the projection of power – either economic or military – we rarely hear the stories of those who resist the drums of war. They are erased from our collective memory – no mention in history books, no discussion in current policy, no news headlines, no memorials. We are not allowed to remember them or their sacrifice.

The ironic thing is, that is the same thing the Roman Empire thought it was doing by crucifying Jesus – making him a common criminal, anonymous, unremarkable, erased from our collective memory. I can only begin to imagine what it must have been like for the first few generations after Jesus died – the government refused to acknowledge Jesus’ sacrifice, let alone his resurrection, following a resister – let alone worshipping him – must have seemed close to treason. And then, just as now in many of our governments, treason toward the state comes with deadly consequences.

The absence of the Braunschweig memorial echoes the symbolism of the cross: a negative symbol redeemed. The cross and the missing monument at first seem to declare defeat and negation, but the cross was adopted by the early Christians as the very sign of Jesus’ victory and love for the world. The cross symbolizes both Jesus’ victory and our awareness of the brutality and power that Jesus was up against. Placing a memorial to the stolen memorial in Braunschweig is a sign of the refusal to forget – and also a sign of awareness of the powerful reactionary forces of patriotism, militarism, and violence. We know what we’re up against in our countries – just as Jesus and Paul knew what they were up against under Rome.

We worship a God and man that declares that all people are of inestimable worth, and that since we are all equally loved by God we should love each other just as dearly – regardless of citizenship, race, or language. Jesus died because he resisted the social, political and economic machine of oppression in his country and culture – a machine that declared some people more important or more holy than others. Jesus defied the expectations of his culture, his nation, even his own followers, and bravely and actively loved people that the crowds around him saw as unloveable.

Surely, those who deserted from the German army (or any army) in World War II (or any war) did so for many reasons. But it seems reasonable that most of them (if not all of them) felt that what their nation and culture and crowds were saying and doing was wrong. No one is of less worth than another – everyone is equally loved by God, and ought to be loved by those who follow God.

War and imperialism and greed and a thousand other vices are fed by the idea that “we” are better than “them.” Both the deserters and Jesus confessed with their lives that that idea is not true. But disagreeing with this idea is sometimes a very difficult, unpopular, dangerous statement to make.

It is easier for us to stand strong if we remember that we are not alone in resisting the urge to elevate ourselves above others – others have gone before us: Jesus and Paul, Peter and Mary, and the almost-forgotten wartime deserters. Stand as a living memorial to the missing memorial; live and love as a living sacrifice; be a symbol of Christ and the cross in the world.

(A version of this article will be published in the June editions of the church magazines in Germany and the Netherlands.)

My Latest Favorite Thing

About Our European Flat:
The radiator in the bathroom is designed to be a towel-warmer and dryer. You hang several towels over it at a time, even.

You can also lean against it for a quick back-warm-job. Ahhhh.

Ok, I know this is a lame post to make after a week of no word about our move. Forgive me. Here's the skinny: we arrived a week ago in the Netherlands and set to work legally registering our presence (beauracracy is the true international language). We also started arranging our new apartment (or "flat" as they call it on this side of the pond). Right now, the Europe Church office is still in our livingroom (we're living in what used to be the Europe Church HQ), but I hope to soon be able to move the stuff down to the actual "office" across the hall so we can start distinguishing between work and home life (always a problem with church work).

But all in all, we're LOVING it here. The work is a bit stressful, and living out of a suitcase and trying to do your job on the run is a pain. But for all the stress and trouble, we haven't doubted our decision to come and start this new life and step into this new ministry. The neighborhood is as cute as we remembered it from our visit in November - and we're now able to have short, halting conversations with the natives (if we can keep them from replying in English, that is).

And just to make sure we know why we're here - surprise! - we're preaching this weekend. Christie is the "PJ" (preach jockey) for a Solid Rock Cafe tomorrow night. I'm speaking at church this Sunday. I'm tempted to at least introduce myself in Dutch. We'll see.

