Category: Church

Discussing Everyday Justice 4

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The recent contest to win a copy of Everyday Justice generated some fantastic comments and questions about justice issues. So I’ve been addressing some of those in blog posts. I don’t assume to have THE answers to anything, but just want to share my perspective and hope you will join in with yours as well.

Christi Bowman commented –
“As an American is it possible to not be exploitative…which is where begging for mercy from Jesus everyday comes in…no matter what I do their are countless ways in which I am exploitative and don’t know it and some ways I am exploitative and as of yet have not found ways to discontinue being exploitative…I am responsible for the damage living my life causes those who have to pay the price. I live in Babylon…I am the oppressor! You can step out of the empire in a day but it takes a life time to get the empire out of you (Shane Claiborne)“

And Dave honestly stated–
“What worries me most about the whole issue of justice is that I kind of see “working for justice” as working against me. I can’t shake the feeling that when people cry out against the unjust, the people they’re crying out against are people who live just like me and my friends. This makes me extremely uneasy.”

I admit, it is scary and it makes me uneasy too. Basically I don’t want to have to hear that I am part of the problem – that it is my actions that are what are hurting other people. Because if I know the truth, then I have a choice to make. I can continue hurting others or I can make changes so that I stop. If I am a decent human being who isn’t afraid to be responsible for my actions, then I have no choice but to choose to change my actions. But of course, I don’t want to change because change is uncomfortable and hard. If I were being completely truthful, I’d say I’d rather remain in ignorance and not have to be responsible or change anything. But I know I can’t.

The truth about injustice makes many people so uneasy that instead of taking responsibility they start making excuses for why we don’t need to bother. (and Dave, I’m not saying this is you at all, just some stuff your statement prompted me to respond to) I hear a lot, especially from Christians in this Western individualized world, about how we in reality have no such communal responsibility. That our participation in culture can’t be faulted since that is just the air we breathe. That we need to care just about the individuals we encounter, especially our own friends and family. That there is no reason to be forced to feel guilty about someone we will never meet, systems we don’t control, or events that happened in the past. I understand how a lot of that is based in a mentality of fear and a serious aversion to change, but I’ve also come to see how such attitudes are unfortunately rooted in a culture (religion) of individualism. Our faith even is individualized – all about our personal relationship with God. We’ve lost the idea of being a communal body that cares for all of its members. And we’ve forgotten the idea of corporate sin – our ability to perpetrate sins on a communal level. In fact we are so used to sin being just about personal individual heart things that we assume that the purpose of anyone pointing out issues with our actions is just to make us feel bad about ourselves.

But that’s not the point.

The point of telling the stories of injustice is to help us start living as a community – to admit that we are part of that community and be willing to work with that community. To admit that we are part of Babylon and that like it or not we are involved in the oppression of others. And that if we want to build healthy communities where the needs of all members are respected, then we need to get over this idea that it’s all about just feeling guilty. Change doesn’t come about just because we feel bad. Change happens when we admit we are part of the problem and then do whatever we can to stop. Sure, feelings will be involved, but when we start caring more about how we feel than about the injustices themselves our priorities are seriously messed up. I have a hard time understanding how people can be more upset at me for making them feel guilty about eating chocolate tainted with child slavery than they are about the child slavery. I wish I could just tell them – “Stop making this all about you and just start working to make things better! Be a part of this global community and be responsible for your role in it.”

But it’s hard to challenge individualism and personalized conceptions of faith. It’s hard to admit we’ve done things wrong. And it’s hard to change. I get that this has to be a slow process. I get that we will never create a perfect world. I get that it is impossible to ever step fully outside of systems of oppression and exploitation. I get that we just have to do what we can. I’m all about finding everyday ways to seek justice. I’m all about doing whatever is doable where you are at. I understand it’s messy. I understand that crying out to Jesus for mercy is all we can do at times. But I’m sick of those that use all of those excuses and more to just do nothing. To abdicate responsibility. To wallow in guilt and inaction. To not live as a communal body.

