The various societies in which we live have identities for us as well. Often these identities serve to control us or corral us or to help us fit into the whole. We are uncomfortable with differences because they lead to self-examination and we'd prefer not to look in the mirror.
While some of these outside identities are malicious and intentional, most of them come simply from tradition. "Boys have always played with trucks and girls have always been bad at math." These identities are passed down without much thought because they have become a part of who we are and how we define each other. We rarely stop to ask why they exist or from whence they came.
One of the things I appreciate most about Christian corporate worship is the sense of identity. Christians gather (or at least they should) to be reminded of who they really are. We tell each other the story of God to remind each other that we don't live in the story around us; our identity is not that which is imposed upon us, but that which satisfies our created purpose.
I've been thinking a lot about identity because my wife will soon give birth to our first child, a daughter. I was sort of hoping for a son - not because boys are better than girls or because society has told me that fathers are supposed to want sons, but simply because boys are familiar - I once was one. I felt more capable of helping a boy navigate the identities of the world and to find his place.
As I have journeyed through the impending arrival of a daughter, I realized that I am just as capable of helping her understand identity - not because I am intimately acquainted with the experience of girls, but because I am intimately acquainted with real identity and it's creator.
There have been a lot of labels and identities that continue to oppress and limit the way girls understand themselves and their connection to the world (it's the same with boys - just in ways that we've been conditioned to accept as "good"). It is part of my responsibility (or at least a responsibility I am taking on) to help remind her where her true identity lies.
My daughter is being born into a world of identities - one that says female adjectives are fragile and male adjectives are rugged; and the stories we tell re-enforce these perceptions. I want her to be what God has made her to be, not assuming the identity society has formed her to inhabit. I want her to be brave and confident and self-assured; I want her to be loved - because none of us has any higher identity than as lovers and receivers of love.
So when you see this awesome little child for the first time, please, by all means, call her cute and precious and beautiful, for that is what she is. But don't stop there. Call her strong and intelligent and curious and bold - for she is all of those things, too.
This week I was privileged to take part in a prayer retreat at the beautiful St. Mary of Providence Center in the rolling, farm-covered hills of southeastern Pennsylvania. It was the second year I participated in this event. It is a group event, but quite unstructured, so as to allow the participants to find the appropriate retreat for themselves.
As I did last year, upon arrival, I unpacked the few belonging I brought with me, some clothes, a number of books, my toothbrush – and then immediately emptied my pockets. The freedom of walking around with limited attachments is quite breathtaking. Especially important is the forsaking of my phone. I don’t get or make a lot of calls, but my phone serves as my timekeeper; I haven’t worn a watch in years. The act of leaving it beside my bed as I spent the next two days apart from it was both scary and hopeful.
I am a slave of the clock. I have had trouble ridding myself of this learned US obsession with time and efficiency. I always feel like I should be doing more and doing it faster. I am always aware of the next thing on the agenda and working to get to it faster. The whole idea is to build this mythical reserve of time, which never materializes. Rest is a non-existent motivation.
Retreat allows for rest. I intentionally spurn the clock. If I oversleep and miss a meal, it won’t kill me. If I get lost in prayer or reading, the time doesn’t matter. I have often stated that one of the main purposes for our corporate worship gatherings is for us to escape the business and constraints of the world. A retreat is designed, at least for me, to expand that escape to a long enough period of time that it feels like a lifestyle.
There was no computer; I took only two calls with my wife, short ones at that – she is wonderful in understanding the purpose of such a retreat – there was no real agenda. I participated in group sessions for sharing and prayer, but most of my effort was focused on simply forgetting the schedule.
As I returned home yesterday afternoon, I immediately turned on my computer – I am sure there is much to catch up on. As it began to boot and load, I realized that there was no immediate need to interact what that world just yet. I took the evening off to sit in the living room with my wife, watch some TV and gradually re-immerse myself into the world, the escape from which was so soothing to my soul.
