Growing up as a Christian, I knew a lot of kids that went on “mission trips” to far off places to help the less fortunate. My friends would gush about how life-changing the experience was to go to such and such poor country. They would tell me how the people, while poor, were so much richer in spirit than us here in North America. I always found this idea to be a little bit ridiculous. It seemed to me as if my friends going on these pricy trips to help “poor people” created this communal lie about the local people being so joyful, so full of life, so rich in love. It seemed like a convenient untruth that rich, white, Christians could tell themselves in order not to feel guilty about their personal wealth. It was hard for me to believe that all poor people in the developing world were happy and better off than us here, despite not being able to feed their children, not having electricity or adequate access to water. It all seemed like a pile of crap.
I studied international development in university. There I was taught to horrors of missionary work. I was shown how short term “service” trips can actually harm struggling communities in the developing world. I piously felt like the people who went on these trips, went for themselves, to add meaning to their own lives. I used the argument that the money spend to send down a team of x number of Canadians would be much more effective if it was used to hire local people to do the same work. I came to see these vacationing missionaries as modern day colonizers, taking with them a sense of superiority and advanced civility.
When I was 23 I took a job working for a church as a youth assistant. Part of my job was planning and helping lead a trip to Ecuador for a small group of youth. I stepped off of my soapbox (mostly in light of my desire to travel) and took up the job rather excitedly.
In Ecuador, in a small jungle village, I had one of my first “a-ha’ moments about class, race and privilege. We were building a community building in the village so that there would be a place for people to gather when it rained. The village had gotten running water only weeks before we arrived. I met a woman who I immediately liked. She was kind- her eyes were kind. She smiled at me and let me hold her baby. After some hand gesture charades due to the language barrier she took one of the students and myself to explore the forest where they got their food. She had her daughter shimmy up papaya trees to pick us fruit and taught us how to machete banana trees. She cooked us jungle potatoes and watched, with tangible joy on her face, as we ate them. What I learned in that moment is that classism and class division dissect our humanity. In an instant it became clear to me that while we were officially there to “help” her and her community, she had, through example, just given me so much more.
Class divisions create a world where we only want to associate and interact with those in our particular class. Sometimes, if we’re feeling ambitious, it is socially acceptable to converse with those in the class above you if you are looking to climb the social ladder. That day, in the Ecuadorian jungle, I learned that by only living within your societal class, one essentially negates all possibility of being fully human. The rich are not meant to be givers. They are not meant to be the “sugar daddies and mamas” who simply write checks to appease their consciences and the poor. The Poor are not meant to be receivers, constantly taking, giving nothing back. The middle class is not meant to sequester themselves off from both the rich and poor, protected by their picket fences and PTA meetings. Rather, each person, regardless of their socio-economic class is meant to be both a giver and a receiver. That is what it means to be human. We all have something to offer the world and we all have something we need from the world. We were not created to be self-maintaining organisms.
My friend in the jungle showed me that I needed her. That day, I needed her kindness, her generosity and papayas. By accepting her gift of fruit, I acknowledged not only thankfulness, but also broke down the false notion of giver and receiver, rich and poor.
When I came home from Ecuador, I had a much better understanding of why friends in the past had come back and said that the people were so joyful, so happy, and free. I still would not fully agree with that analysis, or the singular story it tries tell of an entire country’s population. Instead, I’d like to suggest, that my friends, like me, had realized that they were receivers, not only givers. Perhaps what my friends were seeing was their own joy reflected back. This is the most real truth I know about class- It divides us. We cannot experience wholeness existing in human-made class groups. We need the poor and the rich. They need each other. Furthermore, we cannot care for the poor or the rich unless we know their names, their stories and their hearts. Ending class division will take a lot more than writing big checks; it will take more than philanthropy and charitable foundations. Ending class division will only happen when we create space for us to get to know each other. A place to have coffee, to talk about the weather and our kids and reality tv. Class division will not end until we accept that “they” are just like “us”.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp...
