Ryan Fasani and Eric Paul-
‘For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did it to me.’ -Matthew 25:34-40 (ESV)
Let me just say it: Christians don’t like Matthew 25. And as the scriptures Christians don’t like go, so goes Matthew 25. It is relegated to the catalogue of biblical obscurity, and ultimately pushed right out of many Christians’ mental back doors, never to be heard again in bible study or from the pulpit. In other words, Christians systematically “un-believe” it. The result is a tragedy—a tragedy we need to take seriously if we are to live faithfully in urban America.
We (the authors) think Matthew 25 is actually quite clear. Given the array of possible interpretations of, say, the beast rising out of the sea with ten horns and seven heads in Revelation 13, or the “woes” to the rich, the well fed, the laughers, and those spoken well of in Luke 6, Matthew 25 only has two possible interpretations. The first possibility: serving food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, being hospitable to the stranger, clothing the naked, and caring for the sick is just like (similar to) serving Jesus. The second possibility: serving those in need and being with the suffering is actually (literally) serving Jesus.
My (Ryan) mom ran a “tight ship” when I was young. She had to; she was juggling five boys, no girls. We didn’t have a lot of rules, but the ones we did have were non-negotiable. The one that comes to mind is that despite where we were or who we were with, if an adult was present, they deserved our unwavering respect. This meant we annunciated our Pleases and Thank Yous, we made eye contact when we were spoken to, and we listened and obeyed immediately. She required that we show the same respect to other adults as we did her. I remember when mom would drop us off at friends’ houses, her farewell injunction was, “Behave just as you would if I were there.” My friends’ parents were astonished by our manners. Of course they were; we were behaving as if we were at home, as if mom was calling us in for supper, just like mom was asking us to take a shower.
There are many opinions on the technicalities of translating Matthew 25:40 from the Greek. Every English translation does it differently. It seems to be something like a simile, with an “as” or “like.” Should we emphasize this verse of the passage—treating the hurting and disenfranchised just like or as if they are Jesus—the implicit injunction is something like this: “Behave just as you would if I, Jesus, were there.” There is, however, consensus on the preceding verses (35ff). Jesus says quite clearly, “I was hungry, thirsty, naked, and in prison.” If Christians fight back the inclination to avoid the obvious because it’s difficult, Christians are forced to understand that the poor, oppressed, and hurting are actually Jesus. Consequently, the implicit injunction is more piercing: “Show compassion to ones that bear pain because it is my pain!”
Either the poor and suffering of the world are to be treated like Jesus because it is as if he is there, or they are to be treated like Jesus because he is there. Is the moral upshot different? In other words, does it change how we treat, engage, serve, or advocate for the suffering whether we understand our hurting neighbor to be like Jesus or actually to be Jesus? The Church of the Nazarene’s Manual implies that the previous questions elicit inadequate answers—ethical technicalities according to hypothetical scenarios. Instead, the Manual suggests that a better question is: How do I make the plight of the poor and the suffering of sick my own? Because God is empathetic (in-suffering) with those that suffer, Christians should do likewise, “identify[ing] with and [entering] into solidarity with the poor and not simply to offer charity from a position of comfort” (Appendix 903.4). Whether it is like Jesus is there or Jesus actually is there, Jesus takes on the pain of those suffering by entering into it. Christians too should enter this pain and share it with our neighbor, fighting for its resolution.
My (Ryan) mom taught me good manners, but in terms of teaching me Christian compassion (to suffering with), her stern rules and persistent injunctions reinforced our tendency to keep God at a distance. To her credit, it’s difficult to teach the value of compassionate solidarity. But as Christian disciples, difficulty does not relieve necessity. We believe that God identifies with those that suffer. Just as God moved into the plight of human existence, God continues right on past the gated community and pricey restaurants, Victorian homes and office buildings, and associates (identifies) with those struggling to make it (perhaps those in the subsidized housing “projects”). This is not just an injunction on how to behave (as if God is around) but where to be (where God is)! It’s a matter of location—emotional presence and physical proximity. Matthew 25 is a call to Christians to move themselves into the lives of those hurting in our communities; not a call simply to act polite as if God is watching over our shoulders, but to act with a God who is already there in solidarity.
The Manual calls this life of solidarity a “struggle.” And it is! We (Christians) want to do without this “essential aspect” of Christian discipleship because life is easier (Appendix 903.4). We’ve systematically purged ourselves and our worshipping communities of the truth that God is with and for the poor. But the clear absence of this struggle has wounded our church; we’ve been forced to suture this gaping wound by moving emotionally and physically further and further from any semblance of poverty. Charitable giving (i.e. sending money from afar) has become our mode of service, and unfortunately, we now experience the worst of tragedies: God is distant.
