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Widows and Orphans March 14, 2010

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Early Christian communities used to feed widows and orphans in their cities — and not just other Christians, but anyone. They fed so many that Roman officials complained the Christians were making the government look bad.

As it happens, I’ve come to know a widow here in Kansas city. She is raising three happy, brilliant children. She is a refugee who’s been resettled to Kansas City by the U.S. government. She doesn’t speak English. It’s very difficult for her to find work. She has the disadvantage of appearing as though she just walked out of the pages of National Geographic. I’m just saying…that’s how she’ll look to potential employers: Teeth stained black from chewing beetle nut, wearing a sarong and handwoven blouse, and one missing eye (probably from the war that took her husband). After spending many hours looking for jobs for refugees who are much closer to what employers are looking for than she is, I’m confident there is no job for her here. And anyways: her kids have a hard enough time in this society as it is. I’d hate to see them left alone in their public housing project all day, and/or all evening, as their mom worked in some far off factory or warehouse.

She’s collecting welfare, which will last another few years. Then she will have no support (thanks to the limits on welfare passed by that tax and spend liberal Bill Clinton).

Would any Christians out there like to help take care of this widow and her children? My family can pitch in $100 a month. But that’s only enough to make our relationship with her extremely complicated — not enough to actually give her any stability. If anyone wants to join in helping, let me know and I can share more information about the family and their needs.

Overheard in Kansas City, KS, suburb January 7, 2010

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“Oh yeah, she’s totally fallen for all that social justice stuff. The whole church is falling for it. It’s crazy.”

First post in 9 months! December 12, 2009

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First post in nine months. Here’s why:

Esther was born May 31. It’s been awesome.

Typically, something as interesting as that would inspire me to write more, not less. But one side effect of Esther’s arrival was that I had to take over some of Elizabeth’s responsibilities to friends in need. She was eight months pregnant but calls kept coming in from refugee families needing help with medical, legal, financial and paperwork emergencies. So I finally crossed the line that I had been resisting for 20 years: I started getting wrapped up in the messy details of other people’s hard lives — as opposed to “organizing” them, or advocating for “policy” to help them.

Finally getting my hands dirty in various hopeless situations stunned me into silence. What it actually did was give me TOO MUCH to say, and left me tongue tied.

For the past 20 years, I witnessed and condemned systemic injustice. I thrived on the drama of “organizing” against it. But I carefully avoided ever getting my hands dirty in the messy business of merely surviving in the face of it. I hope it takes me another 20 years to get over the humiliation of having to admit that.

At the same time, I’m angry in a whole new way about the Democrats bailing out bankers while barely leaving crumbs to people suffering out here. And I’m angry in a whole new way about Christians who say it’s the churches’ responsibility and not the government’s, but who do nothing but donate a little money, or show up somewhere one Saturday morning a year.

See how easy it was for me to go from humiliation to self-righteous anger in two paragraphs? That’s why I’m not fit to be writing publicly.

There’s another reason I can’t write publicly about the stuff I’m doing now though: simple privacy concerns. And it kills me because I’m meeting the most amazing characters. I’ve always talked about “organic leaders” who sustain communities and make the world go ’round. As an organizer, I saw only one of their dimensions up close. I always liked to think my strength was that I knew they had many other dimensions. But I only caught glimpses of those from a distance. Now I’m getting to see all those brilliant, radiant dimensions up close and at length. The American People are fantastic.

OK, so now it’s time for me to shut up again!

I’d like to write a weekly or monthly email to friends, though, and anyone else who’s interested. If you’d like to get those, email me at info@revolutioninjesusland.com or my personal email if you know it.

My first Christian reading group March 18, 2009

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It finally happened! I was invited to a Christian reading group. We’re reading a book called Reading in Communion. We meet at Homer’s, the Christian coffee shop I wrote about a few weeks ago, a place that’s filled with several study and discussion groups at 7:30am.

