outWORD by Matte Downey

In Falling Upward , Richard Rohr writes: “I have prayed for years for one good humiliation a day, and then I must watch my reaction to it. ... I have no other way of spotting both my well-denied shadow self and my idealized persona.” [1] When I first read those words, I resisted them. Humiliating another person is a cruel and unkind act, so why would I ask to be on the receiving end of that? No one needs humiliation, do they? According to Christian saints, both ancient and contemporary, the answer to that question is an unqualified yes. As Rohr indicates, it is easy to lie to ourselves, especially if we are capable leaders. We want to believe that we are good at what we do, that people should look up to us, that we are mature and wise and special and perhaps even somewhat impressive. We swallow small doses of superiority and pride until we are immune to the distastefulness and deception. Rohr tells us that the most effective antidote to living falsely is accepting humiliation. Rece

I recently attended a lecture on Narrative Hospitality by Richard Kearney. It was inspiring and thought-provoking in many ways. He told about his work which seeks to foster reconciliation through the exchange of stories. [1] His ideas on the nature of hospitality reminded me of some study I had done on the topic a few years ago which helped to broaden my thinking about the whole concept of hospitality. We often think of hospitality as opening our home to people, but it is much more than that. There are basically two expressions of hospitality. In the first, we invite people to share in our experience. This usually takes the form of having people over for a meal, giving them a place to sleep in our home, or involving them in something we are doing. The second type of hospitality is that which requires us to enter someone else's experience. This happens every time we visit someone else's home or experience a context or culture which is different from our own. This second

I have been re-reading some of the most violent books of the Bible. In Judges, we have stories of mutilation, mass murder, war, assassination, stabbing, familicide, crushed skulls, human sacrifice, gang rape, dismemberment, slavery, and abduction. It is not a pleasant read by any means. Surprisingly, some of these brutal stories have made their way into the Sunday School curriculum. The story of Gideon and his mighty men (found in the book of Joshua) is told as a lesson in relying on God's strength, not on human might. The Sunday School version highlights marching around the city, using torches and horns to disorient the enemy, but downplays Gideon rousing an army to kill men and women, old and young, cattle and sheep, and burn down the entire town (except for Rahab and her family). The story of Samson and Delilah is often told as an illustration of God giving superhuman strength to a man in order to accomplish divine purposes. Sometimes it is also framed as a tale of warning aga

One of the most persistent categories in the story of humanity is that of family. We hear the importance placed on family in our contemporary context: someone buying a million-dollar cottage says that the purchase is all about being together as a family, a contestant in a singing competition proclaims that their family is everything to them, a politician running for office declares that they stand for family values, religious folks urge us to stave off the attack on the traditional family, a celebrity steps out of the limelight stating that they want to focus on their family life. For the most part, these appeals to the worth of family are accepted and even applauded. The question is, what is the nature of the family we are giving priority to? The Oxford dictionary defines family  as 1) parents and children living together in a household or 2) all descendants of a common ancestor. However, many of us can attest to the fact that familial ties exist outside of legal and blood bonds.

This summer, I spent a lot of time walking in the park. As soon as it was warm enough and the paths were clear of snow, I started trekking through the green spaces near my house, eager to see signs of new life. The first few weeks were heady; every new bud, every spurt of green, every tender young leaf caught my eye. I was enthralled by the birds and bugs and breezes and every sign of new life around me. As time went on, this sense of wonder did not continue with the same intensity. Near the end of August, I found myself walking through the park, oftentimes lost in thought, somewhat oblivious to the long stems of grass along the water and the shiny, silver tendrils of the bushes beside the path. I was busy thinking about a writing project or a tricky relationship or a book I was reading, and as a result, I did not see what was right in front of me. But still, on occasion, I noticed. Like the time I got off the bus and started walking home, only to note that the grasses and flowers a

When I was in Bible school, one of the required courses was Personal Evangelism. After weeks spent learning about the topic, we all clambered aboard a bus and travelled to a nearby city. Once there, we were split into teams of two and sent out on the cold streets to hand out tracts and talk to strangers about Jesus. It was awkward. I would rather poke myself with a fork than engage in forced, artificial encounters. So I told my partner that I was happy to do some silent praying in the background while he engaged people in conversation. Actually, "happy" is probably the wrong word there. More like distressed, anxious, even embarrassed. I felt sorry for the people we tried to engage and was very relieved when it was time to get back on the bus. Looking back, I realize that part of the problem with the evangelism course was that it focused almost exclusively on the act of witnessing and not on what it means to be a witness. In the Greek New Testament, the word  martus (wit

The biblical story of Ruth is brutal and brilliant. It is brutal because it reveals how suffering becomes compounded when you are part of a vulnerable sector of  society. But it is brilliant because this context becomes the backdrop for an astounding and unexpected display of hesed . The story goes like this: there is a famine in Judah so Elimelech and his family (Naomi and two sons) go to nearby Moab so they won’t starve. While there, Elimelech dies, leaving his wife and sons on their own. The sons marry Moabite women and after ten years, both sons, Malon and Kilion, also die. This leaves Naomi with no husband, no sons, and two foreign daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah. It is important to note that in the patriarchal context of the time, a woman’s value was linked to the males in the culture, be it a father, a husband, or sons. Without any attachment to a man, a woman was nothing, what Carolyn Custis James call "a zero." A woman on her own (or with another woman)

What is your favourite parable told by Jesus? When I asked a group of people this question, I was not surprised that the prodigal son, the sower and the seed, and the good Samaritan ranked high. Eugene Peterson writes that his favourite parable is what he calls the manure story. We find it in Luke 13. Then [Jesus] told this parable: “A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, 'For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?' 'Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’” (NIV) I have read this parable many times, but it never really stuck with me until I read Peterson's sermon on it in  As Kingfishers Catch Fire . We tend to hear more ponderings a

Finding God in the Margins: The Book of Ruth by Carolyn Custis James. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2018. 116 pages. I first heard Carolyn Custis James speak about the book of Ruth on a podcast ( Seminary Dropout ) and I immediately wanted to know more. More about Ruth. More about the cultural backdrop. More about what Custis James has learned in her many years of studying the text. This highly readable book did all of those things. It is meant to be used for personal or group study and includes reflection questions at the end of each chapter. Custis James has done her homework; she provides important cultural and historical information, points out easily overlooked connections and contrasts, and makes an effort to relate the story to our contemporary context. The book has many good qualities. It is accessible as well as spiritually profound and informative without being overly academic or pedantic. She invites the reader to fill in the gaps of the story in an imaginative way, p

There are a lot of stories in the Bible which feature the number forty. In Genesis 7, forty days and nights of rain lead to a disastrous flood. After Moses killed a man, he fled Egypt and spent forty years in the wilderness of Moab tending flocks (Exodus 2, Acts 7) before his encounter with a burning bush. Moses was on Mount Sinai for forty days and nights before he received the decalogue (Exodus 24). When Moses descended from Mount Sinai, he found the people worshipping a golden calf. Moses then interceded on Israel's behalf for forty days and nights, pleading with YHWH to give them another chance (Deuteronomy 9). When the Israelites arrived on the border of Canaan, looking for a new home, they sent twelve men to check out the land. The men's reconnaissance mission lasted forty days and nights (Numbers 13). Subsequently, the Israelites spent forty years camping in the wilderness before they finally settled in Canaan (Judges 13). Goliath, a giant warrior, taunted Saul