a note on relief

I get an email update from GBGM (the UMC’s General Board of Global Missions) a couple of times a month or so.

About two months ago, I got a newsletter from them about Spring Break mission trips to the Northeast. Volunteers were going to help with the Hurricane Sandy damage that millions of people were still facing.

I am definitely not proud to admit this, but my immediate reaction to reading this was “…..what?“

Hurricane Sandy? Wasn’t that last year? Didn’t that already happen? Sure, people are still rebuilding, but isn’t the Red Cross’ campaign closed for this particular natural disaster?

Our perception of injustice in the world occurs in cycles. Just like my reaction to Hurricane Sandy, something will happen and things will inevitably fade. Whether it’s something like Invisible Children, the earthquake in Haiti, or the tornadoes in Joplin, in a dark sort of way it seems as though our attention can only last so long. Something will happen, some action will be taken, and it seems as though it is enticing to become either numb or distant to the problem, regardless of whether things have been “fixed” or not.

I think this really speaks to a consumeristic mindset. If there is a disaster, we think of tangible solutions that are easily measurable. Bring donated clothes to a drop-off location to send to children affected by the tsunami in Japan. Text this number to donate $10 to Sandy relief efforts. There’s a starving child in war-torn Mali and this one-time donation of $30 will provide food for her for an entire month (the infamous dollar-a-day model). When it’s all supposedly said and done, we are able to measure our “success” with these sorts of predicaments (i.e. $1 million raised, 2,000 pair of shoes donated, 40 mission teams sent, etc.). This is only intensified if we can purchase something we already want while simultaneously contributing to charity (re: Starbucks and TOMS).

Brian Fikkert and Steve Corbett wrestle with this phenomenon quite a bit in When Helping Hurts. They identify three different stages in situations concerning poverty and disasters:

It is argued in the book that inefficiency of charities and mission efforts is due to the fact that we usually have no idea how to distinguish between different stages. We usually throw money and material goods at problems (characterized by #1 “Relief”). Rarely do we explore what must happen after the initial wounds have been treated (both literally and figuratively) following a disaster. Corbett and Fikkert share several stories where teams (unsuccessfully) try to handle Rehabilitation and Development situations with Relief-type solutions.

I think an interesting issue with the Boston Marathon bombing and the explosion in West will be how exactly these tragedies will be handled after the relief stage comes to a close. Just on Friday, several friends of mine active with the situation in the Waco area began to post that they had received more than enough material goods for residents affected by the explosion. Of course material resources are needed with events like this. Public servants in Boston need assistance, and families in West, TX need places to stay. But what happens when we venture past the relief stages of a crisis? As Fikkert and Corbett would argue, I think this “moving on” is oftentimes nonexistent.

May we never be stuck in relief and may we come to see that communities need rehabilitation and development too.

abrasive solidarity

Yesterday as the Boston Marathon bombing was unfolding, people began posting details on Facebook and Twitter even before CNN.com updated their webpage.

When looking through the different hashtags on Twitter during major tragedies, you’re bound to encounter some very strange things:

• Just yesterday: “Afghanistan experiences what happened in Boston EVERY DAY.”
• Earlier this month when Rick Warren’s son committed suicide, many criticized Warren’s “Purpose Driven Life” theology, his stance against homosexuality, or the way he potentially handled his son’s mental illness.
• Following the Newtown shooting, I saw people argue that this is not as big of a tragedy as the x number of fetuses that are aborted each day.

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There’s something about each of the above three criticisms of different tragedies that just doesn’t sit well with me.

Personally, I am against the death penalty. I do not think it is constitutional and would disagree with it on religious grounds as well. I believe that it perpetuates a cycle of violence. It offers a warped sense of justice that is strictly punitive and automatically prevents opportunities for reconciliation.

I think there ought to be a conversation about this particular issue.

But not when people are mourning.

“One-upping” each another with a supposed greater injustice strikes me as using tragedy as a means to advance some sort of agenda. It may even be argued that this is a sort of perverted pseudo-solidarity that is actually manipulative and utilizes a sort of “shock” factor to get the attention of others. Conversations should happen about what we care about, but it’s unfortunate when dialogue becomes one-sided and seeks to undermine the victims of violence or the agony of mourning families and communities.

David Henson recently put it this way:

Don’t mistake this as a call for silence in the public dialogue or as a call to avoid important political discussions. We need those discussions. Rather, it is a call for us to remember to make room to hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people, if we have the courage.

I was reminded today in the midst of the coverage of the prophet Habakkuk.

The Lord is in his holy temple. Let all mortal flesh keep silence.

We are the temple in which the Lord dwells. Let us keep the silence the Lord is trying to create in us.

The Lord is in his temple, and he is weeping. Let all mortal flesh keep silence, so that we may hear the broken sobs of God.

