Any talk of Christian community must give priority to the question of what it means to move into more intimate forms of community with people who are marginalized, oppressed, and abandoned.  This is not to say that every Christian community must be open to all these people – for example, in our community in Vancouver’s downtown eastside, we quickly realized that we couldn’t focus upon being a safe place for both the low-track female sex workers we met, and for a good many of the homeless men from the neighborhood – but prioritizing one population amongst those who have been abandoned is absolutely essential to developing intentional Christian communities.  If, that is, these communities are to be more than self-serving entities that fill the void we have discovered in our own middle-class lives.

Because the truth is that it is incredibly easy to establish a community that others will consider ‘radical’ and ‘inspiring’ but that, in actuality, does little or nothing for anybody apart from making those who live in that community feel good about themselves.  I know this, because I experienced this.  Granted, it wasn’t my intention to do so, but when I was living in Vancouver’s downtown eastside, I was constantly confronted by how easy it was to move into a poor neighborhood, engage in a few acts of hospitality (hosting sex workers for dinner, having strung-out kids stop by to come down from bad trips, allowing some people to crash on our couch) but, all in all, continue to live a life of distinctive privilege and near total insignificance… while simultaneously being treated as though I was some sort of Christian superstar.  It would have been easy to buy into the hype I was receiving from others – and I know some who live in intentional community settings who have done this – so beware of the respect others will give you.  At the very least, it’s a double-edged sword.  Recall the ending of the movie, The Devil’s Advocate.  If the devil doesn’t get us to serve his purposes through money, sex and power, he’ll get us to serve his purposes by congratulating us on how holy and good we are.

The best test of the praise of others, is honestly confronting the degree to which we have moved into a mutually liberating solidarity with people who have been marginalized, oppressed, and abandoned.  This, first and foremost, is what it means to follow Jesus and bear witness to the in-breaking of God’s new creation in our present moment.  Practicing this – what some have called a “preferential option for the poor” – is at the heart of Jesus’ ministry, just as it is at the heart of the witness of Paul, the call of the Old Testament prophets, and the Deuteronomic law.  If the people of God are living outside of relationships with “the poor” then the people of God are living in a (literally) nonsensical way, and contradicting their true identity in Christ.  Therefore, if we are exploring what it means to live within intentional communities that are also Christian communities, the poor must be included and prioritized.

Of course, this movement into a mutually liberating solidarity with people who have been abandoned is not an easy thing for many of us to do.  We are all too accustomed to our lives of privilege and comfort, our imaginations and habits have been disciplined in a certain direction ever since we were young, and our spiritual and cultural traditions make it oh-so-easy to rationalize our lifestyles and justify trite and superficial forms of charity.  No wonder Jesus says that the way is broad that leads to the destruction of ourselves and of others.  It is broad and it is not only lined with bloodstained electronics, food, clothing and children’s toys, it is also lined with such admirable things as a responsible work ethic, family values, safety and security, and the emphasis laid upon being a contributing member of the economy.

No wonder, then, that the way that leads to life, for us and for others, is narrow and hard.  Jesus is absolutely clear about this.  Thus, in Luke 14.25-33, he states:

Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, “This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.” … So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.

Following Jesus is a demanding task and it is one of the reasons that community is so essential to our life as Christians.  It is impossible to follow Jesus on our own.  It is impossible to move into relationships of mutually liberating solidarity with people who have been abandoned, if you do so on your on.  You will burn out or blow up.

Again, I know this because I have experienced this.  When things started going wrong in our community in Vancouver’s downtown eastside and people started dropping out of participating in the work required to run the community, I decided to just take on more and more of that work myself.  That was unsustainable and my marriage still suffers from the consequences of that decision.

Therefore, while I am operating with the happy assumption that the people gathered here are eager to participate in God’s ongoing new creation activity in the world, I do want to issue a warning that such participation is extremely difficult and demanding.  As Jesus suggests in Luke 14, you had better seriously consider the cost of what you are thinking about doing, otherwise you may just end up hurting a lot of people by pursuing this dream.  Often it is our failed efforts to love others that end up being far more hurtful to them than anything else.  There is a lot of truth in the old saying that hell is paved with good intentions.

I’ve only met Gene a handful of times–and each time left an impression. I am sad that I won’t get to know him more deeply, but sadder for those who knew him well.

Gene was a slightly kooky guy. He was that rare activist that made you feel like you too could make a difference. Too many activists are self-important, lacking in humor, or in love with themselves. Gene was a humble guy, with great commitment, driven by loving conviction.

The following was posted today on the CPT website:

Gene Stoltzfus (1940-2010) was the Director of the Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) from its founding in 1988 until 2004.

Gene traveled to Iraq immediately before the first Gulf War in 1991 and spent time with the Iraq CPT Team in 2003 to facilitate consultation with Muslim and Christian clerics, Iraqi human rights leaders, families of Iraqi detainees and talking with American administrators and soldiers. The Team’s work contributed to the disclosures around Abu Ghraib that gave impetus to the still tentative, worldwide movement for military forces to attend to the rights and protection of civilians.

From mid-December 2001 to mid-January 2002, Gene and current CPT Co-Director, Doug Pritchard, were in Pakistan and Afghanistan listening to the victims of bombing and observing the effects of 23 years of violence — much of it fed by forces from outside Afghanistan. “Where have you been all these years?” asked an Afghan leader who articulated the voices of others around the globe.

Gene’s commitment to peacemaking was rooted in his Christian faith and experience in Vietnam as a conscientious objector with International Voluntary Services during the US military escalation (1963-68). He recalled watching the helicopters personnel unload their cargo of bloodied bodies. This experience set him “on the search to make sense of life and death where the terms of survival, meaning and culture approve and even train for killing.” Gene had to ask himself: Was I willing to die for my conviction of enemy loving just as Vietnamese and American soldiers all around me were being asked to give their lives in order to achieve peace and security?

