Ways of Resistance

fostering conversation, rambling on, occasionally ranting

Homelessness and You

Editor’s note: Jessica DePriest is a friend who, as you will tell, has a passion to communicate. In this challenging and personal missive she invites each of us to truly know our neighbors–no matter where they live or sleep. Read and let her know what you think.

It seems an epidemic is rising and not just here in Chico. There is an overwhelming growth of homeless people than ever before. Some of you may not even care that there are families out on the street, or that there are struggling drug addicts. I say to look at it in a completely different view.

Homelessness is a growing problem for many United States cities. It is starting to become a more and more widespread problem due to our ever not recovering economic situation. There is a dwindling amount of jobs and opportunity in the work force.

The homeless situation is a sad one. Most people just look away and have nothing to say because it is more of a gesture that if people don’t or choose not to see it. It is not happening. Well folks and readers it is. Going once every few months or even monthly to a Jesus Center or a Soup Kitchen is not enough. These people need more than just average or punitive attempts to make you feel better. Most need clothes or shoes. Some just need someone to talk to and have someone listen instead of trying to talk to Joe or Bob that has heard it all and seen it all being one of those loveable tramps we all know and see.

In Sacramento there is an overwhelming growth in the homeless community. They have about 2500 homeless and down on their luck men women and children. The even sadder thing is that there is only accommodation for about 1200 people and that is only more so in the winter time. There’s absolutely nothing more shameful than when you have to ask for someone for a few bucks or whatever they will give you. It is sad to hear some of the things that passerby’s will say or do to you just because you do not have what they do.

Personally to me the over egotistical college kid that brings money into Chico is half the time or more responsible for the vandalism, DUI’s, Assault and Battery that happens in this town but is so eagerly overlooked for the sole purpose that they bring in money.

There is too much that the college kids get away with and it is a shame. Now do not get me wrong I have seen my own fair share of what the homeless community has done but it is not all of the community that even does stupid antics. On another note it is also a saddening thought that even in the most powerful and socially booming country that we even have to call the homeless a community.

Also, In the close of this rant and rave. Please make an effort to go out and do more for the community as a whole not just the areas that you are comfortable in. There is so much that you can do for your country and your community. I say to you No, I challenge you to stand up and make an effort for the good and not for the comfort ability that is so near to you and yours.

Jessica DePriest

Truly a Summer in Paradise

Some of you know that Julissa, Santiago, and I spent the summer up-the-hill in Paradise, Ca with the kind and generous folks at the Abbey. I’m not going to get into all the self-reflective spiritual stuff that came out of those friendships and experiences…not yet, at least. It’s enough to say that they gave us a real welcome and reminded me–un(self)consciously–of why Jesus loves these weirdos, ragamuffins, sinners, and saints.

I will, however, pass on some very cool liturgical links influenced by my time with Joshua and company.

Rich Mullins (wow!! I had no idea how cool he was…The Jesus Record…have you ever even heard of a hogan? me neither…until I read about Rich)

COTA (get their free podcast, with the best contemplative music/meditation combinations I have ever heard)

Church of the Beloved (sister church to COTA, also giving away free liturgical stuff…nice music, I mean really well produced…for free)

St. Gregory of Nyssa in SF (no direct link to the Abbey folks, but the inspiration to check them out came to me because of our experiences over the summer…and the liturgy at St. Gregs turned out to be over-the-top-fun, participatory…and also we learned a new group dance!)

That’s it for now…bye, bye.

Revolutionaries Don’t Have Room For T-Ball…Right?

I’m a new father. My son is almost eights months old. Our little family has finally emerged so-to-speak. Julissa, my wife, is from Peru (the second largest country, one of the most impoverished, in South America). She and I have many things in common and many things not in common. It would be dishonest, I think, to brush our differences under the rug, especially if it seemed like we were being more ”tolerant” by doing so.

