Clarion: Journal of Spirituality and Justice

The Scandal of the Cross [or Lethal Injection Table] - Brad Jersak

This week I have been pondering afresh the scandal of the Cross as I read (for probably the fifth time) an article by Wm. Paul Young titled "The Killing House." He writes about his experiences in visiting men on "death row," scheduled for execution, most probably by lethal injection. I began to imagine Christ dying on a lethal injection table, eerily similar in shape to a cross. I began playing with such images on Photoshop, superimposing the crucified Christ onto a modern execution gurney. The result felt edgy to me. Jarring enough to show my wife, Eden. She confirmed, "Too edgy." What was it that was getting under our skin? What exactly makes the lethal injection image more uncomfortable than crucifixion art? Consider and compare: 

On the left, Jesus is clothed. there's virtually no blood, no signs of beating and no evidence of torture.

And yet we felt the sting of the modern piece more deeply. Why?

 

It seems to me that what provokes a visceral response is the proximity of the lethal injection bed to our own world.

 

Indeed, both pictures represent state-sponsored capital punishment, but the edginess I feel may be about our discomfort with either (1) the fact that this crime against humanity is occurring right now, this month, at a prison near us. Or (2) we are uncomfortable with our own hesitancy to see the gospel's poignancy in anything so political as the death penalty. In a world of political polarization and justification, we'd rather reduce the gospel to souls and heaven, rather than risk muddying the lines between church and state. And fair enough, given Christianity's poor track record of political meddling. 

 

As an alternative to this graphic image, we could instead use an empty electric chair. Notice the fascinating way substituting in an empty electric chair or noose or guillotine reduces the cringe factor:

 

(1) You remove the "now" element by a few decades, since "the chair" is no longer in use. Thus, no one today is guilty or complicit in the execution. It's a thing "those people used to do." 

 

(2) You remove Jesus from the picture, leaving the connection to the reader's imagination, rather than crying out directly, "This is that."

 

In so doing, you remove the scandal--and that, I think, is problematic.

 

The Cross was a scandal, a gruesome and cruel way for the empire to terrorize an occupied majority. And yet it would become among the most intense subjects in the history of art. Everyone who claims to be an artist of renown must offer their interpretation of the crucifixion.

 

Some artists emphasized the realism of Christ's agony, but that often glorified agony rather than glorifying Jesus--some such pieces can feel voyeuristic and sadistic, yet managing to sidestep the gospel itself.

 

Other artists sanitized the scandal when they prettied up the crucifixion, or made it more abstract, or removed Christ from the rugged wood and turned it to gold. The effect is thus a strange disconnect from the skandalon of the Gospel.

 

On the other hand, Eastern icons make the same move away from realism to make a theological point. They try to communicate the Cross event as much more than just the evil work of wicked men. Christ is not merely the victim of the murderous church-state conspiracy. The truth is this: the Cross is more than a crucifixion. It represents the glorification and enthronement of the Son of God and his redemption of all humanity. So the iconographers tried (with various success) to retain the image of the cross while also introducing the victory of God into their depictions of the crucified Christ. We see this same hybrid of crucifixion hatred and cruciform Love in the Gospel of John.

 

Well, back to my pondering. I remembered that people used to say, "If Jesus' execution were in our era, we'd be wearing jewelry that featured modern forms of execution, such as the electric chair or the guillotine." And why not? I was never sure if this was meant as a critique.

 

But in any case, that speculation has become reality!

BEHOLD, now for sale online at Etsy! Should we be disturbed? Enthusiastic?

What do the pieces below communicate? I'll that to your ponderings, but there it is.

 

I am, however, left with the powerful, haunting words of Kenneth Tanner:

"The Cross tells us from now on, no one else needs to die for the world to be made right."  

 

"Go and sin no more"? Brad Jersak

Pieter Brueghel el Viejo - Jesus Cristo e a mulher adúltera (1565)

Reading John 8 through Genesis 2-3 and the Prodigal Sons

Throughout Scripture, we see “sin” identified in a variety of ways, including moral failure, law-breaking, poor spiritual hygiene, character flaws, a fatal disease and a sinister slave-driver. And where sin (hamartia) is defined as “missing the mark,” Scripture implies the mark we’re aiming at may be morality, holiness, faith and faithfulness, love of God and each other, or the glory of God. [CLICK HERE for further background on hamartia]

In my blog post, Sin? Missing what mark? I suggested another mark: our love union with God—or RE-union (reconciliation) with God. In that case, to "sin" is to turn away from God’s love. Yes, some of those other biblically-defined marks may play into that, but let’s focus on three stories:

Genesis 2 – 3

In the Garden of Eden (Paradise), Adam and Eve walked in perfect communion with God. Theirs was the intended love-union we were all to enjoy. And then we read of their “fall.” Although the story doesn’t use the term for ‘sin,’ we read about how they turned from that union, marked by love and trust, to autonomy, self-will and as a result, shame and alienation. Their sin does not separate God from them, for he continues to pursue them, all the way out of the garden and ultimately tracks them through the Cross to retrieve them from the depths of hades. But their sin does alienate them from God, for their new, fallen instinct is to see God as one from whom they must hide in shame. In failing to trust and obey God, and by turning from God’s face to go their own way, they missed the mark of that once-perfect love-union.   

The Prodigal Sons

In Christ’s parable of the prodigal son(s), we find two sons in a similar peril. Like Adam and Eve, the younger son has left his father’s house to go his own way and do his own thing. He finds himself living in the poverty of alienation, slaving in the fields with a herd of swine. He has missed the mark of fellowship with his loving Father. But the father never stopped loving him and the son never ceased to be his father’s son. To be restored, he must return home and re-enter the joy of that parent-child union.   

Likewise, the older son finds himself slaving in another field—the field of religious striving. While he seems to serve his father’s interests and seems to obey his father’s wishes, he has nevertheless missed the mark. How so? He has left the father’s house and made his own alleged obedience the occasion for alienation from that love-union. He regards his father as unfair, someone to resent and the elder is every bit as enslaved self-will as his younger brother.

But the Father despises neither son. He runs to the younger son while still a long way off. And without any condemnation, he assures the older brother of his place and pleads with him to return. Henri Nouwen, in his booklet, The Return of the Prodigal Son, says,

The harsh and bitter reproaches of the [elder] son are not met with words of judgment. There is no recrimination or accusation. The father does not defend himself or even comment on the elder son's behavior. The father moves directly beyond all evaluations to stress his intimate relationship with his son when he says: "You are with me always." The father's declaration of unqualified love eliminates any possibility that the younger son is more loved than the elder. The elder son has never left the house. The father has shared everything with him. He has made him part of his daily life, keeping nothing from him. "All I have is yours," he says. There could be no clearer statement of the father's unlimited love for his elder son. Thus the father's unreserved, unlimited love is offered wholly and equally to both sons.