In the early 1970’s Stoltzfus directed a domestic Mennonite Voluntary Service program with a view to engaging with the social justice and peacemaking needs of that day and recognized then the enormous importance of local, disciplined, trained community and congregationally based peacemaking efforts. In the late 1970’s, he and his wife co-directed the Mennonite Central Committee program in the Philippines during President Marcos’ martial law era focusing it on human rights and economic justice; and then they went on to help establish Synapses, a grassroots international peace and justice organization in Chicago to connect the United States and people in the developing world.

Gene Stoltzfus grew up in Aurora, then a rural town in Northeast Ohio where his parents gave leadership in a Mennonite Church and his father was the pastor. He graduated in Sociology from Goshen College in Indiana and held an M.A. in South and Southeast Asian Studies from American University (Washington D. C.) and a Master of Divinity from Associated Mennonite Biblical Seminaries in Elkhart, Indiana.

He was married to Dorothy Friesen of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. They lived in Chicago for 25 years until his retirement to Fort Frances, Ontario, Canada. After retiring from CPT, he traveled widely to speaking engagements, blogged regularly at Peace Probe at http://peaceprobe.wordpress.com/ and made twig furniture and jewelry as a contribution to the greening world.

Gene passed away on March 10, 2010.

I thank God for Gene’s witness. I hope that his story will continue to inspire a new generation of peacemakers.

I would like to begin by reading a passage from Slavoj Žižek’s recent defense of communism in light of the failures of democratic liberalism and the horrors of global capitalism.  This passage relates a joke that isn’t funny (and I warn you–it is vulgar) but it hammers home a point that I hope will be taken very seriously by those of us gathered here today.  Let me quote Žižek:

In the good old days of Really Existing Socialism, a joke popular among dissidents was used to illustrate the futility of their protests.  In the fifteenth century, when Russia was occupied by Mongols, a peasant and his wife were walking along a dusty country road; a Mongol warrior on a horse stopped at their side and told the peasant he would now proceed to rape his wife; he then added: “But since there is a lot of dust on the ground, you must hold my testicles while I rape your wife, so that they will not get dirty!”  Once the Mongol had done the deed and ridden away, the peasant started laughing and jumping with joy.  His surprised wife asked: “How can you be jumping with joy when I was just brutally raped in your presence?”  The farmer answered: “But I got him!  His balls are covered in dust!”  This sad joke Žižek goes on to say] reveals the predicament of the dissidents: they thought they were dealing serious blows to the party nomenklatura, but all they were doing was slightly soiling the nomenklatura’s testicles, while the ruling party carried on raping the people…

Žižek tells this vulgar story in order to argue that both liberal and radical leftists have been unable to offer any sort of serious resistance or sustained alternative to the death-dealing power structures of our world.  I begin my presentation with this passage, because I would like to suggest that a good many of us involved in some of the more ‘radical’ forms of Christianity are guilty of the same offense.  We are so busy congratulating ourselves for moving into poor neighborhoods, for practicing alternative modes of hospitality, for growing our own food and for living simply that we have lost track of the fact that we’re not really making any significant difference.  Perhaps we are able to love and serve a few individual people along the way but nothing we are doing is truly challenging the death-dealing powers of our day, and the degree to which we have become captivated by our own radicality is the same degree to which we have become blinded to our own complicity in the abuse of others.  Thus, although I might be inclined to apologize to you if you were offended by the vulgarity of the passage I read from Žižek, I hesitate to do so because the fact is that the people are being raped and this should make us reconsider the significance we ascribe to sharing space with others who generally turn out to be like-minded, middle-class young adults.  Self-congratulating attitudes about self-serving efforts are far more offensive than anything Žižek writes.

Now, please don’t misunderstand me, I think that a movement towards a more intentional way of sharing all of life together is absolutely integral to what it means to follow Jesus and serve the God of Life.  To simply live the way in which our culture teaches us to live – growing up, getting a job and credit cards, developing debts, buying a home and a couple of cars and settling into the practice of bourgeois comfort paired with bourgeois charity and family values – seems so far away from the pattern of life established by Jesus, Paul, the prophets and the Deuteronomic law that I am baffled that those who live this way find their inspiration in the Christian story.  I can only conclude that most of us don’t actually spend any time reading the Bible or, just as likely, that most of us are looking at the Bible through such warped lenses that we can’t even come close to understanding what it says.  Reading the Bible should lead us to more intimately sharing our lives, our possessions, our time, and our space with one another.  Observing God’s gift of gracious abundance, patterning ourselves upon the life and deeds of Jesus, and relying upon the empowering Spirit of Life, should lead us to engage in practices that our culture will consider to be risky, foolish, and even threatening.  This is why I have spent four years living in intentional Christian communities.

Thus, by critically questioning our efforts to engage in alternate forms of intentional Christian community, I am not suggesting that these efforts are fundamentally misguided.  However, these efforts are often flawed and are easily perverted.  Therefore, in subsequent articles in this series, I would like to highlight three areas that deserve special attention if those who desire to pursue intentional Christian communities hope to do so in a way that is both meaningful and expressive of their commitment to following Jesus.

1. Appearance and Performance: We parade ourselves before one another without the ability to speak to one another, we are there to watch and listen, not to participate. A glorified sporting event where we are nothing but spectators despite what we might like to claim as “feeling it”. How can one actively participate in a church service anymore than one could actively participate while watching tv at home? We are not invited into the inner-circle or decision making when there are clear separations between those in charge and those who come to watch. We come to watch and agree with a band and then a pastor who perform their act, and we are entertained and possibly even moved a little. But we are not moved to lasting change, we cannot ask questions that are applicable to our own personal lives, or push back to what the performers have done, they could not possibly have any sort of interaction with each individual present at the function. We are there to bolster our own appearance to the community and to watch their performance from our seats without changing our communities or being changed ourselves.