She loves her family of origin (as do I). It’s a part of Latin culture to love family and my wife loves her family. She does it hauntingly, with sweat and tears. When her little sisters were becoming malnourished because of not-enough-food, she cried silently for a few days without even telling me. We, of course, sent them money for food and for school tuition (immediate and non-immediate concerns, right?).

But, I’ll be honest, my family (of origin) will not be close like the Perez family. We don’t, very often, experience much need or weakness. When there have been troubles (and there have been enough), it is mostly psychological and/or relational rather than physical. And, lately, with our own family becoming a reality, I have started to wonder about the risks and dangers of raising children as well as being Christ’s followers in light of (or in spite of) our familial bonds and love. I’ve come across many a gospel passage where Jesus seems to be at once affirming familial ties only to then redefine it or point to it as an impediment for acceptance in His Kingdom.

Several months ago, I came across a Stanley Hauerwas article where he challenged common USAmerican holidays like Mother’s Day. He quoted the so-called anti-family sayings of Jesus (e.g., Luke 14:26). Which led me to wonder about the disciple’s own families, wives and children (if they were married and had children) and/or parents, siblings, and extended families. We know that Peter’s family was taken care of very directly by Jesus and later, at the very least, his wife was included in with the first Christians.

Tony Jones blogged a response to some recent emergent critics (re: The Great Disappointment) and I couldn’t help but come back a couple different times to a curious paragraph he wrote regarding family and revolution. This paragraph also came up in a conversation with my new housemates (who are currently adventuring with their three kids into their own newish radical Jesus community). Mix in the lively (and sometimes tiresomely serious) conversations about radicalism over at Jesus Manifesto and you might understand a bit of my insanely complicated thought processes. Here’s the paragraph from Tony I’m referring to:

Third, [Nick], I bet you’re not disappointed with Shane Claiborne. That’s because, to this point, Shane has made the very noble decision to live a chaste life, and he has committed his whole self to an irresistible revolution. Meanwhile, most of the founders of emergent are raising children and paying mortgages and coaching YMCA t-ball. Martin Luther King didn’t coach t-ball; neither did Ghandi. Start a revolution if you want, but that’s not a price that I’m willing to pay.

So, I don’t have much to say (that’s a set-up, by the way, for a long-winded monologue). But I think it’s worth saying that we are talking about much more than mainstream lifestyles vs. radical ones. We’re also talking about the nature of revolution and of following Jesus. Actually, the only real substantive complaint I have about this statement doesn’t have to do with the Shane Claiborne quip at all. It’s closer in practice, I think, to the example of Ghandi or MLK Jr.

My complaint is probably more felt than it is analyzed. It comes from knowing a few radical-like families who, not surprisingly, haven’t coached t-ball (of course, it’s important to know that there isn ‘t much of a t-ball crowd in Peru). They live and work, along with their families, friends and neighbors, close to the tragic and joyful excitements in and among most Peruvians communities (not apart from a life with kids, but with them). They have relatively few possessions (kind of radical, right?) and are fairly “uncertain” about their incomes (you could say they take a stance of epistemological humility with regards to a salary).

The price they pay in order to live Jesus’ way, however, doesn’t seem to have cost them more than most any of their neighbors (actually, they are quite well cared for compared to many who live there). It seems the only great price they pay which differs from others is in keeping hope, faith, and love (which I suspect are quantitatively and practically worth much more to them than the money). The other major costs, which they share with the rest of the 80% below poverty level in Peru, have to do with health care, schooling for their kids, transportation in bus or taxi, and extras like traveling or going out to eat. The communities they lead have costs too: running educational programs (usually focused on children), renting a space to gather (maybe up to 4-5 times a week), and the food or materials related to showing hospitality or entertaining themselves.

These costs do not actually add up to very much, though a community barely getting by may find themselves waiting and praying for a long while in order to fully experience and treasure the expected answer or need met. I wonder what makes their communities and commitments seem so different to me than the “noble” and “chaste life” Tony described in his anti-revolutionary lifestyle complaint? Their families are not organized into any national or even city-wide “revolutions” (that I know of, anyway) and yet their life-experience in following God in his Kingdom sure looks revolutionary to me.