Being part of the Kingdom of God is hard. It is uncomfortable. It takes work. It requires us to get over ourselves and not insist that the world should revolve around our desires. That’s not a popular message in a faith that has attracted followers based on the message that Christianity is all about the wonderful things Christ does for us. But nevertheless, it is what it means to be a part of the body of Christ, and hard or not, it’s how we are called to live.

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Tradition

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Tradition.

And yes, that must be mentally read to the Fiddler on the Roof tune.

Recent discussions here brought up the need to respect and submit to the authority of tradition in the church. Those of us in emerging discussion based churches were accused of just being individualists with no higher authority but ourselves. We were asked what church authority we submit to in the faith with the assumption that everyone should be submitting to someone. Such things like liturgy were championed because they are rooted in tradition and hence are often put forth as therefore the appropriate way to do church. This is a discussion popular in the church these days – even in emerging circles. We have Phyllis Tickle saying that the future of the church is in the hyphenateds – traditional denominations that are engaging the emerging conversation. Jim Belcher’s recent book, Deep Church, suggests an alternative to emerging Christianity is to have the church rooted in tradition, specifically the conservative reformed Presbyterian tradition. And Brian McLaren even recently affirmed what Richard Rohr said about the need for Emergents to be rooted in tradition –

It seems to me that the emerging church is emerging because people are finding the ability to have a grateful foot in both camps—one in the Tradition (the mother church) along with another foot inside of a support group that parallels, deepens, broadens, grounds, and personalizes the traditional message. But you don’t throw out the traditional message, or you have to keep rebuilding the infrastructure or creating a superstructure all over again.

I get all that. I see the beauty of tradition. I see the futility in think we are building something from scratch. I don’t think tradition should be scoffed at or rejected. I’m not anti-tradition.

It’s just that none of those are my traditions. I have never been rooted in liturgical practice. I didn’t grow up in denominations with catechisms and standard hymnals and theological tomes that cannot be questioned. I feel no allegiance to Luther, or Calvin, or Barth. I know I am influenced by them and owe my faith to the path they laid, but I’ve never been part of that tribe. I guess I could choose to adopt their tradition as my own just like I could decide that I wanted to become thoroughly culturally Chinese, but at the moment I feel no inclination to become Lutheran (or Chinese).

I know I am part of a great tradition. My faith does not exist in a vacuum – I respect and am grateful for the heritige of my faith. But I get uneasy with the repeated insistence that I must have at least one foot planted firmly in some tradition in order to have a holistic and healthy faith. I am told that I am rejecting tradition in pursuit of an individualistic faith if I do not. But honestly how can I reject something I never had? Those aren’t my tribes. I am just a low-church mutt who has found her place in the emerging conversation.

So given that – the question becomes “is tradition necessary for faith?” Or, can I be a Christian outside of a historic tradition or must I choose to align myself with an established tradition in order to be truly faithful? I know that’s the Catholic and Orthodox stance – but is it the official stance of the Lutherans, or Presbyterians, or Anglicans, or the emerging hyphenateds thereof? Must I choose one of those tribes? Or is there actually room for building new infrastructure and making a tribe out of us fringe immigrants who have no home?

This discussion is often framed as a dichotomy between tradition and rejection thereof – but not all of us fit neatly into those two categories. There needs to be room for us too – even if that requires changing the nature of this whole discussion.

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Standardized Tests, Learning Styles, and Church

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At Christianity 21 I had a fascinating conversation with a couple of educators about how No Child Left Behind with its extreme emphasis on standardized testing has ruined our schools and teachers. They were discussing the stress such tests put on students and the lack of real learning that takes place in schools these days. I totally agree with all that, but the timing of the conversation sparked a few new connections for me. You see, we had just all done the small talk thing about what sorts of churches we attend and why. I understand the huge role personality and preference play in our choice of church to attend, but this conversation helped me pinpoint how much my learning style and hatred of standardized tests effects where I go to church.