John 8 – “Go and sin no more”?

This brings us to the climax of the story of the woman who was caught in the act of committing adultery. As often as I share this story, I continue to ask, “Where was the man?” Why is he not also dragged in? Is he not involved in the sin? Is he part of the set-up? We know from the text that the whole scenario was a trap for Jesus, so it certainly looks like a case of entrapment for the woman as well.

Let’s fast-forward through Jesus’ saving acts—how he stoops beside her, scribbles in the dust and one by one, all the accusers leave. We pick up on Jesus’ interaction with the woman, a conversation we only know because she would have shared it 1000 times thereafter. “The day Jesus saved me!”

“Where are your accusers?”

“They’re gone m’Lord.”

“Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”

Religious legalism would and has inferred, “Go and sin no more… or I will condemn you.”

But aside from such silliness, how should we take Jesus’ statement? If he doesn’t mean, “Go be sinless,” what does he mean? He must mean something!

I have normally interpreted Jesus' words this way: “There, I’ve just completely wiped clean your record. You didn’t even repent and I forgave you. You can live as if today never happened. And you never need to go back there. I’ve given you a fresh start and a new life. What will you do with it?”

To which I imagine her reply, “I will follow you, of course! I’ll follow you forever!”

And he smiles and says, “Of course you will! Let me help you up.”

That got me to thinking: what if she did it—what if she went and sinned no more! As in never again. What? Could she or anyone live without sin? That depends what sin is! That depends what missing the mark is. That depends what the mark is.

If the mark is moral perfection, unwavering trust, perfect obedience, ritual hygiene and untainted holiness, of course she would continue to sin because we all fall short of those marks. And in that sense, she would go on sinning.

But if the mark is her love-union with Christ—his embrace of unwavering love, enduring mercy and saving grace—I suspect she never left his embrace again. I could imagine her stumbling again and again but never again hiding in shame as did Adam or slaving again as did the prodigal brothers. I could imagine Jesus’ words, “Go and sin no more,” being for her, not a legal demand but a creative command, similar to “Let there be light … and there was light!”  The love of Christ was a light turned on in the Father’s house and he knew she would never leave the house again. Or if somehow she found herself tripping again on her own humanity, she would forever orient herself towards God’s welcome, rather than fleeing from it back into the night.

In other words, sure she could “screw up,” but from that day on, it is entirely possible she would not “fail.” She could commit particular sins, but would never return to alienation and slavery to sin.

I cannot claim this for myself. But what the story does for me is reminding me of the true mark—our union in Christ to God’s unfailing love.

 

Why Did I Delete My Facebook Account? Anonymous (with Brad Jersak)

Note from Brad Jersak: A friend of mine--someone I saw as a master in effectively using Facebook for 'gospeling,' moderating productive discussions and building bridges--walked away from that social media venue. When I asked why, he wrote the following and gave permission for me to share it. I find it disturbing, not only because it seems true, but because it is a worrisome analysis of the broader culture in which "we live, move and have our being" stands at this moment. It feels like more than an invitation to exit social media with the author, but stands as a call to repent of the social constructs that Facebook amplifies.

 

WHY DID I DELETE MY FACEBOOK ACCOUNT?

Why did I delete my Facebook account? There are lots of reasons. I’ve been contemplating this for a while. Hosting conversations is damn hard work, especially when people are joining in at so many different angles. In one respect, I’m just tired. 

But there’s more …

I think we can all sense this. There are strong forces at work around us, political powers that are vying for control in the interests of immediate, all-encompassing change—a quasi-Marxist ultra-woke squaring off against a quasi-Fascist alt-right in an ever-widening culture war.

Facebook lends itself to a conflict like this. The medium itself trains us out of particularity, complexity and nuance and constantly guides us to think and live in terms of collective identities and affinities, often defined along moral-ethical lines. It also amplifies the dialectic of opposites, making it seem normative in a totalizing way.

And there's this pressure to behave accordingly …

I appreciate the encouragement I've received from people concerning my Facebook "presence". To be honest, I don’t care much about my "presence" on social media ... I'm interested in what can happen between people when they seek to be attentive and thoughtful while learning to care for one another. I’ve wanted to help humanize the medium a little, to explore the complexity of experience and invite nuance and empathy across lines that divide. 

For many—increasingly it seems—this kind of approach is worse than taking the wrong side. It’s a self-protective strategy that relativizes the truth and neutralizes progress.

That makes me sad.

To be clear, I don’t think Facebook is *necessarily* more problematic than other ways of relating. 

Relating is difficult no matter the channels ...

Face-to-face is certainly different in richness and complexity, but I have no illusions of it being easier to do well. It’s just ... different.

I think Facebook holds out lots of interesting possibilities for truthing-in-love ... I’m just not sure people are all that interested to explore those possibilities in earnest.

What makes Facebook problematic is not the digital technology per se, but the way people are inclined to engage it. We make moves that hinder relationship rather than help it. Worse, we revel in them.

Of course, we often do that face-to-face too ... It’s just that the effects aren’t ramified to the same extent. They’re less contagious.

Another way to say it: A platform like Facebook heightens social responsibility in some ways while alleviating it in others. The problem is that we’re shirking responsibility precisely where the medium requires it of us.

Rest for Those Weary of Chronic Grief and Fury - Brad Jersak

“Satan cannot drive out Satan.” —Jesus of Nazareth

“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.”
—Friedrich Nietzsche

They say that what you mock
Will surely overtake you
And you become a monster
So the monster will not break you
—U2

“The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence, you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence, you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. So it goes. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: Only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: Only love can do that.”
—Martin Luther King, Jr.

Hate Shapes Us

What makes hatred so horrid is that it reshapes its victims, fashioning them into the mirror image of the object of their hate. The fists of hatred compress the finest people like putty, kneading into our righteous anger its own malignant toxins—fear and malice—deeply internalizing what we most despise.

No matter how cruel offenders can be, their most pernicious evil is the change they cause in their victims, with or without their consent. 

The call to forgive—literally “let go”—whatever it means for the offender, is Christ’s plea that we would unchain ourselves from our offender’s ongoing negative influence. And Christ delivered us the key. “Father, forgive them” becomes Christ's mandate to us: loose yourselves from the bonds of infectious resentment that unite you to what you hate.

“But what they did…”

Yes. What they did.

Forgiveness isn’t justifying what they did.

It is unhooking ourselves from how what they did continues to torment, twist and diminish us.

“Loose yourself.”

“But I can’t.”

No. You can’t.

Christ can, but only when you’re finally willing.

When at last you see that the fists of hatred crushing you are your own and you open them up and stop choking yourself.

Rest from Exhausting Grief and Fury

I don’t write this to chide others into guilt-driven pseudo-forgiveness. I am dealing with my own heart and hoping that others who overhear might also benefit.