Because I liked it so much....
Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side; I know there’s something better down the road.”
We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.
On the brink, on the
Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side; I know there’s something better down the road.”
We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.
On the brink, on the
Sunday, January 18, 2009
What Exile?
These things that have comforted me, I drive away
This place that is my home I cannot stay
My only faith's in the broken bones and bruises I display
Bruce Springsteen – in ‘The Wrestler’
There is often much discussion of ‘exile’ in theological circles. I just finished reading and enjoying Rob Bell and Don Golden’s book “Jesus wants to Save Christians.” It discusses the importance of remembering the exodus God has given us from our imprisonment to the empire of sin, violence and death. It talks about the Israelites and their disobedience when they had all the power of an empire under Solomon – and their resultant exile under Babylon’s rule in order to bring them back into dependence on God and an understanding of the blessing they had been given and what God desired for them to use that blessing for.
In the book there is much talk of empire – a worldly empire of violence, sin and death (Bell 57) and also of 2 modes of existence as defined by Paul: “the body of Sin and the body of Christ.” (Bell 105) It is discussed how people who ultimately believe in the prevailing empire use the power they have in order to promote themselves, and further their influence and then grow what they feel they are entitled to. God desires for people to use their power to help those who most need it. When God wanted to show Solomon and company that they were misusing the power they had been blessed with – he put them in exile into Babylon – away from any source of power of their own.
They had forgotten their story – the story of exodus and of God’s compassionate reaching out to them when they most needed it in order that they would do that for others. Many theologians discuss how the Church today is in some sort of exile. Part of the reasoning that prompted this post was examining the exile discussion in this Rob Bell book and thinking about other discussions of exile that I have heard about and whether or not I see a lack of worldly ‘power’ or empire influence in the church or a lack of the presence of God’s Holy Spirit working in the world.
The most vivid picture of exile that I have seen recently is that of Randy the Ram in the ‘The Wrestler.’ Mickey Rourke did a fantastic job of portraying a man who was exiled from his home and his family. This was an exile that happened because of his choices in the use of power – he chose to use his power to satisfy himself and to increase his reign and his entitlement. However, again the exile that he experienced was one truly of pain – of visible separation from the prevailing culture.
But I ask – where is the exile of the church (ala Israel into Babylon or in Egypt) if there has been no removal from physical blessing (and empire power) in North America? Or more aptly how does the current exile parallel that of the Israelites?
Could it be – in North America – it as though some parts of the body of Christ and some Christians have bought so whole-heartedly into the prevailing empire of consumption that God has allowed their OWN corrupted system of power to be Babylon in their lives – or at least definitely in my life! It would be as if, seeing the sin of Solomon – his building of military might and the big-headed centralization of his power to further his own purposes rather than help those in need, God just allowed the Israelites all to be consumed by this as it ran its course. Obviously, this isn’t an exile from earthly, or worldly physical power for the Israelites – but what it IS is an exile from the power to be able to do the work of showing God’s love and compassion by helping others most effectively. This is because the body of people is too tied up in their own selfish pressures.
Maybe I am wandering a bit here but the problem is, at the lowest level, I have so forgotten the story of my exodus, the cause of my redemption, and the ‘way’ that I travel from the one reality of the body of Sin to the reality of the body of Christ – I have so forgotten this story – that it could be as though I am in exile - exile from being able to live out this compassionate powerful love of God – exile in this Babylon of North American consumer culture. Thankfully, the ‘way’ of Christ is STILL there to be walked. Just as the prophets spoke – the universal sacrifice and way out of exile has been provided – I just need to begin to remember the story of how I was redeemed and make it central to everything that I do in order to live with that power!
What I ask now is how is it that I should begin to remember my exodus? More importantly, Lord, how shall I begin to cause my memory of that exodus to prophecy truth of the power of the body of Christ into my life? Bell and Golden suggest that the Israelites were instructed to remember by remembering the poor, by giving unconditionally, and by extending grace (Bell 162).
