Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Jesus Came to Thomas Anyway, part II: The Underlying Theology

I preached on Thomas this past weekend, and lo and behold, many other of my seminarian colleagues did as well; there is an old joke that seminarians and curates can always count on preaching Thomas, the transfiguration, and the trinity.  It has been wonderful these past two weeks to hear about the different directions people took.  It's also obvious that preachers make choices, and they are the type of choices that frustrate any attempt to say that biblical texts mean only one thing. Community matters as well.  The sermon I preached at St. Paul's on the Green was a sermon for that community; if I wrote a sermon for All Saint's Episcopal Church in Mobile, AL or St. Augustine's in Tempe, it may have looked much different.

Even before I preached my sermon, and definitely after I preached it, a couple of things came to mind.  First, I just make an initial observation that the two 'major' sermons I've preached at St. Paul's have both made reference to doubt, questioning, disbelief, or my time outside of the church.  My preaching in other places has not done this.  I doubt all of my sermons at St. Paul's will make mention of these themes, but I have found it personally helpful to show that a healthy life of faith is also one that can admit to times of trouble and question; this does not show weakness.  When properly done, an honest appraisal or openness of one's life of faith shows integrity.*  There have been people for whom such integrity coming from the pulpit has been helpful.  Second, preaching on the subject of doubt in the life of the community is difficult, and requires more than one sermon.  It is always becoming clearer to me that preaching involves making choices and sometimes relying more on one's underlying theology than one may be comfortable with. 

In some ways what follows is an exercise in laying bare my own underlying theology.  And I will begin by asking why admitting doubt is a good thing in a Christian context.  This will mean taking some educated guesses as to why people think doubt is a bad thing, and some replies.  Then we need to look at doubt itself because the term means a few different things, not all of them bad.  Third, I'll come back around to why the community matters.   

I opened the sermon by saying that I have been haunted by the phrase "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe (Jn 20:29)."  I’ve always heard this phrase as a condemnation.  This passage is easily used as a bludgeon; and a person can use this bludgeon on herself, or someone can use it on her.  If one have doubts or questions, one may be left with the sense that Jesus is no longer talking to Thomas, but in one's mind's eye, Jesus turns points his finger, revokes his blessing, and one is no longer welcome or worthy to stand among those who believe.  A person in doubt or with questions can then experience church as something of an exercise in endurance, abuse, and uselessness; where the obviously more righteous and believing people gather.

..."Or," thinks the doubter, "they are all wearing a facade of faith; the hypocrites."

Relationships corrode at this point.  Since others may not admit doubt, the person with questions loses the sense that the community will understand them.   The person in doubt can no longer be honest, which is unhealthy. One can only stay in that type of situation for so long.

The community can further make the person with questions uncomfortable.  Pastors can take the story of Thomas as an opportunity to preach that the congregation needs to stay faithful with an implicit 'or else.'  This creates a further sense of isolation for the person in doubt.  "I'm on thin ice with God, if there is a God."

The community may go so far as to promote itself to an instrument of God's judgment, and pronounce the penalties of disbelief.  The community by its actions or its preaching may, in effect, say to the doubter that God will no longer listen to them until their faith is increased.  

Why would a community do this?  The most charitable guess I can make is that the community thinks this is what faithful living means, and that complete submission to God is paramount and required for God to be gracious.   When I am less charitable, I think some communities fear doubt and questions as "contamination."  These communities cannot handle someone who disrupts the narrative.  Sometimes it's just a spiritually immature snobbery.

There are biblical texts for this sort of exclusivism.  The passage above may be one, but as I notice in my sermon, to pronounce a blessing does not automatically come with a curse.  We still have to make sense of the fact that Thomas, in his disbelief, spends an entire week with the rest of the disciples. They do not make Thomas leave.  They do not berate Thomas.  They stay in relationship to Thomas and Thomas also stays with them.  Then a week later, Jesus, who could have written Thomas off in his unbelief, returns.
Blessed may be the one who believes yet has not seen, but Jesus shows a grace by the personal encounter that demonstrates that he will go to great lengths to make himself—and God—known to all.  And it is in this personal return of Jesus to Thomas that we see the point of the encounter.  We start of see the nature of God in Jesus, who is the expression of God’s love in the flesh.  A love that continues and is not simply bound to how much love the disciples can return to God.  This is the love of a God who desires and yearns to be in relationship; and in relationship, to open the eyes of the disciples to the way the world should be.  This is why the disciples, after having received the Holy Spirit, do not turn Thomas out of the community.
 This theological understanding should serve as a reminder to the community of their own proper role in the life of faith and doubt.   
But what about those in the community who look down on those without faith, some of whom may even desire that there be an accounting that leaves some condemned?  And what about those who think that the community is too easy on those who do not believe?  There are a few replies.  One reply that is biblically grounded is to look to the story of the prodigal son (Lk 15:11-32).  The story might be familiar.  A man has two sons, one gets his half of the inheritance early and squanders it, his father welcomes him back when he returns.  A metaphor for God and us (and much, much more to be said about that at some point).  What is less well known is the latter part of the story:
  ‘Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.” Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!” Then the father said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” ’(Lk 15:25-32
The other son feels slighted by his father's generosity.  Have you ever experienced something like this?  When someone you know was forgiven way too easily while you did everything right?  It's a difficult thing to see.  Yet, it is also how God works.  When communities forget the lesson of God's abundant love and grace, and set themselves up as the older brother, we do a disservice to God and to those who experience doubt and questions.