You see, I’ve experienced a long year of chronic grief with a side of seething fury. I manage it as best I can with a bad blend of repression, insomnia and praying angry psalms. Eden tells me that being real is generally better for me than being good. But, then when she takes the brunt of my misery, I eventually opt for a walk.

On one of these recent walks, I figured I’d better just sputter “the Jesus Prayer” about 300 times: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.”

[Oh, you’re not a sinner? Good for you. And yes, I know my identity in Christ, thank you. And no, I’m in no mood. 1 John 1:8].    

Once that was off my chest and I was finally quiet enough to contemplate in silence, Jesus’ invitation wafted in gently, like a down feather drifting through the aftermath of a flailing pillow fight. He said,

“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Matt. 11:28-29)

Christ seemed to skip past the need to perform invasive surgery on the my emotional tumors or apply incisions to my vengeful demands. This was an offer of simple reprieve—to just breathe and give it a rest. Who knew that taking a break from intense feelings isn’t always denial. Hmm.

Confessions

The next morning, I went to the monastery where I often chant the Scriptures or give the 8-minute homily. I know most of my readers are not Eastern Orthodox. Don’t worry, I’m not recruiting, but do you want to hear my story? If not, just skip to the final quote and have a nice day.  

Still here? Okay, so one thing I do is go to confession. Orthodox confession is not about guilt for sin or doing penance. I visit my kindly old confessor, Bishop Varlaam, because he understands that confession is about hearing my anxieties and speaking the good news of Jesus’ love and forgiveness to my accusing conscience. He always lightens the load, reminding me to return to the Father’s house asap, without fear or self-loathing.

“What’s troubling you?” he asked.

I say, “I’m furious.”

He replies thoughtfully, prophetically, “Well, of course, we all experience times of hurt and anger. That comes with the human condition. The problem is that grief and anger make us so weary. And you are exhausted. Perhaps today you could hear these words of Jesus: ‘Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.’”

Ah, that again.

As I rose to leave Bishop Varlaam, I noticed a new-to-me antique icon of Christ sitting on a stand beside him. I asked about it and he explained it was a recent gift and over 300 years old. On it, Jesus was holding an open Bible—the Gospels, actually. There was a verse written on the page, but I couldn’t read it because it was in Slavonic—old Russian.

“Which verse is that?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” Varlaam said. He bent close to the picture and slowly began to translate: “Oh yes, it says… ‘Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.’”

That was some nice synchronicity, I thought, heading back to the “readers’ stand,” where we keep all our prayer books and where I chant prayers when it’s my turn. As I approached, Dmitri handed me one of the books, open already to a prayer by St. Basil.

“Read this,” he said, and I did.

The Prayer of Basil, composed in the late 300s, is a beautiful confession of our weakness and Christ’s unfailing mercy. It’s about a page and a half long. I start chanting the pray and about half-way through, find myself praying aloud: ‘Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.’”

By God’s grace, I had discovered one of Jesus’ many approaches to therapy (he's a "wonderful counselor"). The “rest” Christ gives is not merely a diversion from our weariness. It is medicine for it. As I rested from my drama in the arms of Christ, his gentle embrace applied balm to my wounds and soothed my raging heart. His meek touch is no mere "there, there" platitude, but a powerful and effective ministry of detox and rehab for the passions and impulses that would morph me into the monsters I hate.

Penance for the Church: Interview with a Catholic Priest - Brad Jersak

I attended a mass this morning. Yes, Catholic mass.

On purpose. Not despite her current scandals but because of them.

I attended during a week when every news source decried the sexual abuse of children by priests and covered up by hierarchs—when the face of the Catholic church burned with shame.

The apostle Paul wrote that when one part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers. James encouraged us to grieve with those who grieve. As a member of the one body of Jesus Christ, the church universal, I’m not given the option of seeing the sin and wickedness, the suffering or the grief of the Roman Catholic church as if we are not co-members of one family. To willfully turn away from bleeding brothers and sisters is itself a grievous sin of abandonment. Their scandal is my scandal because at stake is the Word of God who we proclaim.

So I went to mass.

A certain Fr. Calhoun was serving—a kindly 79-year-old priest. I wondered briefly if or how he might address the clergy scandals, but immediately, our songs, prayers and Scripture readings drew my eyes and heart up to the One greater, more ancient and more beautiful than the mess of his church.

We stood for the Gospel reading—the words of Christ, the Word of God—whose poignant message challenged the priesthood and its traditions. Thus says the Lord,

Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you hypocrites; as it is written: “These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; their teachings are merely human rules.” You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to human traditions… You have a fine way of setting aside the commands of God in order to observe your own traditions.

Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots. Leave them; they are blind guides. If the blind lead the blind, both will fall in the pit... Don’t you see that whatever enters the mouth goes into the stomach and then out of the body? But the things that come out of a person’s mouth come from the heart, and these defile them. For out of the heart come evil thoughts—murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. These are what defile a person, but eating with unwashed hands does not defile them.

My mind was drawn back to earth, to the church, to our scandals and the anguish of the faithful—to the offense against the little ones and to the world that associates Christianity with hypocrisy and its clergy with the systemic sexual abuse of children and attending cover-ups. 

Does God Save Us from God? Brad Jersak

Does God Save Us from God?

Twitter statement: “God saves us from God. The One who mercifully drags us out of the rebellious city is the same One who rains down fire upon it.”

Thus wrote a popular tweeter whose handle I’ll withhold out of respect and concern.

God saves us from God? How so?

Penal substitution continues to be the most popular Western answer to the question, “Why did Christ die?” and is the default interpretation for Scripture’s assertion that “Christ died for our sins.” Rather than treating it as one of many atonement theories, major denominations are now doubling down, dogmatizing it as a non-negotiable essential to the gospel and thus, to salvation. If it IS the gospel, then those who don’t affirm it are not even considered "saved."

But penal substitutionary atonement (PSA) as the uncritical masses understand and proclaim it is neither necessary nor glorious. I’m not referring to the rarefied versions of nuanced academics such as Fleming Rutledge or N.T. Wright. My ongoing critique is of the dominant expression we hear from 10,000 pulpits, public broadcasts and now social media across popular Christianity.

Theologically Perilous

The prevalent expression of PSA can be distinguished by its insistence on “wrath appeasement,” decried even by Wright as “paganizing the gospel.” Yet beneath the question of wrath lurk deeper and frequently overlooked theological perils—the ancient heresies refuted in Nicaea and Chalcedon resurface as assumptions that need to be challenged.

Specifically, intrinsic to common PSA is a dangerous suggestion of divisibility in either the Trinity and/or the personhood of Christ. Either or both errors appear inescapable to PSA and I’ve yet to see a response that takes these problems seriously.

What's With Romans 13? Brad Jersak

Rom 12-13: The genius of Paul is that the Emperor he calls believers to submit to is one and the same evil he calls us to overcome with good.