I know that you work in power Lord all over the world and I pray that somehow I would begin to fully remember, to use the power you have made available in order to bless the weakest of those with whom I interact – to show them your love not after I’ve claimed my own entitlement – but to realize that everything is yours and is given to me simply for the purpose of giving to others.
Please forgive me for forgetting the story of my own journey through the desert to the New Jerusalem even as it is still unfolding! And anyone reading this post your thoughts and the ways that you remember your exodus story.
Rob Bell and Don Golden, Jesus Wants to Save Christians (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008)
This place that is my home I cannot stay
My only faith's in the broken bones and bruises I display
Bruce Springsteen – in ‘The Wrestler’
There is often much discussion of ‘exile’ in theological circles. I just finished reading and enjoying Rob Bell and Don Golden’s book “Jesus wants to Save Christians.” It discusses the importance of remembering the exodus God has given us from our imprisonment to the empire of sin, violence and death. It talks about the Israelites and their disobedience when they had all the power of an empire under Solomon – and their resultant exile under Babylon’s rule in order to bring them back into dependence on God and an understanding of the blessing they had been given and what God desired for them to use that blessing for.
In the book there is much talk of empire – a worldly empire of violence, sin and death (Bell 57) and also of 2 modes of existence as defined by Paul: “the body of Sin and the body of Christ.” (Bell 105) It is discussed how people who ultimately believe in the prevailing empire use the power they have in order to promote themselves, and further their influence and then grow what they feel they are entitled to. God desires for people to use their power to help those who most need it. When God wanted to show Solomon and company that they were misusing the power they had been blessed with – he put them in exile into Babylon – away from any source of power of their own.
They had forgotten their story – the story of exodus and of God’s compassionate reaching out to them when they most needed it in order that they would do that for others. Many theologians discuss how the Church today is in some sort of exile. Part of the reasoning that prompted this post was examining the exile discussion in this Rob Bell book and thinking about other discussions of exile that I have heard about and whether or not I see a lack of worldly ‘power’ or empire influence in the church or a lack of the presence of God’s Holy Spirit working in the world.
The most vivid picture of exile that I have seen recently is that of Randy the Ram in the ‘The Wrestler.’ Mickey Rourke did a fantastic job of portraying a man who was exiled from his home and his family. This was an exile that happened because of his choices in the use of power – he chose to use his power to satisfy himself and to increase his reign and his entitlement. However, again the exile that he experienced was one truly of pain – of visible separation from the prevailing culture.
But I ask – where is the exile of the church (ala Israel into Babylon or in Egypt) if there has been no removal from physical blessing (and empire power) in North America? Or more aptly how does the current exile parallel that of the Israelites?
Could it be – in North America – it as though some parts of the body of Christ and some Christians have bought so whole-heartedly into the prevailing empire of consumption that God has allowed their OWN corrupted system of power to be Babylon in their lives – or at least definitely in my life! It would be as if, seeing the sin of Solomon – his building of military might and the big-headed centralization of his power to further his own purposes rather than help those in need, God just allowed the Israelites all to be consumed by this as it ran its course. Obviously, this isn’t an exile from earthly, or worldly physical power for the Israelites – but what it IS is an exile from the power to be able to do the work of showing God’s love and compassion by helping others most effectively. This is because the body of people is too tied up in their own selfish pressures.
Maybe I am wandering a bit here but the problem is, at the lowest level, I have so forgotten the story of my exodus, the cause of my redemption, and the ‘way’ that I travel from the one reality of the body of Sin to the reality of the body of Christ – I have so forgotten this story – that it could be as though I am in exile - exile from being able to live out this compassionate powerful love of God – exile in this Babylon of North American consumer culture. Thankfully, the ‘way’ of Christ is STILL there to be walked. Just as the prophets spoke – the universal sacrifice and way out of exile has been provided – I just need to begin to remember the story of how I was redeemed and make it central to everything that I do in order to live with that power!