I lost my book somehow — at least I couldn’t find it yesterday when I went to catch up on the reading. (This is our 4th week, but I was out of the country for the last two.) So I had a flashback to grade school when I had to admit I didn’t have my book. A friend let me read along in his. It was completely marked up, notes in the margins and big highlighted chunks everywhere.

We talk some about the book. And talk some about other stuff. It is great.

Meanwhile, a friend from the secular lefty side of my life is telling me I should read the McCullough bioraphy of John Adams. She suggested we try to get a reading group set up! Of course, she grew up a fundamentalist Christian before rebelling and leaving that culture in college. I know that it’s not only Christians who do reading groups. In fact, my parents each had a book group for decades. But I can’t think of a single book group that’s taking place among all of my progressive/lefty friends — and they’re a pretty intellectual and engaged group. Actually, there is one acquaintance who is attending a group — but it’s a Christian Bible study group that he’s attending out of curiosity!

This gave me an idea to survey 20 friends on the left side of my life and 20 on the Christian side and see how many reading groups they’ve heard of in their circles. Maybe I’ll do that.

Untitled March 16, 2009

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Hey all! Listen, this is just a rough draft for discussion — just an experiment to try to figure out how to make some of these points. Let me know if you have any reactions.

Middleclass Christians are trying to figure out how to use their wealth to eliminate poverty around the world. It’s a beautiful movement that’s infecting churches everywhere. Last week I listened to this message at a church in London and then came home yesterday to the same message at church in Kansas City.

Ending poverty has been a central mission of the church since the beginning. For most of the 20th century, however, much of the church picked up a “conservative” (I’d say radical) ideology that shifted responsibility to the the “invisible hand” of the market to take care of the poor. But as we dive into this new era, we find ourselves relying on ideas from that old conservative ideology.

In his book Everything Must Change, Brian McLaren, suggests we change the story we live by — away from a story of competition and greed toward a story of sharing and love. Millions of Christians are doing that. But even if the plot is changing, the setting and characters are still taken from the pages of the old story. We have to change the very elements from which we’re constructing this new story of the church.

In the old Capitalist story, the main character is the individual — or family, or small group — who works in jobs or starts enterprises for money. The story follows our main characters from job to job, enterprise to enterprise. It’s a story of freedom and independence because the characters are free to choose any job or start any enterprise — and free to spend the money earned however they want.

Mainstream Middleclass Christians are mainly focusing their rethinking on the conclusion of that story: on what they should do with the money they earn. They’re questioning whether the freedom to float from cubicle to cubicle, even with a high salary, is the right kind of freedom to chase. They’re seeking instead a different kind of freedom: the kind that comes from vulnerability, dependence and community. (The strength of a religious approach to social justice shines here. Listen to Tim Keel’s sermon (March 15) that I witnessed yesterday at Jacob’s Well church in Kansas City and try to imagine a non-religious equivalent. To bolster our confidence in taking the leap of faith toward community, he has available both a big-picture philosophy of the world as well as an incredibly powerful and useful philosophy of the self. A non-religious approach (today at least) simply has to say, “Do this because it’s the right thing to do.” Which isn’t anywhere close to being enough.)

But how to get there? Two answers are popular now. The more mainstream one is: Give your money to the poor. The other one, a little more radical, focuses more on the system itself as a problem. It’s answer is to withdraw — for example by quitting your capitalist jobs and starting a cooperative enterprise. Most churches who have caught the anti-poverty bug include people who are pursuing a mix of both approaches.

The problem with both of those new stories, however, is that the main character held over from the old story — the individual or small group as an economic producer and consumer — doesn’t exist anymore in the real world. When we understand that, then we are led to a different kind of story because the setting and characters are different as well as the plot. I’ll get there, but first let me try to back up and explain what I’ve said so far.