To stay in the parable:  imagine what would happen if the the older brother met the younger brother first, and said that 'the father' cares nothing for him.  The younger brother turns around and leaves, with no moorings to what gave him meaning and hope in the past.  So too, the church that does not seriously consider how best to stay in relationship to one who doubts or questions drives people away from God.

Finally, it is also probably common for churches to be gentle with people who question or doubt for a short time, but then the patience runs out.  Personally, this seems like a symptom of an impatience with the lack of control one can exert over the will of the other when we should instead trust that God is doing work through us in God's good time [but this isn't to say that skillful pastoral care is important].  We are called to hold open the space for an experience of the holy and name it when we see it.

Suppose one finds a community in which it is safe to admit doubt, and one finds a community in which one can still experience love and belonging after admitting doubt, what does one do about the doubt? There are spiritual perils here; but there are bright sides to both of these experiences, and a mature community can help.  Indeed communities need these experiences to mature. Doubt is often the crowbar God uses to pry through old ideas and comfortable ways of being to expose an entry into a deeper place in one's soul.**

Now, there are probably more than two classes of doubt/questionings of the faith, but I'm going to limit myself to two.  The first is the questioning of tenets of the faith.  In terms of questioning of the tenets of faith, it is always worth the community's time to ask whether the presentation of the faith is in a language that people can find intelligible.  The immature community may say "why don't you get this? We will repeat it to you again and again until you can repeat it back to us."  The immature community may then say, "we tried, but something is wrong with you."  The mature community stops, and considers. Does our language even work here...in this time and place?  The community of faith should be continually seeking to discover the proclamation of the Gospel in a way it needs to be heard by the context in which the community finds itself.  This does not guarantee success in convincing people about the truth of the Christian Way, but the community should never forget that, as the faith passed on through the generations, each generation needs to find its own voice and way of expressing its experience of God.  The mature community will also let people who wish to be in relationship stay in relationship.

The other form doubt and questioning can come in is the loss of the sense of God's presence.   In mystical theology, saints and theologians have known since early times that the Christian walk means a time of 'spiritual dryness.' More liberating than the freedom to admit doubt is the knowledge that Christians have experienced doubt as a specific part of the life of faith for a long, long time.  The loss of the historical memory and appreciation of tradition in American Christianity, and particularly the mystical tradition (especially in some parts of the mainline), means that the spiritual resources available to the community in times of doubt and questions are impoverished.  I wonder how many people experience this stage of the development of their faith and cannot find a community or the resources to push through to the other side.  But one needs a community that values the spiritual maturity and vulnerability to allow people to admit to questions before it can help people through the "dark nights of the soul."

I know this post is getting long, but bear with me as I take a quick detour through The Christian Way, in a very, very brief form.

Christian mystics have different numbers of stages to the pinnacle of Christian life, which mirrors Christ's life of loving regard for all. (See the Rule of Benedict, Chapter 7, the steps of humility in which one goes from the fear of God to a perfect love which casts out all fear; St. Bernard of Clairveaux's On Loving God, which details the Christian's move from loving one's self, to selfish love, to loving God as God, to finally loving one's self in God; and the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola).  I'll mention three rough stages: the illuminative, the trying/dark night, and the unitive/contemplative/stable.

Christian mystics often speak of illumination or conversion as the awakening to God by which people come to experience the love of God.  This can happen before or after a profession of faith.  This is the part of the life of faith that feels like a honeymoon.  Everything is roses, fervor, warmth, liveliness, and elation.  In very traditional terms, this is the experience of God which awakens people to the gulf between God and themselves in terms of holiness and goodness.  This stage may also jump-start the turn of the persons god-given gift of desire to the good, and the long process of growing into the fullness of Christ begins.

Then come the rough times; the fervor dies down, the warmth one experienced at doing good goes away.  God may seem far away, hidden.  Christians experience conflict and testing.  In traditional terms, this is sometimes called purgation and purification.  The true motives of our actions and beliefs are revealed--Do we seek heavenly reward or do we really love God and neighbor?  God is leading a person to the latter.  The paradox is that God is as close to the person in this stage as the first.   A person may experience this process and label parts of it, particularly the second stage, as doubt and questioning, and the trouble is that immature Christian communities see this and get nervous.  They think the conversion "didn't take."  Communities can fail people in this stage.  This is also precisely when community is so important.

Finally, there is the unitive/contemplative/stable stage, where the person gains a clarity about their life in God and continue in growing into the fullness God created him or her to be.  Discernment and humility typically characterize this stage, and contemplation becomes action embodied as second nature.  BUT, this is not a linear progression; folks sometimes cycle back through the dark night.  This is where, as I said above, doubt and questions represent God's way of calling us deeper.  The life we live is too small for the soul God is reworking.