What I ask now is how is it that I should begin to remember my exodus? More importantly, Lord, how shall I begin to cause my memory of that exodus to prophecy truth of the power of the body of Christ into my life? Bell and Golden suggest that the Israelites were instructed to remember by remembering the poor, by giving unconditionally, and by extending grace (Bell 162).
I know that you work in power Lord all over the world and I pray that somehow I would begin to fully remember, to use the power you have made available in order to bless the weakest of those with whom I interact – to show them your love not after I’ve claimed my own entitlement – but to realize that everything is yours and is given to me simply for the purpose of giving to others.
Please forgive me for forgetting the story of my own journey through the desert to the New Jerusalem even as it is still unfolding! And anyone reading this post your thoughts and the ways that you remember your exodus story.
Rob Bell and Don Golden, Jesus Wants to Save Christians (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008)
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
My Talk at the FRWY last night....
So without any further ado....
Quite often I wonder why life doesn’t seem very fair. Yakno, we talk a lot about justice, and I would hope that most of us try and pursue justice for ourselves and others, but it doesn’t always seem to be present. In my own life, I have things that don’t seem to just. It doesn’t seem very fair that no matter how hard I work at school, my grades won’t be as great as my brother’s or sister’s. It doesn’t seem very fair that some students at my school have their tuition fully paid for, but I wasn’t given that luxury. To put those complaints in perspective though, there are many more harsh and severe injustices in the lives of people I know and hear about. I wonder why friend A had to be let go because of the recession. I wonder why friend B had to lose a friend or family member so close to them. I wonder why friend C had to get sick. All these thoughts lead me to feel down sometimes thinking that life’s not fair, justice isn’t really present. And I wonder, what am I supposed to do to feel okay about that? How am I supposed to believe and serve a so-called loving God when he didn’t create a just world?
Now before I go any further, I must make a couple brief comments. I by no means intend on approaching the topic of injustice with any form of answer to why it exists, I just thought my words might possibly be appreciated. Also, I do not mean to be insensitive to anyone’s hurt or experience of injustice and I hope I don’t come across in this manner.
So the reason I say all of this is because I find it quite challenging to identify with God and appreciate him when I see and experience so much injustice. And I hope now, to discuss an idea that helps me in my efforts to identify and appreciate him.
You see, the passage I chose to refer to in my talk, is Philippians 2:5-13. This is actually thought to be a verse from an early Christian hymn or creed that Paul placed in his letter. In this verse, it states that Jesus emptied himself and chose to become nothing. He then proceeded to go through death as a human, and specifically death on a cross as the text says. I highlight this verse because it tells us something about Jesus’ character and experience. Jesus endured suffering and injustice just like us. And he chose it. He chose to have life not be fair. In other parts of the Bible, we learn that Jesus was rejected by his family, his hometown, and even one of his closest disciples, Peter. And he died a more terrifying death than I would like to think about. I say this because the fact that Jesus experienced injustice makes me appreciate him more and helps me to identify with his love for us.
Also, I think it is fair to assume that God, the Father, must suffer in a similar capacity. The biblical narrative teaches us that God gave us as humans freedom to choose what to do and value with our lives. And when we reject his love, abuse his creation, or treat others like dirt, I can’t help but think he suffers too.
Now I say all this for a reason. And that reason is not because I claim to understand why injustice exists in this world. It sure doesn’t make a ton of sense to me. I really wish life seemed a little more fair for us all at times. But I do find a significant bit of solace and comfort in knowing that our God suffers and experiences injustice just like us. He knows what its like yakno? And not only that, but he chose to experience this so in a lot of ways we wouldn’t have to. I don’t mean to sound cheesy, I just think God becomes a little more likable when I think of things this way.
I tried to keep it pretty honest and candid. Along with keeping it short haha.