Most of their kids have hobbies and sports they like to play. It’s sad to see what they’ve learned to more or less accept (in terms of danger and unreasonable lack), circumstances they have not chosen to live (as if they had a choice to escape)–community satisfactions, sufferings, and joys that they share. I’m not convinced they can lead a revolution (like I’d want one of those), but I do think they have a clearer mode of perspective than I do since they most clearly depend on God for support.

So, there it is. The long-winded (and quite late in the game) response to the quandary of following Jesus with family. Does that mean revolution will or won’t come to pass? Does it mean family (as we know it) will be left intact? Not sure. But I bet everyone else reading will have some thoughts about it. Feel free to share.

p.s. Tony Jones has been working on a book, translating the Didache, and posted a top ten list with his favorite quotes. The #1 spot went to a saying which sounds a bit odd to the ear, especially in an age of egalitarian regard for individual rights and feelings: “For if you are able to bear the entire yoke of the Lord, you will be perfect; but if you are not able, then at least do what you can.”

p.s. you can read and comment over at Jesus Manifesto as well.

Fears and Dis-employment

I have been challenged a great deal by Paul Munn. For the last couple of months, he and I have been emailing back and forth about the so-called “gift economy” Jesus taught and lived. My interest in this new (to me) conversation started when I realized that I would in fact be coming back from Peru, like it or not, to a job that I wasn’t excited about and, to top it off, in the midst of a personal life confused about direction, calling, community, and relationships. I wrote Paul initially to ask him some questions about those issues (mostly for the comfort of telling someone my fears). It sort of snowballed, however, into new territory, into things I haven’t considered much to date. Someday I would love to distill a few of our interactions into blog posts, but for now I’m linking to a few of the latest essays he wrote published over at Jesus Manifesto.

Come to me, all ye who labor for a living

Come to me, all ye who labor for a living (part 2)

Come to me, all ye who labor for a living (part 3)

Evangelism

I hate that word, the way it’s used most times. Consider this example (I just did a google search for the word ‘evangelism’). Not anything like the way of Jesus, according to the Gospel writers anway. 

I like the way Paul Munn helps us understand a crucial and happy part of Jesus’ life in the kingdom: the invitation to follow. Paul takes a problem-saturated word like evangelism (i.e., “there’s a gap between you and God”) and, by contrast, points all of us, nonbeliever and believer alike, into Jesus’ radical dependency and trust on God. And he never actually uses the above abused word to describe the invitation, but shows us an alternative way:

From this we can see how others can be drawn in to Jesus’ way. People first see something in the faith of Jesus’ followers and also see their vulnerability and need. So they are inspired to offer some help. This gives them the experience of God’s love, God working through them to support his own children, and also exposes them to Jesus’ way of life. If they then open themselves to this life, they will progressively give more, becoming more vulnerable and dependent themselves. And so they too will become inspirations to encourage giving, both by their example and their need. As people grow in this way, their gifts change. They have less material possessions to share, but their lives become a more valuable gift, both as an inspiration calling others to enter into God’s love and help care for his children and as a model for faith by which we become (and live as) God’s children.

This progression is like a cycle of life which continues to draw others into Jesus’ way.

The Gospel, Salvation, and Epistemology (AKA Truth)–Part 2

Before reading this, you might want to read Part 1. Otherwise, enjoy the dialogue and feel free to join in.

Hannah:

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen”. Heb 11:1  God never intended for us to follow blind faith, or to believe just because someone says so, or even to sit around and speculate about who God might be. Faith is something that comes from having a relationship with God and faith grows as a result of growing closer to Him. When I say I have faith in Nate, that is built on a relationship of trust. I have the substance of knowing who he is, and the evidence of seeing what he’s done.

Jason:

I believe it isn’t as much a matter of having faith vs. not having faith, but a matter of what kind of faith one has. In other words, during Jesus’ day faith in Caesar or Rome was not faith in Christ the Messiah. Everyone has faith. It may not be religious faith (or Christian faith), but it is faith nonetheless. In that respect, most folks (Christians included) mainly struggle with idolatry.

