Rest

I’ve been having trouble sleeping.

This happens to me from time to time.

Being the kind of person who typically requires a few hours less sleep per night than the average, it’s a bit on the discouraging side when I don’t get the rest I expect to. I would love to say that the hours of restlessness have led me into prayer and contemplation, but that would be a misrepresentation.

What those hours do tend to reveal in me is a pervading restlessness of the soul. I get frustrated. I fail to live in the peace that I so desperately believe is there for me. I can’t say for certain if the sleeplessness reflects the restlessness in me, or if they simply rise at the same time.

I do know this: we are missing something important when we fail to read the scriptures in terms of our physical bodies.

I don’t mean this in terms of laying Bibles on body parts that are in pain. I am referring to the far less superstitious and far more neglected practice of reading the Bible as something pertinent to the way we live our physical lives.

Somewhere along the way, maybe when we started disregarding the Levitical food laws, we stopped listening to what God might have to say about our embodied lives. That God created a pattern of rest into the pattern of life seems to have been lost in our pursuit of the capitalist dream.

There is something very practical about the call of Jesus to “come to me and rest.” I realize that there are broad contextual concerns to understanding this passage, but I think there might be something basic in it too.

I am tired. I am weary of chasing after so many things. I want to return to a way of life that incorporates rest, work, communion, celebration, play, prayer—living. That’s what I long for. Something in me strains for—hopes for—a way of life where my faith is expressed, not in a prescribed manner of social displays, but in the fabric of my day to day life reflecting the freeing gospel of Christ.

I’d love to hear some ideas about how to partake in this kind of life. What does rest look like in Christ? How can we embody in our physical lives the gospel that we so frequently proclaim in our spiritual lives? What does Christ mean when he says, “Come to me and I will give you rest.”?

Is deconstruction a bad word?

Somehow the comments in a conversation about Hell have moved towards the topic of deconstruction.  The conversation was interesting enough, it seemed to me, to warrant its own post. 

Here’s our conversation thus far (please comment with your own thoughts). 

Sighing deeply, Mark grumbled:

…why is “deconstruction” a bad word for so many people? Deconstruction is a healthy and helpful thing, if understood the right way. You could say Jesus deconstructed the Law in the Sermon on the Mount.

Pausing for effect, Matt Stephens retorted:

I see deconstruction and critical inquiry as separated by motive. Deconstruction is, I believe, helpful and indeed necessary when its object is worthy (or at least potentially worthy) of being dismantled. I believe the concept I proposed is worthy of critical analysis, but my assertion is that it is true and that we ought to seek to understand how it might be true rather than automatically attack it as if it weren?t.

BTW, in my understanding, Jesus was deconstructing not Torah, but Torachic interpretation which had (wrongly) come to be synonymous with Torah. He does this throughout the Gospels when he says, “You have heard it said,”–by the religious teachers, that is, not the word of God.

With a sinister twinkle in his eye, Mark replied:

Deconstruction isn’t something that one does to false things and not true things. It is something we should do to all ideas. It doesn’t need to be understood destructively. It is a way of taking things apart to look at the inner workings. So, hell is definitely worth deconstructing: to understand my own assumption, to understand the biblical assumptions, to peel back the layers of the doctrine to get at the dynamic truth of what hell is–and is not.

Jesus’ treatment of the Torah goes way deeper than simply challenging the popular ways of reading the Torah–he changes everything without destroying the Torah–he deconstructs the Torah. He does away with violence, he does away with eye-for-eye. This is more than just “you don’t understand the words of the Torah.” Jesus is reclaiming the Torah and reinterpreting it in new and frightening ways. Because the Torah was written to those that are hard of hearts and now, Jesus will write the Law on those hearts and there is no longer any need to bow to stipulations. That is deconstruction at its most profound.

With dictionary in hand, Ryan reasoned:

de·con·struc·tion (d?’k?n-str?k’sh?n) Pronunciation Key
n. A philosophical movement and theory of literary criticism that questions traditional assumptions about certainty, identity, and truth; asserts that words can only refer to other words; and attempts to demonstrate how statements about any text subvert their own meanings (from dictionary.com)

So the idea of deconstruction is borrowed from literary theory. How has it been applied to Christianity and the Bible?