Quite often I wonder why life doesn’t seem very fair. Yakno, we talk a lot about justice, and I would hope that most of us try and pursue justice for ourselves and others, but it doesn’t always seem to be present. In my own life, I have things that don’t seem to just. It doesn’t seem very fair that no matter how hard I work at school, my grades won’t be as great as my brother’s or sister’s. It doesn’t seem very fair that some students at my school have their tuition fully paid for, but I wasn’t given that luxury. To put those complaints in perspective though, there are many more harsh and severe injustices in the lives of people I know and hear about. I wonder why friend A had to be let go because of the recession. I wonder why friend B had to lose a friend or family member so close to them. I wonder why friend C had to get sick. All these thoughts lead me to feel down sometimes thinking that life’s not fair, justice isn’t really present. And I wonder, what am I supposed to do to feel okay about that? How am I supposed to believe and serve a so-called loving God when he didn’t create a just world?
Now before I go any further, I must make a couple brief comments. I by no means intend on approaching the topic of injustice with any form of answer to why it exists, I just thought my words might possibly be appreciated. Also, I do not mean to be insensitive to anyone’s hurt or experience of injustice and I hope I don’t come across in this manner.
So the reason I say all of this is because I find it quite challenging to identify with God and appreciate him when I see and experience so much injustice. And I hope now, to discuss an idea that helps me in my efforts to identify and appreciate him.
You see, the passage I chose to refer to in my talk, is Philippians 2:5-13. This is actually thought to be a verse from an early Christian hymn or creed that Paul placed in his letter. In this verse, it states that Jesus emptied himself and chose to become nothing. He then proceeded to go through death as a human, and specifically death on a cross as the text says. I highlight this verse because it tells us something about Jesus’ character and experience. Jesus endured suffering and injustice just like us. And he chose it. He chose to have life not be fair. In other parts of the Bible, we learn that Jesus was rejected by his family, his hometown, and even one of his closest disciples, Peter. And he died a more terrifying death than I would like to think about. I say this because the fact that Jesus experienced injustice makes me appreciate him more and helps me to identify with his love for us.
Also, I think it is fair to assume that God, the Father, must suffer in a similar capacity. The biblical narrative teaches us that God gave us as humans freedom to choose what to do and value with our lives. And when we reject his love, abuse his creation, or treat others like dirt, I can’t help but think he suffers too.
Now I say all this for a reason. And that reason is not because I claim to understand why injustice exists in this world. It sure doesn’t make a ton of sense to me. I really wish life seemed a little more fair for us all at times. But I do find a significant bit of solace and comfort in knowing that our God suffers and experiences injustice just like us. He knows what its like yakno? And not only that, but he chose to experience this so in a lot of ways we wouldn’t have to. I don’t mean to sound cheesy, I just think God becomes a little more likable when I think of things this way.
I tried to keep it pretty honest and candid. Along with keeping it short haha.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
All in good time
hello friends
Just a quick note to say hello- and that I do intend on sharing some links/thoughts here soon. My mind is a little dulled from the INCREDIBLE Raptors game that I was at today. If I were to write something tonight it would be something along the lines of how Jamario Moon should be the MVP for his tats and headband alone and how it really is time to trade Kapono....you get the idea. But tomorrow is a new day and it won't be long before my musings about faith.jesus.god.life.love.etc will need a home.
Peace and love,
Cait
Conversation
hey everyone,
i'm sure there is going to be a little bit of hesitance to contribute or post to this blog because you feel like it isn't your own (or you already have your own blog). But even if you just post a link to your other blog post or a small thought - i think it would be really appreciated. I personally think you're all real smart and I appreciate your contributions to my faith - so that's why I'd love to continue the conversation.
i'm sure there is going to be a little bit of hesitance to contribute or post to this blog because you feel like it isn't your own (or you already have your own blog). But even if you just post a link to your other blog post or a small thought - i think it would be really appreciated. I personally think you're all real smart and I appreciate your contributions to my faith - so that's why I'd love to continue the conversation.
Image of God at Scarborough Town Centre
This is something I wrote while waiting in Scarborough after a bus had dropped me off. I'd love to hear your comments on it, further challenges, as well as suggestions for practical application.