Back to Communities. The Christian tradition has acknowledged that God is present to people even in their doubts and questions, or in the initial seeking of God. This is true even when Christians feel uncomfortable around people who do not believe the same way that they do (this is a sign of spiritual immaturity, which can be remedied by seeking God's face in the 'other').  But, the entire point of the church is to offer God’s welcome and to not hold back the good things of God from anyone. The Church acknowledges that all belong with God regardless of whether or not one believes, and the Church exists so it can be a place in which believers and nonbelievers can experience Christ together.  And even if some Christians feel a bit funny about caring for people who are so different, God calls us into this experience of walking through life in the light of a radical love.  We are called into relationship with God and the world, which is to be characterized by an indiscriminate loving regard-- for God, neighbor, and stranger.  Doubter and Questioner.

If a community has a choice between entertaining a doubt/question or distancing itself from those who have doubts and questions, the greater sin is to distance people.  When a community distances itself, the community forgets that a more profound fact about God can be found in a question, not an exclamation.

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*By 'properly done,' I mean that a pastor is not using the sermon as a moment of purely private reflection and personal pastoral care.  Pastors encounter the Biblical text on behalf of the community, and the community should be reflected in that work.  Also, the core of the Gospel is hope in the midst of trouble; if the pastor snuffs any sense of hope, the gospel is not being preached.
**I think I owe Hal Roark for this phrasing.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Jesus Came to Thomas Anyway...

Sermon Easter 2 Year B
Acts 4:32-35
Psalm 133
1 John 1:1-2:2
John 20:19-31

I have been sitting with this story of “Doubting Thomas” all week.  It has been rather uncomfortable.  I’ve been a bit haunted by the phrase "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe."

I’ve always heard this phrase as a condemnation.  Perhaps someone has told you that the story of “doubting Thomas” is a warning against losing your faith.  Perhaps you have heard this passage used as a bludgeon; that if you have doubts and questions, then Jesus revokes his blessing, and you are no longer welcome or worthy to stand among those who believe.

But there is something not quite right about that interpretation.

It led me to this question:
Why does Jesus not simply tell the disciples to let Thomas know that he is risen—and if Thomas does not believe, well, tough for him?

Put another way:
If Jesus said that a blessing is on those who have not seen and yet believe, why does Jesus even bother to come and give Thomas what Thomas asked for— a physical experience of the resurrection?

Another question comes up for me, and this brings up a matter for the community:
If belief is so important, why do the disciples keep Thomas around—the disbeliever that he is—sheltering him for a week before Jesus shows up again?

These questions gives me pause, and it forces me to pay more attention to what Jesus is doing before I try to figure out what he is saying.  And as I look at Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances in this Gospel, it becomes clearer that Jesus so desires to reconstitute the community he formed that he is willing to go to great lengths to do it, and entertain his own disciples’ disbelief and questions.  By Jesus’ own radical love for his disciples in the midst of their own disbelief, Jesus shows us how we are to experience our community life.

To look at the story again, we opened the reading with the disciples hiding behind a locked door.  Mary Magdalene had seen Jesus and told the disciples.  John and Peter ran to the tomb.  John believed, but we don’t know if Peter or any of the disciples did.  In the other Gospels they do not.  So, we have disciples, who are NOT out preaching the resurrection, but are hiding and are not sure what has happened to the body of Jesus. While Thomas sometimes gets a bad reputation, none of the disciples look too good here.

Jesus comes to them in the room, and the disciples knew him from two things:  his word of peace and his wounds.  They celebrate.  Jesus gives them the Holy Spirit, a sign of his power residing within them.  They are now a people sent, just as God sent Jesus into the world.

Later, Thomas comes in.  They tell him what happened.  He does not believe them.  He, being a realist, wants proof.  Even then, in times some would consider less enlightened, the dead do not rise.  The word of the disciples is not good enough.

Now here is something interesting.
Thomas, in his disbelief, spends an entire week with the rest of the disciples. 
They having received the Holy Spirit, share in Jesus’ mission and life.
They do not make Thomas leave.
They do not berate Thomas.
They stay in relationship to Thomas.
Thomas also stays with them.
Then a week later, Jesus, who could have written Thomas off in his unbelief, returns.

And it is in this personal return of Jesus to Thomas that we see the point of the encounter.  We start of see the nature of God in Jesus, who is the expression of God’s love in the flesh.  A love that continues and is not simply bound to how much love the disciples can return to God.  This is the love of a God who desires and yearns to be in relationship; and in relationship, to open the eyes of the disciples to the way the world should be.  This is why the disciples, after having received the Holy Spirit, do not turn Thomas out of the community.

Last Sunday Father Nicholas mentioned that the resurrection is less understood as something to be reasoned through and argued for.  It is something to be experienced.  Even the disciples had to see the resurrection and touch the formerly broken body of Jesus before they could believe it. 

Now we come to that pesky statement about seeing and believing.  Blessed may be the one who believes yet has not seen, but Jesus shows a grace by the personal encounter that demonstrates that he will go to great lengths to make himself—and God—known to all.  The disciples belonged with God before their belief was a matter settled.  Thomas belonged with Jesus before his belief was settled.  So too, we are not left condemned.  In our weakness and uncertainty, doubt and questions, God’s grace reaches even further to meet us.

God calls us into this experience of walking through life in the light of a radical love.  We are not simply called into a philosophical school (though we have this) of propositions to be defended, but into a relationship with God and the world, which is to be characterized by an indiscriminate loving regard-- for God, neighbor, and stranger. 