We don’t like Matthew 25. We pose questions about it in an effort to convince ourselves of its obscurity. Is Jesus psychologically or mystically present in the person suffering? Does Jesus understand them, is he with them, or is he in them? Meanwhile, God has hung up a sign that reads: “You know where to find me.”
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Keeping God at a Distance: Introduction to a Journey
As Found at MicahMandate.com
Ryan Fasani and Eric Paul-
“The gospel does not merely bring the kingdom of God to the poor; it also discovers the kingdom of the poor, which is God’s kingdom. The gospel does not merely call to conversion and faith. It also shows that the poor are God’s fellow citizens, like the children to whom the kingdom of God already belongs.” - Jurgen Moltmann
God associates with the poor. In the Exodus narrative, God liberated God’s own poor and oppressed people. Likewise, God became poor and homeless through the Incarnation (Matt 8:20) and his call to ministry (Luke 4:18ff), and God even pronounces blessing upon the poor—for they will inherit the earth (Matt. 5:3).
Does this indict the rich? Not necessarily. Does it disrupt Christian notions of financial security and upward mobility? Certainly. The mere utterance of the phrase “God associates with the poor” makes us middle-class Americans rather uncomfortable. What kind of a God chooses the poor to be blessed, and what exactly does that blessing look like? Honestly, we don’t know! Perhaps, even more than disrupting our notions of financial security, this is an indictment of the way we do church. Fundamentally, the mission of the church must find its purpose and vision as it relates to the Missio Dei, the Mission of God. In short, where God chooses to be and with whom God chooses to associate, the church ought to follow.
We’ve already covered some ground without a word about our project. We’re heading on a journey and you’re welcome to follow. We’re exploring the distance between God and the church—God and so many of God’s disciples. More substantively, we’re exploring the distance between the church and the poor and looking closely at the shortcomings of the church’s predominant method of missio: charity. We share common experience in our attempts at serving faithfully in East Nashville and we deeply desire to see the Missio Dei in our midst, guiding our vision of service.We shall begin with our presuppositions, namely, revelation. Resting on the belief that God reveals God’s self in particularities (i.e. acts in history), we know God’s association with the poor because of stories that have been passed down to us through scripture. While numerous references abound, we will only expound upon two narratives that help shape the Christian tradition: The Exodus and the Incarnation. Both narratives provide insight into God’s way of being in the world through relationships with those in the shadows of power.
Certainly the children of Israel were a destitute, oppressed, enslaved, and poor community when God appeared to Moses at the burning bush and said, “I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering” (Ex. 3:7). God bound God’s self to this powerless people group and led them to freedom. The God who loathes suffering and oppression redeemed their spirits and their bodies from enslavement. Indeed, the Egyptians had wealth, land, and weapons, without parallel in their day. But God did not choose to dwell (associate) among them. Rather, God’s choice was for the weak and forgotten. God demonstrated God’s power not through the might of the powerful but through the weakness of the powerless.
Likewise, Jesus was born to a lowly, unwedded, poor couple from the outskirts of the Roman Empire. Their existence threatened by occupation, Mary and Joseph found themselves giving birth in a cave with the animals. Quite an entrance for the Messiah, the Jews hoped for a liberator, maybe a hybrid between Moses and King David! Instead, they got Jesus, a poor carpenter from the no-good town of Nazareth.
His first sermon came from the book of Isaiah as recorded by Luke, “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” As he continued his ministry, he chose the B-team for his disciples: zealots, tax collectors, and fishermen. Jesus came preaching that the Kingdom of God is near. In Jesus, the one who announces God’s reign of love and justice actually brings love and justice. The tangible signs of the Kingdom, the restoration of the created order, became apparent throughout Jesus’ life: the sick were healed, the lame walk, evil spirits were cast out, and the poor have the good news preached to them (Luke 7:22-23). Jurgen Moltmann summarizes, “The gospel does not merely bring the kingdom of God to the poor; it also discovers the kingdom of the poor, which is God’s kingdom. The gospel does not merely call to conversion and faith. It also shows that the poor are God’s fellow citizens, like the children to whom the kingdom of God already belongs” (The Way of Jesus Christ, 100).
The revelations of God in the Exodus narrative and the Incarnation remind the church that we are to continue God’s pattern of healing presence with the poor. In fact, the Nazarene Manual explains this special relationship, “Throughout the Bible and in the life and example of Jesus, God identifies with and assists the poor, the oppressed, and those in society who cannot speak for themselves. In the same way, we, too, are called to identify with and to enter into solidarity with the poor and not simply to offer charity from positions of comfort” (903.4). Yet, we contend that most churches keep the poor at a distance. If the kingdom of God is a kingdom of the poor, then the church more often than not keeps God at a distance.
Over the next few weeks we will be using this space to discuss ways in which the church is both faithful and unfaithful to God’s association with the poor. Our project is an effort to take seriously the homeless Rabbi that says, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock,” (Rev 3:20). Through the lens of two Christians working in East Nashville, we will use the tool of theological reflection to report on our experience with God’s church living out God’s mission.