I think the key verb in this definition is “questions.” Some people claim we have no right to question the Bible, but look at how gracious Jesus was to “doubting” Thomas. I think God honors those who humbly approach him with questions, or even doubts, prepared to forsake the comfortable answers, and to accept troubling answers, mysterious answers, or no answers, so long as they come from God.

The reason I named our church plant “The Core” is because I believe each generation is called to deconstruct the work of its forebears, and understand the heart of the gospel for themselves. But Matt is right, it’s all about motives. If your goal is to deconstruct what man has made, to get closer to God, and the re-construct on his own foundation, then you are pleasing him. However, if your goal is to deconstruct God’s own message, and build your own foundation in place of his, then you are guilty of pride and idolatry.

What do you think?

By the way, I’ve created a related forum topic called “Which Doctrines are Non-Negotiable?” Check it out.

Introducing: the Jesus Manifesto Forums

A few weeks ago, this blog shifted from one man’s blog to a collaborative blog.  I had hoped that adding more voices would deepen the purpose of this blog: to offer a prophetic voice for those sojourning in the American Empire.  I’m happy to say that I’m pleased.  Jesus Manifesto is more communal…the discussion has been richer and I find that I am more motivated to write, knowing that there are a group of us exploring these issues seriously.

Now I want to up the ante.  I recently, while no one was looking, added a forums area to this site.  I’m inviting those of you who aren’t part of the writing team to share your ideas and questions on the forums page.  Blogging tends to be one way….even with multiple authors, it is still one way.  The readers can only respond to what is offered.  But with a forum, you can write whatever you want…ask your question, share your concerns, tell your story. 

Here’s how it works. You have to register to use the forums.  There are currently five forums to choose from:

1. upcoming events: Share any noteworthy upcoming events.
2. ministry discussion: Ministry questions? Ministry ideas? Share them here.
3. theological discussion: This is the place to engage in theological dialog.
4. the economics of Jesus: Share your questions or ideas about living faithfully with your resources.
5. cultural issues: An open discussion of cultural issues–pop culture, postmodernism, you name it.

Once you’ve registered, you can add topics to any of these forums, but you can’t create new forums.  If you have an idea for a forum, contact me. 

My hope is that it will foster greater dialogue.  Then again, it is possible that no one will use it.  Let’s see what happens.  Consider yourself invited.

Hell by Technicality

Long ago there lived two Israelite men in the great city of Babylon. They were twins, named Zadok and Zebulun, although the Babylonians gave them strange, dishonorable names that we will not mention here.

Zadok and Zebulun were good men, righteous and blameless. And although they were not priests or rabbis, they wielded an impressive grasp of scriptural interpretation and application. Their natural hero was Daniel, who died hundreds of years ago, but left behind a legacy and respectability for the descendants of Abraham that continued firmly to the present day. In all their studies, and whenever they lied down and got up, whenever they worked or ate or walked from place to place, they struggled to follow the ways of God, in the footsteps of the prophet Daniel.

Occasionally they would hear news from Israel, where they longed to return within their lifetimes. It grieved them to learn that the priests and teachers of the law, and virtually the entire class of Pharisees, had become obsessed with legalities and judgment. Their very own tribe, it appeared, had lost their sense of direction… their sense of God’s heart, who desires mercy, not sacrifice.

And although mercy and humility were their highest aim, they knew that sacrifices must continue until their Messiah arrived.

They were also aware of the state of bondage in Israel–that Rome had overrun their homeland, and that many Israelites were desperate for a Messiah to come at last to free them. And though their hearts beat as one with the people of their own blood, Zadok and Zebulun knew deeply that a Messiah was to come, not to rescue their people from invasion, but from their sins. It was the prophet Isaiah who said of the coming Messiah, “He was pierced for our transgressions, and crushed for our iniquities.” They could only pray that when the Messiah did come, the people would see him for who he was.