Now, after Christ’s ascension, we are still offered the experience of God who abides in us.  From the spark of the divine image of God we all share, we encounter God in all who we meet.  As a community of resurrection, we remember that Jesus bore witness to life after terrible woundings and death, showing the disciples his own pierced hands, feet, and side.  We likewise receive the Good News from God and from one another that life and love and goodness are possible in the most trying of times, and that there is a community willing
to bear the image of God into the world…to walk alongside others in pain, through to the other side of what may feel like our own personal tombs.
 
We experience God in worship, music, prayer, and contemplation.  Like the disciples, the community of God found here, by the power of the Spirit, is called to hold open the space where an experience of God in Christ is possible, and every possible opportunity to experience God is open to all. 

From the front door to the font,
from the pews to the altar,
from the bread and wine to our healing stations during Communion. 
The welcome further continues in the ministry of conversation we participate in when we are not in this sanctuary but eating and drinking together at meals, at coffee hour, or in study.  
Christ beckons, and the divine lure calls.

We call what we do here ‘radical hospitality,’ but the best kept secret of modern Christianity is that this hospitality is in many ways traditional. It is the lifeblood of the Way of Jesus. Saint Benedict of Nursia, who wrote one of the most influential rules of life for monasteries in the 6th century, advised that communities welcome all visitors as though they were Christ, and that those who came to the community belonged with the community—and were considered guests sent from God-- regardless of whether or not they were believers. Celtic Christians, well into the medieval period, kept similar monastic practices, allowing all to enter and stay and experience the life of the Christian community before a person had to commit to a series of propositions.  You could belong before you believed.

This community offers God’s welcome and does not hold back the good things of God from anyone.  This community acknowledges that all belong here regardless of whether or not one believes, and exists so it can be a place in which believers and nonbelievers can experience Christ together.  And our questions, our doubts, will be met by the grace of God.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Liberating the Letter of James


Given that Rick Warren is on record as saying that he is in favor of 'wealth creation' instead of 'wealth redistribution,' I think a paper I recently wrote brings James "the brother of the Lord" into the picture as a dialog partner, and has some explanatory power as to what is going through Rick's head.

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The Letter of James has had something of a checkered past, and probably ranks as one of the most forgotten, dismissed, or attacked books in the Western canon of scripture.  In terms of abuse, famous is Luther’s characterization of the letter as “an epistle of straw.” The Letter of James also took much abuse in the late nineteenth century, such as being regarded as the “least Christian book in the New Testament.” [1]   Some interpreters went so far as to say that the text is actually Jewish with references to Jesus added later in its development.[2]  One can imagine that, in a more anti-Semitic age in Europe, such a judgment of the letter would be used to marginalize its place in the canon.  More recently, Elsa Tamez—a Methodist Latin-American feminist theologian—speaks of the Letter of James as a letter that would be ‘intercepted’ by national security agencies in certain countries and branded as subversive, due in part to its denunciation of exploitation by wealthy landowners.[3]  

But the notion that the letter would be considered too hazardous for some to read is an alien concept to me.  When I entered debates about the importance of ‘works’ in the life of faith—the purview of ‘James versus Paul’—I was still situated in a context that favored abstract discussions of the method of eternal salvation, which was the context in which I was raised.  The life of faith in my former Southern Baptist context was occupied with correct belief and the avoidance of sin.  Those who were kind and generous are/were admired, but the conscious understanding of works as being an active component of faith was not present because “works” were thought of in caricature—as a way for humans to try to tip the salvific balance in one’s favor.  The debate never tipped into considering the experience of oppression.  Indeed individualism reigned as the frame of reference.  The Letter of James was rarely consulted in the Southern Baptist context in which I moved.   The oversight now strikes me as egregious.  

So, my goal is to suggest the possibility of the Letter of James being ‘intercepted’ shows that the primarily theological debate between faith and works is not the most important legacy of the letter.  The letter is a prophetic call to care for the poor, for which James 2:14-28 serves as a theological underpinning.  I also wish to suggest that the way James speaks of the rich and the poor, and the favoritism showed to the former, are immediately applicable in the context of issues of class in the United States.  As such, James challenges American churches.  This post will proceed as follows.  I will offer a critique of some of the intentional and unintentional ‘interceptions’—by which I mean the marginalization of the letter as a whole— of the Letter of James in scholarship and ecclesial settings.  I will then move to consider what the Letter of James can offer in terms of understanding first century class distinctions (the difference between the destitute, the ‘working poor,” and the wealthy),  which can also speak to—and challenge—  twenty-first century Americans.