It is strange to be an immigrant worker. Even with all the support and relative guarantees I enjoy here, there is still so much uncertainty. I can't imagine what it must be like for an undocumented worker in the States, facing so much legal and cultural persecution. My heart goes out to them even more, now. (And perhaps those xenophobic white Americans ought to try living abroad for a while, to give them some perspective!) :-)

At any rate, while I miss the USAmerican Northwest, I'm excited to be here in the European Northwest. From Seattle to Rotterdam... at least the weather's not a big change. Hey... is that sunshine out there? Ach, must've been my imagination.

Peace and Blessings, everyone! (I'll try to make a more insightful observation soon.) :-)

Oftentimes, Christians Deserve the Leaders They Get

Eight years ago, when George W. Bush declared that Jesus was his favorite philosopher, suppose someone had asked a follow-up question.

"Mr. Bush, Jesus invited his followers to love their enemies and to turn the other cheek. How will that guide your foreign policy, especially in the event, say, of an attack on the United States?"

Or: "Gov. Bush, your favorite philosopher expressed concern for the tiniest sparrow. How will that sentiment be reflected in your administration's environmental policies?"

Or: "Jesus called his followers to care for 'the least of these.' How does that teaching inform your views on tax policy or welfare reform?"

Read the whole article here.

Quote of the Week

Henri Bergson, a French philosopher in the early 1900's, wrote with such force and poetic style that in 1928 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature. In 1939 he was so reknowned and respected that the occupying Nazi army exempted him from restrictions placed on other Jews. A few weeks before his death, despite the exemption offered him, at the age of eighty-one he left his sickbed to stand in a queue in order to register as a Jew and so shame the German-inspired Vichy government that had barred Jews from holding educational posts in France. And he renounced all the honors whose retention might have been taken for his approval of the government. He made his position clear in a passage in his will:

My reflections have led me closer and closer to Catholicism, in which I see the fulfillment of Judaism. I would have become a convert, had I not forseen for years a formidable wave of anti-Semitism about to break upon the world. I wanted to remain among those who tomorrow were to be prosecuted.

(Taken from The Seekers, by Daniel J. Boorstin.)

"Mission" as Neo-Colonialism?

I spent the last two and-a-half weeks in Europe, meeting most of my staff and co-workers and beginning to become acquainted with some of the local lay leaders of our church across Europe. It was a tremendous tour, and a lot could be said about it. But there's one thing in particular... (of course).

My denomination is just starting to talk about "mission" - and has even re-named regional administrative units "Mission Centers." But the "Europe Mission Center" has consistently declined using that term in reference to itself, preferring simply "the Europe church." You see, Europe has had enough of "mission-talk."

Europe is made of of former-Empires: the Netherlands, France, Germany, Spain, Hungary, Russia, and so on. To their credit, when they look at their histories, even discussion of their respective "Golden Ages" (when they were at the peak of their imperial expanse) is trimmed with shame at the arrogance of imperialism and colonialism, embarrassment for their exploitation and oppression of other peoples, and a self-consciousness about even historical talk of military, racial or ideological superiority. To the European Christians in our church, "mission" sounds too much like a re-birth of this ancient vice.

Mission and missionaries are language that harkens to a period in Christianity (specifically European and American Christianity) where "civilization" and "European-style Christianity" were considered the same - and the spread of "our culture" went hand in hand with the gospel and the sword. Religious conversion (or corraling) was most often the first step in economic expansion, likely in the form of exploitation of labor and resources, if not outright slavery. Mission was the destruction of native sensibilities and structures, and the imposition (forced, if not voluntary) of North-Atlantic norms.

Now, don't get me wrong, there's something powerful about contemporary "missional" Christians attempting a redemption of that term - actually turning it on its head, meaning to serve those disadvantaged and oppressed, and taking place largely outside of official organizational structures. There is something powerful about converting the tools of the oppressor into ones that serve liberation. But there is also danger there that, in our eagerness, we might overlook.