Growing up, I never had a problem with standardized tests. They didn’t stress me out. I didn’t have to cover for my teachers helping me cheat on the test like many students these days. No, I was the kid who always got a perfect score on every standardized test. I’m not saying that to brag (because I hate the things), just to say that I learned how to take tests. I learned very early on how to give the test or the teacher exactly what they wanted to hear. So I could parrot back right answers. I could fill in the correct bubble with my number two pencil. And as I grew older I could ace pop quizzes on books I simply skimmed or get an A+ on a 10 page book report on a book I never read. I knew the system, I knew how succeed in a “learning” environment where all I had to do was regurgitate the exact crap the teacher wanted. And I thought it was all a joke.

I hated classes where this sort of so-called learning was the norm. To me it was just a game of information and not true intellectual engagement. I felt silly at the grade-school assemblies where I got trophies for my perfect scores because I knew it was meaningless. I felt ashamed at good grades that meant nothing. So when I first started to encounter settings where real learning took place, I dove headfirst into the opportunity. In high school that was the IB program. Where the AP classes were just all about learning the right way to take more vigorous tests, the IB classes were all discussion based. With no more than a dozen of us in each class we would explore the books we read, discuss poetry, pull out the themes in history, and design our own science experiments. Our grades were based on long essays where ideas and not form were the point. Or we were evaluated by sitting down for hour long discussions with our teacher. I came alive in that environment as I realized that real learning involved interaction and engagement. In college , expecting more of the same, I could barely stand the classes where it was all about just playing the system and bsing my way through. I wanted to learn, not just make it through.

So understanding that about myself helps me see why I attend the church that I do. I really can’t stand sermons or liturgy. I don’t want someone telling me what I should think without giving me the chance to engage. Nor do I like feeling like I have to engage in the right rituals of the system in order to do church right. I get how those things work for people with other preferences and learning styles, but they aren’t for me. I need to engage, be a part of a discussion, to push back when presented with ideas, to be able to connect what happens in church to life, and history, and music, and politics, and movies, and parenting…. I don’t want to feel like I have to fill in the right bubble or spit out some pretty sounding bs in order to be a part of church. I’ve been there, done that, and it felt false. I was good at it, just as I was good as standardized tests, but it didn’t spiritually form me. So I get uneasy with the recent popularity of discussions upholding the traditional forms of church and the sermon as the only right way to do church. Those are hollow to me and represent a detachment from meaningful faith. Others can have and celebrate those things, I just need something different.

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Matter ’09

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So I am feeling very blessed. In the last two weeks I have attended two theology conferences – the Emergent Theological Conversation with Jurgen Moltmann and the Matter ’09 conference. I forget how much being a part of an experience where people can learn and discuss and debate ideas is such a vital part of who I am. Getting a short discussion some weeks in Sunday school or interacting even on blogs just doesn’t cut it for the need to be feed through such interaction. I miss it, and so was very grateful to have a few days where I could be myself. I’ve been reflecting on the Moltmann conversation already here and may continue that as well as add in a few reflections from the Matter conference in the upcoming week.

But I want to say how much I appreciated Matter ’09. It was put on by Shechem Ministries and was billed as a creative theology conference. In essence it brought the arts and theology together through a variety of mediums. As conferences go, it was a very small conference and had some serious kinks in the planning/implementation side of things, but I hope those don’t stand in the way of this becoming a regular gathering. There really is so little being done in the church that explores how art and theology and church life and faith all work together. We need safe spaces where we can explore those sorts of questions, and the Matter conference is the perfect opportunity to make that happen.

This year at the conference we got to approach the issues and learn from a variety of different styles. Throughout the conference there were presentations/workshops from a variety of voices. Some of these were strictly academic, others were talks on the practical intersection of art and faith, and others were artistic sessions like poetry readings or short drama. I was privileged to lead a session on how our mental images of God affect if our response to Eucharist turns us inward to a personalized faith or outward to a service orientated faith. Then there were three main sessions where an academic and an artist engaged the theme verses of the conference while in dialogue with each other. So a painter and a biblical scholar, a filmmaker and a philosopher, and a musician and a textual critic explored together how to interpret and reflect on scripture. Then we also got to hear multiple times from Pete Rollins, who explored with us creative liturgy and pushed us to reflect on lived faith that is in the world but not of it. He, as always, was brilliant and challenged us to remove the facades of our faith. It was cerebral, and emotional, and worshipful all at the same time.

