Thoughts on Being Prophetic

As I had mentioned in an earlier post, I am going back through some of my older books. I picked up Brueggemann’s ‘Prophetic Imagination’ last week and thought it worth mentioning. There is one particular part that I would like to discuss. Brueggemann develops the thought of Israel’s early existence as an alternative community. It is “the appearance of a new social reality” that emerges out of the exodus and forms “a social community to match the vision of God’s freedom.” Brueggeman asserts that there “is no freedom of God without the politics of justice and compassion, and there is no politics of justice and compassion without a religion of the freedom of God.” Of course, this seems best understood when it stands in stark contrast to a dominant, often hostile, culture.

When Israel decided to be like all the other nations and develop power through war and kingship rather than by God, they themselves became the oppressors. This becomes most evident through the reign of Solomon. Brueggeman, through Mendenhall, states that this Solomonic achievement is actually the ‘paganization of Israel.’ There are three things that characterize this achievement: incredible affluence, oppressive social policy, and the establishment of a controlled, static religion.

This third ‘achievement’ is the one that caught my attention, specifically when Brueggemann writes that this static religion consigned God and his temple “as part of the royal landscape, in which the sovereignty of God is fully subordinated to the purpose of the king.” In other words, God supports our particular nation-state; or, the freedom of God is now suppressed and given over to God’s easy accessibility. (We see a similar tension in 20th century theology between God’s transcendence and immanence). Essentially, God now resides in the temple for whenever the people need a God. Solomon builds God a house for him to dwell. According to Brueggeman, “God is now ‘on call.’” No longer is there need for a surprise burning bush or a cloud to follow. Instead, God follows his people. When one looks at the three ‘achievements’ of Solomon, one begins to recognize that “it provided a God who was so present to the regime and to the dominant consciousness that there was no chance of over-againstness, and where there was no over-againstness, there was no chance of newness.”

I started thinking about God and his temple. When I was younger, I remember hearing and reading the story of Jesus’ death. When Jesus was dead the sky was dark, there was a great earthquake, and the temple curtain that separated God’s dwelling place from the rest of the temple was torn in two. I was always told that this ripping of the curtain was God’s way of saying that the ultimate sacrifice was made. No longer was the blood of a lamb needed. Jesus paid the ultimate price. And in my nice and neat evangelical faith I accepted this as part of the doctrinal package of justification. It seemed congruent with the differences of the Old and New Testament.

I wonder now if this could be interpreted differently (not wrong, just different). What if this was God’s way of crying “Freedom?” When I think about it now, I actually smile and laugh to myself. Who would have ever guessed that a Roman crucifixion would be the way in which God proclaims his freedom? Israel stuck God in a building the same way we stick God into a neat doctrinal package. Our culture models Solomon’s in a scary way. Never in history has there been this enormous amount of wealth, which of course also characterizes a politics of oppression in which the marginalized are rarely, if ever, heard. And God’s presence is just a quick ‘prayer’ or drumbeat away. We have no recollection of his mystery because he’s our ‘best friend.’

Essentially, we have made Jesus into the kind of savior that we desire rather than the savior that He is. This reminds of a Hauerwas quote: “The resurrection of Jesus is the ultimate sign that our salvation comes only when we cease trying to interpret Jesus’ story in the light of our history, and instead we interpret ourselves in the light of his.”

Something I read this morning

"Human beings are ambivalent toward holiness. We are drawn toward those qualities exemplified by a St. Francis or by Mother Teresa, or by communities who witness to the gospel under severe persecution. Yet we find such qualities disturbing, too far removed from the way we must live our daily lives. Something deep within our existence creates a restlessness for God, yet we live and move and work in a culture of technology, efficiency, and the tyranny of the literal. The hunger for holiness coexists uneasily with the practical atheism [italics mine] of our way of life. Still, the deepest language of the Christian biblical tradition claims that the created world itself already reflects the goodness of God but also groans in travail for sanctification and recreation. The time and place where these tensions intersect is the gathered church at worship." ('Sanctifying Time, Place, and People' by Don E. Saliers; taken from A Guide to Prayer...).

Incoherent musings

I’ve been hearing the same thing for a few years now. In fact, I’ve been hearing it since I was a sophomore in College. It has always bugged me a little bit. It’s this small phrase that seems to place me within a certain category of people. It assumes a certain immaturity of faith on my part, and it is almost connotes a certain superiority of the one who says it. In fact, this little phrase scares me. Allow me to explain, this is little phrase is always said by an older adult, and usually by one for whom I have great admiration. And, it is always said in a certain context.