NOTE: FOR A FANTASTIC ARTICLE ON OUR FIRST ALLEGIANCE TO CHRIST, see Greg Albrecht’s work titled, “On Nation Under God?” in our latest CWR magazine.

Romans 12

¹⁹ Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. ²⁰ On the contrary:

“If your enemy is hungry, feed him;
    if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.
In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”

²¹ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

In Romans 12:19-21, Paul quotes Deuteronomy 32, citing the Lord’s declaration “it is mine to avenge” to argue that we should not seek vengeance, but rather work to “overcome evil with good.”

In its original context, Deuteronomy 32 was a celebration of vengeance! (Thanks to Derek Flood for pointing this out). The author says, “It is mine to avenge; I will repay … I will make my arrows drunk with blood, while my sword devours flesh: the blood of the slain and the captives, the heads of the enemy leaders.”

But Paul subverts the original intent of this passage, which originally advocated vengeance and violence, to promote enemy love!

In Paul’s context, especially writing to the persecuted Roman Christians, who was the enemy? It was Nero, the Roman Empire, the Imperial Beast, who would torture and slaughter many thousands of Christians and ultimately slay both Paul and Peter. That was the enemy. And Paul’s warning is to beware of joining the slave revolt or any violent insurgency against this demonic state, because that would only get you killed.

ARE YOU THIRSTY? adapted from Brad Jersak's "Her Gates Will Never Be Shut"

In night visions, the prophet saw a house on top of a mountain. A spring of water bubbles up from the floorboards and trickles across the floor. By the time it exits the door and crosses the deck, it is two feet deep. Running off the deck and toward the cliff, the stream becomes a powerful river. Then it plummets as a deafening waterfall, increasing in volume as it descends to the lush valley below.

I believe such dreams come from the same Spirit who enlivened John’s dreams, recounting spiritual truths in familiar ancient symbols, a foretaste of what is to come.

More than a foretaste—an inviting question: Are you thirsty? (cf. Isaiah 55:1–5) It’s the question that opens the door of the city and leads the way into it as far as the river’s source. It’s the invitation-question of the Spirit and the Bride to the nations outside. It’s the question that Rev 21–22 asks both then and now. Are you thirsty? As I’ve marinated in those chapters for the past two years, this vision has emerged for me…

Lost souls languish outside the gates of the great city, their thirst deepening as they fester in the smoking valley of Gehenna. Time has lost all meaning in this non-life of non-being. Lips and hearts are cracked with hopelessness like baked clay. Their time to choose has passed, their judgment just and certain, death eternal their lot. They cannot even make themselves care.

And then an intrusive question forms in their hearts. Are you thirsty?

Beyond ludicrous—the question reawakens the exiles to their torment and intensifies their thirst. Are you thirsty? They recall the pointless supplication, “Have pity on me and send someone to dip a fingertip in water to cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.” Hopeless.

But the question has begun its work. Hearts gaze longingly at the city walls. The question has energized a plea. What if we trudged out a pilgrimage to Zion’s gates to seek an audience with the King? What if—hope against hope—someone opened the gates? Even without hope or courage, the thirst itself drives them. Are you thirsty? There is no choice now. They must try.

Even as the damned set their hearts upon the journey, while still a good distance away, the heart of God is already turned toward them, for the question originated from his throne, amplified beyond the city walls by the voice of the Bride and the Spirit. The question and its answer gush out with life-giving rivers of liquid love. Christ, the river of living water, pours out of the open gates and into the valley of death. Streams flow into Gehenna, where green shoots spring up on widening banks and moisture feeds the valley.

Parched for life and love, the outcasts rush to the river, falling on their faces to lap up the sparkling water. Tasting the goodness gives them a thirst for even more. They are drawn, freely yet irresistibly, to follow the river upstream. Its path welcomes them in through the gates, beckons them up the streets, a clear path to its mountain source—to God himself.

As the rapids of Christ’s love flow out of the city, so the nations stream into the city, joining the Bride, exalting the Bride, becoming the Bride, ready for the love of her King.

My vision. Isaiah’s vision. John’s vision. God’s vision.

To what degree does this vision represent pure possibility—a choice we can pursue or reject? To what degree is it the eternally planned choice of God? How do our choices and God’s plan intersect? And for how long will God pursue the dream?

Julian of Norwich, the great mystic and doctor of the church, saw that end in her Revelations of Divine Love, through which she received this hope of assurance from Christ:

There is a deed that the blessed Trinity shall do on the last day, and when that deed shall be done, and how it shall be done, is unknown to all creatures under Christ, and shall be until it has been done…. This is the great deed ordained by our Lord God from eternity, treasured and hidden in his blessed breast, known only to himself, and by this deed he shall make all things well; for just as the Holy Trinity made all things from nothing, so the Holy Trinity shall make all well that is not well.

Bradley Jersak, Her Gates Will Never Be Shut (Wipf & Stock, 2009), 178-9.

Sola Gratia: Which of His children does 'Our Father' abandon? - Brad Jersak

In April 2018, Pope Francis met with children from the parish of St. Paul of the Cross in Corviale, Italy.¹ During a Q & A time, a little boy named Emanuele approached the microphone but became emotional and was unable to ask his question.   

“Come, come, come," said the pope.

"I can't do it," replied the child.

"Come to me, Emanuele and whisper in my ear,” Francis said.

“Is Dad in heaven?’” the boy asked the pope. He replied:

Gregory of Nyssa on Ascent through the Psalter - excerpt from Ronald Heine

Gregory of Nyssa reads the Psalms soteriologically.

Abridged excerpt from Ronald E. Heine, Gregory of Nyssa’s Treatise on the Inscriptions of the Psalms (Oxford, 1995), 43. [note: emphases and brackets mine]

For Gregory of Nyssa, the skopoV[aim] of the Psalter is to lead one to the attainment of blessedness[beatitude], and the latter is further defined as ‘likeness to God.’ What Gregory means when he defines ‘human blessedness’ as ‘like to God’ is the attainment of salvation, which he also calls ‘true being’ or ‘true humanity.’ True humanity bears ‘the imprint imposed on our nature from the beginning.’ Gregory [following the Psalter] contrasts those who are ‘fleshly, earthly and irrational’ with those ‘who are being saved and have an impress of human nature in themselves. Now likeness to the divine is the distinguishing impress of humanity.’ Salvation understood in this way is the goal to which ascent through the five stages of the Psalter leads.

Gregory takes the Psalter as descriptive of the way of salvation for all humanity, for he anticipates the possibility, at least, of ‘the complete return of humanity to the Good. The final division of the Psalter, which represents for Gregory ‘the mountain peak’ of the stages discussed in the Psalter, has for its subject ‘the complete consummation and recapitulation of human salvation. The final achievement of blessedness will occur in the eschatological unity of all creation in praising God when all evil has perished.