I was grateful to be a part of this event, and thankful to those who put in the work to make it happen. I truly hope it does evolve and survive so that we can continue to see these diverse disciplines interacting and deliberately learning from each other.

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All the Lonely People

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“All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?”
– The Beatles, Eleanor Rigby

I didn’t really follow the media circus surrounding Michael Jackson’s death. I grew up as a conservative evangelical during the time when he was really popular, so I was never allowed to listen to his music and then never had any interest later on. I understand the idea of celebrity obsession, and there are a handful of celebrities whose passing I would mourn, but Michael Jackson wasn’t one of them. That said, I was struck by the news stories reporting on the fans who committed suicide upon hearing of his death. At last count some 12 fans have taken their life in response to his death. And that breaks my heart.

My initial response to hearing of these suicides was, “how could the church let that happen?” Now I fully admit the reasons for why people take their life are complicated, and that the church itself isn’t responsible for policing its members in that way. But at the same time, it saddens me that the inclusive community that should be the church failed to reach out to these people. That they could be so obsessed with a pretend relationship with a celebrity they had never met that they would end their life over it. Why isn’t the church offering a compelling, accessible, and understanding enough community that obsession over a distant idol is necessary for some people? And why aren’t we as the church doing our best to offer that community to those on the margins who may have slipped through the cracks and lost touch with reality?

Of course, I can give a dozen answers to my own questions. Raising the issues of what defines community itself, to people’s right to privacy, to the church’s own celebrity worship issues. There are all sorts of excuses and reasons why this has nothing to do with the church. And I even believe most of them. But at the same time I wish things could be different. I wish the church wasn’t an place where a few people show up with masks firmly in place. I wish people didn’t have reason to fear stepping into a church or of removing that mask and being themselves. I wish the church wasn’t more often than not just the facade of community instead of the real thing. Because if we were the real thing then maybe we could be serving all the lonely people in the world.

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A Rant on Church Banners

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So it’s been a crazy week. Mike is finishing up the semester and has something like a bazillion papers to write, so I haven’t had much time to sit down at the computer and write – much less mental energy or coherency to do so when I do have the time. So what you’re getting here is a rant – a stupid rant, I admit, but simply a rant about something that has been annoying me recently – megachurch banners. See I told you it was stupid. But seriously, the things are driving me nuts.

Before I go further, let me clarify. Church banners differ from the equally annoying church sign. While church signs have some pithy, inane, and often offensive saying meant to “witness” to the passing masses, church banners serve merely to advertise and get more butts through the door. And they generally only show up on megachurches because, let’s face it, they are the only ones with the budget to print up those things. The problem (beyond the whole churches advertising like this in general thing)  is that what makes sense to the church in-crowd, is confusing and meaningless to the outside world.

A few examples –

The church I grew up at here recently advertised some sort of concert they were having in their brand new stadium with a banner on the side of their building. They are situated on prime real estate overlooking the intersection of two major highways. But from even the closest spot on those highways all I could see was the date and the faces of what I assume are two CCM artists. No clue who they were, what sort of event it was, or how to find out more. Serious advertising FAIL.

Another of Austin’s megachurches hangs banners for their sermon series or ministry programs. A few months ago I saw that they were advertising for a series called “(in)justice.” I was intrigued so I went to their website (Google search) to find out more and hit a wall. There was nothing on the website except for a reprint of the banner itself. In fact I could find very little that actually told me anything about the church at all on the website – but it was a slick website. The same church also recently advertised their men’s ministry, so for a number of weeks they had a huge banner in front of their church that read “Men’s Fraternity.” I thought it was rather fitting for a conservative Texas church, but they were obviously clueless as to what message they were sending about their church.