Have you ever met anyone who has a perfectly inverted picture of themselves — for example, parents who believe they are raising independent children, but who are really smothering them? Well, our economic system, capitalism is a little bit like that. The story that capitalist society tells about itself is a story about a society made up of free, independent workers and entrepreneurs. That story has been told by philosopher/economists from John Locke to Tom Friedman, and woven into every breath of popular culture. The reality is the exact opposite: Capitalism’s revolutionary project during it’s 500 year run has been to build one great unified machine of production in which we are all completely dependent on each other. I realize that sounds a little bit like the interdependent community that Christians are looking for, but it’s not as simple as that.

Think of some items that you could not do without: I don’t know, maybe a drug that saved your life, the furnace that keeps you from freezing in the Winter, and your bicycle that gets you to work. Nearly every important thing we rely on is produced through the social effort of thousands — possibly millions — of workers. (Remember to count not only the workers who assembled the thing, but also the ones who made all the parts, the ones who made all the machines and equipment used in the process, the ones who mined, transported and prepared all the materials, and so on.)

When times are good, and jobs outnumber workers, it’s easy to forget about our interdependence because, as we float from job to job, and our paychecks command more than we could possibly consume, we could not feel more independent.

When the system contracts, on the other hand, our utter dependence becomes immediately and painfully clear.

But, in these hard times, in this capitalist system, who do we find that we’re dependent on for our living? Our fellow producers? No. We’re dependent on the owners of capital — the system is set up to serve them, not us. But bear with me for a second: I’m not talking about some cartoon class of fat cats. Maybe 300 years ago that kind of caricature of a small group who ruled the world to their advantage would have been appropriate. But most of us work for companies that are owned technically by millions shareholders. Most of those shareholders have no idea of what companies they might “own” in their 401Ks or other investments. The “owners” of capital have thus become an abstraction. And yet we rely on these owners — I could almost say imaginary owners — for our jobs and our paychecks.

What about the CEOs and boards of directors? Recently they’ve been looking a lot like that old caricature, right? Yes, but before you give them too much credit, remember that they are only the stewards of capital for the owners (a group that includes about half of the American people as shareholders). Their job is to increase the capital owned by the owners. They are actually legally required to work toward this end: shareholders can sue them if they intentionally do something else. Practicalities are a much better inducement though: if they don’t increase the chunk of capital that has been put in their care, then the owners will treat it with scorn and starve it of investment (”Sell!”).

By the way: understanding this “abstract owner” of the economy is the key to understanding the financial crisis. The owner is only interested in things that grow, and it doesn’t care how or why they grow. The owner is manic: it is a pulsing network of computers programmed with growth-maximizing algorithms, people programmed with career-maximizing algorithms and media programmed with ratings-maximizing algorithms. The owner is us — even if we’re only looking for 3% on our savings account.

This blind, hungry beast always eventually gets sucked back into the kinds of scams — legal and illegal, intended and unintended — that are coming to light newly each week. These scams offer increasing share prices, house prices, etc… But when the scams finally unravel, then the abstract owner is inconsolable (for a time) and refuses to invest anywhere. That’s why prices keep going down, down, down.

During a “bubble” like the one that soared for most of the past 25 years, there are plenty of jobs for everyone — even totally useless jobs. Remember some of those Dot Coms in the 90’s? It was an odd kind of socialism: Guaranteed work for everyone, no matter how dumb your idea! In those times, when all the numbers are going up, we feel free and independent.

During a “crash” like the one we’re beginning to feel now, there are few jobs. When the factories, stores and offices in our communities start shutting their doors, then there is a terrible sinking feeling. Suddenly it’s perfectly clear that we don’t control our own means of making a living. Suddenly we realize that even though we worked as a part of an interdependent society of producers, we are unable to stop the destruction of our means of producing. Suddenly it’s clear that the one calling the shots is that “abstract owner” of the economy — or, as it’s called in polite society, “the market.”