Matteo Ricci and missions

I was recently talking with Tara about how our worldviews affect our understanding of Christ, God, religion, etc. We comprehend things a certain way that inevitably leads us to interpret Scripture in a specific manner. I think an obvious example of this is the courtroom analogy that American Protestants often utilize when describing the nature of salvation:

Picture this: You are before the judge, and he says “you broke these laws, and the penalty is death.” You are condemned. However, on your behalf: someone walks into the courtroom and says: “Your honor, I will take on the full penalty for their sins and mistakes and for breaking the laws. I will be tortured, mocked, judged and put to death on their behalf, so that they do not have to be condemned“. WOULD YOU ACCEPT THAT PERSON? That someone who wants to step into your courtroom is Jesus Christ – God’s own son! — (via OCM)

In America we have well-developed judicial systems and understand what things like verdict, culpability, and guilty mean. While I am not necessarily advocating for substitutionary atonement theology (or a punitive understanding of justice!), I share this simply to show that we are unique creatures living in contexts. The environment we life in affects how we see things and chose to talk.

We were talking about this because I had just finished a paper on Matteo Ricci, a 16th c. Catholic missionary to China who was integral in the formation of the Jesuit (or Society of Jesus) missionary model. In Ricci’s work (particularly The True Meaning of the Lord of Heaven), we find a non-westernized presentation of Christianity through Chinese semantics. It is interesting to note how adaptable Ricci was in his interaction and writing, which is starkly different than other evangelistic models grounded in ethnocentrism or colonialism (Things Fall Apart comes to my mind…). He was a truly unique historical figure and I would encourage you to read more about him! Here are some of my concluding thoughts about how Ricci’s life and evangelism relates to us today.

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It is evident that there are several ways to connect Ricci’s theological discourse with contemporary Christianity as a world religion. Throughout his life, Ricci reached over cultural barriers in order to make connections with widely different people. Along the lines of Francis Xavier, he understood the success of the Society’s mission in China to be dependent upon embracing Chinese culture, more specifically the written word. Because of the great cultural value placed on writing, Ricci pursued publication as a tool to reach others. In a world where borders are continually becoming blurred and Christians inevitably encounter a vast array of worldviews and cultures, Ricci’s approach is invaluable to communities today. Evangelization is a foundational part of Christianity and Ricci’s cultural immersion is extremely applicable for those active in the field of missions. Furthermore, Ricci’s eagerness to rework and revise previous manuscripts of The True Meaning may encourage contemporary missionaries to be willing to rethink previous missional approaches in order to foster harmonious cultural relations.

Secondly, as Christianity continues to spread as a world religion, there is an obvious question to be asked concerning the potential limitations of adapting the Christian religion. For example, a controversy arose in the centuries following the Society’s mission concerning whether Confucian practices (particularly with attitudes towards ancestors) were indeed in congruence with Christianity. Some argued that people like Ricci had overextended the message and compromised the integrity of the faith in order to have more easily persuaded potential converts. Others argued that Ricci’s approach posed no threat to the authenticity of the Church’s message. Regardless of where one stands on this inter-religious issue of accommodation, this is a significant contemporary issue that Christians must continue to discuss.

Ricci’s work undoubtedly seems widely different from contemporary apologetics concerning the Christian faith. Some scholars have even classified this work as a sort of introductory dialogue in order to develop a conversation concerning Christianity. This approach directly relates to modern understandings of evangelization. When fostering dialogue with someone from a greatly different background, it is necessary to consider Ricci and his desire to adopt the semantics of the people one serves.

Controversy over “Christ was persecuted, but what about Christians?”

CNN recently ran this article by John Blake in their religion section about the persecution of early Christians. Drawing upon several religious scholars like Candida Moss of the University of Notre Dame, the overall argument seems to be that martyrdom over the early centuries seems to be more fictional than anything:

According to a belief passed down through the centuries, the church grew because of Roman persecution. The blood of Christian martyrs such as Perpetua became “the seed of the church,” said third-century church leader Tertullian. It’s the Hollywood version of Christianity reflected in epic biblical films such as “Ben-Hur” and “The Robe.” Vicious Romans relentlessly targeted early Christians, so the story goes, but the faith of people like Perpetua proved so inspiring that Christianity became the official religion of Rome, and eventually the largest religion in the world.

But that script is getting a rewrite. The first Christians were never systematically persecuted by the Romans, and most martyrdom stories – with the exception of a handful such as Perpetua’s – were exaggerated and invented, several scholars and historians say. It wasn’t just how the early Christians died that inspired so many people in the ancient world; it was how they lived.

Now at this time people will undoubtedly pull out their “This Shirt is Illegal” shirts and raise some objections to this whole idea. But I guess a couple of things do come to my mind on this early Monday morning.

I’m a huge Rodney Stark fan, so I might be a little biased in saying this. I do wish that CNN would have placed more emphasis on what he had to offer:

The growth of Christianity was too complex to be attributed to any one factor –whether it be Constantine, persecution or Christianity’s message of compassion and inclusion, Stark says.