Then there is the kinda sorta emerging megachurch in town. Not that they really are emerging, but they have the veneer. Well they put up weekly banners for their sermons. This week the sign reads “Close Your Bible. Open Your Mind.” At first I thought that it was actually an interesting topic, then I went to their website. It apparently is a cute objection to faith that the church is addressing in their “Why Austin Doesn’t Believe” series. I won’t be there this Sunday, but I get the feeling that the sermon will be on why you shouldn’t close your Bible and believe it anyway and not on opening your mind to different perspectives.

Okay, some might say that these banners are serving their purpose since I am noticing them. But honestly, how effective are banners at drawing outsiders in? If they don’t explain much, or make any sense if you don’t go to the church, why waste resources on them? I mean, I get some entertainment getting annoyed by them each time I drive by, but really, what’s the point?

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Book Review: The Next Evangelicalism

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I am a little nervous writing a review of this book. On one hand there is a lot I like about Soong-Chan Rah’s The Next Evangelicalism, but the book also raised some serious questions for me. But I’m white, and this is a book about identifying and moving beyond the white Western captivity of the church. Plus in the Introduction, the author dismisses any disagreement by saying his words flow simply from a love for Jesus and a desire to see the church healed. So I have a sad feeling that I could get into a lot of trouble if I speak my mind about this book. But I want to anyway – because even though there are aspects of the book that I have serious issues with, I think its overall message is absolutely necessary for the church to hear. I think some of those issues might get in the way of that message being heard by a wider audience, so I think they need to be addressed upfront and dealt with – even if I take some heat for doing so.

The basic premise of the book is that the future of the church is in its global non-white manifestations, but that the church is currently being held back by its captivity to white Western systems of thought. While some are lamenting the decline of Christianity in America, they fail to realize that it is only in white America that it is in decline. Minority populations are on the rise. By 2050 it is predicted that the majority of U.S. residents will be non-white, and most of them are Christians with strong churches and faith traditions. If the church is to survive, those who hold power must recognize and give up the ways white Western culture has influenced the church and instead look to other cultural expressions of faith for leadership, church structure, and healing for the church.

I found the first part of the book to be a fair exploration of how white Western culture has co-opted Christianity and the harm that it has caused. It is true that the church often reflects more of Western individualism than the values of community found in scripture. The author blames this lack of focus on community for the church’s failure to respond to social problems, and the overemphasis on personal sin and guilt for the lack of corporate shame for similarly sinful actions. This focus on individual sin is what has allowed corporate sins like racism to go unchecked in the church for so long – there is no communal structure for dealing with communal sin. Similarly the author writes on how the American dream has become confused with biblical standards. This has led to consumer churches and materialism as a measure of success in the church. The church growth movement and megachurches are given as the prime example of how far churches have sold themselves out to this white Western worldview.

The author argues that having the church held captive to this worldview not only hurts the church by promoting non-biblical values, but it promotes a cultural imperialism masquerading as biblical theology. When Western forms of the faith are presented as the only valid form of faith, then the gospel fails to be contextualized into ways other cultures can truly understand it. They are forced instead to adopt white Western culture in order to be Christian. People also fail to realize the diversity of the church – focus on the decline of white Christianity while ignoring the growth of Christianity worldwide. We miss out on the multitude of expressions of church and theology that have much to offer and teach all people of faith. The author says that we cannot truly learn from those just like us.

To break this captivity and heal the church from the harm caused by Western dominance the author insists that people must submit to learning from those different than them. For too long white people have had the “privilege” to ignore the others, and to have our theology and experience lifted up as primary. This privilege must be confronted and whites lay down all of our power for the status quo to ever change. If we do not give up that power and learn from other cultures then we are not missionaries for Christ, but simply cultural colonialists. To that end the author provides example of the ways ethnic churches function as ideals to emulate. He stresses living in community – giving aid to each other, celebrating with each other, and sharing true sorrows together. He also suggests that second-generation English-speaking immigrants like himself are the best choice to led the church of tomorrow. People like him straddle two worlds and have had the liminal journeying experience that can help transition the church away from its captivity to a more holistic perspective. The book concludes with the three-fold action plan of the church needing to confess its sin of white Western captivity and imperialism, submit itself to the spiritual authority of non-whites, and then finally live into the diverse community the Bible speaks of.