2. Centralization of Power: How could one possibly speak for the whole? Instead of effecting change through engaging in community speech acts of mutual dialogue, a congregation tacitly consents, by their very attendance, to giving up their voice to another. And it is by giving up our voices that we also give up our participation and our quest for lasting transformation.

3. Waste of Resources: We come together in buildings that need not be constructed for the church to exist. We squander the resources God has entrusted and blessed us with not for the building of a more just and peaceful world, but for the building of more beautiful temples to be entertained in. We have the very finest sound machines, the newest electric gadgets and useless doohickeys that amplify only our entertainment, they cannot give life.

We drive our SUVs from all over to hear a pastor whom we already agree with and pollute our violated world even more in the process of making ourselves feel better. We over-consume before church as we grab a latte on the way and afterward as we go out and eat at expensive restaurants, both of which cost more than what we decided to tithe in the time between before and after. And to think of all the things we could be doing in our own neighborhoods in that time on Sunday morn. We could mend relationships that started off on the wrong foot so long ago, we could plant a rose garden, we could be known by our love. Maybe rather than locking ourselves in a building on Sunday morn we could try something different next week…just a thought…

4. The Way is Narrow: Apparently Jesus didn’t mean it when He said that the way was narrow and that it would be difficult to be His followers. It is far easier to ignore this statement when we can just to listen to a pastor who is paid to be a Christian for us. A person most often a man that we have no access to, who will only be able to tell us what to think, or speak at us, but who’s words are so general that to critically look at our own existence doesn’t occur to us. Let alone being able to bring oneself before a community for a process of discerning what may not be in line with the teachings of Christ. With all this generality why would we want to get specific with a community of people that we don’t want to know our business, this sounds too hard, too uncomfortable and too boring. Why would we want to look at the ways in which we are currently living that are inconsistent with the Gospel of Christ? If we are not forced to, besides our lives are pretty easy in America, what we want when we want, as always plenty of cheap crap quick, especially from the pulpit.

I spoke to a professed Christian who is involved at his church 2 to 3 times a week about the dangers of ignorance in the ways in which we spend our money. I told him about the reality of sweatshops and the problem of our culture with any sort of responsible sustainable practices that are important for the future. And most of all that it is important for Christians to be aware of where our products come from and the legacy our consumption will leave behind. If we want to stand against oppression in this world with any sort of integrity it is important to be informed about where our material goods come from so that we can avoid the systematic oppression of peoples and the raping of our earth for quick profits.

There are many examples, the oppression of people in sweatshops for cheap jeans, slave labor used to produce chocolate, corporations and governments that take away entire under-privileged communities supplies of water, farmland and so on that are inconsistent with the Gospel of Christ and Christians are called to stand in stark contrast to. He responded to me by saying, “if people want me to act differently and to buy ethically made cloths, food or other products, they need to make it easier and cheap.” I was silent for a little while as I understood that he didn’t give a damn at all, it didn’t matter if little girls lost their eyes or hands in a Disney factory, he would still buy the cheapest crap that looked the coolest because he can. What a shame, if these are the sorts of people our churches of commodity produce, people who don’t care what Jesus said, as long as they look good at a social gathering. For them they are Christian enough, Jesus is just another tool used for hip people to get laid. If it’s too hard, most church people are simply not interested, and they get uncomfortable when you bring into question whether or not it is ethical to buy a diamond that was from a conflict region because it was an unbelievable deal. If you connect the dots it’s no wonder I have almost entirely lost my faith in organized churches and I know many others who have similar inclinations.

5. Entitlement and Self-fulfillment: Our churches reinforce the notion of our individual rights that Christians have to continue living in whatever way they choose, continuing to over-consume, over-pollute, over-simplify and under-question. With our allegiance to our own well being and our own beliefs above those of our communities, our friends, and our God it is no wonder we struggle to remain changed. If our allegiance is to the Kingdom of God our lives must bear fruit. No fruit is born out of feeling good about ourselves and being socially accepted by our fellow parishioners.

How can these sorts of churches possibly show us the Narrow way when by their very constitutions they by necessity must take the broad way. I’m not sure where most churches think they are leading their members, but is seems like they are lost in the wilderness of consumerism, self-importance above all else and fragmentation. If I weren’t already a Christian it would be impossible for these churches with names like substance, where there isn’t any, to dupe me into converting into the sort of mindless consumerism that advocates any form of the unsustainable American dream. These fragmented structures that we spend an hour or two a week in are not the answer, they are incapable of creating a lasting change in their communities when the majority of those in attendance don’t live anywhere near them in the first place.

If the Church fails time and time again to produce disciples among the professed believers, what chance does it have to produce new ones? If the church is being drowned out by the cries for more, bigger, better, newer etc. and even joining in the cry what are we to do? Many simply want what is fashionable no matter the cost. We would step on the heads of our own grandmothers to live our lives in whichever way we feel entitled, but the narrow way of Jesus calls us to renounce our rights, and give up our lives so that we might find the life that is truly life…Thus the dissonance and the reason for my unbelief.

From JesusRadicals.com:

When Christians engage with the political arrangements of the world, be it communism, socialism, capitalist republics, they have often claimed that their political option is the Christian one, and demonized other arrangements. This is the nature of politics, to divide and conquer. Beyond this, when Christians engage in politics they often sell out the Gospels, particularly on the issue of violence. They claim that Jesus did not mean for politicians to love their enemies, only the average person, and even the average person does not have to do so under some circumstances. We believe this approach to politics gives too much to the nation-state and is not distinctively Christian. Following Jesus is not a vocation or something one does in one’s spare time. It is a total life commitment. If we are to engage in politics, we must do so as Christians, but without baptizing the political order or trying to make it Christian.