But then again, I suppose that you draw in more readers by highlighting controversy at the beginning of an article. A moderate and more holistic viewpoint like Stark’s is not necessary as “sexy” as challenging the martyrdom mystique.

It is also necessary to acknowledge that there is a bit more in play here than just studying history. Moss cited persecution accusations of politicians like Mitt Romney and Rick Santorum from last year (re: “war on religion”). Things quickly thicken and become complicated in this matter. Who exactly are the victims of modern persecution? How loosely can this accusation be leveled? How do we handle documented cases of religious persecution in recent history? What would someone like Moss say about Mengistu Haile Mariam’s genocide of arguably a half a million Ethiopian Protestants, Muslim, and Orthodox citizens?

All and all, whether you are a skeptic or believe that early Christians faced a daily threat with persecution, I would recommend reading a bit more about the Christian heritage than settling with cable news.

humble incarnation

I think that oftentimes our assumptions concerning power center upon wielding great influence. I suppose I started to think about this because of the events with SCOTUS this week concerning gay rights. Both “sides” recognize the immense weight carried by a potential decision about DOMA or Proposition 8. People in charge have the capacity to carry out huge decisions in exercises of authority.

Likewise, in a theological sense, it is no wonder that we oftentimes view God a certain way. At times I feel as though we might subconsciously project the characteristics of civil authority onto theology. We cling to definitions of “Almighty” and “Powerful” as being capable of infinite control. We read the last days of Jesus and quickly skip to the resurrection and talk about atonement of sins. Our common picture of Jesus seems to be more along the lines of a triumphant warrior who is capable of waging cosmic war, zaps foes and sways world events in a mythological sense, and can judge the weight of a soul for eternity.

I do not think that is what we find in the Easter story. Jesus is quite different in the readings about the Last Supper, praying in the garden, and the crucifixion. Even through the resurrection, I believe we see a different sort of triumph: Christ still bears the scars and is human.

Icon with the Crucifixion, mid-10th century

I do have to confess, growing up I always felt a bit uncomfortable about Good Friday. In retrospect, I think my logic went something along the lines of: “Well, Jesus rose from the dead, why do we need to focus on His death?” Songs like Were you There? were not really my favorite. In the bigger picture, I think this reasoning might be applicable to many Protestant understandings of the Passion. Oftentimes the suffering of Christ as depicted in art (such as Catholic crucifixes or Eastern Orthodox iconography) makes one highly uncomfortable. Jesus is not dead, the tomb is empty, so why should we spend so much time on Good Friday? Why should we focus on Jesus at his lowest and most weakest moment?

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I find the life of Christ to be absolutely fascinating. God puts on human flesh and dwells among us. An all-powerful God becomes incarnate and lives out arguably the most profound paradox in history.

If we play the “What If I Were God?” thought experiment, it seems as though the majority of stuff we would do would be the exact opposite of what Jesus did. After the triumphal resurrection, chances are we would choose to exact revenge upon our murderers and we would ridicule our friends for deserting us. We might even call into question of whether or not we would endure the brutality of crucifixion. The Jesus who weeps and suffers seems odd, even paradoxical in nature.

In some recent reflections on Easter, Micah J. Murray recently posted this:

You would expect a god to make someone bleed. But our God? Our God shed His own blood for us, His enemies. He died to set us free. To make Creation Whole again. Our God appeared not with a tattoo on his leg but with sandals on his feet, with broken bread in his hands. The Immortal died for the mortal. The Creator was beat up by His own Creation.

This is a guy I can worship.

When I think about it, I couldn’t agree more.

Barkot

Reblogged from Billy and Tara's Mission to Ethiopia:

During our house visits a few weeks ago we met the Feleke family. Two of the children go to Destiny and they have a younger baby sister named Barkot (means “Blessing” in Amharic). Their father works as a welder to provide income for the family. The mother used to make injera but has not been able to since Barkot was born.

Read more… 492 more words

After a recent conversation with friends about hospitality, I was reminded of this post I wrote last year while in Ethiopia with Tara. This was one of the more difficult parts of the trip with witnessing the injustices the Feleke family was facing with Barkot's medical complications. In retrospect I am still awestruck at how welcoming the family was. Every time we met with the mother, she always insisted on making some coffee for us and sharing together, despite the language barrier. Even through navigating the complicated Ethiopian healthcare system and receiving unfortunate news, this woman showed a great amount of love to the neighbor.

Wedding Prayer

Over the weekend I was uploading some pictures and was reminded of one of the prayers that was prayed during Tara and my’s wedding. It’s part of the Methodist wedding ceremony liturgy and I thought I’d share it…

God of all peoples,

you are the true light illumining everyone.

You show us the way, the truth, and the life.

You love us even when we are disobedient.

You sustain us with your Holy Spirit.

We rejoice in your life in the midst of our lives.

We praise you for your presence with us,

and especially in this act of solemn covenant;

through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.