“Christ has taken on this human form … In Christ’s incarnation all of humanity regains the dignity of bearing the image of God. Whoever from now on attacks the least of the people attacks Christ, who took on human form and who in himself has restored the image of God for all who bear a human countenance.”
- Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Beginning to understand this truth has radically changed the way I look at people as I sit waiting here at the food court of Scarborough Town Centre. I think I’ve read of this before and begun to think about it – at least I remember a similar idea in Greg Paul’s book – “God in the Alley” where he explains how he discovered that as he helped a friend of his through one of his lowest human moments he saw the face of Jesus in him in a profound way. I understood it at the time in terms of seeing Jesus in the oppressed or suffering – which I think is a very valid and valuable concept – but the idea of seeing God’s presence in all others simply because they are human has given me a new, fresh understanding.
I’ve dwelt much lately on how as I look at others walking around campus I judge them. Basically, my walk through the busy paths between classes consists of looking at a person and determining my decision of their worth. A practice that I have been, well, trying to practice, is looking at a person and declaring my love toward them (in my head). It seems to create a drastic difference in my attitude toward them. Reading the above quote from a book on ‘mystic-activism’ by Curtiss Paul DeYoung reinforces this idea for me. To be part of the body of Christ is to understand fundamentally the necessary humanization of ‘others’. By understanding that each person currently walking around me is a human – and therefore reflects the image of God – it seems almost easier, nay necessary to love them. I hopefully love God with all my heart, with all my soul, and with all my mind and therefore I have no option but to love all of His creations – with all my heart and all my soul and all my mind!
As DeYoung goes on to discuss this he emphasizes that it includes, in so many situations the oppressed and the oppressor. It brings to mind the words of Jesus – “Whatever you do to the least of these – you have done to me” - how true it is.
Lord the challenge of living out your love is unbelievably difficult, unbelievably rewarding, and unbelievably human. Help me to continue to understand your love in such a way that I have no choice but to extend it towards those around me.
“Christ has taken on this human form … In Christ’s incarnation all of humanity regains the dignity of bearing the image of God. Whoever from now on attacks the least of the people attacks Christ, who took on human form and who in himself has restored the image of God for all who bear a human countenance.”
- Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Beginning to understand this truth has radically changed the way I look at people as I sit waiting here at the food court of Scarborough Town Centre. I think I’ve read of this before and begun to think about it – at least I remember a similar idea in Greg Paul’s book – “God in the Alley” where he explains how he discovered that as he helped a friend of his through one of his lowest human moments he saw the face of Jesus in him in a profound way. I understood it at the time in terms of seeing Jesus in the oppressed or suffering – which I think is a very valid and valuable concept – but the idea of seeing God’s presence in all others simply because they are human has given me a new, fresh understanding.
I’ve dwelt much lately on how as I look at others walking around campus I judge them. Basically, my walk through the busy paths between classes consists of looking at a person and determining my decision of their worth. A practice that I have been, well, trying to practice, is looking at a person and declaring my love toward them (in my head). It seems to create a drastic difference in my attitude toward them. Reading the above quote from a book on ‘mystic-activism’ by Curtiss Paul DeYoung reinforces this idea for me. To be part of the body of Christ is to understand fundamentally the necessary humanization of ‘others’. By understanding that each person currently walking around me is a human – and therefore reflects the image of God – it seems almost easier, nay necessary to love them. I hopefully love God with all my heart, with all my soul, and with all my mind and therefore I have no option but to love all of His creations – with all my heart and all my soul and all my mind!
As DeYoung goes on to discuss this he emphasizes that it includes, in so many situations the oppressed and the oppressor. It brings to mind the words of Jesus – “Whatever you do to the least of these – you have done to me” - how true it is.
Lord the challenge of living out your love is unbelievably difficult, unbelievably rewarding, and unbelievably human. Help me to continue to understand your love in such a way that I have no choice but to extend it towards those around me.
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