So for the most part I agree with the author. The church has been held captive and has caused serious harm because of that. All Christians should recognize that and those who have propagated and benefited from it repent. The diversity of the church should be recognized and white people should make the effort to learn from and to submit to people of other races. The racism in the church cannot be healed unless power is truly shared and whites stop trying to “reach-out” or “serve” the Other, but instead submit to the Other. I agree with all that and think that message is why this book is important for all Christians to read.

But I have my issues as well. The most basic being that I disagree with the author’s assumption that all cultures deserve respect and a voice – expect white Western culture. He spends a long time discussing why white Western culture is bad, but gives very little reason why other cultures should be accepted excepting the fact that they are not white or Western. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he doesn’t think that white Western culture is the only culture that has let cultural setting influence its worldview and interpretation of the bible. But at times I wasn’t so sure since white Western culture was always presented as captive and evil, and all other cultures as free and good. I think this book is going to be ignored or condemned simply for that assumption of the author’s. No matter how evil or misguided a culture has been, to write them off as utterly unworthy of respect (when they are your target audience) is not going to do much for advancing your cause. I understand the need to be harsh and to make readers uncomfortable, but to dismiss an entire race isn’t fair.

Similarly I really wish more time had been given to exploring the positive ways other cultures contribute to Christian identity. The main example that he gave, that of a Korean immigrant church, did little to capture my imagination as a reader. I am sold on his idea that we need multiethnic churches and that we need to learn from all voices. But then his example was of a single-language, single-culture church that separates itself from the outside world to keep its cultural identity strong. The community he describes in that church is wonderful – but I’ve seen the same thing in emerging or even rural Southern (generally racist) churches. If the church he was describing was all white and existed to keep that identity strong he would have (rightly) labeled it racist and imperialist. And while I understand the need for minority voices to preserve identity amidst a majority culture, his example didn’t persuade me of his message. At the end of the day I wanted a little more than “because they are not white” as reason why listening to and learning from ethnic Christian voices is a good thing. Like I said, I agree with the author’s conclusions, but he might face trouble with other readers with such weak examples.

Then there was my issue with his take on the emerging church. It was really bad timing that I read this book during my EVDC09 trip where I got to witness the diversity and community of the emerging church. While the author generally was kind and thoughtful in his critique of the white Western church, when it came to his take on emerging Christianity, his tone changed dramatically. He became angry and accusatory, calling our very existence offensive. He claimed our use of the term “emerging’ is offensive since ethnic churches are the only ones truly emerging these days. He was appalled by the number of emerging books published since there are by far more Korean churches out there than emerging churches and there are far fewer books on Korean Christianity. He was offended that a book he contributed to wasn’t featured on the Emergent Village website. And after stating over and over again that the failing of the Western church is its individuality, he criticizes the emerging church because it is communal and local which leads to all its members looking alike. He claims that all of us disgruntled evangelicals when we left our churches should not have continued the white Western captivity of the church by starting the emerging church, but should simply have joined ethnic churches instead. That statement really bothered me because it turned his argument into less of a call for diversity and embracing many voices, and more of a hatred of all things white. I am just as uncomfortable in the captive church world he describes as he is, but he can’t get past the color of my skin to allow that my disagreements with churches and my affinity to the emerging church might be about ideology more than race. But what really disturbed me was the author’s use of a blog post a friend of mine wrote from which he concludes that leaders in the emerging church don’t care enough to discuss racial issues. If he had bothered to get the full story behind that post and explore the context it was written in and responded to, he would have perhaps not so erroneously misrepresented the emerging church. But he didn’t bother to do that research and now has made very false claims about me and my friends (not by name, but I recall the post in question very well). Perhaps the angry anti-emerging undertone to the book is based on the “outsider” feeling I wrote about recently. Perhaps those of us emerging insiders aren’t doing all that we can to give up power and learn from others. But we are trying, and in truth agree with much of what is in this book. I just wish the author wasn’t so eager to condemn us (his potential supporters and allies) and write us off simply because some of us are white.

