what about justice?

Image from ec.europa.eu

There seems to be an increasing emphasis on addressing injustice, at least in the circles I move in. Everywhere I turn, it seems that someone is talking about how we can become more just people. On a recent trip to Toronto for a conference, I was reading Bryan Stevenson's Just Mercy which tells about his work as a lawyer in Alabama, addressing systemic injustices in the legal system. When I arrived in the city, I visited a downtown church which had posters and banners addressing issues of social justice all around their sanctuary. At the conference, some of the presentations identified specific people groups who have been victims of injustice and suggested ways we can move forward to more equitable interactions.

What is justice? The symbol for justice in the legal system is a blindfolded woman (known as Lady Justice) holding a set of scales. The symbolism suggests an impartial, careful, and accurate weighing of matters. The dictionary tells us that justice is fairness, equity, impartiality, neutrality, honesty, and righteousness. In the Hebrew bible, the word tzedek (to be just or righteous) is rooted in the nature of God, joining the idea of impartiality with promoting the good and dealing with sin. In Greek, we have the word dikaiosune which basically means approved by God. When we link justice to the nature of a loving, merciful God, we get a slightly different view of justice than when we equate it with moral rectitude. I offer two stories to illustrate this, one from the Hebrew Bible and one from the New Testament.

In Deuteronomy, we find specific laws given to the nation of Israel which were to guide their behaviour and ultimately, reflect their worship of a just God. One of these had to do with ensuring that a widow was not left destitute when her husband died and she had no sons. Since the women in the Ancient Near East had their value and their livelihood tied to men, when a woman's husband died and she had no sons to receive the family inheritance, her situation was precarious. The law made provision for this.

"When two brothers are living together, sharing family property that hasn’t been divided, if one of them dies leaving a widow without sons, his widow must not be married to a man outside the family. The brother should marry his sister-in-law and try to have children with her in his brother’s name. Her firstborn son will be named after the brother who died, so that the first husband’s name will not disappear from Israel and that son will receive his share of the family inheritance" (Deut. 25:5-6, The Voice).

Basically, the brother-in-law of the widow was to ensure that the deceased brother's name and inheritance were not lost. In effect, a man who married his brother's widow was sacrificing part of his inheritance in order to honour his dead brother and protect his widow. Understandably, some men were not too keen on fulfilling this obligation.

Case in point. In Genesis 38, we find the story of Judah and Tamar. Judah had three sons and the first one married Tamar. He died, and since Tamar had no sons and no means of income, she depended on the family she married into to take care of her. Judah told his second son that he must marry Tamar and any sons she bore would have his dead brother's inheritance. Well, he resented the imposition and the implications it had for his prospective wealth, so he begrudgingly took Tamar as his wife and had sex with her, but took precautions to make sure she would not become pregnant. That second son died as well. Now, Judah had a third son who was not yet of marrying age and, understandably, Judah was reluctant to have Tamar wed him. The two men who had been her husband had both died, and it seemed like she was a cursed woman. In fact, in the story we learn that both her husbands were wicked men. Nevertheless, Judah told Tamar that when the third son reached marrying age, she would be guaranteed a husband and a future. She waited and waited, but even though the youngest son became eligible for marriage, there was no talk of a wedding. Judah's wife died, and after the time of mourning was finished, he went on a trip to work with some sheepherders. Tamar was desperate and saw an opportunity. She dressed up as a prostitute and waited on the side of the road. When Judah came along, he saw her and expressed interest in engaging her services, offering to send her a goat when he got home. She insisted that he give her the cord he was wearing and his staff as a personal guarantee. He did so and they had sex. When he got home, he tried to send a goat as payment and get his possessions back, but no one could find the prostitute.

A few months later, Tamar was reported to be pregnant. When word got to Judah, he demanded that she be dragged into the public square to be condemned and burned. He had always had suspicions about her. As Tamar was being brought out, she let it be known that the man who had made her pregnant was the one who owned the cord and staff she had. It was soon revealed that Judah was the one responsible for her pregnancy. Judah's response is noteworthy: "She is more in the right (tzedek) than I." Justice, that attribute which links someone to the nature of God, was found in Tamar, the woman who played a prostitute to trick a man into taking care of a widow.

This reminds me of another story, this time in the New Testament. Jesus was teaching people at the temple when the scribes and Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery and presented her to Jesus, asking him what to do. The law allowed for the stoning of such a woman, and the religious leaders were trying to trick Jesus into doing something that would allow them to accuse him of breaking the law. Jesus didn't fall for it. Instead, he ignored them, drawing something in the dirt with his finger. They continued to bother him and demand an answer, so he finally said, "Let the first stone be thrown by the one among you who has not sinned." The Pharisees had no response to this, so they left, one by one. Eventually, it was just Jesus and the woman. Jesus asked, "Where is everyone? Did no one condemn you?" She replied that no one had. Then Jesus said, "I don't condemn you either. Go on and sin no more" (John 8).