OK. Back to the new stories that Christians are trying to live by in their mission to end poverty. The first: We middleclass Christians in the rich countries should give away our money to the poor. The second: that we should withdraw and make our own living outside of the system.

How does the first story play out when capitalism is destroying the means of making a living of billions of people? (And when the income of rich country people is shrinking too?)

We can still give away as much as we can. But what’s happening in the world right now — 250,000 factories have closed in China in the past year! — shows us that we are called to do something much deeper and much more difficult than simply giving away some money. We do need to give away our wealth. We have to do it, and do it wisely. But what else?

The second story, is heading there: building up a means of making a living that is in the hands of people who care about people, not some “abstract owner” that only cares about numbers that go up. However, the scale of what’s happening in the world right now is also showing us that small cooperative enterprises are equally dependent on the “abstract owner” as everything else. That won’t be true in every case. But on the whole, coops are going to be subject to the ups and downs of the broader economy. Traditionally, crises are times when a lot of them go bust or get bought out by bigger companies. The food co-op down the street from me was just bought up by Whole Foods, for example. And something tells me they’re not going to keep it open for very long.

What’s the solution? The solution is to depose that abstract owner. This doesn’t mean some kind of violent revolution — or even an angry revolution — against the rich. Rich people own a lot of stuff and make up a big chunk of that “abstract owner.” But guess what: we middle class people dwarf the rich in our share of ownership of the economy. We are the owner! What it means is that we have the power to depose this system non-violently and with a relatively smooth political transition because this is a revolution to depose ourselves from a mindless, knee jerk role that most of us don’t even know we’re playing.

We shouldn’t be naive. This system we live under is a high-voltage, super-heated, radioactive tangle of wires, pipes and waste. Taking this thing apart is going to be incredibly dangerous. There will be unforeseen consequences that will hurt a lot of people. But that is already happening, for example, thanks to the latest financial bubble burst. The question is are we going to keep subjecting ourselves to these kinds of disasters?

There will also be people who feel it’s their duty to protect the status quo. Some of these will be in the pay of people who benefit from things staying as they are, but many will be acting on ideological grounds — in other words, they really believe that the current system makes us free and that all alternatives are chains.

And then there will be opportunists who try to seize the day in the toughest moments of the transition. When things are getting harder and we’re saying, “Let’s share more,” these will be saying things like, “Throw out the immigrants, so that we can keep more for ourselves.” This is the most dangerous thing. But that kind hatred is going to become very powerful as the economy continues to decline whether we act or not.

It’s going to be hard. But this is our generations’ charge.

Two tribes of revolutionaries March 11, 2009

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I’ve been in Europe for almost 2 weeks. France->Germany->UK. I’ve been talking to left-ish political parties and labor unions about the Internet and organizing in the context of the world economic crisis. The US has been an innovator in those areas recently. Others are interested in learning from our trials and errors.

While talking to these groups, I occasionally slipped in something about how the Christians, yes those crazy Jesus people you’ve heard about, are the vanguard of whatever anti-capitalist sentiment there is in America. Context: In most of Europe, mainstream parties and labor unions are actively questioning capitalism, even if only on their margins. In Germany, for example, there are several big conferences on capitalism and alternatives planned by big unions, parties and universities. This is left, but mainstream, stuff over here.

So when I bring up the “Revolutionaries” of the American church, people over here completely freak out. They cannot believe it. They will not believe it. Their faces wince up, because they know I can’t be making this up completely, but it’s just too much to process. They dismiss it. There’s a strong stereotype of the “ignorant protestant preacher” and they can’t reconcile it with what I’m saying.

Somehow, eventually, these two mainstream forces that are questioning capitalism on both sides of the Atlantic will have to get to know each other, but that’s probably a while off.