Remember that even those most colonial of missionaries likely thought of themselves as serving the people they met. Civilization and the gospel, after all, were in the best interests of everyone - from the perspective of the missionary. The question we are now able to ask about that time period is did those missionaries (and armies and businesses that followed) have the right to determine what was in the best interest of another people? And is it any surprise that they determined that their own way of thinking and acting, their own values, were the superior ones that needed to be brought to those poor heathens, by carrot or stick or lash? It is easy for us to point to those years and those motives and eye them with suspicion. But are we so able to look at ourselves with the same critical eye?

Consider this. "Mission" talk has taken hold first and foremost in the United States in the last five years or so. This is at the same time that the United States has been talking about itself as an empire, even considering itself (favorably in some cases, unfavorably in others) the new Roman Empire. Is there something in imperial politics that draws the church along? Or is it simply a matter of people talking who hold both discipleship and citizenship?

Have we North American Christians unwittingly embraced a revised ("kinder, gentler") imperial theology? Are we assuming that our values are the values that should be universalized and normative? (Don't we think that, surely, the world would be better if it adopted our way of thinking?) We may not be as culturally imperialistic as our forebears, but that is something to watch out for. And could it serve as a distraction from prophetic discipleship to focus on patchwork social justice without working toward a larger, revolutionary system?

I'm just throwing these ideas out there. Honestly, I'm a missional Christian. I'm just starting this discussion in my head. So I'm less prepared than many to identify the imperialistic qualities of my theology. Perhaps in this way I actually do need Christians and people of other faith persuasions to push back against me. Perhaps, for my own sake, those whom I would convert must first convert me.

That seems to me the only way out. But again, I may be narrow-minded here.

December Scriptures: Not Your Usual Christmas Story

"In North America, December marks the start of our annual frenzy of conspicuous consumption, and churches often counter the market’s hijacking of our feast day with poor substitutes: charity and triumphalism.

"The scripture passages for these weeks do not support our holiday evasions. While sometimes hopeful, the verses are neither cozy nor celebratory. Certainly we find stories of Jesus’ birth, but they come amid news of prisons, lions, vipers, swords, armor, and genocide. The lections’ strongest themes are of justice, violence, and the role of prophets.

"Over five Sundays the lectionary takes us through seven books spanning eight centuries, and we engage with some of the best-loved passages in scripture: “A shoot shall come up from the stump of Jesse” (Isaiah 11:1); “a little child shall lead them” (Isaiah 11:6); “the voice of one crying out in the wilderness” (Matthew 3:3); and “my soul magnifies the Lord” (Luke 1:47). The dominant texts are Isaiah, the book from the Hebrew Bible most quoted in the Greek Testament, and the gospel of Matthew, the book in the Greek Testament that draws most often from the Hebrew Bible. In a complex interplay, the texts read each other, we read the texts, and the texts read us and our times.

Read the whole article and commentary
for each Sunday's scriptures online at Sojourners.

New Book: EMPIRE

Reading the Christian Theological Legacy for a New Day

The radically altered situation today in religion, politics, and global communication—what can broadly be characterized as postmodern and post-colonial—necessitates close rereading of Christianity's classical sources, especially its theologians.

In a groundbreaking textbook anthology from Fortress Press, Empire and The Christian Tradition: New Readings of Classical Theologians, twenty-nine distinguished scholars scrutinize the relationship between empire and Christianity from Paul to the liberation theologians of our time.

The contributors discuss how the classical theologians in different historical periods dealt with their own contexts of empire and issues such as center and margin, divine power and social domination, war and violence, gender hierarchy, and displacement and diaspora. Each chapter provides insights and resources drawn from the classical theological tradition to address the current political situation.