The Jewish religious leaders had, in fact, not accurately quoted the law. It states that both the man and the woman involved in adultery should be stoned (Lev. 20:10, Deut. 22:24). They were twisting the law to their own purposes: making a trap for Jesus so that they could get rid of him. One commentator has speculated that Jesus writing in the dust might be a reference to the law which forbids writing on the Sabbath, but does permit writing with dust. If this was the case and it was a day of rest, Jesus might have been illustrating that he knew the details of the law just as well as they did and would not be trapped by it. Others have suggested that Jesus wrote words of condemnation regarding the woman's accusers. Whatever the case, in this story we find the same kind of inversion that happens in story of Judah and Tamar: the one looking to condemn someone for an unlawful act is shown to be the one who is unjust. Jesus put the shame of adultery in direct contrast to the shameful way the Jewish leaders were acting (trickery, bending the law to suit their needs, treating the woman with disrespect, rejecting God in the person of Jesus). Jesus does not condemn the woman, but calls her to a new life. We can be prone to over-emphasize this last line (go and sin no more), but in doing so. we unravel the mercy evident in Jesus's refusal to condemn, even though he would have been lawful in doing so. It is important to remember that the law is not the standard for justice, Jesus is, and he requires those doing the judging to reflect on their own sinfulness before judging others (Matt. 7:1-3).

So what is justice? It is that which reflects the nature of God, that which God approves of, and in these two stories, the person on the side of justice is not the religious leader or respected citizen (those in positions of power), but a woman who has committed a shameful act and stands ready to be condemned and killed by her accusers. As I stated before, the law does not equal justice; only God is justice, because being just means being approved by God. So how do we stand on the side of justice, and how do we respond to injustice?

We can be prone to ignoring or doubting stories of injustice when they don't directly affect us. We can complain about the inconvenience of injustice and try to remove ourselves from its effects (NIMBY: not in my backyard). We can be prone to judging (it's their own fault) or begrudgingly agree to do the bare minimum to fulfill the law (like Judah's second son), hoping to mitigate its effect on and cost to us. If we are the ones wronged, we can seek to exact revenge on those who have wronged us, or prosecute someone to the full extent of the law, assuming that we are the faultless ones.

Looking at these two stories, it seems more in keeping with the nature of God to stand as sober witnesses to those who have suffered injustice, making sure that we hear their voices and their complaints. We can pray, repenting for our part in injustice and asking God for healing and reconciliation. We can change the question from "How does this affect me?" to "How does it affect the most vulnerable, the least of these?" We can make sure that we are not stone throwers, but stone catchers (a phrase I came across in Bryan Stevenson's book), that we step in-between those who condemn and the condemned, showing mercy instead of judgment. It is what Jesus does for us everyday. We can seek wisdom to discern what compassionate, thoughtful action we might take. Above all, like Jesus, we can seek to bring hope to the hopeless.

go and ...

This is part two of a series talking about Jesus's calls to come and to go and the relationship between them. You can read the first part, "Come and See," here.

Image from healthland.time.com

We learn things by being around other people, and they learn things by hanging out with us. That's the way it works. The first people we learned things from were members of our family. Children are natural imitators and they mimic the behaviour and attitudes they see in their parents and other influencers present in their lives (for better or for worse). Growing up on a farm, I learned how to care for animals, how to plant and harvest, how to embrace the seasonal nature of life, and how to shovel manure. Like I said, for better or worse. Not all of the ideas we assimilate are helpful, and as responsible adults, we need to honestly evaluate learned behaviour to see if it contributes to a flourishing life, a good life, a life consistent with the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

Nevertheless, imitation is a very effective teaching tool. Jesus invited his disciples to come and see, to hang out with him and observe what he did and how he interacted with people. They witnessed sermons, healings, conflicts, and impromptu feasts. In other words, they learned what it was like to love the world. In Matthew 9, we find a record of what Jesus's followers saw and heard.

Jesus went through many towns and villages. He taught in their synagogues. He preached the good news of the kingdom of God. He healed every disease and sickness. Whenever crowds came to Him, He had compassion for them because they were so deeply distraught, malaised, and heart-broken. They seemed to Him like lost sheep without a shepherd. Jesus understood what an awesome task was before Him, so He said to His disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest to send more workers into His harvest field.” (Matthew 9:35-38, The Voice).

But let's not stop reading. There is an important development that follows, and we have to ignore the imposed chapter division in order to fully appreciate it.

Jesus called His twelve disciples to Him. He endowed them with the authority to heal sickness and disease and to drive demons out of those who were possessed. These are the names of the twelve apostles: Simon (who is called Peter, which means “the rock”) and his brother Andrew; James, son of Zebedee, and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew (the tax collector); James, son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot (who would betray Him). (Matthew 10:1-4, The Voice)

Let me spell out the development. Jesus invites people to follow him, to come and see his ministry, mission, and method. Those who take up this call to come and see become his disciples, pupils and learners. After they have followed Jesus around for some time and borne witness to his ministry to the sick, the oppressed, the downtrodden, Jesus gives his disciples the authority to do exactly what he has been doing, to carry on the work of the kingdom of God. After this, the language changes. No longer are they called disciples (learners, pupils) but apostles (sent ones, delegates). Their identity is changed. They remain disciples, for they will never stop being followers of Jesus, but they also become representatives of Jesus, doing what he does and bringing the good news of God's kingdom to the world. Responding to Jesus' call to come and see naturally leads to Jesus's commissioning to go and do, or perhaps a better way of putting it, go and be like Jesus.  