From Brad Jersak: 

This passage clarifies how Gregory conceived “ascent” in his Life of Moses and in the ladder of the Beatitudes. The ladder analogy (cf. also John Climacus) often triggers Protestant sensibilities regarding grace alone, concerned as they are that human participation in a soteriological ascent compromises the gospel with works righteousness. But a millennium prior to these worries, the synergism of the Eastern Fathers is perfectly in sync with James (2:22), who says, “You see that [Abraham’s] faith was working together with his works and his faith was perfected by works. [βλέπεις ὅτι ἡ πίστις συνήργει τοῖς ἔργοις αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐκ τῶν ἔργωνἡ πίστις ἐτελειώθη].

(Im)Perfect Humility: 5 Wise Voices - Brad Jersak

Humility. 

An evasive and misunderstood virtue. I've not learned it. But together, we can ponder it from five wise voices. Don't figure it out. Just be still and marinate. 

1. With Moby - "This Wild Darkness"

Tried so hard to be good

For myself, for you, for the hidden and divine

For everything but I can fail just so many times

Ooh, in this darkness

Please light my way Light my way

2. With Bill - "Perfect Humility"

Absolute humility would consist of a state of complete freedom from myself, freedom from all the claims that my defects of character now lay so heavily upon me. Perfect humility would be a full willingness, in all times and places, to find and to do the will of God.

When I meditate on such a vision, I need not be dismayed because I shall never attain it, nor need I swell with presumption that one of these days its virtues shall all be mine.

I only need to dwell on the vision itself, letting it grow and ever more fill my heart. This done, I can compare it with my last-taken personal inventory. Then I get a sane and healthy idea of where I stand on the highway to humility. I see that my journey toward God has scarce begun.

As I thus get down to my right size and stature, my self-concern and importance become amusing. (As Bill Sees It, 106).

3. With Justice - "Woke?"

"The smaller we become, the less our ego has to feed on."

4. With Arvo Pärt - "Have you thanked God for this failure already?"

5. With Bukowski (feat. Waits) - "Nirvana"

“Me a Sinner” – A Jesus Prayer Conversation – Brad Jersak and Andrew Klager

 

The Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.”

“When we identify ourselves as sinners, we are not speaking ontologically. That is, we are not speaking of our truest selves seated with Christ in the heavenly realms or as those declared righteous by his saving work. Rather, we are speaking existentially of our daily struggle with the passions and the human condition. We are facing into the reality of life in this broken world and our not-yet glorified humanity, posturing ourselves for God's unfailing mercy.” --Sinner Irenaeus

BRAD:

When we say the Jesus Prayer, some Evangelicals balk that we would identify as sinners, since we’ve been forgiven and are now, somehow, ontologically in Christ and identified as ‘saints.’ But clearly we keep on sinning and need to receive daily mercy.

So I am wondering what word you would use to fill in this blank: “When we identify ourselves as sinners, we are not speaking ontologically. We are speaking __________ of our daily struggle with the passions and the human condition. We are speaking not of our truest selves seated with Christ in the heavenly realms or as those declared righteous by his saving work. Rather, we are facing into the reality of life in this world and our not-yet glorified humanity.”

That is, we identify ourselves with the prodigal (Luke 15:11-32), publican (Luke 18:9-14)and the thief on the cross (Luke 23:39-43), awake to our need for mercy and gratefully receiving that mercy from Christ the all-merciful. 

They are worth recounting: 

• “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son."
• "God, be merciful to me a sinner!’
• “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

These prayers are sometimes downplayed or even scorned for their supposed "worm theology" (which, by the way, the Psalmist puts in the Messiah's mouth in Psalm 22:6). But they are not theological statements to be corrected--they are expressions of the human condition, cries of the stricken conscience, and appeals to the goodness and generosity of a gracious God.   

Note: not only did Christ commend these prayers--he actually composed two of them and answered all three of them.  

So I think the right word us “existentially” but wanted to run that and the whole sentence by you for quality control.

Erasmus: Wild Bird - video of Ron Dart, review by Brad Jersak

 

"Erasmus was too good a humanist to live only in the past." - P.S. Allen

In these days of the 500th anniversary of Luther's Wittenburg manifesto and the strange opposition between Christianity and humanism, one can only wonder how history would have played differently *and better* if Erasmus had won the day when simultaneously facing off with both Luther and the Pope. Whereas Luther was known for polarizing parties and raging at opponents, Erasmus knew that 'calling in' was preferable to 'calling out.' He knew how to speak truth to power but his heart was for both reformation and reconciliation. Even though he ended up on the RC banned reading index for centuries, it's no coincidence that Popes stopped crusading in the wake of Erasmus' critiques. All this to say, Erasmus can rightly be called 'the father of humanism' (if Christ isn't better due that claim) and, as Dart calls him, a 'Wild Bird.'

One of the skills I so admire in Ron is his ability, like Erasmus, to transcend the ideological tribalism of spectrum politics and religion. Like Erasmus, he is unafraid to call injustice what it is, but also seeks ways to invite the other (even the fundamentalists other) into conversation. And this capacity for connecting enables him to compare, contrast and connect key historic figures in highly productive ways. This trait shines through every page of this book. For example, the chapter titles alone demonstrate this helpful agenda:

1. A European Pilgrimage: Erasmus, Heidegger, Nietzsche, Hesse
2. Erasmus and Thomas Merton: Soul Friends
3. The 16th-century Peace Tradition: Erasmus and Anabaptism, the English Vision
4. Erasmus, the English Reformatioins and the Church Fathers: a Man for All Seasons
5. Erasmus and Luther: the Final Fray
6. Erasmus, the Eastern Fathers and the Great Tradition
7. Erasmus and the Fathers: Part 2
8. Erasmus and L'Abri
9. Erasmus: Then and Now
Appendix A. Thomoas More and Thomas Merton
Appendix B. Occupy Wall Street: More and Erasmus
Appendix C. "From Suffering to Solidarity" book review

These essays highlight Ron Dart's insight and wisdom, but also the decades as a University Prof that make his writing accessible and, at times, poetic. In any case, at 120 pages, it's a quick but supremely helpful introduction to Erasmus in his historical and our contemporary context. Enjoy!

Fr. Seraphim of Mull, the Publican & Pharisee, and Evangelical Confessions - Brad Jersak

Fr. Seraphim is establishing the Orthodox Monastery of All Celtic Saints on the Isle of Mull (near Iona) of the west coast of Scotland. He shared the homily at Holy Apostles Orthodox Mission in Chilliwack, BC on Sunday, Jan 28, 2018. Midway through the homily, I felt the deep regret of not having recorded his homily and resorted to thumbing these few notes on my smartphone: his reflections on Jesus' parable of the Pharisee and Publican praying in the temple (Luke 18:9-14).I believe what follows is nearly word for word, but any paraphrasing resulting in an error is solely my responsibility. 