Editors:
Kwok Pui-Lan is William F. Cole Professor of Christian Theology and Spirituality at Episcopal Divinity School.
Don H. Compier is founding Dean and Professor of Theology at Community of Christ Seminary, Graceland University, Independence, Missouri.
Joerg Rieger is Professor of Systematic Theology at Perkins School of Theology, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Texas.

Review: God & Empire

I’ve never wanted more to be convinced by a book. But somehow, I just never felt like Crosssn could close the deal.

Part of the problem was that I went into it expecting (wanting?) the wrong things. I wanted to have a book that proved Jesus would have railed against imperial theology and policy, in particular the policies of the United States. I wanted unequivocal condemnation of war and poverty and exploitation and capitalism and… you name it – with verses to back it up. I wanted Crossan to give me a god that looked like me, talked like me, and wanted everyone else to see things the way I see it.

Right from the get go, Crossan didn’t deliver. Damn his honesty.

What I love about Crossan is that he is almost obsessively historical. Reading him is like accessing a Masters-level course in the history, sociology, politics, agriculture and economics of a very specific place at a virtually pin-point period of time: a geography of only about 80 miles along the Jordan river basin, under the rule of Rome from 60 BCE to 60 CE.

Yet at the same time, Crossan weaves into the specific peculiarities of the subject an exploded vision of the big picture, even the really big picture. He jumps back and forth between discussing the politics and nature of the Roman imperial occupation of Palestine on the one hand, and the nature and origins of civilization itself – all the while, building a Biblical awareness (with an honest scholarship that looks at the cultural and historical context of the Bible and its stories).

Turning traditional ideology on its head, Crossan identifies civilization itself as the phenomenon of injustice, and Crossan builds a case for the historical Jesus pitting himself against the domination system of civilization.

Civilization is the process of replacing a rough, natural equality among humans with an enforced unequality signaled by the production and acquisition of wealth (by a few) and resultant systems of violence to enforce and protect power-positions. Crossan, among others, refers to “civilization” as a 10,000 year experiment in living in systems of ordered domination and exploitation. (Think of civilization as a giant, thousands-of-years-long pyramid scheme, where most everyone “benefits” a little – except the top figures who benefit a great deal, and the masses of exploited people at the bottom who suffer extraordinarily in order to preserve the pyramid for everyone else.)

The historical Jesus – even preserved in the canonical tradition – stood against this system of violence and domination. The Pax Romana was purchased at the price of domination. The Pax Deus, the Peace of God, is established by justice for all – equality and sustenance. To such a counter-cultural/political/economic model, Crossan believes Paul was a faithful witness: struggling for equality and justice among Jews and Gentiles, men and women, slaves and slave-holders, rich and poor. To support this idea, Crossan delves deeply into the canon and works with the reader to identify genuine letters of Paul, letters that are certainly not Paul’s work, and a few letters in between of questionable attribution to the famed Apostle. And in so doing, Crossan does more.

Crossan goes to great efforts to recognize and lift up divergent streams in the Christian canon – those that support the domination model of peace-through-victory (which is supported by all the ideology and mechanisms of “civilization”), and those that stand counter-culturally against domination in faithfulness to a prophetic peace-through-justice conception of right human relations. Both models find ample expression in our Bible – Old and New Testaments. Crossan builds his case that the Bible itself is a struggle between the forces of civilization creeping into our minds and ways, and the forces of God’s peace establishing a beachhead on our hearts, minds and behaviors.

You see, I wanted Crossan to blast the Christian hawks of America. But he is very honest about the scriptural support for their reliance on peace-through-domination. At the same time, however, he is clear that the historical and canonical Jesus is a voice on the side of peace-through-justice.

And I suspect some readers will be asking why we can’t have both – peace-through-victory and peace-through-justice, or reading the word “justice” as “revenge” or “protection of what I have from those who want it.” In so doing, we are virtually proving Crossan’s thesis that the forces of civilization are making their way into even the counter-cultural and other-worldly vision to which God is calling us. We, just like the Bible, are the field upon which the question is played out – civilization’s rules or God’s rules?