In Berlin, there was one “Christian Socialist.” He told me, “these other guys think I’m crazy because I’m a Christian.” He goes to church. He called it an “evangelical church,” but I think the word that sounds like “evangelical” just means “gospel” in German (as it does in Greek, right?). Anyways, talking to him a little more he told me, “Oh! No! Of course I don’t believe in God, what do you think I’m crazy?” So he just meant Christian as in participating in the church as a social institution. That’s the closest I found to a Christian over here.

Until…I got to London. There’s a cool neighborhood called “Spitalfields.” It’s sort of the Adam’s Morgan, Williamsburg or Mission District of London, as far as I can tell. On Sunday morning we went to Christ Church, Spitalfields (church site), which is the Anglican parish church. We walked in a few minutes late and they were singing one of the praise songs I’ve gotten used to. A couple of people had their hands up in worship. It was just like going to church in Kansas City, except for the accents. The sermon was all about Jesus and social justice, with lots of references to some of the same books popular among revolutionary Christians in the U.S..

It reminded me what a global movement this is — not just the church, but this particular sub-culture within the church. After all, the praise songs they sang come from Australia, the US and Britain; the people in the church there come from all over the world.

Porneo, pleonexia and eutrapelia February 8, 2009

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When I started exploring churches, I was surprised more than anything else by the 15-minute-long sermon tangents about translation problems and nuances of single Greek or Hebrew words in the Bible. I’d look around and marvel that the 500 or 5,000 people in the church had actually gotten up early on a Sunday for this: a class in ancient literature and history. Many would be taking notes, and sometimes all had their personal Bibles, well worn with study.

Mars Hill Church pastor Rob Bell last week gave a sermon consisting almost entirely of such tangents. I’ve posted a few of them below to give people outside Jesusland an taste of what I’m talking about.

Rob was speaking on a passage from Paul’s letter to the people of Ephesus. Read the passage and then listen to the clips I include below where Rob peels back the current meanings of the English words chosen by modern translators.

Ephesians, Chapter 5:1-8

Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God’s holy people. Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving. For of this you can be sure: No immoral, impure or greedy person—such a man is an idolater—has any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God. Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of such things God’s wrath comes on those who are disobedient. Therefore do not be partners with them.

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.

Now listen to Rob:

Sexual immorality ~ Porneo

Coarse joking ~ Pleonexia Eutapelia

Static vs. Creative “inheritance”

Wrath ~ Orge

My question to any Christian scholars who might be reading this: Is Rob stretching? Can this much really be known precisely about how Jews in the first century were using these Greek words?

Secret worlds January 24, 2009

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OK — here’s something. But then look below to see how Neil Gaiman said the same thing (at least of the first half), but in three sentences and way better! I just saw the Gaiman quote yesterday before I was about to post this.

The most important thing to remember is the infinity of the person sitting next to you on the bus, or the person bagging your groceries, or your mother.

It’s a good way to remind yourself of the truth of the principal of equal worth of all people. If you’re anything like me, you need a reminder too every now and then.

Every human brain is a universe of trillions of neurons. Even each one of those neurons is a whole world in itself, with millions of mysterious systems that still have scientists shrugging their shoulders.

These days any desktop computer with the right software can simulate a whole galaxy of stars. Astronomers plug in the positions of all the stars and the computer says exactly where they’ll be in a thousand years or a million. A galaxy is simple. The brain of the kid who sewed the tag into my t-shirt, on the other hand, is bigger and more complex than a whole universe of galaxies.

What does that mean? It means that, just like me, he has dreams in full color that he will only vaguely remember when he wakes up—dreams that would be Oscar-winning films if only they could somehow be extracted. It means that his internal musings on the meaning of life—which in his case were particularly fruitful from ages nine to eleven when the sweatshop had him mostly working on the quieter machines facing the windows—are rich enough to fuel an entire religion. If you’re not buying it, then put the book down for a minute and think back hard to some of the stuff you used to think about when you were nine. Remember it? Remember how big it was? It’s possible you’ve forgotten, because don’t we all know that nine year olds are not deep philosophers or dreamers of beautiful stories?