One only truly comes alive (and has any idea what eternal life means) within Christ’s community of disciples. Being born again is more an experience or series of true events than ideas or rationalizations about creeds.

Church, I believe, is that radical group of people who trust God’s story so wholly that they are willing to order their lives after his Way. The world, then, has a prophetic (and often ethically challenging) picture of the kind of social-political reality Jesus believed the kingdom of the heavens to be. His body, the church, is the focus of salvation. I just reread John 3: 17-21. That’s a good passage, perhaps, to help us understand this issue. Maybe next time we can discuss what it means.

The information about who Jesus is may (or may not) be clear to some (like, for example, the disciples), but the living witness of His trustworthiness will have a stronger root (and effect) if the Lord of everything gives it breath and tends the planting. It’s very tempting for us to pursue knowledge (which puffs up) over embodiment and grace-filled reconciliation. God’s salvation lived out in a visible, social and political body deepens our resistance to evil and gives us creativity for the eternal kind of life with God and his body now in this life, in this town, in this neighborhood, in this called-out people named church (and Naked Faith).

La Iglesia Emergente

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Unfinished Fiction…

combi1.jpgI’ve been emailing and reflecting and learning and wrestling…all those things…and more. Now, I’m not sure what to make of what. I’m lost, I think. Maybe not, but probably I am. I’ve constructed so many lies and so many fantasies and now I’m wondering when the sherade will finally close it’s curtain, turn down the lights, send us all home. I want to get behind (or in front of) the fantasy of having it both ways. You can be rich and be faithful. You can run without getting hurt or without it costing you and your family. Didn’t you know that, son, you’re in for a great deal of pain?

I never thought about suffering this way. Perhaps it’s going to be a slow death. The kind that would make you sweat just thinking about it. Will it wait?

I don’t want to die. I want a promise and a resurrection without a minute to think. I’m tired. I can’t say goodbye yet. I thought I would be able to do what I said. It’s easier to think it through then to be the one who pulls the trigger.

The car slid away from the sidewalk under hazy yellow fake sunlight along with other general intrusions into the nighttime city air. We listened to the radio, restlessly, dispassionate, searching the selections of popular formats in Lima. Surfer music: Red Hot Chili Peppers. Eighties music: The Police. Salsa music: Marc Antony. Reggeton: Daddy Yankee. Politics: RPP Noticias. Christian music: Marcos Witt. No one talked. We all waited. Perhaps the moment was going to surprise us, once we get to where we’re going, perhaps an untimely gift. A night to remember, isn’t that what we all expected? Yelmi sat beside Esmi who sat beside Karen who sat in the back seat of Frank’s red 1992 Volkswagen five-door. I was up front with Frank. Frank was driving.

It’s hard, you might say, to just come on out and break all the details on the table. I’m not Catholic, but if I was I would have been praying my Hail Marys and seeking the consolation of San Martín. Ah, what the hell? Truth be told, it seemed like a good night to become prayerful. We pulled behind the large orange-colored COVIDA bus, the abreviations of all their stops cursively painted across its mast. Through the rear window La Virgen looked at us, our trailing hearts, behind the haze of smoke, smog, and darkness, behind our layers of metal, skin, and paint.

Then…

Dispatches from Peru

Hello everyone,

Just wanted to check in briefly. I’m in Lima, Peru with my wife and son. We’re having a great time. It’s actually really hard for me to be this close to something I desire so much (living/serving in Peru), but nonetheless that’s only because the people and places have beautified my life to such a great extent. And so I’m actually happy now that I think about. (I can hear myself thinking, “You’re going in circles again, Jason!” I sound like mom, for those of you who know her). Anyway, other than a staph infection, my health is good. Oh yeah…I got a STAPH INFECTION! Thankfully, my work covered me with insurance through April and there are some authorized providers here in Lima. I went to a clinic in the ritzy part of town. It actually seemed more like a club or resort than a medical clinic. They had flat screen TVs, a nice coffee shop, professional photographs of Peru on the walls etc. I got some medicine, which cost more than the visit (How do average Peruvians afford to get antibiotics?). Pray that it gets better. The last thing I want is to bring this back with me (or to have them perform some sort of puss extraction on my left hip!).