Luke 18:9-14 (NKJV)

The Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector

⁹ Also He spoke this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others: ¹⁰ “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. ¹¹ The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, ‘God, I thank You that I am not like other men-extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector. ¹² I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess.’ ¹³ And the tax collector, standing afar off, would not so much as raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!’ ¹⁴ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

 

Fr. Seraphim's Homily (excerpts)

... In the Orthodox baptismal rite of exorcism, the first demon we ask Christ to drive away is idolatry, and this is deliberate. For Israel's first idolatry was not the worship of foreign gods, but of the Law. And Christians too may create an idol of our own faith. Orthodoxy itself is idolatry when it defines itself by separating itself from the other or turning from love of neighbour.  

When we define ourselves by what we have done--our fasting, our praying our giving--such that we are "not like them," indeed, better than them, we can know that something has gone horribly wrong in our faith. We've left the straight path of Jesus and swerved off course to the right or the left. 

True Orthodoxy is defined by complete openness and love for everyone. This is always how we see Christ responding to others in the Gospels. He never turns from the publican or prostitute or sinner, but opens his heart to them in love. And so we are called to become like him, as little christs to the world, marked by open hearts and love towards all.

Jarrod McKenna - Jarrod's story, the Great Commission & the Sermon on the Mount

Invite Them—Bring Them—Compel Them: The Escalating Compulsion of Grace. —Brad Jersak

Invite Them—Go Bring Them—Compel Them to Come

The Escalating Compulsion of Grace

Brad Jersak

 

The Parable of the Great Supper

¹⁵ Now when one of those who sat at the table with Him heard these things, he said to Him, “Blessed is he who shall eat bread in the kingdom of God!”

¹⁶ Then He said to him, “A certain man gave a great supper and invited many,¹⁷ and sent his servant at supper time to say to those who were invited, ‘Come, for all things are now ready.’ 

¹⁸ But they all with one accord began to make excuses. The first said to him, ‘I have bought a piece of ground, and I must go and see it. I ask you to have me excused.’ ¹⁹ And another said, ‘I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I am going to test them. I ask you to have me excused.’ ²⁰ Still another said, ‘I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come.’ 

²¹ So that servant came and reported these things to his master. Then the master of the house, being angry, said to his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in here the poor and the maimed and the lame and the blind.’ 

²² And the servant said, ‘Master, it is done as you commanded, and still there is room.’²³ Then the master said to the servant, ‘Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in, that my house may be filled. ²⁴ For I say to you that none of those men who were invited shall taste my supper.’”

Authentic Invitation, Free Response, Escalating Compulsion

Prior to and aside from the horrific notion that God pre-selects some to eternal life and others to everlasting damnation, historic Christianity held high God’s desire that everyone is invited and that all would freely respond to his grace.

And the Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let him who hears say, “Come!” And let him who thirsts come. Whoever desires, let him take the water of life freely. (Revelation 22:7)

God’s invitation is authentically universal (“whoever desires”) and wholly uncoerced (“take freely”).   

With that firmly in mind, what are we to make of the Parable of the Great Banquet, where Jesus describes an escalating use of pressure in the invitation?

1. Group 1 – At first, the Man/Master (God) INVITES “many” to his banquet—he announces that “all things are now ready.” But the RSVPs are not coming in as hoped. Jesus labels these responses “excuses.” They are meant to sound absurd. Who takes out a mortgage on a property sight unseen or buys five oxen before test-driving them? And who gets married but doesn’t think the invitation includes their spouse as the “plus-one” to bring along? Jesus wants us to know this first group are not merely busy—their polite excuses communicate real rejection.

2. Group 2 – The second invitation is not to the general “many,” but to a second group: “the poor, the maimed, the lame and the blind.” It sound like more than an invitation. There’s a greater urgency—“Go out quickly to the streets and lanes of the city.” And the Servant (singular, for God the Father is sending Christ himself) is to BRING Why is that? First, notice that these are impoverished people with disabilities who need someone to bring them. Willingness isn’t the issue—mobility is. And from where? Why are the poor and disabled in the streets and lanes? In the context of his culture, Jesus clues us in—these are likely lower-caste, infirmed beggars. In any case, something more than an invitation is required. Even if they willingly respond, they still need someone—a care-giver or Good Samaritan if you will—to pick them up and bring them in.
3. Group 3 – But even then, some place settings remain vacant. The Master tells the servant to go out further—beyond the lanes and city streets to the highways and hedges. But it’s more than geographic. The implication is that the Servant should go further out into the margins of society. The preachers and commentators of yesteryear saw in this third campaign a call to the “sinners”—those who never got invitations because they were excluded by sin—society’s dregs, the perverted and the treacherous. The social untouchables that the Gospels exemplified by “tax collectors and prostitutes.” And these, the Master says, must be COMPELLED.

CLICK HERE to Download the full PDF for "Invite—Go Bring—Compel to Come"

Reading the Psalms Christianly: Apocalyptic Poetry and Resurrection Prophecies - Brad Jersak

Reading the Psalms Christianly

Apocalyptic Poetry and Resurrection Prophecies

Brad Jersak

 

Psalm 17 (18):4–19 (Orthodox Psalter)

For the end [telos], for the child of the Lord, David: what things he spake unto the Lord, even the words of this ode, in the day wherein the Lord delivered him out of the hands of all his enemies, and out of the hand of Saul; and he said:

⁴ The pangs of death surrounded me, and the torrents of iniquity sorely troubled me. ⁵ The pangs of hades encircled me, round about the snares of death have overtaken me. ⁶ And in mine affliction I called upon the Lord, and unto my God I cried; He heard my voice out of His holy temple, and my cry before Him shall enter into His ears.

⁷  And the earth shook and was made to tremble, and the foundations of the mountains were troubled and were shaken, because God was angry with them.

⁸ There went up smoke in His wrath, and fire from His countenance set all aflame; coals were kindled therefrom. ⁹ And He bowed the heavens and came down, and thick darkness was under His feet. ¹⁰ And He mounted upon cherubim and flew, He flew upon the wings of the winds. ¹¹ And He made darkness his hiding place, His tabernacle round about Him, dark water in the clouds of the air.

¹² From the far-shining radiance that was before Him there passed by clouds, hail and coals of fire. ¹³ And the Lord thundered out of heaven, and the Most High gave forth His voice. ¹⁴ And He sent forth His arrows, and scattered them; and lightnings were multiplied, and troubled them sorely. ¹⁵ And the well-springs of the waters were seen, and the foundations of the world were revealed at Thy rebuke, O Lord, at the on-breathing of the spirit of Thy wrath.

¹⁶ He sent from on high, and He took me; He received me out of many waters. ¹⁷ He will deliver me from mine enemies which are mighty and from them that hate me, for they are stronger than I. ¹⁸ They overtook me in the day of mine affliction, and the Lord became my firm support. ¹⁹ And He led me forth into a spacious place; He will deliver me, because He desired me.