Okay so this turned out to be an insanely long review. At least from that, you can probably tell that this book is engaging and contains a lot to chew on. Even with my issues with it, I highly recommend others read it. It deals with issues that the church has to address. It is harsh and it is uncomfortable (sometimes extremely and needlessly so in my opinion), but that discomfort can lead to change. The church needs change – it must change if it truly wants to represent the Kingdom. The Next Evangelicalism is a good wake-up call for how we need change. I just hope that the message can be heard within this sometimes angry and extreme vessel.

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The Burden of Inclusion Should Rest Upon ‘Insiders’

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As I process the conversations I had recently at EVDC09 (a gathering of emerging church participants to discuss the future of Emergent Village), I realized that one of the topics that keeps surfacing in relation to Emergent Village is that of the inclusivity of all voices. Critiques have been made (with good reason) regarding how EV often seems like a club for insiders. Heck, I’ve even said that before — wishing that more voices could be heard as part of this conversation. And as I’ve mentioned before, this critique is not so often based on reality as it is on the perception of reality. So even if all voices/people have always been welcomed, that welcome or presence hasn’t been seen by wider audiences and so is perceived not to exist.

Even amidst the group gathered this past weekend we had to confront the feeling of being an outsider. On one hand we had to admit that from a certain perspective the 23 of us gathered in a room to discuss the future of Emergent Village screamed “insider.” Just the act of gathering like that might imply to some that we were on the inside of some secret society that held all the power. But in fact as we confessed to each other that first evening, we all felt like outsiders, wondering why we were there.

This feeling is not something I am unfamiliar with at all. For a long while my interactions with Emergent came through reading the books and occasionally going to hear some big-name author speak. Sure I participated in online discussions and a local cohort, but I didn’t feel like I had a voice within Emergent as a whole. My experience attending the 2005 Emergent Convention in Nashville only confirmed that outsider status. For reference, I attended with my 3-month-old daughter and was under the impression that I would never again be a fully-functioning human being (much less get a full night of sleep). I recall attending the Emerging Women lunch and feeling very overwhelmed and worthless as all the other women at my table talked about their seminary experience and recent conversations on their blogs. So while I resonated and came alive with everything I heard there, I felt like I could never truly belong.

Same thing at the 2006 Emergent Glorietta Gathering. I felt like I was crashing a party of really good friends. But after that event, as I started connecting online with the people I had met at the Gathering, relationships were built. I slowly realized that being part of the Emergent conversation simply meant making the effort to be a part of it. So for better or worse, I jumped in — hosting blogs and events to help facilitate the conversation. Did that turn me into an insider? Maybe. To me it just felt like joining the conversation.

But at the same time I completely understand the barriers that are still perceived to exist. And those barriers were talked about this weekend. No matter how often we in Emergent say we are open source or about shared power, if people can’t easily perceive and access that then our words have no value. So there need to be deliberate steps taken to listen to the voices of the many, to link to the diversity of voices within the conversation, and to make invitations to join the conversation (both publicly and privately) up front and apparent. Unless leadership is transparent and invitations for involvement continually offered, the perception of a closed group of insiders will persist. Granted, there will always be some that will be angry about being on the outside unless they (or at least their special-interest group) is handed power, and that can’t be helped. But the truth is being part of Emergent often means being willing to put in the work of stepping up, using their voice, and working for the good of the whole. It’s about choosing to serve and share power — always extending invitations to the Other.

So of course we have a long way to go to reach a point of true openness; there is no denying that. And while we can say that all are welcome if they will just step up to the conversation, I think the burden of inclusion should be on us who are already comfortable as part of the conversation. We need to be the ones extending invitations, welcoming others in, and making it easy for them to be a part of the conversation.