This is where anarchism may come in for Christians. Without claiming that anarchism is Christian or that one has to be an anarchist to be Christian, we claim that if Christians are to engage with the world, the best available option is anarchism because it opens up space for Christians to engage without selling out their primary allegiances and core commitments, especially to peacemaking and nonviolence. Yet violence is not the only issue at stake in politics. All governments operate on a model of ruling over people. But the Gospels claim that Christians should model Jesus’ suffering servanthood. These are fundamentally incompatible outlooks. Anarchism, at its best, is a commitment to systematically critiquing all structures that place one person or group in a position to dominate others or creation. So anarchism, as a political philosophy holds some promise for Christians because the two share a commitment to critiquing the power structures and working towards a more level playing field.

On the surface, this sort-of policy makes sense. Church members likely come from a variety of political perspectives, and allowing politics to seep into the Church’s internal dialog might be divisive. However, in the end, I believe the idea that a community can be both Christian and politically neutral is a myth.

Lying behind our modern sensibilities about the relationship between politics and religion is the concept of “separation of Church and State.” This phrase originated in an 1801 letter written by Thomas Jefferson shortly after he became President, invokes the image of a wall. Each “side” of the wall, according to this philosophy, can and should function separately and independently from the other. On one side of the wall – the side involving the “physical” – is the world of politics. Here, resources, money, and power are acquired and distributed (or not) according to a democratic system of governance. On the other side of the wall – the side involving the “spiritual” – people are free to seek abstract ideals such as enlightenment and forgiveness for personal sins. Society can thus be neatly compartmentalized, with the secular and the sacred inhabiting their own distinct realms.

“Separation of Church and State,” however, is not a particularly good way to describe our system of government. The Establishment Clause in the Constitution does, in fact, prevent lawmakers from establishing a State religion. It also prevents lawmakers from “prohibiting the free exercise” of religion. However, while the ability of lawmakers to influence religion is strictly limited, there is no corresponding limitation on the ability of religion to influence lawmakers. Indeed, if anything, the Establishment Clause implies that – if someone wants to exercise one’s religious freedom by engaging in political discourse – one is perfectly free to do so. The “wall,” if that is the best term, should be thought of as a semi-permeable membrane, which prohibits influence to flow in one direction, but not the other.

More importantly, however, I find it impossible to think of the physical/political and the spiritual/religious as existing in distinct categories which can be easily compartmentalized. This is true, I would imagine, for any religion. However, it is uniquely true for Christianity.

At the heart of Christianity is the pursuit – the process of seeking out – the Kingdom of God. In the prayer that is common to every Christian denomination, we pray for that Kingdom to come, so that God’s will is accomplished “on Earth as it is in Heaven.” Our most fundamental proclamation is that “Jesus is Lord.” This statement leaves no room for anyone or anything else – including the State – to take priority over the rule of God.

At the heart of the rule of God is the concept of justice. The Bible speaks unrelentingly of the importance of caring for the poor, the widows, and orphans, and of welcoming the foreigner in our land. Jesus himself taught us to love our neighbors as we love ourselves, to show compassion for the poor and hungry, and to expose acts of injustice to public scrutiny. There is simply no way that one can live in the way of Jesus without becoming involved in politics – the systems by which the State determines how wealth and resources are acquired and allocated.

Even the failure to act is itself a political act. “[T]he social inaction of the church implies – whether consciously or not – a political stance,” writes Jorge Tasin in The Justice Project, a recent compilation of essays on the subject of justice, “By remaining silent and uninvolved, the church tacitly supports the status quo and the powers of the moment.”

If Tasin is right, then even the “wall of separation” must be seen as an impediment to God’s rule, and bringing down the wall won’t be easy. Some, for example, fed by a steady diet of radio talk shows and cable news punditry that promote a self-interested worldview, no doubt find much comfort in a faith that is safely compartmentalized from the political. Yet I believe it is important to begin to engage the imaginations of our faith communities with new visions – ideas that are not motivated by the politics of Left or Right – but by a prophetic vision of what our communities, our nation and our world might look like as it is transformed by the in-breaking of Heaven.

And I’m not alone. Rob Bell has called her latest book ”one of the most inspiring books I’ve ever read.” Phyllis Tickle has said of it, “This is a love story: unabashedly, a love story between one woman and Jesus. It is also the toughest, tenderest, most textured, poignant, and substantial love story I have ever read.” Brian McLaren has called it a “A beautiful, joyful, raucous, reverent book” and Anne Lamott has said Sara is “amazing, a wild, unique, funny Christian who puts her lack-of-money where her mouth is, which is in loving Jesus and taking care of God’s children. I love her work.”

The following is a short interview with Sara about her new book.

Jarrod:

Sara, evangelicals love conversion stories. The more dramatic the better. And for certain segments of the American religious imagination you’re perfect fodder.  A self described “blue-state, secular intellectual; a lesbian, a left-wing journalist with a habit of scepticism”. You’re everything a lot of the stereotypes of Christians in your country want to convert!! Yet your story lacks all sentimental elements that would make it a success story for one side of the culture wars. Your story is too provocative. Too moving. Too messy. Too unboxable. Too much like the rest of us who don’t fit the stereotypes. You haven’t become “a red-state, religious anti-intellectual”, you’re not now a “heteronormative right-wing journalist for Fox News with a habit of easy-believism.” So… you’ve converted to what?

Sara: Conversion isn’t a single dramatic moment but an ongoing process of change. I’m constantly being converted into deeper relationship with God….a relationship that has messy boundaries, because it includes all the rest of God’s beloved (and infuriating) people.

It’s really tempting to decide I’ve found all the answers, and that I can wrap up the mystery neatly and proceed with my life. But Jesus, in practice, turns out to be wildly destabilizing, and the Heavenly Comforter turns out to be less a cozy resting place than, as the Orthodox sing, the “Spirit of Truth, blowing everywhere and filling all things.”

All I have to offer –to conservative evangelicals as to left-wing believers– is my witness that this thing is real. I don’t deserve my relationship with God, I didn’t earn it, I can’t say I figured it out on my own steam. But I know who my shepherd is. And I know he doesn’t belong to me, or to people just like me, alone.