Ryan Fasani and Eric Paul-
“The gospel does not merely bring the kingdom of God to the poor; it also discovers the kingdom of the poor, which is God’s kingdom. The gospel does not merely call to conversion and faith. It also shows that the poor are God’s fellow citizens, like the children to whom the kingdom of God already belongs.” - Jurgen Moltmann
God associates with the poor. In the Exodus narrative, God liberated God’s own poor and oppressed people. Likewise, God became poor and homeless through the Incarnation (Matt 8:20) and his call to ministry (Luke 4:18ff), and God even pronounces blessing upon the poor—for they will inherit the earth (Matt. 5:3).
Does this indict the rich? Not necessarily. Does it disrupt Christian notions of financial security and upward mobility? Certainly. The mere utterance of the phrase “God associates with the poor” makes us middle-class Americans rather uncomfortable. What kind of a God chooses the poor to be blessed, and what exactly does that blessing look like? Honestly, we don’t know! Perhaps, even more than disrupting our notions of financial security, this is an indictment of the way we do church. Fundamentally, the mission of the church must find its purpose and vision as it relates to the Missio Dei, the Mission of God. In short, where God chooses to be and with whom God chooses to associate, the church ought to follow.
We’ve already covered some ground without a word about our project. We’re heading on a journey and you’re welcome to follow. We’re exploring the distance between God and the church—God and so many of God’s disciples. More substantively, we’re exploring the distance between the church and the poor and looking closely at the shortcomings of the church’s predominant method of missio: charity. We share common experience in our attempts at serving faithfully in East Nashville and we deeply desire to see the Missio Dei in our midst, guiding our vision of service.We shall begin with our presuppositions, namely, revelation. Resting on the belief that God reveals God’s self in particularities (i.e. acts in history), we know God’s association with the poor because of stories that have been passed down to us through scripture. While numerous references abound, we will only expound upon two narratives that help shape the Christian tradition: The Exodus and the Incarnation. Both narratives provide insight into God’s way of being in the world through relationships with those in the shadows of power.
Certainly the children of Israel were a destitute, oppressed, enslaved, and poor community when God appeared to Moses at the burning bush and said, “I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering” (Ex. 3:7). God bound God’s self to this powerless people group and led them to freedom. The God who loathes suffering and oppression redeemed their spirits and their bodies from enslavement. Indeed, the Egyptians had wealth, land, and weapons, without parallel in their day. But God did not choose to dwell (associate) among them. Rather, God’s choice was for the weak and forgotten. God demonstrated God’s power not through the might of the powerful but through the weakness of the powerless.
Likewise, Jesus was born to a lowly, unwedded, poor couple from the outskirts of the Roman Empire. Their existence threatened by occupation, Mary and Joseph found themselves giving birth in a cave with the animals. Quite an entrance for the Messiah, the Jews hoped for a liberator, maybe a hybrid between Moses and King David! Instead, they got Jesus, a poor carpenter from the no-good town of Nazareth.
His first sermon came from the book of Isaiah as recorded by Luke, “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” As he continued his ministry, he chose the B-team for his disciples: zealots, tax collectors, and fishermen. Jesus came preaching that the Kingdom of God is near. In Jesus, the one who announces God’s reign of love and justice actually brings love and justice. The tangible signs of the Kingdom, the restoration of the created order, became apparent throughout Jesus’ life: the sick were healed, the lame walk, evil spirits were cast out, and the poor have the good news preached to them (Luke 7:22-23). Jurgen Moltmann summarizes, “The gospel does not merely bring the kingdom of God to the poor; it also discovers the kingdom of the poor, which is God’s kingdom. The gospel does not merely call to conversion and faith. It also shows that the poor are God’s fellow citizens, like the children to whom the kingdom of God already belongs” (The Way of Jesus Christ, 100).
The revelations of God in the Exodus narrative and the Incarnation remind the church that we are to continue God’s pattern of healing presence with the poor. In fact, the Nazarene Manual explains this special relationship, “Throughout the Bible and in the life and example of Jesus, God identifies with and assists the poor, the oppressed, and those in society who cannot speak for themselves. In the same way, we, too, are called to identify with and to enter into solidarity with the poor and not simply to offer charity from positions of comfort” (903.4). Yet, we contend that most churches keep the poor at a distance. If the kingdom of God is a kingdom of the poor, then the church more often than not keeps God at a distance.
Over the next few weeks we will be using this space to discuss ways in which the church is both faithful and unfaithful to God’s association with the poor. Our project is an effort to take seriously the homeless Rabbi that says, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock,” (Rev 3:20). Through the lens of two Christians working in East Nashville, we will use the tool of theological reflection to report on our experience with God’s church living out God’s mission.
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