So what does it mean to be like Jesus, to do the work of Jesus? What follows in Matthew 10 is a list of instructions for the twelve apostles. The details do not translate directly into our context, but we as contemporary followers of Jesus and "sent ones" can draw some principles from these directives. Below are a few of the specific instructions along with a corresponding general principle for us today.

1. "Jesus sent out these twelve with clear instructions. Don’t go to the outsiders or to the towns inhabited by Samaritans, a people whose Jewish ancestors married Gentiles. Go instead to find and heal the lost sheep of Israel." Start where you are. Before we rush out to save the world, we should look at bringing healing and wholeness to those around us: our families, friends, coworkers, neighbours, and city.
2. "As you go, preach this message: 'The kingdom of heaven is at hand.' Heal the sick, raise the dead, and cleanse those who have leprosy. Drive out demons from the possessed." Our message of hope, demonstrated in our actions, is that God is near, God is a healer, God brings life, God is a restorer, God brings freedom.
3. "You received these gifts freely, so you should give them to others freely. Do not take money with you: don’t take gold, silver, or even small, worthless change. Do not pack a bag with clothes. Do not take sandals or a walking stick. Be fed and sheltered by those who show you hospitality." Let us be generous with what God has given us, and allow others to be generous with us. Let us travel light, live simply, and trust God to supply everything we need.
4. "Listen: I am sending you out to be sheep among wolves. You must be as shrewd as serpents and as innocent as doves. You must be careful. You must be discerning. You must be on your guard." We can expect opposition and expect to be treated badly. We should never assume that everything will go our way. Let us learn wisdom. Let us cultivate discernment. Let us practice faithfulness. Let us be courageous. Do not fear. We can trust God in all circumstances.

Jesus's invitation to come and see, to participate in the life of Jesus and in the lives of others, is always linked to Jesus's commissioning to be delegates, to bring the life and love of Jesus wherever we go. The Greek word, erchomai, means both "come" and "go." This is the dual invitation of Jesus. 

Come and See

A friend of mine was recently verbally abused at a bus stop. He was told to go back to his country and take his filthy diseases with him (my paraphrase). My friend is here on a work visa, married to a Canadian, and employed as a pastor at a church. The lady obviously didn't know anything about him, his legal status, or his hygienic habits. Because the colour of his skin was a slight shade different than hers, she felt free to judge him. [1] I must admit that when I heard about the incident, I felt a bit free to judge that lady, too, even though I know nothing about her and have no idea why she felt threatened by a kind, gentle, and compassionate man. I am reminded of the saying, "Don't judge someone until you have walked a mile in their moccasins." Walking a mile in someone else's shoes is not easy, especially since we find our own shoes so much more comfortable, but it is central to the gospel of Jesus.

In John 1, we see Jesus interacting with two of John's disciples. John has just pointed out that Jesus is the Lamb of God, and these disciples are intrigued. They want to know more, so they start to follow Jesus.

Jesus: What is it that you want?
Two Disciples: We'd like to know where You are staying. Teacher, may we remain at Your side today?
Jesus: Come and see. Follow Me, and we will camp together.
It was about four o-clock in the afternoon when they met Jesus. They came and saw where He was staying, but they got more than they imagined. They remained with Him the rest of the day and followed Him for the rest of their lives.  (John 1:36-41, The Voice)

I like this particular translation/paraphrase of the incident because it adds some meaningful commentary (the words in italics) which fleshes out the implications of the interaction. The potential disciples want to hang out with Jesus and find out what he is all about. Jesus replies with that wonderful, concise invitation, "Come and see." What does he mean by this? The Greek word for "come" is erchomai. It means "to come, to go, moving from one place to another." While English speakers might think that using the same word for "come" and "go" is rather imprecise, the expansive nature of the term allows it to express a sense that moving or going is always related to the welcome waiting at the end of the journey. Perhaps we have something to learn from this close association between commission and invitation. The Greek word for "see" is horao and it means to look upon, experience, perceive. In other words, it is much more than just observing something with your sense of sight. To see means to experience and understand in some way.

The invitation to "Come and see" is not an invitation to be a tourist, to see a few sights, taste a bit of local food, take a few selfies with the natives, and move on. The invitation to "Come and see" is a call to move in.  Eugene Peterson captures this sentiment when he paraphrases John 1:14. "The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighbourhood" (The Message). The reason Jesus issues the invitation to "Come and see" is because it is part of his incarnational message, and he has already modeled it. Jesus came and saw what it meant to be fully human. He lived among us and did virtually nothing but become familiar with our world for the first thirty years of his life. He did not seek to teach/minister/heal until he had learned what it meant to be a human being in the first century. Jesus came to this world not as a tourist, but as a resident. He came as a baby, learning from day one what it meant to be hungry, to have growing pains, to be tired, to feel pain, to obey your parents, to be part of a family, to trust others to take care of you, to work hard, to learn by listening and imitating. His first task was not to save the world, but to live in the world, to "Come and see."