If only they had known that at that very time the Messiah was, indeed, present in Israel. He was born about the time Zadok and Zebulun were getting married… 18, 19 years old. And now the Messiah was 33 years old, at the height of his earthly ministry.

It was during this year, nearing the feast of Passover, that Zadok became deathly ill. He was in such great pain that the 22nd Psalm became his mantra–a Psalm of deep suffering, but earth-shattering hope. As the family gathered around in an attempt to include him in their Passover meal, he quoted it again, gathering strength at the climax, “All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the Lord, and all the families of the nations will bow down before him, for dominion belongs to the Lord and he rules over the nations.” And finally, with his last breath he whispered hoarsely, “Next year in Jerusalem.” And each member of his family echoed, “Next year in Jerusalem.” And Zadok went to the bosom of Abraham.

After a few days spent in utter grief, Zebulun became determined to fulfill his brother’s wish, to be in Jerusalem, on his behalf. He gathered his servants, camels, and supplies and set out for the City of David.

As he embarked from Babylon, unbelievable things were happening in Jerusalem. Those who once followed the Messiah had now turned on him, and demanded that he be crucified at the hand of Pontius Pilate. The greatest man ever to walk the earth became a humiliating spectacle, and died harshly and grimly in the full sight of passers-by. He was wrapped up and buried in a rich man’s tomb. But on the third day he conquered that grave, and rose to proclaim God’s victory and resurrection to all mankind. The Messiah, Jesus, had ushered in a new covenant where all who claim him would be saved.

Zebulun was on his way there–on his way, unkowingly, to take part in this celebration of new life. But then tragedy struck, as a band of thieves ambushed his traveling party, made off with his belongings, and killed him and all his servants in cold blood.

Zadok died under the old covenant, and went to be with his God. Zebulun died under the new covenant, not knowing or accepting the name of Jesus, and went instead to eternal punishment.

My question for you… Did Zebulun go to hell by technicality?

Missio Dei is looking for an investor…

I just looked at the perfect location for a permanent home for Missio Dei. It is an old converted bar that has been immaculately restored and cared for.

The space is $550,000 (which is VERY cheap for Minneapolis), is located in the perfect location for our ministry needs, and has space for a large community apartment, a large gathering space, office space, and a cool restored basement that could be used for art studio space, an arts/music venue, classroom space, or it could be converted into a nice apartment.

It also has a very full sized two car garage (which could be used as workshop space), a large lot that would add more space for urban gardening, and an enclosed outdoor courtyard between the garage and the main building. 

 We’re looking for an individual or group that would like to support a ministry like ours, while making a wise fiscal investment as well. The property is worth more than $550,000…the 78 year old bachelor that restored the place and lived there for 15 years wants to travel in his remaining years.

Here’s the thing.  This would be a great next step in what we’re doing.  Missio Dei has been faithful for the past few years…we’ve resisted easy growth as we’ve sought to root ourselves in the neighborhood.  We’ve become a people of hospitality, a people of prayer, a people who put faithfulness to Jesus before the ornaments of church success.  This property would help us to do everything we’re doing now, but with greater intensity and greater impact.  We’re ready for this.  We’re praying for this.  But we need help from brothers and sisters in Christ to make this a reality. 

Let me know if you have any leads. I have a written up property proposal if you, or someone you know, would like to take a look. Contact me at mark [at] missio-dei.com for more information.

Food and Empire–an update

Do you ever wonder where God is working? Where is the intersection of his will being done on earth as it is in heaven?

I believe the Spirit is at work in humble places we sometimes overlook. For example, there is healing ministry where food is involved.

I picked up my first order of locally-grown food from Farm to Folk nearly a week ago. The farmers and distributors meet in the kitchen of an old, mainline church in the center of my town. These are humble, hard-working people who don’t wear Jesus on their sleeves.

They are trying to make a living from the land, exercising stewardship of mind, body and spirit. They’re distributing peace and healing and sustenance.

But the best news is this: I learned a food pantry housed at another old, mainline church buys shares from Farm to Folk. Every Tuesday, when the shares are delivered, there’s a long line of people at the food pantry.