Over the past couple years, I have come to believe that the Kingdom of God is more than getting into heaven, more than forgiveness of sins, and more than individual piety. I hold the conviction that the church is not God’s purpose for the world but merely an instrument to bring about his purpose. I believe Jesus came preaching a coming reality that is both present and still to come. It is a Kingdom of Peace: one that restores and re-creates; one that binds people together in mutual service and compassion. It is a Kingdom of peculiarity. It forms a community and it is in that community that we begin to understand the sanctification of the community as a foretaste to the Kingdom. And it is my belief that this Kingdom, especially in the light of Jesus’ teachings, is inherently political. For how can a formed community not be?

It is this last statement that usually gets me a little trouble (not that trouble is a bad thing: is not the nature of the church supposed to express the radical nature of the gospel?). My conviction that the Kingdom of God is actually a way of life, the way of Jesus, has led me to be involved in war protests, open discussions about stewardship issues in the church and University, support for the poor and homeless, and multiple letters and gatherings about the injustices around the world. As a result, I usually get this little phrase thrown my way: “I used to be just like you.” Sometimes it is coupled with another phrase, “But you’ll grow out of it.” Either way, the point is made that I am like most young people: newly education, immature in that education, an idealist, optimist, and heart-strong. At least, that’s what they’re thinking.

At the same time they think that, I am thinking about the divorce of the spiritual from the practical. These words are from the same mouths that say we are “The people of the book,” but where in that book do we learn of a community of a disembodied faith? How are we able to say we have our sins forgiven and yet cannot forgive our neighbor? How can we say that God is a God of peace and still pay war taxes with a clear conscience? How are we a distinct people if we cannot even show a consistent ethic of life: we say life is precious and support anti-abortion laws but are unwilling to uphold life’s ‘preciousness’ when it comes to the death penalty?

My church denomination began within the inner city working among the ones who had nothing. They worked with the drunkards and homeless, the foreigner and hungry. They could not justify spending money on massive buildings when our brothers were dying on the streets. The stories that come from my tradition during this time give me hope and inspire me. Unfortunately, over the years, we have moved from the inner city to the suburbs. Drinking is now just a standard to attain holiness rather than abstinence to support any kind of social change. I’ve been given a lot of crap because I don’t mind hanging out with those that drink. Apparently I’m not supposed to have relationships with people that do. But I think this is foreign to the Kingdom of God.

I know I’m still immature and have a lot of growing to do. In fact, I think I’ll be growing in my faith for the rest of my years. I expect nothing less than continual learning and testing what God is doing. But to hear these words that ‘they used to be just like me’ scares me. It makes me not want to be like them. I want to be more like Ron Sider who has developed a program of holistic ministry, one that teaches of the spiritual and temporal as inherently dependent. Yes, God offers us forgiveness for the wrongs we have committed, but those wrongs are often done to others. God’s forgiveness helps us move to healed relationships with others. His grace teaches us to bestow grace on others, and not just the ones we like. We are taught that God’s heart are for those who are broken and struggling.

A lot of times this brokenness comes from some of our institutions. I am pretty sure that this endless ‘war on terror’ is almost institutionalized. It is never ending. Capitalism is also inherently evil. What do we do with a system that feeds off greed? We see the effects of it as the rich just accumulate more and the poor can’t get out of poverty. Remember, there are never oppressed without oppressors.

I could go on, but this is already rather long for a singular blogpost. I just want to say one more thing. In my reading of scripture, I find that Jesus’ message is more directed toward change in the here and now rather than waiting for some miraculous trumpet blast that will usher in complete peace and restoration in a moment of divine intervention. I think this is part of the church’s responsibility: to be a foretaste of God’s reconciling love. In other words, we are forming an alternative community in the face of the dominant powers (I'm stealing my words from Brueggemann).

Finally, A Decision

As many of you know, I have taken the year off from school. Upon graduation last May, I was married and stayed in the Bourbonnais area. My wife is a children's pastor at College Church. During this year, I have been substitute teaching and serving at a local restaurant. While I am not sure why I would want to give up substitute teaching, we have made a decision to relocate. I have been offered a scholarship to attend Vanderbilt Divinity School. We will move to Nashville, TN sometime over the summer. We don't have jobs, money to pay for school, or a place to stay. But we're going anyway. And we're excited.

Moving on...I hope to get better at this blog posting. I have been in a real slump lately. I finished all my books that I got for Christmas and don't have the funds to buy more (this is another way of saying that I don't think my wife will let me). So, I'm re-reading my bookshelf. Hopefully, this will manifest itself into some noteworthy blog posts. We'll see what happens.