We sometimes miss this vital part of the gospel of Jesus. Before we invite people into our church gatherings or expect them to adopt our worldview and faith, we should consider being present in their settings and learning what it is like to walk in their shoes. Hospitality is more that just inviting people over to our homes for a meal or a brief stay in our guest room. Hospitality includes going to other people's spaces, getting out of our comfort zones (where we have some measure of control) and going and seeing what life looks like for someone else.

Image from madeforpakistan.com

There is a story (I can't find the original source, so I might get some details wrong) about a group of well-meaning Westerners who showed up in a poor village in a distant country, intent on helping the people there establish more sustainable ways of living. The villagers struggled to maintain a consistent, plentiful food supply, so the foreigners decided that the perfect solution was to plant crops. They decided to start off with tomatoes, and rallied all the villagers to work together on preparing the ground and planting rows and rows of plants. The results were encouraging. Within a few months, round, red orbs were ripening on the vines. One night, when the tomatoes were almost ready to harvest, the wildlife in the area descended on the field and ate and trampled the entire crop. The next morning, the foreigners were devastated by the sight of the destroyed plants, but the villagers just shrugged. The foreigners were puzzled as to why the villagers were not more upset by the loss of an entire crop of food. The villagers replied that they knew this would happen. The wildlife always came to eat anything they grew, so they did not plant large fields of crops out in the open. The foreigners were a bit miffed. Why had no one told them this before they had put all that time, money, and effort into planting a crop? The villagers said, "You never asked," and added,"You were so excited about the project that we didn't want to be impolite and refuse to help." Truth be told, the foreigners acted more like tourists than residents, imposing their ideas on the locals instead of taking the time to come and see, to learn from the villagers, to spend time walking a mile in their shoes before asserting their Western ideas. Sadly, some of the church's missionary efforts more closely resemble tourism than "come and see" incarnation.

Image from dailyemerald.com

So how do we begin to practice being with others in a meaningful way? How do we "come and see?" I have no easy solutions, but I do have a few suggestions.
1. Learn to listen. By this I do not mean a passive posture where we let someone talk while we think about our clever response, but an active, engaged, intentional entering into the story of another. True listening means that we refrain from offering advice (unless specifically asked for), refrain from prescribing a course of action, refrain from relating everything back to our own situation (thereby pulling the focus away from them and back to us), and use imaginative compassion to put ourselves into their situation, to see ourselves walking a mile in their shoes.
2. Go to people in their settings. I don't mean intruding on people's lives or showing up at someone's door without concern for their ability to receive visitors, but making ourselves available to be with people in their setting in a way that shows our genuine interest in them and their situation. The posture is one of learning, of humble openness to see the world through their eyes. It requires time and patience, ears to hear and eyes to see. There is an organisation called Movein which encourages Christians to prayerfully move in among the unreached, urban poor. Their mission is to love their neighbours by living among them, by being one of them. In this way, the gospel is not something presented by outsiders; it lives next door. [2]
3. Develop purposeful habits.
   a. If you are a reader, read books which will take you out of your own experience. One of my friends has this rule: for every one book he reads by a white male, he reads two by a woman or person of colour. [3]
   b. If you are present on social media, make sure your circle of friends or your feed includes viewpoints which challenge yours. Learn how to listen without interjecting or arguing. Learn how to interact kindly with those who think differently than you do and whose experience is different from yours.
   c. We cannot be physical neighbours to everyone, but we can look for opportunities to stand in solidarity with those who have been wounded or are struggling. Let them know that they are not alone. When a white supremacist marched into a black church in Charleston, South Carolina during a prayer service in 2015 and killed 9 people, the community was in shock. A small black church in Halifax, Nova Scotia called a prayer vigil to mourn the tragedy and pray for reconciliation. They issued personal invitations to all the churches in the city and got the word out in the media. A friend of mine who attended this prayer meeting said that aside from a few invited officials asked to speak from the platform, only 6 people outside the black community showed up. [4] We must do better than this. We must learn to love our neighbours in the way that Jesus described in the parable of the good Samaritan. We don't have to agree with everything someone says or believes or even like them in order to be their neighbour. We do have to be people who will stand with those who are struggling and hurt and in need of help.

I close with a poem penned by Mary T. Lathrap in 1895. Its words ring clear and true to this day.

Walk a Mile in His Moccasins

Pray, don't find fault with the man that limps,
Or stumbles along the road.
Unless you have worn the moccasins he wears,
Or stumbled beneath the same load.

There may be tears in his soles that hurt
Though hidden away from view.
The burden he bears placed on your back
May cause you to stumble and fall, too.

Don't sneer at the man who is down today
Unless you have felt the same blow
That caused his fall or felt the shame
That only the fallen know.

You may be strong, but still the blows
That were his, unknown to you in the same way

May cause you to stagger and fall, too.

Don't be too harsh with the man that sins.
Or pelt him with words, or stone, or disdain.
Unless you are sure you have no sins of your own,
And it's only wisdom and love that your heart contains.

For you know if the tempter's voice
Should whisper as soft to you,
As it did to him when he went astray,
It might cause you to falter, too.