It began to dawn on me that the purpose of retreat this year was not simply to escape the cycle of efficiency and business for two days, but perhaps to reimagine that very cycle in my own life. I was to bring retreat back to my world in some way. We cannot be completely disconnected from the cycle – it is an inherent part of life – but it can be managed and corralled with discipline, focus and intentionality.
So I write this entry before checking my email. I write it before checking the news of the week or the sports scores, before posting on a message board or playing a game. I find this almost too good to be true. Can I really engage differently with the world?
That, in and of itself, is the question of the gospel. If Jesus Christ came to show us a different way, is that really something that makes sense in a world that shapes and forms us for the opposite. I have banked my life on the idea that the answer is yes, now it is time to see how well that bears out in practice.
I am not concerned with how the government handles immigration. I believe every government is free to make any law it sees fit. That is the benefit of power - the ability to control that over which you have power. It's exactly what Romans 13 is all about. I am concerned, however, about how Christians handle immigration and how we respond to laws of the land.
First, I don't think a Christian can, in good conscience, actively help undocumented immigrants cross a national border in violation of law. Now there is a big exception to that, specifically when the life and safety of people is concerned. Most nations do a poor job of recognizing and facilitating the immigration of asylum seekers and refugees. Christians should have a strong presence among these groups, treating them as valued and worthy people as opposed to the inconvenience they become to most nations.
Second, Christians have a responsibility to care about the problems and injustices which perpetuate immigration. Generally, people want to stay at home. If the opportunities (for safety, work, nutrition, love, and healthcare) available in the new country were available at home, there would be few immigrants. In most wealthy nations, peaceful foreign aid is a political tool and not a priority. Again there is great slack here which Christians can pick up and carry.
Third, and most controversially, is a Christian attitude towards immigrants in your own country. Most nations have a legal process of immigration and most immigrants who come through these processes are treated as any other resident of the nation. There are some problems with those who wish to retain the identity they've left behind, but if there is mutual respect and communication, these problems are not insurmountable.
Great contention arises for those immigrants who are unable to move through the proscribed process - those who immigrate in violation of law. God has always been clear about our treatment of others - we are to love. God specifically instructed Israel to treat foreigners in their midst exactly as they treat citizens. This is the crux of those Torah instructions so often quoted. Every person is God's creation and every person deserves the same treatment, no matter their place of birth.
What then, do we do with the seeming contradiction with Romans 13 - which tells us that God established the authorities over us and instructs us to submit and not rebel? What it means is that every authority is answerable to God for its execution of authority. We do not have a right to rebel, to overthrow, or undermine our government. Vigilantes, who take border enforcement into their own hands - whether fishing boats in the Mediterranean or militia groups in the Mojave - are not submitting to governing authorities.
This passage does not mean that civil authority is equivalent to moral authority. Breaking the law is not sin - not when it violates the authority of God's design for life in creation. Every Christian would violate the law if it outlawed worship of YHWH. Most would violate the law if it prevented them from feeding the hungry or clothing the exposed because of immigration status. Many would violate the law if it meant denying an undocumented immigrant the chance to work for a living. They do so because of their belief that every person is equal in God's eyes - and thus in ours as well. An argument from legality has no standing for Christians in light of an argument from morality.
I am not saying every Christian will understand their responsibility towards undocumented immigrants the same way - nor should we. There are different lines drawn based on conscience - but they must be drawn with grace. It pains me to see Christians assert their perspective as the correct view or to engage in "us and them" language. There may be more creative ways to supply jobs and education and we must work for them. Remember, treating the foreigner as you treat your own is secondary to the foreigner having their needs met at home. We must remember to do the first until the second is a reality.
Ultimately, however, I do not think our contention about immigration has much to do with immigration or law. It has everything to do with individual rights and liberty. Most opposition to immigration comes from those who feel it will cost them something - lower standard of living, lost employment, increased taxation, etc. These are legitimate human fears. They require a Christian response.