Jarrod:

When I read your books or listen to your homilies I find myself often thinking about a woman whose witness has had a huge impact on my life and community. Like yourself, she was a journalist who came to faith later in life than most, intelligent, fiercely practical in her prayer,  she too earthed Heaven in finding God in others, particularly those thought of as “other”. Yet I can’t imagine Dorothy Day referring to Jesus as “The Boyfriend”. The Boyfriend?!?

Sara: I love Dorothy Day, not least for her willingness to plunge into the most earthly details of incarnate faith right alongside her wacked-out mysticism. And every single week I appreciate her focus on feeding the “undeserving poor,” which is who we serve, and which is how I see myself.

“Boyfriend” is a midrash on Christ’s ancient name of “Bridegroom.” But “Boyfriend” shows how queer, how outside the Law, Jesus really is: he’s not here to substitute for earthly powers (husband, ruler, priest, king) but to sweep them away with over-the-top love.

Jarrod:

Sara you dare all followers to, umm, well… follow. Not to simply affirm creeds and doctrines but to live this ‘over-the-top love’ where we feed, heal and raise the dead. And just as we are ready to interpret you in ways that leave us in the lives we have been living you clarify, “I don’t mean metaphorically.” What do you want us to do with that?

Sara: Well, I’m not trying to urge anyone to action because I want you to be “good,” or to be a “good Christian,” or because I’m convinced I know exactly how anyone is supposed to behave. But my experience is that by following the way of Jesus, obeying when he says “hear these words and act on them,” jumping in when he tells us to walk his way– by doing this we get to taste more of the Kingdom, get to glimpse God, get to participate in Christ’s reconciling project. It’s scary, hilarious, surprising, and it opens the door onto more life.

Jarrod:

Thanks for your time Sara, and your witness. Other than homilies at St. Gregory’s and your work with The Food Pantry what can we expect from you in the future?

Sara: I’m always working on the next book…..right now, I think it’s going to be about Mary.

Sara Miles’ new book Jesus Freak: Feeding Healing Raising the Dead is out for those that dare.

So anyone who eats this bread or drinks this cup of the Lord unworthily is guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord. That is why you should examine yourself before eating the bread and drinking the cup. For if you eat the bread or drink the cup without honoring the body of Christ, you are eating and drinking God’s judgment upon yourself.

Perhaps the greatest sin of our time and in times past is our unwillingness to obey the directive found in this passage. I believe this omission has been most damaging to the people of God, not because of any malice or ill-intent, but simply because it is an expression of lacking self-examination which leads to an absent sense of self-awareness.

Nearly all of the institutional sins we’ve committed in the last hundred years or more have occurred only because we have often acted without considering all of the people or places effected. This can be most clearly observed in our global economy or in our rabid consumerism. But that, of course, is another sermon for another time.

Yet those who came before us, rightly interpreting the forty day narratives of the Scriptures, saw fit to institute the season of Lent which we are all beginning. If we observe it rightly, it offers an intense corrective in our year, calling us to grasp our full vocation as the people of God, the light of the world. In Lent, we have forty days set aside so that we might identify and banish the darkness from our own lives.

In my life personally, forty days were never enough. Maybe I, like Paul, am a great chief of sinners, but as I was honest with myself, I discovered a need deep within myself for a constant awareness; I need the perpetuation of the spirit of Lent.

Perhaps if I have been poorly served by a very fragmented and compartmentalized way of life, others might also be left needing more. Could a church suffering from the same segmentation offer a solution from its rich heritage and multi-contextualized past?

I began reading through some books a friend offered me. You might be familiar with Karen Ward and Shane Claiborne. These two in particular began describing a lot of what I was longing for… a life that felt integrated and whole. They were speaking of a renewal movement. In most spheres, it has coined the label “New Monasticism.”

Now for me in my life, any chance for a strict monasticism had sailed. I’ve been married for seven years and have three somewhat wonderful children. But what I found here as a major point in this movement, was this emphasis on self-examination comes through a restrengthened or revived sense of community.

Our pastor was willing to explore what all of this could mean for us in an elderly congregation in rapid decline, nestled in the midst of a retirement community, seated only fifteen miles from thirty thousand college students of my postmodern generation. With the imagination of our pastor, the cooperation of our council, and the good faith of our Synod and EOCM, we founded an un-cloistered, semi-monastic order on the campus of our little church.

We wondered, in our lack of awareness, had the least of these and the arts gotten lost in the busyness of church programs? Had our focus on the proclamation of the Gospel actually hindered our LIVING of the Gospel? How could we, as Mark Scandrette says, “Reimagine a life in the way of Jesus?”

We committed to each other to relearn the life Jesus led, not only by reading books, or doing Bible studies, or prayer, but by trying to actually DO the things Jesus DID! So this past year, our self-examination has brought us into the service and radical hospitality of our elders, of our young, of our friends who live outside, and even attempts into the world of the arts (of being partners with God in creating beauty).

Now after all of the fancy words were spoken and the lofty ideas were batted around, came the actual work of doing these things. Unless you’ve lived in a hybrid dorm/shelter, you can’t imagine the mess that ensued. Do you remember your first years of marriage? Do you remember all the lovely things you thought of your spouse in your dating years only to find out that they have ungodly breathe in the mornings and hair that has it’s own zip code? Those are the kinds of things we can largely hide from each other… all except our very close family or the people with which we share our home.

After all our best intentions, this was living in community. This was living a life full of self-examination. It was as if those you share life with most closely carry a mirror with them everywhere they go. You can’t avoid yourself because each time you run into one of your fellow community, there you are, reflected back at yourself in that person. In knowing each other as family, we became re-acquainted with the things about us that were ugly. We were being reminded, moment by moment, the things that Jesus wanted and still wants to draw out in us and redeem.