How does one read the Psalms “Christianly”? Which is to say, how do the Psalms anticipate and inform their telos or fulfillment in Christ, and how do Christians read the Psalms as a Christian book of prayer.

Using Psalm 17 (LXX) from the Orthodox Psalter, two brief points are well worth noting. First, David models how Jewish apocalyptic imagery is descriptive of events rooted in this world. And second, we see how his near-death experiences transpose into resurrection prophecies.  

On Being Orthodox: Brad Jersak with Bruxy Cavey - The Meeting House Roundtable

Brad Jersak' s Autumn Readings: 5-Star Picks by Bartlett, Cavey, Greenblatt, Gritter & Huff

This autumn I've been overwhelmed by the quality and range of books for review. Before I can read and report on one top-notch title, another arrives that thrills my heart. By 'quality,' I mean please consider promoting these works to the top of your nightstand stack. They've earned it! And by 'range,' I'm saying this 'best-of' list crosses a wide spectrum of genres: we've got a creative training manual, an accessible introduction to the core gospel, some beautifully written historical theology, a faith and culture game-changer, and three volumes of breath-taking children's curriculum. I can only refer to each briefly, but I feel compelled to offer my whole-hearted endorsement before moving on. 

See the video for samples

Anthony Bartlett, Seven Stories: How to Study and Teach the Nonviolent Bible (Hopetime Press, 2017).

Tony Bartlett's manual on how to study and teach a 'nonviolent Bible' is exactly what I've been looking for. I am pleased to say that I was the first reviewer to formally announce this beautifully organized and illustrated work as my primary textbook for the course, "Peace and Violence in the Old Testament" at the Institute of Religion, Peace and Justice.   

OF COURSE the Bible is loaded with violence--and it comes to a theological head at the Cross of Christ--but the drama of redemption recorded through its pages is the great story of how God in Christ unmasks, challenges and subverts the myth of redemptive violence in our religions and our cultures. It shows us a way forward to a nonviolent reading of Scripture and practice in our lives and world. To those who recognize the voice of Rene Girard here, well done. Bartlett is one of the masters of integrating the gospel and Girard for the 21st century.

After laying out his method, Tony proceeds through seven stories of three lessons each, walking us through the following progressions:

1. Oppression to Justice
2. Violence to Forgiveness
3. The Land and its Loss
4. Wrath to Compassion
5. Victim to Vindication
6. The Temple and its Deconstruction
7. History to its End 

Each lesson includes a lesson plan (learning objectives, core texts, key points), lesson content, followed by lesson questions, personal reflections, a glossary, a list of resources/background reading and cultural references. 

To be very frank, I am both jealous and relieved. I wish I could have created this manual but know that it would have taken a lifetime. In a real sense, it may stand as Bartlett's great life-work and should see a lot of traction for years to come as study groups, churches, colleges and universities find it on their radar.  

 

Bruxy Cavey, (Re)Union: The Good News of Jesus for Seekers, Saints and Sinners (Herald Press, 2017).

I first met Bruxy over a dinner conversation that was so rich it spilled into brunch the next day. During that encounter, he shared the heart of the gospel with me in 1 word, 3 words and 30 words. And he also explained what he meant by the 'religion' he sees the gospel taking down. You can view his summaries HERE. And that led to him generously sharing a Meeting House podcast where he interviewed me on Atonement, Eternity and Orthodoxy (11/22/17) . The meeting concluded with a book exchange in which he gave me a copy of (Re)Union. 

The (Re)Union book unfolds that same gospel message. In 1 word: Jesus. In 3 words: 'Jesus is Lord.' And in 30 words: "Jesus is God with us, come to show us God's love, save us from sin, set up God's kingdom, and shut down religion, so we can share in God's life." The book unpacks all of this in a way that is truly good news. As the title suggests (and lives up to), Bruxy's expression of the gospel brilliantly addresses seekers, saints and sinners (of who I am chief). And for that reason, I've come to believe he's the best gospel communicator in Canada. At least of which I'm aware. 

But as accessible as Bruxy is, he is far from generic. He is an unapologetic Anabaptist through and through. That is, he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the person of Jesus Christ of Nazareth as his guide on the way, his guiding star to our destination and the filter through which he comes to both Scripture and our culture. As an Anabaptist, he's taken a firm stand that Jesus is the Way of peace ... some might seem him as Toronto's version of Greg Boyd or Shane Claiborne, both who know and love his work (and no doubt have a thing or two to learn from him).

So, what's the gospel? Want to communicate it clearly in a winsome way and replace the religious cringe factor? Start here!       

 

Stephen Greenblatt, The Rise and Fall of Adam and Eve (W.W. Norton & Co., 2017).

In recent years, the question of Adam, Eve and the creation story has become hot once again. Some can no longer imagine that a man named Man, a woman named Life, a talking serpent and two trees in Paradise were actual historical events that could have been recorded on your smart phone. Sorry folks, no photobombs of the proto-couple! That camp nevertheless believes that the genre of mythology delivers revelation in a profound way, speaking the truth about humanity and about our lives.

Others cannot imagine how dispensing with the historical fall of Adam and Eve does not also dispense with the historical resurrection of Christ. This is especially the case when the Apostle Paul connects the death that came through Adam with the life that comes through Christ in direct parallel. Isn't the Genesis narrative of our origins essential to our faith? How many liberties can we take before losing it altogether?

Into this discussion, Pulitzer Prize-winning author Stephen Greenblatt applies his Jewish imagination to the task of tracing humanity's ancient religious creation tales through to the rise of the Jewish story of Adam and Eve. He continues from there into the background and intricacies of Augustinian "fall theology." The book then turns its gaze to a major interest of mine: Christian, Jewish and Muslim visions of the afterlife (via literature and art). And further on, the author lands into our post-Darwinian readings and reality.

All along the way, the reader is treated to a feast of faith, philosophy and politics dressed in the gorgeous prose of a masterful writer. His honest scholarship, the stunning depth and breadth of his research, and his ability to spin phrases into a literary tapestry often left me grinning with appreciation. How do I say this? The whole thing was delicious.

What I loved most was how seriously he took the power of myth as a genre, its genius in expressing and shaping reality. Greenblatt left me sensitive to the fact that speaking of anything as "just myth" is a silly, reductive oxymoron. Like Jesus' parables, Hebrew mythology can bear the great weight and impact of abiding revelation for postmodern humanity. 

And as for my own convictions, I found nothing in the book that would undermine my faith (nor did Rowan Williams, who endorsed it heartily). In fact, it significantly boosted my appreciation of the genius of Scripture, alerted me to the damaging effects of misapplied literalism, and deepened my desire to dive more deeply into the faith-world of Genesis 1-3.  

Wendy VanderWal-Gritter, Generous Spaciousness: Responding to Gay Christians in the Church (Brazos Press, 2014). 