People are willing to stand in line for fresh, healthy food.

Justice in on the move in the name of Jesus in my little corner of the world. Now, I’m going to prayerfully use my influence as a journalist, as a board member and volunter for two relief agencies, and as a member of a local congregation to inform people of the opportunity to expand the healing ministry of healthy food.

To shamelessly paraphrase, the gates of empire will not prevail against the steady, humble advancement, through the work of the church, of the Kingdom of the Beloved Son.

Ecclesiastes and Empire

“Meaningless! Meaningless! Says the Teacher, “utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless” (Ecclesiastes 1:2, TNIV).
Ecclesiastes has long been one of my favorite books of the Bible. At various points in my life, in the midst of angst and despair, I have been bombarded with messages of hope that, while I’m sure they were well-intentioned, sounded hollow in the face of what I was experiencing at the time. In the face of pithy statements of hope in the face of what seemed to be crushing despair I found a remedy in the Teacher of Ecclesiastes and his (I thought) pessimistic outlook. I found a strange kind of hope in reading the wise words of someone who came long before me, even if his wisdom was to say that wisdom itself is ultimately for nothing.

In college I studied existentialist philosophy as a part of my course in liberal arts, and Ecclesiastes became real to me in new and exciting ways. The exhortations of the Teacher to know one’s place and find enjoyment in the toil of daily life led me to Sartre, and I found affinity between Kierkegaard and the “leap of faith” and the Teacher’s exhortation to “follow God and keep his commandments” in spite of the seeming absurdity of the world and our place in it.

This same sense that gave me hope in the face of depression and sickness while I was in college, however, would be the source of consternation as I began to read and study more about the mechanisms of empire and how closely it seemed to me that life in America was echoing life under the shadows of the empires I was studying. This way of thinking actually started at the same time as my course in existentialism as I studied the history of Rome as part of my course in Biblical studies. I began to wonder if the Teacher’s exhortation to know your place and enjoy “every moment of [your] stupid little life” (to quote Lester Burnum from American Beauty) wasn’t just a way of replacing potential resistance to the unjust order with numbness and meek acceptance, and if the urging to obey God didn’t seek in some way to supply religious legitimation for the empire - after all, Ecclesiastes is traditionally attributed to Solomon, the man largely responsible for transforming Israel from a confederation of tribes to a centralized kingdom (like the nations) well on its way to empire. However, as I’ve studied the book further I have found in Ecclesiastes not the seeds of despair and a quashing of potential resistance (the purpose Brueggemann ascribes to the book), but quite the opposite really - I believe Ecclesiastes, if read in the right way, can be a source of great insight into the nature of empire and of genuine hope for resistance.

While a cursory reading of this book would seem to cast a long shadow of despair over any and all human activity, it’s important to note that the Teacher does not necessarily condemn all activity, or at least not all of them equally. For instance, even though wisdom is meaningless, it is still better than ignorance and folly. And the meaninglessness of what happens in life does not erase the fact that it is sometimes time for one thing, and sometimes time for another – a time to be born, a time to die, a time to kill, a time to heal, a time to mourn, a time to dance, and so on. Oppression and injustice are not justified, they are presented as the result of ignorance, of the belief that gaining wealth and power are inherently good things when, as the Teacher has discovered, you can’t take it with you. In the end the Teacher presents following God and keeping his commandments as the ground of meaning in human life, a statement that necessarily requires one to look back to the Torah and its stipulations regarding love of God and of neighbor, of living in community in such a way that justice and shalom are foundational to life together.

Even the word “meaningless” does not impart the sort of existential angst that seems to be popularly attributed to Ecclesiastes; indeed, I would question whether “meaningless” is even the best translation. The Hebrew word is hebel, which has as its basic meaning “vapor” or “breath”. We see this, for example, in Psalm 39:5:

You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Each man’s life is but a breath (hebel);

and Psalm 144:4:

A man is like a breath (hebel);
his days are like a fleeting shadow.