Just walk a mile in his moccasins
Before you abuse, criticize and accuse.
If just for one hour, you could find a way
To see through his eyes, instead of your own muse.

I believe you'd be surprised to see
That you've been blind and narrow minded, even unkind.
There are people on reservations and in the ghettos
Who have so little hope, and too much worry on their minds.

Brother, there but for the grace of God go you and I.
Just for a moment, slip into his mind and traditions
And see the world through his spirit and eyes
Before you cast a stone or falsely judge his conditions.

Remember to walk a mile in his moccasins
And remember the lessons of humanity taught to you by your elders.
We will be known forever by the tracks we leave
In other people's lives, our kindnesses and generosity.

Take the time to walk a mile in his moccasins.

Image from kindnessblog.com

[1] Thanks to Suhail Stephen for letting me share this story. 

[2] www.movein.to

[3] Thanks to Chad Lucas for this bit of wisdom.

[4] Thanks to Beth Wood for letting me share this story.

2 fishing stories

Image from pinterest.com

There are quite a few fishing stories in the gospels. Because many of the disciples were fishermen, this is only natural. These stories are not just cultural snapshots of the lives of people in the first century; these narratives tell us something about the disciples or Jesus or both. Two stories in particular seem connected not only because of their amazing and miraculous catch, but because they show us something about the faith journey of one of the disciples, Peter. Here are the two stories:

Story 1:
When [Jesus] had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken ... Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” (Luke 5:4-10, NRSV)

Story 2:
Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off. (John 21:4-8, NRSV)

In the first story, Jesus calls the fishermen to follow him, to change their occupation and leave the fishing life (in the literal sense) behind. This first encounter with Jesus and the many fish is early on in Peter's relationship with Jesus, when the disciples are not exactly sure who Jesus is or what the implications of following him might be. The second story takes place after Jesus has been crucified, been raised from the dead, and appeared to his disciples a few times. At this point, Peter has been through an emotional roller coaster. First, it appears as if Jesus is about to start a political revolution (yay!), then Jesus is arrested, leaving the disciples angry, confused, and afraid (what?), then Jesus dies and their hopes are dashed (nooooooooo!!!!), then Jesus appears to them in resurrected form and causes great excitement (is this really happening?), but they are not sure what it means for them (what do we do now?). So Peter goes back to what he knows: fishing. And this is when he encounters the risen Christ (and the fishes) again.

Mark Buchanan makes an interesting observation about the first story where Jesus is calling Peter. When the disciple says, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man," it may be more than just a shameful awareness of his shabby, sordid life. Mark wonders if it might be "an evasion ploy, a diversionary tactic, a rash outburst to buy himself some time. After all, Peter says those words while standing knee-deep in fish. The catch of a lifetime. His biggest windfall ever. ... That boatful of fish would have cashed out nicely. It would have paid a lot of bills, bought a lot of upgrades, provided a few luxuries. It would have made Peter's hardscrabble existence not so hard and scrabbly."[1] But the call of Jesus is to leave everything behind (including winning the fish lottery) and follow. Mark notes that, "Peter's first instinct is to dodge the light." [1]

The second story shows a very different reaction from Peter. When another huge catch of fish is suddenly his for the taking, Peter does not hesitate. Instead of needing some distance from Jesus, he "plunges into the water ... and comes up panting and dripping, hoping with everything in him that Jesus will reissue the call, the hard call to follow him. Jesus does not disappoint." [2]

The question that Jesus asks Peter in John 21 is this: Do you love me more than these? More than the boatload of fish, more than the fishing buddies, more than the life you know? And Peter says yes, yes, yes.

There is a simple prayer exercise which speaks to the themes we find in these two fishing stories. It is called Palms Down, Palms Up.

Palms Down: "Begin by placing your palms down as a symbolic indication of your desire to turn over any concerns you may have to God." [3] This is a posture, both physical and mental, of letting go, of surrendering. You may surrender anger, fear, anxiety, or frustration. Or you may let go of the fishes in your life, the good things which vie for your loyalty and love. Some find it helpful to picture giving these things to Jesus instead of just letting them fall to the ground.

Palms Up: "After several moments of surrender, turn your palms up as a symbol of your desire to receive from the Lord." [3] After letting go of anger, you might ask to receive love, after letting go of fear, anxiety, and frustration, you might ask to receive peace, patience, and joy. After letting go of the fishes in your life, you might want to ask Jesus to issue or reissue his call on your life. What is he asking you to commit yourself to?

Because my heart and hands so quickly fill with concerns, burdens, and fears, I usually find myself alternating between surrendering (palms down) and receiving (palms up) in my prayer time. The two are intricately related. If my hands are full, I cannot receive what he is offering. And if I am constantly obsessed with everything I need to surrender, I am unable to receive the fullness Jesus offer me. The life of Peter reveals that both of these postures (letting go and receiving) are not one-time events. Walking with Jesus is an ongoing journey, an adventure in learning and relearning how to say yes, how to let go, how to love, how to give, how to receive, how to fish.

-----------------------
1. Mark Buchanan, Spiritual Rhythm (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010), 234.
2. Ibid., 235.
3. Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth (HarperSanFrancisco, 1978; 1998), 30-31.

what is salvation?