Wendy is the faith and culture game-changer among this crowd. She's famous (and to some, infamous) in Canada for leading a movement from its existence as New Direction Ministries (once a sort of compassionate version of gay conversion therapy by prayer IMO--I say this from direct contact) into a new network of gay-welcoming, faith-seeking fellowships across Canada called "Generous Space."

The book itself is an invitation to dialogue with someone who has traversed the thin ice of what it means for the church to respond to and reconcile with the gay community. So, rather than further describing the contents, I'll share a lightly edited snippet of an actual conversation I had with Wendy this past Sunday.

Brad: You were executive director of New Directions for over 10 years, yet somehow you experienced a major shift in perspective. What were the key waypoints in your change?

Wendy: First, I became convinced that our humanity matters to God. And I observed that some of our practices involved a stripping of that humanity and of personhood. Second, I was impacted by a theme in Henri Nouwen’s book, Life Signs (1986). He said, "You cannot get from fear-filled questions to love-filled answers." He talked about moving from the house of fear to the house of life. And he raised the question, "What are the spiritual practices that lead you there?"

From that place, I've learned the importance of hitting the 'PAUSE' button. When we hit a question where there is dissonance, I hit 'PAUSE' and just keep listening. I try to avoid either-or/us-them binary thinking. I ask, rather, “How will this [conversation / issue] be different if i’m energized by love instead of fear?”

Brad: Tell me about Generous Space. What is it? What do you believe? What is your practice?  

Wendy: Today there is a groaning in the church. We know wineskins are cracked. The church has tried to address this by becoming more missional (instead of attractional), but we’re still clinging to traditional forms and old wineskins. But GS consists of communities centered in a generous, deep belongingness. And for all the pain involved in our journeys, that sense of belonging also makes it quite light.

One question we ask ourselves is how to draw towards community and communion rather than consumerism and commodity. We ask what values hold out life to others and what values energize how we choose to navigate our lives. There has been a trauma of Christianity in the Trump era, where we have had to ask what values led white Evangelicals to bring him to power. But now we need to ask the deeper questions that cause us to follow Jesus.

 

Brad: I know that being fully inclusive means you're up against the conservative Right. But being inclusive to ALL and embracing Christian faith ... isn't that also problematic when you run into the "angry Left."  

 

Wendy: Generous Space is subverting of myth of linear progress towards a Left that can also be violent, exclusive and unjust .... We want to be truly inclusive, and not simply perpetuating the new injustice. So yes, there is critique of GS from Right—charging us with moral relativism—but also from the Left for being a 'haven of oppression' by not excluding.

 

As a "Generous Space," we are inclusive of the full spectrum of queer relationships, including those who choose to remain celibate. We just had a "release and embrace ceremony." A covenant in which the former spouse has released her partner into a gay marriage but also embraced that couple so they can raise the children as a family. This isn't simply moral relativism. We need to think in terms of a "redeemed moral imagination," rather than trying to maintain the moralistic purity code of tribal Israel. We ask, "What will bring life, hope, love, resilience?"

 

Brad: Resilience?

 

Wendy: ... resilience of faith in the face of violence and the overwhelming powers of systemic corruption that stand against us.

Brad: Faith in Christ? 

Wendy: Yes. Although for millennials, there is no false innocence about their faith. Some are no longer able to put their faith in Jesus. But might they still maintain their resilience to participate in cultivating all that is shalom? I am sad when the person of Jesus isn’t part of that cultivation in a conscious way. But my theology affirms that he is, nevertheless, there anyway. He is the energy bringing about this redemptive reality. And we may even see those who identify as atheists participating in Jesus’ project of shalom while self-identifying Christians are not. [Cf. Matt. 25:31-46]

 

Tim Huff (3 titles published by Castle Quay Books):

• The Cardboard Shack Beneath the Bridge 
• It's Hard Not To Stare: Helping Children Understand Disabilities (with Jan Fukumoto). 
• Honour the Drum: Sharing the Beauty of Canada's Indigenous People with Children, Families and Classrooms (with Cheryl Bear).  

Last but definitely not least, my friend Lise Struthers gifted me with three very special illustrated children's books--curriculum for training children how to understand, engage and include those on the margins.

The Cardboard Shack Beneath the Bridge helps children understand homelessness. It explores how the homeless live and where they come from. That is, it humanizes them, reminding children that these folks were once children too, with hopes and dreams just like ours. The text (written in rhyme) tells children that the homeless need shelter, food and clothes, but some only ask for a smile or a talk, which can be delivered if you're accompanied by an adult. Children are reminded that despite their different appearance, we ought not to tease or be mean to the homeless. Rather, we can be kind and keep them in our hearts and prayers. The book begins with a foreword by the Honorable Hilary Weston (Lieutenant Governor of Ontario) and ends with a page-by-page discussion guide for parents, teachers and caregivers.

It's Hard Not To Stare follows similar themes, but this volume addresses the question of disability. Another Lieutenant Governor (David Onley) offers his foreword. The author then offers a picture of a scrabble board of key terms: Respect, Breathe, Brave, Familiar, Include, Cerebral, Look, Mobility, Ability and Prosthesis. The illustrations and text begin on the theme of how hard it is for us to understand and imagine what it is like to have disabilities. But then it moves on from our differences to our sameness, even though doing the same things may be much more difficult for others. It requires extra effort and time and care. It covers different causes like disease or accidents or age. When we become more familiar with disability, we can move from staring to caring. After the text proper, there's another page of terms, followed by the 'Sharing Pages' (discussion guide by Jan Fukumoto). 

Honour the Drum is different than the previous books. First, the illustrations and children's text on each spread face a more detailed description and discussion questions for each page. The book is all about educating children in Indigenous culture, beginning with the drum ('the heartbeat of the earth'), as well as their music, stories and dance. It explains patterns, symbols and colours important to Indigenous culture and describes what a Pow Wow is and means. Totem poles are given a page and then it's on to history, values and humour. The author emphasizes respect and honour for the elders--the keepers of tales.

The book also includes an important page on how words matter, explaining why we've moved from the misnomer 'Indian,' to 'aboriginal' (meaning 'of unknown origin') to the more accurate 'indigenous' (people of the land). In Canada, the indigenous peoples include the First Nations, Metis and Inuit people. Each have their own language, name for the Creator and way to pray. One way they honour the Creator is by caring for creation. And finally, the book turns to how we might best imagine 'honouring the drum,' where all children gather, wherever they're from. While Tim Huff has created the basic text and pictures, the major work of composing the discussion guide came from Cheryl Bear (from the First Nation community of Nadleh Whut'en in BC) who ensures that the descriptions are accurate, rich and welcoming. 

I would encourage parents to get these books for their children, and even better, encourage churches and schools to include them as embedded curriculum. 

Seven Times: a homily on forgiveness - Brad Jersak

 

Forgiveness: Seven Times? Matt. 18:21-35 Brad Jersak from Brad Jersak on Vimeo.