One unintentional interception is the preoccupation with debating modes of salvation and how we read James as being a debate partner of Paul.  Luke Timothy Johnson notes that there is a pervasive fallacy in Biblical studies to assume that Paul “has to figure in the equation somewhere.”[4]  While James 2:14-28 has been historically read as a contradicting Paul (while in actuality Paul and James are in some agreement), Johnson is rather rightly annoyed that “scholars continue to read whatever is different from Paul with reference to Paul, rather than allow it to stand as simply different.”[5]  For better or worse, I would say my own approach to the letter fell into the fallacy Johnson wrote about:  my preoccupation was to read James in light of Paul because what I was raised to consider important were the mechanisms of eternal salvation.  Given that much of scholarship of the letter has revolved around this theological debate, I would say my preoccupation with just James 2:14-28 is part and parcel of a Western privileging of abstract thought.  Johnson posits that the preoccupation with the theology of Justification by works and/or faith is the result of the historical-critical paradigm and the “purportedly “scientific” study of the Bible.”[6]  I would argue that this paradigm is a ‘Western’ invention and while it is an important conversation, debating faith and works interferes with the call to care for those who are oppressed. [7]

Moving into the Episcopal Church in my early twenties meant coming into a denomination in which there was a stereotype (and a waning reality) of wealthy congregations.  But my move also brought me into the orbit of liberation theologies, which have brought me further into the other issues in the letter of James. Liberative theological work, such as that of Tamez, rightfully points us to the fact that there is more to James’ letter than a refutation of Paul.  James has an agenda of his own.  But moving into certain churches does not guarantee one will hear James proclaimed in worship.  Other forms of interception occur.  Tamez notes that the reasonableness of faith is valued more than the practice of faith, and so it is not unusual that “as least in [many] Protestant churches…Paul is read and quoted more than the Gospels which speak of the life of Jesus.[8]  She charges Western society with a preference for what is said about Jesus (the building of a theological concept of Christ) as opposed to what Jesus said (presumably the active component stemming from belief in Jesus as Lord).  This was certainly the experience of my childhood.  

Further, Tamez notes that the letter’s “radical critique of the rich” has made its proclamation rare.[9]  She writes that she: 

“knows of churches where the letter is skipped over in the liturgies because there are many rich members in the congregation, and it is very uncomfortable to speak against them when they are sitting in the front seats.  Certain parts of James, especially chapter 5, are very concrete and very difficult to spiritualize.”[10]

Indeed, if a church is following the Revised Common Lectionary, James 5:1-6—the warning to rich oppressors—is skipped over; though one will hear that they are to remain patient in suffering (James 5:7-10).[11]  Unlike the terms of debate over faith and works, which garners those who contest the means of salvation and so maintain a focus on that particular issue, the selection of the lectionary is an intentional ‘interception’ in which churches and committees choose which texts are worthy to be proclaimed, or which texts need to be skipped for reasons of comfort or political maneuvering.  

The final method of interference I’d like to mention could be used by both academicians and church authorities.  Tamez notes that Martin Dibelius, who wrote one of the touchstone modern commentaries on the Letter of James, wrote extensively on the paraenetic character of the letter.[12]  He also wrote that a document of moral exhortations is relevant for a certain period of time and place, but the exhortations may no longer have bearing outside of that context.[13]  One may hear something similar in other matters in which debates of ethics and the Bible arise.  However, like Tamez, if we take James’ central message to be the defense of, solidarity with, and care of the oppressed, then we should ask when there has never been a group oppressed.  Since it is historically unlikely that there has been such a utopian society, the Letter of James may have something to say to us.  One thread which can be pulled from Jame’s liberative stance is the solidarity of the poor in opposition to the oppression of the rich.

One trouble that James was addressing was the issue of identification with—and favoritism toward—the rich (2:1-13).  It is this problem that sets the context for the theological instruction in James 2:14-28 on the matter of faith and works.  James mentions two different classes of ‘the poor’ in the letter.  The first is the ptochos, which most often refers to a penniless alms beggar, and is the term James uses in 2:2 when speaking of a poor person in dirty clothes.[14]  The other class is the penes—those who had a job but did not own property.[15]  Although the word penes does not appear in the letter, these are who James means when, in 5:4, he speaks of laborers and harvesters whose wages the rich hoard by fraud.  These were laborers who were a day’s wage away from becoming the ptochos.[16] It is both of these classes of the poor whom James seeks to protect.

What James seems to know about wealth is that it can garner considerable respect from those who do not have wealth.  James knows that the regard of the identifiers of worldly status and wealth can lead communities to forget that there is to be a preferential option for the poor, and so the rich are treated with respect and the best of the community while the poor are forgotten and further marginalized (‘Sit at my feet’ (2:3)) in the very community of the God who made them “heirs of the Kingdom (2:5).”  In order to countermand this tendency to respect the rich over the poor, James reminds them that the “royal law” is no defense:   “You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors (2:8-9).”[17]  

It is this community issue which sets the stage for James’ reminder of who is actually important within the community.  One may have faith, and one may seek to follow the perfect law of liberty (1:25), but one is to not simply be a hearer of the word.  One is to be a doer (1:22-25).  And what seems to James to be so disturbing is that one will show favoritism to the rich while allowing the poor to continue to suffer: 

“If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill’, and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead (2:15-16).”

Indeed, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world (1:27).”  And given the surrounding context of the letter, one may imagine that James is attempting to keep communities “unstained by the world” by reminding them of their responsibility to the poor as opposed to their favoritism of the rich.