Why is Easter important? It is arguably the high point of the Christian calendar, celebrating Jesus' victory over death and sin. It is also a time of fulfillment in which darkness gives way to light, death gives way to life, the kingdom of earth gives way to the kingdom of God, and the final sacrifice for sin is offered. But what exactly happened when Jesus died and was resurrected?

The Christian church has many ways of explaining or illustrating the saving work of Christ. The Orthodox Icon of the Resurrection pictured above (there are several versions) is one of the most celebrated icons in the church. Icons, in addition to being invitations to prayer, are meant to be instructive. Here we see the risen Christ descending to Hades, grabbing Adam and Eve by the wrists, and raising them from their tombs. The position of Christ's hands denotes that the two being raised have no active part in the process; the work is all Christ's. The doors (gates), chains, and keys underneath Christ's feet represent him freeing those held captive to sin and death. The figures to each side of Christ include John the Baptist and Moses, and stand for all those awaiting the coming of the Messiah.

Another pictorial representation of salvation is found in the diagram below. Here we see a great chasm between a holy God and sinful humanity and Christ acting as a bridge between the two.

Image from preceptaustin.org

Note that the human figure is about to walk over the Jesus-bridge to the holy God. This is a bit of a problem, theologically, because God in Christ is the one who comes to us, even while we are in our sinful state. God is not distant and immovable on his holy throne as this diagram suggests, and we are not the ones trying to get to God as this figure is doing. Instead, God is the one seeking us out. One of the names of the Messiah reveals the divine character as "God with us."

Over the centuries, there have been many models of salvation put forth by theologians seeking to explain what happened in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. As with any models or metaphors, they all break down at some point. It is also important to note that most of the models reflect a specific historical context and, because of this, some prove more helpful to us than others. While no one model can adequately depict salvation, I hope that by looking at a variety of them we will develop a better understanding of what happened when Jesus died on the cross and rose again the third day.

Redemption: When something is redeemed, it is bought back. In theological terms, we were slaves to death and sin and Jesus paid the purchase price for our freedom (see Galatians 4:5, Titus 2:14). This model was particularly meaningful to those living in a context of slavery (the first century followers of Jesus). If you were a slave, your life was not your own. However, if someone paid the required price to redeem you, you became a free person, no longer indentured to a master. The metaphor of redemption is about gaining freedom and entering a whole new way of life as a result. If we try to push the metaphor too far by asking, "Whom did Jesus pay? Was it the devil? Was it a just God?" we start to lose the beauty and significance of the word picture. The point of the redemption metaphor is not the transaction, but the freedom that is offered.

Satisfaction: This model of salvation is primarily associated with Anselm of Canterbury (1033-1109). Anselm said that we owe God a debt of honour which we are incapable of giving him, but through Jesus, God is honoured and our debt is fulfilled or satisfied (see John 5:22-24). The context for this model was the 11th century when a derivative of tribal law based on a stratified society was in force. In other words, there were various castes (nobility, peasant, serfs) with varying degrees of authority, rights, and freedoms. Loyalty was due to the king and, by default, those who represented the king (nobility). To dishonour the king was akin to treason. Thus, Anselm's model posits God as having the highest demand on human loyalty, a debt of fealty which we are incapable of honouring. This model echoes the political nature of the phrase uttered by the early believers, "Jesus is Lord," which directly confronted the authority of Caesar. Today, it would be similar to saying Jesus is President or Jesus is Prime Minister. The satisfaction model does not have much traction in the Protestant tradition, perhaps because sin and guilt do not feature prominently. Interestingly, Anselm was exiled for resisting King William II and King Henry I on issues having to do with the authority of the monarch over church matters. The point of this model is that "Jesus is Lord" has significant ramifications in the life of the believer.

Penal Substitution: In this model, Jesus is punished in our place in order to satisfy God's justice and holiness. God as judge can justly declare a person righteous by imputing the righteousness of Jesus to the believer (see Romans 4:5, 8:30-33). This view is common among evangelicals and has its roots in the Protestant Reformation. John Calvin (1509-1564), a trained lawyer, believed that a juridical setting was helpful to explain the workings of salvation. This model has its weaknesses theologically, mainly because everything centres around a justice system which even God seems subject to. It is also problematic to make judgment the prime motivation behind Jesus' sacrifice instead of love (see John 3:16-17). We do find judicial language in the scriptures to describe salvation, but the law is only one of many metaphors used to illuminate the mystery of salvation through Christ. Pushing the metaphor too far results in mercy, love, and grace being virtually eliminated due to the view that salvation is a dispassionate court transaction. The point of this model is that the status of the believer changes from condemned to righteous.

Reconciliation: This model focuses on bringing an estranged people back into relationship with God (see Romans 5:10-11, 2 Corinthians 5:18-19). The context here is the Old Covenant giving way to the next chapter in the story, the New Covenant. When Jesus died, the tearing of the temple curtain signaled that the way to God was open. Instead of the Holy of Holies being the locus of God's presence, the people of God were to be the house of God, carrying his presence through the Spirit of Jesus. This model has some similarity to the diagram above where Christ is the bridge to God, but we must be careful not to push the separation of God and humanity too far. The Psalmist reminds us that we cannot flee from the presence of God. We must also be careful not to dismiss the ongoing reconciling initiative of God or assume that God turns his back on sinners. Even when we were in sin, God showed his love for us (see Romans 5:8). The point of this model is the generous offer of reconciliation which God never withdraws.