I’ll leave you with that thought firmly pressed into your heads.

Chau,

Jason

The Look of My Church [Part 3]

My wife, according to most definitions, is still an immigrant from South America. By moving here almost ten years ago, she chose (mostly unwillingly) to experience grief through the loss of family, a common culture and shared history, familiar spirituality, and life-long friends–all this, most of the time, she endured alone. North American folks seem to lose sight very easily of the grieving process which immigrants often know very well. We grieve, but we do it privately, for different reasons, and without showing much (if any) emotion.

Now, almost ten years into my wife’s immigration journey, she still speaks with clarity and loving urgency from her identity, even though years of loneliness and homesickness has made it difficult to say much. I’m proud of her. In fact, I want to be like her. My lament, at least for the time being, isn’t one externalized by foreign borders and geographical distance but by the experience of displacement inside my own household, my own culture so to speak. As a friend recently told me, we are an overeducated people without bearings, without visible signs of “kingdom come.” In other words, we’ve been educated right out of naivete and now experience deep suspicion and grief as a result of our displacement and detachment. We’re all part of failed and dying relationships, institutions, and structures which may no longer serve us and, perhaps, no longer want to claim us as their members. We are new immigrants into a philosophical, economic, moral and religious collapse. We recognize ourselves as a people without direction: lost. We are loosely connected almost everywhere globally and yet also experience profound meaninglessness and worry. We’re not sure what to re-make or what to tear down among the ruins of empire. We see the spirit in the ash, in the margins, in the weak, and somehow still struggle to convince ourselves that it’s wise to be here.

I’ve written this essay–a rough sketch indeed–as my lament, but also it is my document of hope. The same God that invites my sorrow also brings us joy. And this work of imagination, for me at least, is an outline of that manifest. I may get sidetracked here and there, but I’m confident the loose ends will get rounded out, though they will likely also leave us pondering the questions (just as they should!). The next few paragraphs will be both descriptive and prescriptive, about both small (and even smaller) notations for a new kind of Christian faith collective. The language many folks are using to talk about this–intentional community or a new monasticism–seems to describe well the particular embodiment I’m hoping for. The adventure begins today!

What’s the overall vision?

The church that I go to is understood mostly (primarily?) as a place for a relatively large amount of people to gather (+ or - 150 people) on a Sunday morning. Its primary purpose is to facilitate spiritual growth through weekly large-group gatherings, mixed in with a few small groups and/or midweek activities. This form of being church ought to belong squarely within the rhythms and passions of a common life lived day-to-day, rooted in a particular community, household, neighborhood, and place. The stuff we commonly take for granted as being essential to “church,” on the other hand, ought to get peripheral attention (in terms of time, money, and energy spent) in favor of more integral forms, being prophetic signs and witnesses.

(Speaking of neighborhood, a friend of mine, David, who is an architect working within the new urbanism movement, made a funny (if not sarcastic) remark the other day. He noted that the biggest church in our city goes by the name Neighborhood Church, and yet it is surrounded almost entirely by industrial buildings, a freeway, and big box retail/fast food. Wouldn’t it be more compelling, for both the skeptics and the already-convinced, if our names cohered with our places? “Fellowship” is another word that gets thrown around (in abstraction and marketing) too often. Language matters, don’t you think?)

What I’m about to say now might get easily dismissed (like a politician’s promise for “change”?). The apparent absurdity and highfalutin’ theological/ecclesiastical ideas could be oft-putting. (At this point, the audiences may thin.) Alright, here’s the scary thought: I think we ought to let those large gathering places (what we tend to call church) to fundamentally change their mission. I think we ought to invite smaller intentional communities to be find a home, to emerge out of isolation and into the collective praxis and conversation of our modern evangelical communities. We should enjoy the large gathering, yes, but it should be a much smaller part of our theological and economic practice.