So every time you see in the text something like “this is meaningless, a chasing after the wind”, the two statements mutually reinforce each other. I would even go as far as to say that the fundamental issue for the Teacher is not that life is meaningless, but that it is a breath, a vapor, and that folly is trying to take hold of something that is fundamentally dynamic, changing, breathing, something that cannot be grasped, and seize it as something static, concrete, and tangible.

It is precisely because people are prone to this kind of folly that we should not be surprised to see injustice in the world, and I suggest that wisdom consists of seeing ourselves in right relationship to God, the world, ourselves, and each other and so seeing that which is dynamic not through our attempts to overcome it, to make it static, but rather seeing it through the lens of God’s revelation throughout history, and particularly for us through God’s self-revelation in Christ.

I suggest that the fundamental folly in Ecclesiastes and the nature of empire are essentially the same, that being an exercise of the will to godlike power over what is given as a gift, trying to seize hold of it and appropriate it for our own use. Or, in the case of empire, to apprehend people and their lives, cultural creations, and ways of being, subjugating people made in the image of God to an exploited subordinate, a commodity if you will, that exists as an object to be acted on by the structures of power, rather than as human beings in their own right.

It is only by being a community of people who “follow[s] God and keep[s] his commandments” of loving God and neighbor, by being a community of people who embrace Jesus’ mission to proclaim freedom to captives and the Jubilee of the Lord, that real and active resistance to the machinations of empire can take place. It is only by being liberated through the work of Christ, by participating in his life, death, and resurrection through the sacraments of baptism and eucharist, and by seeing the world through lenses shaped by the Word and the Spirit that we can begin to be a people who do not reject life as “meaningless” or seek to constrain it in our totalitarian categories, but rather embrace it as a gift and celebrate God’s working in history to create a tribe of people out of every tribe, tongue, and nation who will anticipate in their life together on earth the coming of the kingdom in full.

* * * * *

Jason Barr is an independent recording artist, freelance writer, and graduate student from Evansville, Indiana. He holds the Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of Evansville in the areas of music and Biblical studies, and is currently working towards an MA in Liberal Studies at the University of Southern Indiana. Jason is a recovering right-wing fundamentalist-cum-Christian anarchist, and is the head writer for the Christian anarchist blog “An Absolution Revolution. He lives in the “Grand Old Co-Opry”, a cooperative housing project in Evansville dedicated to mutual aid and seeking a more organic lifestyle. He intends to puruse a Ph.D in theological ethics and philosophy, with an eye towards social and political philosophy and exploring a theological basis for environmental justice. Jason describes himself as a “liturgical Anabaptist” though he currently attends St. John the Apostle Catholic Church on Evansville’s south side. He is also a novice Oblate of the Order of St. Benedict through St. Meinrad Archabbey in Indiana.

A Collaborative Brain Storm

One of the things I’ve found so fascinating about the Internet is the ability for people with similar interest and passions to come together, from many different geographical regions, online, and collaborate.

This post is an experiment in that. I’ve begun a few lists of ideas. It’s vague, and it’s meant to be. Basically, what I’m looking for is what sort of creative outside of the box ideas we can come up with collectively in different areas as it relates to the ‘Church’ and Christianity.

I’m going to use google documents for this as I think it’s the most intuitive for this project. If you would like to add to the list I simply need to add your email address and you can edit the document at your leisure.

Here is the Document: Ideas.

The beauty of this is that it can be an example of how we truly are the body of Christ, made up of many, unique parts. The role of leading the church is not just for Pastors and ‘Leadership’ it is for us as a body.

Let the experiment begin. (Comment below and I’ll add your email to the collaborator list or email me ariahfine at gmail)

“Safeguarding” the faith

I recently had the experience of being in a discussion with a group of people where the question was raised: “What safeguards are there to interpreting scripture?”

My first concern is with the spirit of the question. There seems to be a basic assumption that there actually exist safeguards to how a text gets interpreted in our communities, and that we merely need to unlock the secrets of what those safeguards are. In the term “safeguard,” there are implications of both security and defensiveness. Moreover the question suggests that we, as humans, are responsible for determining and maintaining these defenses of a text—or by extension faith.