Rescue: The language of rescue is common in our talk of salvation. Jesus rescues or saves us from sin and death (see Romans 5:9, 1 Timothy 1:15, 2 Timothy 1:9). It is important to remember that the Jews of Jesus' time were under oppressive Roman rule. They were desperate for a Saviour because their religion, their liberty, and their safety were under constant threat. They longed to be free in their own land, free to worship their own God and work for the well-being of their own families. The oppressed respond to the story of Jesus quite differently than those who enjoy the privileges of freedom, safety, and plenty. Instead of viewing the suffering and death of Jesus as a blip on the way to a grand and victorious resurrection, our brothers and sisters who suffer see the solidarity of God in the agony of the cross. Jesus not only knows what they endure but endures it with them. He does not turn his back on the undesirables but joins them as one of the despised, one of the outcasts. One possible weakness of this model is that we can see salvation as a one-time, dramatic event instead of an ongoing process of transformation. The point of this model is moving from a life under threat to a life of shalom.

Though the language of all the above models (and this list is by no means exhaustive) can be found in the biblical texts, no one model manages to capture the depth and mystery of the saving work of Christ. However, there is one model which I believe is highly resonant for our time and context, and that is the model of participation. 

Participation: In this model of salvation, the emphasis is not on a debt to be paid or justice being served, but on receiving a gift from a loving and generous God. The starting point is not God (or the devil) demanding payment or punishment. Instead, we begin with a good Creator inviting all of creation to participate in loving relationship with the Creator and with the rest of creation. Throughout history, in one way or another, humanity refuses this generous offer of participation and we find ourselves separated from God. This means we are separated from life, from love, from peace, from goodness. It seems like God has forsaken us, left us to suffer and die, but the God of life never stops offering participation in his life. At the cross, Christ entered fully into humanity (pain, suffering, death) so that we, in turn, might share in the light and life and holiness and righteousness of Christ. Christ's participation in our life invites our participation in his so that we no longer have to live separated from God but can receive the gift of Emmanuel, God with us (see John 15:1-17).

In this model, resurrection is not seen as an act of power (good triumphs over evil) but of love. Love goes to the deepest and darkest corners of life, love finds the lowest places, love suffers and endures it all, but love cannot be kept down, cannot be killed. I find it helpful to think of a trampoline. Love comes tumbling down from the sky like a giant ball. It hits the fabric of life's trampoline and goes down, down, down, all the way to the bottom where suffering and death lurk, and when the giant ball of love has touched the very lowest point, crushing the ugly netherworld, it rises. This is what love was made to do. Love was made to go down low and come back up. You could call resurrection a giant love bounce. 

When we think of salvation, let us think in terms of gift, not transaction. In terms of love, not power or victory. It is interesting to note that after Jesus rose from the dead, he did not greet his disciples with exclamations of victory or proclamations of power. He said, "Peace (wholeness, completeness, security, flourishing, contentment, friendship, harmony) be with you." That peace sustained the disciples through persecution, hardship, and martyrdom. They said Yes to Jesus' invitation to participate in his life of love and sacrifice.

What Jesus did, what God did, what the Spirit does are all birthed out of love. Justice and judgment are aspects of love, not counterbalances to love. Love defines justice. Love is what makes justice just. Love never fails.

Thanks be to God for the gift of love through Jesus Christ.
In death, in life, Jesus is present with us.
Sin cannot snuff out love.

Love always burns bright.
Even death cannot destroy love.
Love always remains. 

For God expressed His love for the world in this way: He gave His only Son so that whoever believes in Him will not face everlasting destruction, but will have everlasting life. Here’s the point. God didn’t send His Son into the world to judge it; instead, He is here to rescue a world headed toward certain destruction. (John 3:16-17, The Voice) 

Love is here.
Let love have his way in us today.

when words fail...

Image from sundayisforlovers.wordpress.com

Words. Words. Words.
Sometimes I tire of them.
Well... that's not exactly true.
I do not tire of them as much as I lose my grip on them.
And then they tumble down, untethered from significance and meaning and emotion.
They become husks without seeds.
Clothes without a warm body.
Balloons without breath.
Sounds without intelligibility.

I am writing words right now.
This morning I have probably read more words than some will read all day.
I live in the world of words, a world I love.
But for many days now -
Perhaps weeks or months, if I am truthful -
When it comes time to pray, I have few words.
If I am alone, I will sit in silence at my table.
Perhaps light a candle.
Aside from the occasional Thank you 
Or God, you know
Or What  are we doing? 
Not much is said or thought.
If I am with others, I hesitate.
Because anything I might say in the way of prayer seems weak at best and untrue at worst.
I can ask that someone will know that God is with them.
I can say, Help!
And often, that is all I can muster (in honesty) in the public prayer department.
I sit or stand beside people as a form of prayer.
I touch people if that seems appropriate.
I say their name and lift my hands to the sky.
God, you know.