This might mean fewer large-gathering venues will be needed for the body of Christ in a given city. Many churches, as a result, could reasonably scale down their day-to-day bottom line, put unused or costly buildings to the collaborative use and expense of multiple communities. Perhaps, if this became our intention, we would witness and experience the kind of unity in Christ that we have all heard exists. Many churches might learn to share their resources as well as operate with more thrift. We might see local neighboring bodies invite each other to join in common liturgy/worship. The large gathering still has a space within the ecology of church, but its space is profoundly changed.

A Few Specifics

I would like to suggest some very concrete changes in the way we, my tribe (as well as many other evangelical communities), order their Sunday morning worship. First, reorder the seating (setting them in the round or in subgroups of smaller cohorts) for the purpose of fostering a deeper social/spiritual interaction. Second, offset “the stage” as the focal point in the room in order to decentralize our attention off of “celebrities” and onto the community, that is, onto Christ’s broken body. Third, invite member participation, storytelling, and artistic expression throughout the liturgy (”the work of the people”) or worship service using both prepared and open-ended invitations. Lastly (and I guess the possibilities are actually endless), take us out-of-doors, around tables to share a meal, entice us with parties, community work, and learning relationships. Ok, maybe that last one is too much to ask…

Living as a Christian Alternative

Christian intentional communities, no matter the size, ought to engage in practices of place, practices of body, and practices of resurrection:

  • Practices of place could include the following: living in close proximity to other members in the community and/or co-housing; using slower-human-scale-machinery such as bicycles and buses for transportation as the preferred choice; using solar-energy-transportation such as walking in order to better know (i.e., pay attention to) and love a place; supporting local economies that honor God’s creation and neighborhood; co-producing entertainments and artistic expressions that provoke the prophetic imagination of peoplehood and places; and, lastly (though more could be said), activating ourselves for the sake of the weakest and most marginalized (dare I say, even our enemies) and integrating the life of place with the life of community (which naturally includes both human culture and nature, politics and economy, etc.).
  • Practices of body could include the following: interacting with spiritual disciplines (such as prayer, journaling, silence, solitude, celebration, fasting, service, and study, etc.); exercising and working with our bodies (both individually and communally); seeking collective spiritual direction and transformative rituals (i.e., baptism, stations of the cross, the Eucharist, etc.); making space for healing, reconciliation, and forgiveness as biblical signs to this crazy upside-down world that Jesus proclaimed.
  • Practices of resurrection could include the following: subverting violence (in its many insidious forms) with enemy-love and prophetic imagination/performances; planting gardens and throwing parties in order to seed hope and lasting goodness in the community; encouraging families/communities (particularly the elderly) to educate their young; bringing hospitality to displaced “others” (whoever they may be: elders, homeless folks, immigrants, radicals, orphans, etc). In general, put into practice the Sermon on the Mount and Luke 4.

Conclusion

These three praxis, drawn out in the community, could take shape in conversations by the coffee table as well as in study/learning groups, in promises and vows we make to one another and (as Ghandi put it) “experiments in truth,” in cross-cultural and out-door adventures, and, without a doubt, in mission to God’s beloved creation. These explanations and categories have framed my thinking, and yet I realize their limitations and my own ignorance. The fact that they overlap and intersect is taken for granted. The fact that you could make other choices about what to say/do in a particular category is also evident. The fact that they are incomplete and in need of community discernment and revision has halted me in my steps more than a few times. In other words, the specifics are still yet to come (not just borne in words and imagination but in day-to-day community life) and are evolving.

Now that I’ve said so much, I wonder what the reader thinks…Agree/disagree with my assessment of things? Want to try creating something new with me? :)

The Look of My Church [Part 1]

The Look of My Church [Part 2]

The Look of My Church [Part 2.5]