James further seeks to draw a wide line between the rich and the poor by reminding those he addresses “…You have dishonored the poor.  Is it not the rich who oppress you?  Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you (2:6-7)?”  This seems to signal that the community, in James’ mind, is comprised most properly of the poor, both ptochos and penes, and yet they forget that they are to stand in solidarity.  In essence James may see himself as reminding the poor in the Christian community that there is indeed a divide, and they should not be blinded by the riches of the world, or be tempted to chase them (see 4:1-3 and 4:13-17) for fear of losing sight of God and becoming one who oppresses the Godly.  Indeed according to James, the rich (plousioi) are characterized by their elegant dress (2:2), their use of courts against the poor (2:6), insatiable accumulation of wealth (4:13 and 5:3), their unjust dealing with workers (5:4), luxurious devotion to pleasure (5:5), and their murder of the innocent (5:6).[18]  As Tamez points out, “these are the characteristics of the rich, familiar to the prophets and to Jesus.  It is no wonder James has been called the Amos of the New Covenant.”[19]

So, James was trying to bolster the solidarity of the poor among Christians of varying wealth; in fact, in the letter he assumes varying degrees of wealth even as he tried to create solidarity among the poor over the rich.  He considered most egregious that possibility that the community did not give up the quest for excessive worldly wealth and showed favoritism to the rich while denigrating their poorer brother and sisters.  It is reasonable to assume that the penes in the congregation would be living barely above subsistence, yet were quite happy to say that at least they weren’t the ptochos.  James also assumes that he had to remind the congregations of their responsibility to do something tangible for the ptochos, and not just wish them well (2:15-16).

What does this have to do with the church today?  Something very similar to the situation James confronted has been studied in sociological readings of American society, particularly the national mass media’s portrayal of class in American society.

In an essay on the media’s portrayal of class in American, Gregory Mantsios notes that while American society is one of the most highly stratified societies in the industrialized world, with class distinctions bearing significant weight upon the living of one’s life, the nation is able to maintain an illusion of an egalitarian society by the dismissal of class through and in the media.[20]  Ownership and control of national media is concentrated in a few companies representing corporate interests; and media exercise the ability to define overarching cultural tastes, tell the history of the people, establish our identity, and shape our perceptions about each other and the nature of our society.[21] As the media represents the interests of the affluent in society and help to create the illusion of solidarity between the affluent and the middle class (constructed as a universal ideal), a wedge is driven in between the middle class and the working poor, or simply ‘the poor.’  But the middle class and the affluent class are portrayed as victims of the poor, who threaten the middle class and the affluent’s hard-won prosperity through bad decisions and government redistribution (“welfare”).  The poor are to be feared, and/or cut-off.  In actuality, this construction of the universal middle class and their identification with the affluent does not need to be tied one one’s incomes, “what matters is that most of “us” share an intellectual and moral superiority over the disadvantaged.  As Time magazine once concluded, “Middle America is a state of mind.”[22]

Simply put, American Christians live in a context in which the working poor are primed to identify themselves as the upwardly-aspiring middle class seeking to pull themselves up by their bootstraps; the poor who cannot do so are demonized or rendered invisible.

In the twenty-first century, as in the first century, affluence beckons people toward attainment of wealth and the lionization of the rich is still a habit of human nature, while the poor are castigated and ignored.  American churches are no exception to this trend.  James, then, poses a challenge and a question to Christians in all churches, but particularly in American churches.  With whom will we identify:  the rich who seek to exploit others or those among us who are oppressed?  What shall we chase after:  wealth or God (in this way James mirrors Jesus, we can only serve one master)?  If we have wealth, shall we use it to relive the plight of the oppressed?  These are the questions an ‘intercepted’ letter of James asks of Christian communities.  The hope of a liberative reading of James is that the community will learn that faith is less something to be “understood,” but enacted.



[1] Luke Timothy Johnson, The letter of James: a new translation with introduction and commentary, Anchor Bible Series (New York: Doubleday, 1995), 150-151.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Elsa Tamez, The Scandalous Message of James: Faith without Works is Dead (New York: Crossroad, 1990), 1.
[4] Luke Timothy Johnson, Brother of Jesus, friend of God: Studies in the letter of James (Grand Rapids, Mich.: W.B. Eerdmans Pub., 2004), 115-116.
[5] Johnson, 116.  Johnson here is referring specifically to the faith v. works dynamic present in Paul’s work and Jas. 2:14-28, but the general principle of the fallacy stands.
[6] Luke Timothy Johnson, The letter of James: a new translation with introduction and commentary, Anchor Bible Series (New York: Doubleday, 1995), 156.
[7] By ‘Western,’ I mean Western European and North American spheres of influence.   
[8] Tamez, 5. 
[9] Tamez, 6.
[10] Tamez, 6.
[11] "James." The Text This Week - Revised Common Lectionary,  http://www.textweek.com/james.htm (accessed March 31, 2012).  Interestingly, the Episcopal Church’s lectionary did include James 5:1-6, until the denomination switched to the RCL.
[12] Tamez, 4, quoting Martin Dibelius, James, rev. Heinrich Greeven (Philadelphia:  Fortress Press, 1976), 54.
[13] Tamez, 4.
[14] Pedrito U.. Maynard-Reid,  Poverty and wealth in James (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1987), 108n.3.
[15] Meynard-Reid, 108n.3 and Tamez, 24-25.
[16] Tamez, 24-25.
[17] Meynard-Reid (66) believes this to be the case.
[18] Tamez, 28-30.
[19] Tamez, 30.
[20] Gregory Mantsios, "Media Magic: Making Class Invisible" in The social construction of difference and inequality: race, class, gender, and sexuality, 2nd ed., edited by Tracy E. Ore (Boston, Mass.: McGraw-Hill, 2003), 82.
[21] Mantsios, 82.
[22] Mantsios, 86-87.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Lent in Review

A recap of some of the (public) writing from my Lent:

I was with a group that that offered ashes to commuters at the Stamford CT train station, which I think was a powerful witness of the Church in the world.