The daily Jewish prayer found in Deuteronomy 6:4-6 begins with the word shema.
It means listen.
Turn your attention to.
Focus on.
Hear and do.
Listening is active.
It requires care-ful and mind-ful devotion.
We turn our bodies and faces and eyes and ears and hearts and minds toward another.
We listen with our whole being...while saying nothing.
We cannot be wordy people and listen well.
And that is perhaps why I have a word shortage right now.
I am learning to listen.
To lean in and hear the divine Lover's breath exhaling and inhaling.
To participate in the unhurried patience of the Longsuffering One.
To hold my breath so I can catch another's hopeful whisper or stifled groan.
To sit still in the midst of trouble and frenzy.
Not cluttering the air with senseless platitudes or advice which is wise only in my own ears.

Listen.
It is an imperative.
A command.
A discipline.
A blessing.
A respite.
A surrender.
A repentance.
An undoing and a doing all in one.
Listen.

-----------------------

Listen, Israel: The Lord is our God. The Lord is the only God. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. Take to heart these words that I give you today.
(Deuteronomy 6:4-6, God's Word Translation)

where does community come from?

Image from makingsociologymatter.com

I recently taught a course on Building Christian Community. We began with our own stories of community done well and community that hurt instead of helped. I heard tales of people showing sacrificial love and generously embracing differences. I also heard stories of pain from fractured relationships, and disappointment with ill-conceived directives from the powers that be. My own experience has shown me that quite often the church does not have a clear idea of what genuine community looks like. Many church communities in the West model the values found in consumer-driven, capitalist contexts, exhibiting an odd mixture of corporate sensibilities and spiritual propaganda.

When it comes to Christian community, our model is the Trinity. Speaking about three persons who are one grates a bit on the logical mind, but the idea of a communal God needs to be understood relationally, not logically. Part of the problem in understanding the idea of Trinity is that we in the Western world believe that the "one-ness" of God holds sway over the "three-ness" of God. This emphasis on one-ness can lead us down some sketchy paths both theologically and practically, because it directs our attention to uniformity instead of complexity, to authority rather than equanimity, to unifying doctrines and creeds instead of the movement of love.

Brazilian theologian Leonardo Boff writes: "We believe that God is communion rather than solitude. It is not a 'one' that is primary but the 'three.' The Three come first. Then, because of the intimate relationship between the 'three' comes the 'one' as expressing the unity of the three. Believing in the Trinity means that at the root of everything that exists and subsists there is movement; there is an eternal process of life, of outward movement, of love. Believing in the Trinity means that truth is on the side of communion rather than exclusion; consensus translates truth better than imposition; the participation of many is better than the dictate of a single one. Believing in the Trinity means accepting that everything is related to everything and so makes up one great whole, and that unity comes from a thousand convergences rather than from one factor alone." [1]

What Boff points out here is that beginning with one-ness (insisting on uniformity) perpetuates inadequate models of community and church. It also leaves us with problematic hierarchical forms of leadership and authority. Even more basically, our understanding of Trinity impacts how we interact with those we deem "the other." If we begin with one-ness, we are prone to trying to assimilate those who are not like us.

The mysterious specificity of a community of three is not immediately obvious, especially to those of us who live in a society which champions individuality. Boff explains, "If there were only one Unique One, only one God, solitude would ultimately be all there was. Underlying the whole universe, so diverse and so harmonious, would not be communion but only solitude." [2] If God is One and only ever One, there is no foundation or reason for community, and it makes sense that we are forever doomed to live as fractured humanity futilely trying to impose some sense of uniformity on each other. Boff continues, "If there were two Unique Ones, the Father and the Son, separation would be uppermost. One would be different from the other; and so there would be exclusion; one would not be the other." [2] Separation and exclusion are rife in our society; it is our lived experience. We are constantly comparing ourselves to others, noting the differences between us and them, and as a result of these differences, excluding people from our circle of friends. The reason for three-ness becomes clear. "Through the Trinity, the solitude of the One is avoided, the separation of the Two (Father and Son) is also overcome, and the exclusion of one from the other (Father from Son, Son from Father) is overcome. The Trinity allows for communion and inclusion. ... The Trinity shows that underlying everything existing and moving there dwells an impulse of unification, communion, and eternal synthesis of those who are distinct in an infinite, living personal, loving, and absolutely fulfilling whole." [2]

The source of all community is the Trinity: three persons who give themselves to each other with such abandon that one cannot see one without seeing the other. Not one of them comes before the other, they are all first and all last. Their embrace and communication are eternal, having no beginning and no end. Their differences are not erased but celebrated through mutual surrender. "The fundamental characteristic of each divine Person is to be for the others, through the others, with the others, and in the others. Each living Person is eternally vivified by vivifying the others and sharing the life of the others." [3] This is a great and wonderful mystery. And perhaps an even greater mystery is the generous invitation of the Trinity to share in their loving communion, to be one as they are one.

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Teach us what it means to live together in community, joined together by your bond of love.

[1] Leonardo Boff, Holy Trinity: Blessed Community (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2000), xvi.
[2] Boff, 6.
[3] Boff, 48.