Where is the Spirit of God in all this? If we hold that the controversial message of Jesus is really worthwhile, that the Spirit of God is at work in our world, then surely we believe God is great enough to guide our readings of scripture.

If you’ve ever been to an optometrist, you’re familiar with the dark room, the fuzzy letters on the wall, and the rotation of glass lenses, “Which is better? A or B? Now 1 or 2?” You get the picture.

Now imagine, each combination of lenses fits someone’s eyes, yet no single combination fits everyone’s eyes. While some people are blessed to have perfect vision, none of us has perfect sight when it comes to our faith and to the way we read a text.

My lenses are shaped by my age, education, parents, religion, personality, experience with pain, understanding of love, how hungry I am, etc. Each of these influences can at times clarify or dull my vision.

When it comes to reading the Bible or understanding my faith, I need to use a variety of lenses in rotating combinations until things become clearer to me. But if my lenses are the problem, then I may need to see through the lenses of someone else.

Now, the next person down the line is probably having just as much trouble as I am, except, where I am near-sighted, she is far-sighted. Even though I know she doesn’t have everything worked out, by borrowing her lenses and letting them work in combination with mine, I see more clearly.

Now imagine reading in communities that are broadly varied, with people who bring with them very different categories of politics, faith, family, culture, language, sexuality, and ethics. I need not feel like orthodoxy will be destroyed in such a community

In coming together with those unlike me, I am able to engage in a dynamic exchange where, in the medium of love, we allow our differences to shape and create conversations about the text. In such a community, the Spirit of God is in charge of holding truth and guiding us in the process of engaging one another.

I have no interest in safeguarding the scriptures or my faith, because such an activity would be to foolishly declare my understanding as perfectly clear. I know this to be false. If others gave over their trust to me to interpret the faith for them, I have no doubt that I have the capacity to become a Jim Jones. Instead, in following Christ, I must live kenotically, giving away my power, and humbling myself to serve and learn from others.

“Sisters and Brothers pray for me, that I may better understand the scriptures.”
-an invocation from members of an independent African church congregation

radical discipleship and the virtues of consumerism

Paul, in Galatians chapter five, tells us that the fruits of the spirit are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These theological virtues run counter to the central virtues of western culture: upward mobility, buying power, and individual autonomy. Being in seminary, I think, places the student at a strong disadvantage for ministry in the world outside the safety of a community that speaks theological language - and often nothing else. For example, as Brennan Manning writes, “Fidelity to the Word will take us along the path of downward mobility…in the midst of an upwardly mobile culture. We will find ourselves not on the path to power but on the path to powerlessness; not on the road to success but on the road to servanthood; not on the broad road of praise and popularity but on the narrow road of ridicule and rejection (The Signature of Jesus, 11).” What manning says here makes sense to me but, to people (Christians included) whose lives are lived in lockstep with the march of the almighty dollar, these words are foolishness. What are we to do? Do we need a postmodern apologetic? If so, in what ways will our embodiment of these virtues of Christ distinguish life in Christian community from life in the world? Is this even a necessary distinction? It seems to me that the challenge of the church today is to find ways to authentically embody the virtues of the church in ways that actually speak to a culture that doesn’t speak our language.

Certainly, there is value in the power of the cross to speak to and to change persons into radically different sorts of people whose lives are lived in the way of Christian discipleship but is the cross sufficiently scandalous to our culture? It is true that the virtues of consumerism often dominate people’s lives but it is also true that, as Peter Leithart has written, the church no longer faces the blatant paganism against which it once labored so strongly against. No the church today faces a “sophisticated civilization haunted by Christ.” We live in a culture that has the name of Christ on its lips but that does not know what it means to live a life of radical discipleship - people are unaware that the virtues of consumerism and the virtues of faith in Christ are quite opposed to one another. “Our neighbors are adherents of a sometimes jaded, sometimes gleeful, post-Christianity (Leithart).”

In this post-Christian consumer culture, what does it mean to be radical disciples?

Any ideas?

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