God & Empire ends with the contest between Paul’s faithful struggle for equality and justice on the one hand, and John of Patmos’ vision of a vengeful, violent return of Jesus on the other. The Bible is ambiguous (unable to point clearly to one or the other), and oftentimes so are we who read the Bible. But Jesus is calling us out of the confusion. As Christians, that should matter to us most of all.

Crossan never ends up closing the sale for me. His book leaves me with more questions than answers; more insight and understanding, but less arrogant certainty about the clear call of “the Bible.” I went in hoping for evidence of how right I was, and came out wondering if that desire is really one of civilization’s fingers wrapping around my brain. God & Empire ends up opening more doors than it closes.

Which might be why can recommend the book so highly.

Quote of the Week

The question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or will we be extremists for love?
-Martin Luther King, Jr., in Letter from Birmingham Jail

How I Became Union

I became Union roughly the same way I became Christian: I was lucky - I stumbled into it accidentally, not knowing what I was getting myself into.

This past week, at a meeting of regional ministers, a book was mentioned as being available from Amazon.com, and I gave a passing shout-out for Powells.com - a union run bookstore (headquartered in our very own Portland, no less). Afterwards, another minister came up to me and asked how I became a union supporter, since he thought it was pretty rare for someone my age (young, he meant) to even be aware of labor unions, let alone be an outspoken supporter of them. My answer got side-tracked by arguing that unions advance zionic conditions (better health care and working conditions, fairer wages and vacation policies, empowerment of people, and so on). I felt bad that I never got to answer him as to how I became a union supporter. To be honest, though, I hadn't thought of it before.

So this post is for Carman - and for the curious.

I left my previous job (2006) as a member of my union's Executive Board, a Shop Steward and work-site coordinator, a member of the contract negotiating team, a volunteer organizer and political activist. When I applied for a job with the church, most of my resume listed labor movement experience, and I still feel that heritage informing much of my ministerial outlook.

I first became a member of Service Employees International Union, Local 925, when I was hired as a mail-room clerk at the University of Washington in 2003. The University is largely closed-shop, so it was a legal obligation to join the union - I had no choice, and really didn't know what I was doing. I didn't think about it other than signing the membership card (under penalty of losing my job if I didn't). If anything, I was against compulsory membership in the union. I thought of it like Homeowners' Associations: vaguely fascist and dictatorial, and serving the powerful, rather than the powerless. (I may be retrojecting this concern for the underprivileged into my thinking then... I may honestly have been more concerned about the 1.5% taken out of my paycheck.)

For a year or so, the union was invisible to me. I didn't know it then, but my department was historically, notoriously anti-union - and few representatives of the union ever set foot inside there (and even fewer pro-union employees spoke up in the lunchroom about it). It wasn't until the union was doing an opinion poll in preparation for upcoming contract negotiations that I even realized what the union was. I filled out my little card and walked across the street to deliver it to the union representative (and later my friend) waiting in a room off the cafeteria. She introduced herself and said that if I had a few minutes to listen to what the union had in mind for the contract negotiations, she'd give me a tee-shirt for my time.

A free tee-shirt for listening to a five-minute spiel?! The union had me hooked. (This is an inside joke for anyone who's active in a union. A tee-shirt or button or hat or tote-bag for every action, and pretty soon one's wardrobe is overflowing with the union color and logo. And at that point, you just start going to the actions because you believe in it - and wearing your old tee-shirt to avoid being given a new one.)

Of course, the point of the spiel is to get you emotionally involved, at best even outraged at the offenses of the employer, in order to motivate you to become active in the contract campaign, and into the larger life of the union. It worked, and I slowly increased my activity with the union through the course of that contract campaign and the following political electoral season.