This was quite different from church during the usual Sunday morning event. We could fake spirituality around those who didn’t REALLY know us. Sitting in the same pew on Sunday morning does not necessarily lead to transparency. Fostering shallow acquaintances with friends in church was always the easy way out. By being part of this community, we no longer afforded ourselves that luxury. We couldn’t escape.

Of course, this has all been so much more than simply sharing living quarters. We gather together three times a week or more, but our central gathering had always happened around an ugly, plastic church table. We would share a meal and read from the story and over the Eucharist, we would engage in the kind of self-examination that bound us together in the beginning.

After six months of the plastic table, it became clear to me that in no way did it reflect its sacred use. We needed more space and we especially hoped for something that carried more weight and permanence. Over our many conversations around sustainability, we’d recently begun mulling over a furniture building vocation. I’d always wanted to learn carpentry and we just so happened to have a board member who was a contractor. With his blessing and help, I committed to building a table and launching out further into the unknown (to, as he would say, become a pretend carpenter).

As this week marks my finishing efforts with our table, I’ve been struck by the great metaphor that it has become for all of us. Perhaps you’re wondering how that could be. Really, it all started with the need. The old tables the congregation had used were built around particular values: that of lightness and mobility suited to their versatility of use. Within the abbey, our needs and values had shifted. This table would represent a fresh conversation about who we are and who we are being called to be. For us, we were drifting back in our history to simpler times. We certainly weren’t going to buy something mass-produced and using cheap materials wouldn’t do. The table needed to be large and inclusive so that we could embody the hospitality in which we dearly believe. It needed to be crafted with care and attention to detail and it ought to be thought out sustainably and in a way that is environmentally responsible. After looking at our laundry list of qualifications, it became evident that we would be making it ourselves.

At this venture, my conversation with my contractor friend turned innovative. He brought me a stack of old wooden pallets and some tools he was offering to help keep the costs down. He explained to me that people are throwing out these pallets all over the place. Most of them had seen better days and appeared to be of questionable durability and use anymore. Then he handed me an exquisite maple plank. It was clean and smooth and the grain danced in the sunlight. Then, he showed me the pallet from which he’d milled and planed it. You can imagine my shock. Just underneath the surface was astounding and sturdy wood. I was hooked and so I went about the very, very long process of prying old pallets apart and planing them to reveal the beauty within.

Even in those initial moments, the image of redemption was vividly clear. We had been called together by the master craftsmen, many of us fished out of the gutters or salvaged from damaged backgrounds, and then cleaned, sanded, polished, and finely tuned; all this in the service for which we’d be designed in the beginning. I knew this would take maybe weeks longer than simply buying my lumber at Home Depot, but my wood would have a history and a personality and a story.

As I called out the beauty from within these discarded boards, the next most obvious thing began to emerge. These pallets were initially thrown together with old scrap wood and because they didn’t need to look pretty, many of them were thrown together with differing kinds of wood, differing colors, and differing grains. Side by side, the lightness of the pine set a stunning contrast against the deeper grays and browns of the walnut in ways I hadn’t noticed before. As I sat different combination’s together, I became so grateful for the diversity that colored the parts of the whole. This was starting to get really interesting.

Once all of my pieces were cut to my measurements and the legs and overall structure were in place, disaster struck. None of my beautiful pieces I had painstakingly cut and planed and sanded fit the way they were intended. “Surely my measuring tape is broken!” I thought. I was left with two ugly options. I could either start this entire process over and hope for an error-free result on the next pass, or I could somehow find a way to work out of the imperfection. Eventually being convinced of the compelling and unpredictable nature of the flawed, I moved forward in the spirit of the latter.

I thought about our little family. So many times we’d put our best feet forward and really dialed into our imaginations. So many times we’d employed our best relational tactics and treaded lightly here and wandered finely there. And yet, so many times it had all blown up in our faces. Despite our committed efforts, we have constantly failed each other and made a mess of things. There is nothing clean or simple about a community that tries to be. As Lutherans, we’ve been proud of our heritage of grace, not so much because it makes for a delightful creed, but perhaps because we all desperately need it.

In search of a center that ties the table to a focal point, I chose the ancient symbol of the Trinity. This is the table around which we celebrate the Eucharist the same way all those who have come before us have. We are called to this central point by He who is the center of all things. He who called the apostles, the prophets, the first followers of the Way, all the way down through the centuries still calls to us through the great sacrifice… through bread and wine.

Through the miracle of grace, I managed to piece the top of the table into a cohesive whole and set about staining each part. With the myriad of species and grains I was gifted to work with, it made no sense to use one stain to get a cluster of subtle shades. Seeing the uniqueness each willing board offered, I chose five different stains to accent them all uniquely. As they took more color, each row became more compelling than the one before it. The table was taking on a life all it’s own and even though I’d laid out plans and set about executing what I thought was my idea, I was not the life-giver. Despite my best intentions, He who gives life and purpose had other thoughts. In relinquishing creative control, I was set free to experience what the Creator had in store.

Lastly, I began applying the protectant. As usual, I hadn’t read much of the instructions but had been really sold on the old, old tradition of European furniture wax. In fact, it did change the entire feel of the surface and brought a new shine out of the wood that was exquisite. After applying the first coat, the instructions suggested another. And then another… and as I read on, it became clear that this stuff would actually wear down. What kind of protectant is that? But then of course something more came into focus. I was never going to be finished with this table. This table was not a destination anymore than our community is a destination. We are never quite finished and each of us individually as well as collectively will always require maintenance: grace, forgiveness, learning, and stretching, and changing. And so, every so often, you’ll find me in the living quarters of our Abbey with my can of wax and a damp rag swirling away.

I could go on about building our table from consumable and inexpensive materials because there will be those who come behind us that will have to rebuild their own table to suit their context, or I could talk about the dedicated use of our little table to the full purpose of redeeming and welcoming everyone into God’s dream for our world, or I could give detail to our efforts in feeding people from this very table and serving each other. And these things would all be true.