Christ challenged us to "deny ourselves" and to "take up our cross and follow" him. This means that the Christian is willing to give whatever is necessary to show love to others, even if it means our very lives. At times, following Romans 13 means sacrifice. Submitting to authorities often means willingly embracing the punishment required for disobedience. At times, following the Torah teaching on the treatment of foreigners means sacrifice.
Christians are told to thank God for the privilege of suffering for the gospel. It is rarely easy, but it is our ideal. As Saint Juniper put it as he met a beggar, "I have nothing to give you except my robe and my superior has told me under obedience not to give it or part of it to anyone. But if you pull it off my back, I certainly will not prevent you.”
For Christians, liberty is found only as we are enslaved to the God of love; rights are useful only to be given away. If our words and actions do not reflect unconditional love and self-sacrifice, they do not reflect Christ.
With that in mind, I finished Malachi and began reading Matthew. My anticipation was unbelievable. I knew that the time was upon us to see the promised redemption. I can only imagine how difficult it was for God's people to wait 400 years. Even as I am reading Matthew (this week ends following chapter 9), I know the ending, but I am now noticing that Matthew works up to his revelation. He calls Jesus Messiah in verse one, but the narrative clues people in slowly - probably because Jesus' details were a far cry from what the people expected.
I wonder how often we miss the sense of longing - as we live in a world being made right, but one still tremendously at odds with God's created purpose. Do we experience Christ as a joyous gift or as a past event? Everything in the Hebrew scriptures is about renewal and return, and Jesus is completely about resurrection and redemption. Have we given up on seeing our world transformed? Have we given up on the great hope Messiah brings?
I think it is important to find ourselves within the story and not at the end of it. Just because the narrative happened in the past does not mean it is finished. We relive these stories every day and its imperative to discover each twist and turn anew as we live them out in our various contexts. The story of God's work in the world is still unfolding - and we must embrace it recklessly.
Fear is the most efficient motivator known to man. We like fear, love it, in fact - except of course when we're the ones afraid. Once we begin down the pathway of fear it's exponentially more difficult to stop, let alone change course.
This isn't strictly about violence, although it seems we're most afraid of pain, and threats of pain work out most efficiently. I say pain and not death because I don't actually think too many people are afraid of death, so long as it comes quickly and quietly. Death used to be humanity's ultimate fear.
Death was top dog because life was full of pain. Today we've mostly insulated ourselves from pain - by outsourcing our manual labor, by surrounding ourselves with mindless entertainment, by feasting on painkillers. We've created a world where the end of life has very little difference from the living of it.
Nuclear war is only terrifying for the people who live outside the blast zone, those who might have to suffer through the terror of cancer, deformities, and disease. Economic collapse means, for most of us, nothing but a lower standard of living - in other words, a more painful life.
I am a terrorist because I fear pain and I am willing to inflict it on others to avoid it in my own life. I keep a reserve account in a bank vault "in case" something inconvenient happens in my life, instead of giving that money to people who already suffer. I buy the cheapest products to maximize the amount I can spend on luxuries or minimize the amount I have to work - regardless of the suffering of those who make the products.
I am a terrorist, but I have outsourced my terror to strangers in far away places. If there's a murder on my street, its a breakdown of order; two is an epidemic. If there's ten murders downtown, I just stay in the suburbs. I pay my government to train one group of people to think they're super-human, so they can fly around the world and do brave things that insulate me from pain - at the same time I pay them to train another group of people to think they're sub-human, so they can be locked up and forgotten without any mark on my conscience.
I readily support the battle between "us" and "them," so long as I'm "us." When I become "them," the war is immoral.
Too often I participate in a story where the hero is Power and the villain is voiceless - which means the hero always wins. Too often I embrace the suicide of individualism for the promise of immediate gratification. I live in a world where pleasure comes only with the absence of pain. It works well for those who survive, but it seems like there should be some other way.
I am a terrorist.
What do I deserve?