I wrote about contacting and then later visiting the religious community of which my great grand-aunt was a member. 

I considered the experience I have of a particular song.

..and meditated on a video.

I started some observations on mysticism...

...And then wrote about an experience I had.

And then posted a mystical poem by St. Symeon.

But, Christ is Risen!  This poem reminds me one of my favorite metaphors for God and is a beautiful piece consonant with St. Gregory Nazianzen's statement that "Man [sic] is a musical composition, a wonderfully written hymn to powerful creative activity."

An Easter song/poem/prayer

RIse heart; thy Lord is risen.  Sing his praise
                                                  Without delayes,
Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise
                                                  With him mayst rise:
That, as his death calcined thee to dust,
His life may make thee gold, and much more, just.

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part
                                                  With all thy art.
The crosse taught all wood to resound his name,
                                                  Who bore the same.
His stretched sinews taught all strings, what key
Is best to celebrate this most high day.

Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song
                                                  Pleasant and long:
Or, since all musick is but three part vied
                                                  And multiplied,
O let thy blessed Spirit bear a part,
And make up our defects with his sweet art.
 
"Easter" from The Temple (1633), by George Herbert
 

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

A Poem From St. Symeon, the New Theologian

We awaken in Christ's body as Christ awakens our bodies
And my poor hand is Christ.
He enters my foot and is infinitely me.
I move my hand
And wonderfully my hand becomes Christ,
All of him,
For God is indivisibly whole,
seamless in his Godhead.
I move my foot,
At once he appears like a flash of lightning.
Do my words seem blasphemous?
Then open your heart to him and let yourself receive
the one who is opening to you so deeply.
For if we genuinely love him,
We wake up in Christ's body
Where all our body
All over, every most hidden part of it,
Is realized in joy in Him,
And he makes us utterly real.
So everything that is hurt
Everything that seemed to us
Dark, harsh, shameful, maimed ugly, irreparably damaged
Is in him transformed
And recognized as whole,
As lovely and radiant in his light.
He awakens as the Beloved
In every last part of our body.

-From The Enlightened Heart:  An Anthology of Sacred Poetry, trans. Stephen Mitchell

Wiki:
     Symeon the New Theologian (949–1022 AD) was a Byzantine Christian monk and poet who was the last of three saints canonized by the Eastern Orthodox church and given the title of "Theologian" (along with John the Apostle and Gregory of Nazianzus). "Theologian" was not applied to Symeon in the modern academic sense of theological study, but to recognize someone who spoke from personal experience of the vision of God. One of his principal teachings was that humans could and should experience theoria (literally "contemplation", or direct experience of God).
     Symeon was born into the Byzantine nobility and given a traditional education. At age fourteen he met Symeon the Studite, a renowned monk of the Monastery of Stoudios in Constantinople, who convinced him to give his own life to prayer and asceticism under the elder Symeon's guidance. By the time he was thirty, Symeon the New Theologian became the abbot of the Monastery of St. Mammas, a position he held for twenty-five years. He attracted many monks and clergy with his reputation for sanctity, though his teachings brought him into conflict with church authorities, who would eventually send him into exile. His most well known disciple was Nicetas Stethatos who wrote the Life of Symeon.
      Symeon is recognized as the first Byzantine mystic to freely share his own mystical experiences. Some of his writings are included in the Philokalia, a collection of texts by early Christian mystics on contemplative prayer and hesychast teachings. Symeon wrote and spoke frequently about the importance of experiencing directly the grace of God, often talking about his own experiences of God as divine light.

Monday, April 2, 2012

The trip to the Apostles of the Sacred Heart

I dialed the number and inhaled deeply.  This call felt awkward.  I didn't know exactly why I wanted to visit. I didn't feel prepared to talk.

"Hello, may I help you?"

"Um, yes, my names is Robert Berra, and I'm a student at Yale Divinity School in New Haven.  My great grand-aunt was a member of the Apostles until she passed away in 1995.  Her name was Caroline Berra.  I am wondering if I could come visit sometime in the next two weeks..." 

She gave an affirming answer and asked me to wait as she put me on hold. She came back about five minutes later.

"Robert, Caroline was one of the founders of the adult day care we have on site.  I'm emailing your information to our archivist who is here on Mondays and Thursdays.  She may have some information for you."
_____________
I really started to ask questions about Sister Caroline in the fall of 2008.  At Arizona State University, I took a course on "Sex and Gender in American Religion." We spent some time talking and reading about Catholic convents and the Protestant detestation of them, particularly in the 1800s. It was then that I remembered that there was a religious sister in my family. And so I went looking for Sister Caroline’s information because of my class readings and because I recently decided to join a local New Monastic community through a local Episcopal Church. The Apostles are not Benedictine as such, which is the monastic tradition I most closely identify (though I am finding that there is a Dominican streak running through me); still it was heartening to know that I'm treading a path that has already been traveled in my family: the path of professing vows for/to the service of God, the Church, and all people. Caroline's journey to taking vows has figured into both my exploration of religious orders and re-appropriation of the some of the substance of catholic Christianity.  In moving to New Haven, it was somewhat on my mind that the Apostles were based three miles away in Hamden.