But at its core, it has become the very thing which was needed most for all of us. It is the table we are all gathered around… it is the surface which carries the sacred meal. It is the community or the fellowship to which we are all called, the self-examination that sits at the heart of our family. It is the chief metaphor for why we exist in our deliberate lives. It is the means by which God is shaping us all, through one another, to be the light that He has called us to be.

And so, my sisters and brothers in Christ, during this season of Lent, may you engage in intense contemplation. May you pursue the kind of inner examination that challenges and stretches and grows. May you be inspired to delve into your very heart and identify the blind spots that you dare not call out. And in this life where we are called, gathered and sent, may you see that the greatest tool passed down to us around the sacred table, is each other.

The Garden sits in gloomy Town
Where children pout, where people frown.
The Garden is the brightest spot;
The city’s only clean, green dot.

There is a Heart at the Center
And in the Heart, a door to enter.
Heart is the safest place to go,
And all are welcome; friend or foe.

The Heart, it rolled in from the road.
It climbed through brambles, with a heavy load.
It waded through mud; sludged through mire.
Then hopped the fence entwined with briar.

The Heart it lives; it breathes, it eats.
It invites Us to Retreat.
It asks Us all to find the door,
Open wide and enter poor.

I cannot says Mayor of Town.
For Little Door is down down down
On the ground, and in the muck,
I’d soil my clothes, be covered in guck.

Nor can I, says Town Bum.
My body’s weak, sickened by rum.
That Door was made for an abler man;
One who can run, skip, walk, and stand.

The Heart is Life, it’s Love, it’s kind.
It invites us to unwind;
To learn its way of Love, and worse:
To show a way to lift Town’s Curse.

Heart says, Enter, all you weary
Of Town proper, dark and dreary.
I call you All, not One, One, One!
I bid you Come, I beat my drum.

Protect the Weak, help the Rich.
Join together with the Sick.
Pick up Young Ones, bear the Old.
Come together, as one Fold.

People of the Garden stop.
Each person becomes lost in thought.
Enter together? Hand in hand?
Surely Heart knows better than–

YES! she cries from mustard beds.
‘Tis Tiny Girl, with bright red dreads.
Heart is right! We must join up!
Forget your class; your rank. Just jump

Into the arms of Great Good Heart.
I’ve seen It adore us from the Start.
It grew this Garden, removed the weeds
It planted Love with many seeds.

But no! cries Student, glum and cool.
This Garden was built by local School!
Heart came after. I remember.
Heart is one of the latest members.

No, no, no. You’re not correct,
Says Proud Man, standing erect.
Garden’s been here before Time;
Before School; Reason; Rhyme.

Garden’s been here all along.
Forget Great Heart’s pathetic Song.
It wants us to come in together?
Like a flock; birds of a feather?

That door, so small, it could not bear
The weight, the girth of all who’re here.
Forget the Heart, forget its “Truth,”
Turn away, don’t be uncouth.

I believe It, says Tiny Girl.
More than anything in the World.
Heart has made this place our own;
The sunny spot in Gloomy Town.

What will happen when we enter
By the door, all together?
Perhaps the fences will fall down
Inch by inch, Garden will spread through Town.

As Tiny said this, faces altered;
Expressions softened without falter.
You mean, Heart can change our Town?
Bring out the Good, erase the frowns?

Create Light in Dark places,
Bring a smile to saddened faces?
Make Rich with Poor mingle,
Make us One, with none out; single?

The Heart is Real; it’s Truth, it’s Grace
It invites Us to see its Face.
Enter in through little Door
All as One, Heart at the core.

Tiny Girl stretches out her hand
Which is grasped by Proud Man.
Mayor shoulders weak Town Bum
Student joins them, who else will come?

Granddad tortured by a war
Links his arm with wealthy Czar.
Politician holds hands with Hippie,
Soccer Mom with Addict, tipsy.

Together Town-Folk approach Great Heart
Together as One, though once apart.
Caste and class all disappear.
Not one’s at the front, nor at the rear.

Great Group of All opens the Door
Of Great Heart–there’s room for more!
They enter in the Warmest Place.
They know true Love, they now know Grace.

They see the suffering in the World
They see Heart’s Plan as it unfurls.
Heart sees them, loves them, everyone.
They feel it, know it. They want to run

Back to dark Town, sick and dead.
Release Heart-Light ’til all are fed.
As Group enters, fences fall.
Garden spreads, no more walls.

Heart’s Love is not made just for me.
It’s made for Us, it’s True, it’s free.
Heart is Good; it’s Love, it’s Truth.
Do you see Town’s change, the proof?

There is a Garden called our Town.
Where hate and greed are broken down.
Great Good Heart is everywhere;
In the soil, water, air.

In the people, you and we.
In the land and in the sea.
O, Good Garden, how do you grow?
With Love of Heart, the seeds we sow.

“I knew my actions were wrong, but I convinced myself that normal rules didn’t apply. I never thought about who I was hurting. Instead, I thought only about myself. I ran straight through the boundaries that a married couple should live by. I thought I could get away with whatever I wanted to. I felt that I had worked hard my entire life and deserved to enjoy all the temptations around me. I felt I was entitled.”

-Tiger Woods, press conference on February 19, 2010

These are the words of a man on a journey of descent.  It is not for us to judge whether these words are real or not—or where this descent will lead.  The life of Tiger Woods over the last number of months illustrates the universal principle for the human situation, that if we want to experience healing and hope, our journey requires descent.  Either we humble ourselves and choose descent, or descent chooses us (because of our own choices).

Our gospel lesson calls us again to embrace descent.  Luke’s gospel situates the narrative of the temptation of Jesus directly after the “mountain top” experience of his baptism.  Now, full of the Holy Spirit, Jesus is led into the wilderness.    Somewhere in the course of a forty day fast, Jesus became famished.  Jesus is utterly human.  He is weak.  He is vulnerable.  He is dependent on the Holy Spirit.  The devil comes to him.