So while we may not see ourselves as insiders, we are at the very least in a place where we can at least blur the perceived line between insiders and outsiders. Because in the end those desiring to be a part of this conversation are all in the same place. We all struggle, we all question, and we all desire a community to do all that together with. I think Amy Moffitt described it best in her reflection this past weekend:

The truth, of course, is that there really isn’t an inside. There are folks who know a little more than other folks, but it became apparent — to me at least — that every single person there is an exile in some sense. We came together, believing in the real worth of Emergent Village, because it has served as a meeting place for us

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Learning by Questioning

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As we make our way through Holy Week, I’ve been considering how best to discuss Easter with my daughter.  The apparently graphic lesson she heard at MOPS last week left her confused and fairly freaked out about death (gotta love the compulsion to evangelize toddlers…).  I want to connect her to the story, but to help her make it her own.  So I am liking the idea of exploring the Passover meal with her – especially the traditional aspects of the Seder that have the children asking questions about their faith.  The purpose of these question isn’t to receive some prescribed answer as in a catechism, but simply to ask questions of one’s faith.

I like this approach to learning about the faith.  I like that the children are encouraged to speak up and explore what they believe and the rituals of the faith.  They aren’t told to just be quiet and learn what the teacher wants them to know.  In the Seder tradition, there are no bad or wrong questions.  The child who asks the tricky or even the silly questions is not looked down upon, what is worrisome is the child who asks no questions.  Wrestling with faith or even attacking the faith are preferred to passively and unthinkingly going through the motions of faith.

My daughter is four, and is a chatterbox incessantly asking “why?”.  One of her favorite shows is Sid the Science Kid, a show about a preschool boy who each morning runs into a question he has about the world and then asks that question at preschool where the day is then spent answering his question.  She finds that fascinating, and loves the experimental approach they take to figuring out the answers.  I watch the show with her with chagrin.  No school (or Sunday school) is truly like that – allowing the inquisitive nature of kids guide the learning process.  While I understand the impracticalities of such a method, I wonder at what stage kids learn that questioning is bad.  Where absorbing facts, memorizing concepts, and reproducing them when asked replaces wondering about the world and wrestling with truth?  Even in Seminary my husband says the professors play the poor pedagogical game of having students parrot back the answer they want to hear.  Education has become about amassing information instead of learning to think.

So I want to tell the stories to my daughter and to enact the rituals of the faith with her, but I want her to know that those too can (and must) be questioned.  She shouldn’t just learn about her faith, she needs to live it.

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The Church vs. The Marathon

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This past week the Austin City Council heard complaints from a number of local churches. No, these weren’t the typical complaints about libraries having copies of “Heather Has Two Mommies” or about the schools teaching evolution or sex-ed. It was about races – as in people running, biking, skating or whatever through the town.

You see the races are destroying the churches. Austin is a huge race city. It is one of the fittest cities in the U.S. and a mecca for runners and bikers. It seems like nearly every week some other major race is being held on our iconic and decidedly hilly streets. There is something classic about running past major Austin landmarks like 6th street or the State Capital. So when races come to town, streets get shut down downtown as the athletes converge. And of course, so as not to disrupt local businesses, this all occurs on Sunday mornings.

Think about the effect on the downtown churches. The roads to the churches are blocked off. All street parking is banned. No one shows up to church. My friends who work at these churches say that church members don’t even bother trying to come if a race is going on – it is just too much of a hassle to get there. Spiritual issues aside – think about what this does to a church if once or twice a month, every month, no one shows up and therefore no one gives an offering. As churches across the country suffer as giving plummets during the economic crisis, you can see how this is a problem for churches.  So they went up against race organizers and running clubs to plead their case to the city. Of course, nothing has yet been decided.

It struck me as a strange dilemma. Most of these churches are older mainline churches that are very culturally involved and provide all sorts of services to the downtown communities already. It took a lot for them to even reach the point where they stood up and made a complaint. I had to wonder what would happen if the city regularly blocked off access to some of the evangelical mega-churches around town. I figure some sort of immediate response about how the city persecutes Christians.

What bothers me is how this raises the question of what the purpose of church is. I don’t think the church is all about the building, or about standing up for its rights, or about fighting those it is called to serve. But these churches can’t gather or collect the resources to allow them to serve unless they do assert themselves. I find the whole situation odd and wonder how it can be resolved for the good of all.

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