Since meeting a sister of the order while I was a chaplain intern at the Hospital of St Raphael in New Haven, and then running into the sisters in other public places, I've felt the pull to visit the Apostles of the Sacred Heart since August.  The time never seemed right for a visit until a few weeks ago, as Spring Break approached. Then as I checked her obituary in preparation for the phone call, I noticed  that the hospital I served in this summer was the same hospital in which she passed away.
_______________

The following day, I received an email from another sister, based in Pennsylvania.
Hi Robert (Bob),
I'm Sr. S. and I received an email from one of our sisters saying that you were at Yale and related to Sr. Caroline.  I lived with her at the Manor for a good 20 years until her death.  We were good friends.  I also taught Karen and Michael Berra at St. Ambrose.
Presently I'm stationed in Pa., but I'm coming to Ct. this Weekend for a workshop.  I'd love to meet you and or talk to you. What can we arrange?
 We made arrangements to meet the coming Friday evening at the Manor.
_______________
I was let into the manor by a sister who asked me to take a seat in the darkened lobby.  The overhead lights were off, and the room was lit by two lamps.  Sr. S. had not yet arrived.  I sat down on a couch in the darkened lobby and listened carefully.  Somewhere, a radio was playing Stevie Ray Vaughn's "Pride and Joy."  I smiled.  That's a great song.  It seemed like the manor was shutting down for the night.  There was little movement; the place was quiet except for the tell-tale sounds of banging hotel pans told me that people were cleaning a kitchen.  A few sisters walked by me slowly--the couch was by a door opening to the main corridor--they smiled and said 'hello.'  I returned their greetings.

Did I know why I was there yet?  No.  I didn't even yet know what I wanted to ask.

S. arrived about ten minutes later, and still having little sense of what I wanted to know,  I asked S. to simply speak of Caroline.  S. suggested we go down to the adult day care that she and Caroline helped start in 1988.  As we went she pointed out pictures of Caroline as she saw them.

(Caroline is in the foreground with the back turned)
This particular picture S. stopped to elaborate on.  In 1993, the sisters decided to put on a play based on the film Sister Act.  S. said that Caroline really did a wonderful job as Whoopi Goldberg's character, and that it was a shame that there was not a video of the event. Another picture was a football game event around the Superbowl in 1992.
(Caroline is once again in the foreground facing away.)
We entered the day center and sat down.  I began to show S. some of the material I had:  Caroline's obituary, the program from her funeral Mass, and a drawn genogram to show her where is was in the family in relation to Caroline.  S. asked me to speak a little of my own life, and I told her of my journey from Alabama to Arizona to Connecticut, and from the Southern Baptist Church  to near-ordination in the Episcopal Church.  I mentioned that I wanted to learn about my family in general, but I was also interested in how Caroline lived out her religious vows, and I confided that I was also looking at the vows I would soon be taking.

I asked S. to tell me about starting the center and living with Caroline. What was she like? Caroline was normally a very reserved person, and only one person, a sister Cecilia, could get her to play dress-up for events and parties they threw. But once she was in character, she really enjoyed it. Caroline used to joke that once the day care reached fifty occupants, she would retire from it. The rest of the staff jokingly decided not to tell her once they (rather quickly) sailed past fifty. She was very artistic and loved crafts. She must have been rather resourceful, because the center started with very little and they often had to improvise.

S. and I then continued to walk through the center, which is a beautiful space, where we found the photo albums for the center.  S. and I went through, and she allowed me to take the photos of Caroline (which I will return).

After gathering some photos, S. and I walked back to a table and spoke for some time.  I asked her about her own work as a teacher in Pennsylvania, working with mentally handicapped children and young adults. At around 9pm, she asked if I had a ride home and offered to take me back to New Haven. I accepted.  As we parted I wished her well and blessings and safety in her travels; she did the same and said it was wonderful to meet someone from Caroline's family and think on the wonderful memories.
_____________________________

A few weeks later, March 22nd rolled around; the day Caroline passed away and the day she is memorialized in the ASCJ.  It was also the day of my middler review, in which the seminary/divinity school has a conversation with the student about how things are going. Thanks to the visit, I had some sense of my way forward in the Transitional Diaconate.  It's odd and wonderful really.  I came back from the visit with an answer to a question I didn't know how to ask.

The next day I took a trip out to North Haven--where she is buried--and I paid my respects.


I'm am thankful that S. took the time to speak to me about Caroline; and I am grateful to Caroline for her service to God and her example to me.

O God, the King of saints, we praise and glorify your holy
Name for all your servants who have finished their course in
your faith and fear: for the blessed Virgin Mary; for the holy
patriarchs, prophets, apostles, and martyrs; and for all your
other righteous servants, known to us and unknown; and we
pray that, encouraged by their examples, aided by their
prayers, and strengthened by their fellowship, we also may
be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light; through
the merits of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.