As I got more involved, I eventually became the "shop steward" for my building, and started organizing my co-workers. But it was the work as "steward" that most affected my class consciousness.

For me personally, the union was only so helpful. I had sympathetic and supportive supervisors, and administration above them that generally worked hard to be fair and helpful to the workers. My wages and benefits, however, were negotiated far above even my dean or director - and those administrators were much less likely to be sympathetic or helpful, to say the least.

It was in the course of a year or so of representing workers who were being disciplined or fired or something of that sort - and it was part of the job of a steward to help the worker understand what was going on and also support them in (if need be) objecting to the discipline and articulating why. (It did happen more than once that the worker recognized some poor performance and reacted positively to their supervisors' discipline, but that was all-in-all relatively rare.) About half of the time, it felt to me like I was helping defend workers against unfair discipline or working conditions. It only took a few ardent and seemingly vengeful bosses to make me a lifelong union supporter. (In the coming years, of course, it would take struggling to defend a couple wacky and irresponsible workers to temper my ardent one-sided-ness on the issues.)

I, myself, was never the subject of disciplinary action, or the victim of unfair working conditions. (It could be said that I was the victim of uncharitable and unfair conditions by virtue of the University's wage or vacation schedule, but after a lot of struggle the union did a pretty good job of keeping the University administration in check. The pic above is me arguing with the Public Relations Director of the University during a demonstration in the midst of 2007 contract negotiations.) It was as I witnessed what the union did for people who spoke English as a second (or third) language, and for women, and for folks who aren't white, and janitors or basement administrative assistants, that I became a union man. Supporting the union wasn't so much beneficial to me individually - except in the sense that what benefits all people benefits me. Supporting the union became an act of solidarity with and support of all workers, especially those who are least able to defend themselves and are therefore most in need of my solidarity.

Why I'm talking about this on a religio-personal blog is this: Jesus' life and ministry demonstrates to me the essential need to identify with and empower marginalized populations. That means my "class consciousness" has to align itself with "classes" "below" me (och, I struggle with that language, but indulge me), to identify their interests as my own, to work for their welfare as part of my work generally. I think it would be in most everyone's interest to be in a union - but as a Christian I don't want people to be in a union because it is in their interest. I want people to join unions because of the interest of others that it serves.

As a minister, when I left employment at the University and therefore faced giving up membership in my union, I signed up as an associate member - a status of virtually no benefit to myself, but an act of solidarity with my sisters and brothers still negotiating with hardened bosses for a fair living. And my wife joined the union with me.

Now, three years after I begrudged the union forcing me to join even though it directly benefited me to do so, I now join eagerly even though it benefits me directly hardly at all. I've been born again. I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see. Praise God, indeed.

Local Efforts Continue to Address Homelessness

Religious leaders work to tackle homeless problem
By JOHN IWASAKI, P-I REPORTER

While chatting with friends Wednesday morning at a coffee shop in Ballard, Carolyn Swanson mentioned that she was headed to a meeting to learn how local churches could host Tent City 3, the traveling homeless encampment now in North Seattle.

Because Scandinavians pride themselves on "pulling themselves up by their bootstraps," she said, her astonished friends fired back questions:

"You're going to do what?" "Why don't those people work?" "Isn't that great to live off the state?"

Homelessness is a complex issue, and those with a roof over their head often don't understand it, said Swanson, a member of the justice committee at Our Redeemer's Lutheran Church.

Representatives of 16 congregations met Wednesday at St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral to gather information on homelessness and Tent City 3. The encampment will be moving from Haller Lake United Methodist Church to Riverton Park United Methodist Church in Tukwila on Sept. 22.

The larger question, not on the agenda at the St. Mark's meeting, is how to make homelessness a problem of the past. That daunting topic will be discussed Tuesday when an interfaith group holds its seventh-annual conference on "creating the political will to end homelessness."

Read the whole article at the Seattle Post-Intelligencer.