First temptation:  Stones to Bread

Jesus, turn this stone into bread… Jesus, turn this tax return into the good life…  Jesus, bless me and expand my territory–my right to buy and use my way to happiness.   And while you are at it Jesus, why don’t you take care of the bread problem.  You could have such an effective ministry as the Son of God if you would just solve the bread problem in the world.  And besides, you look a bit hungry yourself.

The first temptation is framed around the most basic issue of human life—bread.  This first temptation (and the other two) are based on a false premise—that Jesus needs to prove he is the Son of God.  Jesus is concerned about the bread problem in the world, but this is not the way it will be solved in his kingdom—by miraculous acts of stone into bread.  His kingdom IS about bread—both physical and spiritual, but it will require an alternative way of thinking about bread.

Bread is the source of life.  Every culture, every system, every ideology tells some story about bread and our relationship to it.  Capitalism teaches us how to make bread (or anything) and sell it for a profit in the market.  Socialism attempts to artificially control the bread market so that all will have an equal amount.  On the streets, you do whatever it takes to turn stone into bread.  Each of these approaches to bread provides a different way of thinking about our relationship with bread.

What does Jesus say about bread?  Jesus says that one does not live by bread alone.  Jesus says it is not so much about the bread, but about the word of God—the framing story through which we make sense of our lives and the world.  The Gospel of the Kingdom is about a different way of being in relationship with bread.

So much violence in our world…within ourselves has to do with living in framing stories which establish a distorted relationship with bread.  Both with Jesus and with the physical things which are necessary for human life.

Questions:

1. What is our relationship with Jesus—the Bread of Life?
2. Where is our relationship with physical bread out of whack (in a way that contributes to the violence of our world)?

The issue is never about whether there is enough bread, but are we willing to trust Jesus for bread.  And then, are we willing to be the hands and feet of Jesus—sharing till all are fed.  A right relationship with bread is connected with our common worship as a community of faith–where we recognize the true source of Bread.  We see this in the OT reading.  In the common worship of the covenant community, the first fruits of life’s work are brought to God (along with songs and prostrations).  God is the source of this “bread” and it is offered back to God as an act of worship.  The bounty is shared with the “aliens” who live among the covenant community.

So we don’t depend on Jesus to turn stones into bread to solve the bread problem of our world.  Jesus, in his Kingdom, calls us to share our loaves and fishes…or pennies.

Second temptation:  Glory and Authority in exchange for Power…

Jesus, here are all the kingdoms of the world.  I will give their glory and all this authority to you…  Jesus, here is a list of candidates we need to get elected so your kingdom can come…  We have the right candidates in place, the media outlets, the organization to go all the way this time.  We have included all the Christian churches in the communication blitz.  It’s all set up for your kingdom to come this election…if you just worship me.

Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’”

The devil shows Jesus “all the kingdoms of the world.”  I’m pretty sure this included the United States of America.  Jesus rejects the temptation of bringing his reign in the clothes of the emperor.

For much of church history, those who claimed the name Christian have acted as if Jesus got this one wrong.  Christendom tried to baptize the state and the way of the sword.  We have rejected the way of the cross.  We have even thought we can put scripture on our weapons.  This is not new.  This is all from the same playbook.  I’m just not sure it’s the playbook of Jesus.

The second temptation is about worship.  It is a question of whether we will worship the way of empire—which is always power over.  Or, will we worship Jesus, who embraces the way of the cross as the way to bring the Kingdom.  Do we recognize the political implications of our worship? Our worship is not an escape from the real world.  Quite the opposite, it is a way of coming to grips with an invasion of another life from another world into the present age.

Walter Brueggemann says it so well:

“The lectionary is unrelenting in its narrative about another life in another world, the one that God wills and gives.  Readers are endlessly in the process of deciding, always yet again, for the alternative, refusing the seductions of the ‘belly’-propelled regime.” – Sojourners, February 2010

So this place we are meeting is an embassy of the kingdom of Jesus.  Through our baptism, we are made citizens in the kingdom of Jesus—which is a revolution of cross-bearing love.  We are given credentials and invited to live as ambassadors of reconciliation.  This is our primary identity as disciples.  This is what ourbaptism means.  This is what it means to be a part of covenant community.  This is why it is so important to gather together for common worship—so that we actually are discipled—formed—into this alternative life.

Question:

How does our common worship center us in a different narrative and equip us to “always yet again” decide for the alternative narrative which rejects the temptation to go after the glory and authority of the current age as a way of bringing the Kingdom of Jesus?

Third Temptation:  Market-driven Christianity

Jesus, why don’t you go up to the temple and throw yourself off.  God will protect you.  That’s what the Bible says… Jesus, you need to make a name for yourself.  How do you expect to have a successful ministry, if you don’t do something spectacular…something to draw a crowd…a following.  Jesus, this is just the kind of thing people are looking for.  We could really market this.  Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

Jesus does not opt for the gimmick—jumping off the Temple.  Jesus is not driven by ego, or the need to make his ministry appealing to the masses.  He is not about putting on a good show.

Jesus rejects the temptation to extract the Good News of the Kingdom from ordinary life to the artificial medium of religious antics.  His kingdom represents a descent from market-driven Christianity into the messiness of crowds where there are unclean spirits.  He calls us to descend with him from our illusions of invincibility and entitlement to the earthy…ordinary way of crosses, suffering-love, humility and repentance.

It is appropriate that our gospel reading on this first Sunday of Lent centers around Jesus fasting.  Did you see the question in the Saturday paper?

Say What (Sat. paper) question/responses:   If you had to go a week without technology what would you miss the most and why?

The fasting discipline of Lent helps us follow Jesus in resisting the temptations all around us.  So hear this invitation from The Book of Common Prayer:

I invite you in the name of the Church (Jesus), to self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.

Like Jesus, may the fullness of the Spirit sustain us as we are led into the wilderness—in our lives and in the world.  This too is part of the journey.

AMEN