It’s a cruel thing that words are the only medium that most of us have to share the universes of our minds with other people. A feeling is worth a thousand billion words. There’s simply no way to really convey what goes on in our minds, even with the people we spend our lives with. Though there is no way out of this isolation, many religions have a beautiful way of dealing with it. They have an abbreviation for the infinity of the mind: God.

That’s why I fell in love with the Christians, once I got to know them. Because even those ridiculous ones, the ones with the giant planks coming out of their eyes who are always trying to pick specs out of yours — even they will admit to the infinity of your soul while they are damning it to hell.

In one version of heaven that I have heard preached in the churches I’ve been visiting, everyone who has ever lived will be resurrected into healthy, strong bodies with newly sharpened minds. Our job will be to worship God and enjoy each other. It will go on forever and we will all get to know each other infinitely.

I like that version of heaven. That kid from the sweat shop and I will talk for several lifetimes until we have pulled up every forgotten dream. And we’ll do that with everyone who’s ever lived. You and I will hang out for hundreds of years, joking around, composing poems, making movies and laying around in the grass looking at star filled skies (if there are grass and stars — I hope there will be).

Christians believe that God has a plan for humanity on Earth. We’re building toward Heaven, but it’s more than that. I’m still trying to understand. But the Bible doesn’t say anything about what God’s plan will be once everyone is resurrected and the New Heaven and New Earth are in full swing. Surely he’s got something up his sleeve, and another Bible will have to be written then.

And the image I had when I was writing that thing was of universe-sized minds connected only by thin lines of words. This picture is by a guy with a geek comic called xkcd.

Rednecks for Obama October 27, 2008

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Intersection of SR 50/3/7 in downtown North Vernon, Indiana:

Just one little example of Christian house meetings August 26, 2008

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House gatherings are a major feature of today’s evangelical/born again culture. House meetings are such a broad and diverse phenomenon in the church that it’s impossible to generalize about them. There is also some controversy about house meetings, or “house church,” and how to do them (and whether to do them). Some point out that house meetings were the first kind of Christian church. Others say that Christian communities need the guidance of formal organization. Some (perhaps most) say both are necessary.

Here’s one little glimpse at how one group of young Christians gathers and thinks about its gatherings. This email came from a new friend in Kansas City this morning. He and an overlapping group also gather at his house after church on Sunday evenings for a meal, conversation and the occasional card game, guitar jam or review of the latest dense theological book that Tim is reading. Here they’re restarting another kind of gathering after a summer break:

Greetings and hello and hey,

This Thursday, after a nice long summer hiatus, our group will be starting up our weekly Conversations meeting again. We’ll meet at 7 at the Freak Show (Sam and Adam’s apartment (since it’s centrally located, and not to far from public transport)) at 7. Bring something to contribute to delicious sandwich making. After eating, we’ll take communion, sing a song or two, and then pray for about an hour. It’s pretty laid-back, eyes-open, conversation kind of praying. We follow a basic structure of praying from large-scale things down to small-scale things. Hope to see you there.

Peace to you,
Timothy.

PS. I’m culling from a pretty old list, and adding some new people, so please let me know if you don’t want to get any more emails on stuff like this.

By the way, you may have noticed that the posts on this blog are now rotating between three types:

I’m saying this because the Christian audience will find this post absurd because I’m reporting something that is so commonplace to them. Timothy, who wrote the email, for example says:

Heh. Always cracks me up to think of our group in these terms. Feel free to post the email if you think it illustrates. It’s just another email to me. Tell all you’d like about us. We’re just trying to live in the moment, and live where we are, so if it’s of interest, that’s fine.

Timothy: I assure you that this kind of thing is fascinating to many people who are outside of any born again Christian culture.

One thing that many (including myself) will want some more info on: What is prayer all about? What do you pray for? Who do you pray for? What do you think prayer accomplishes? Why pray for anything when you say you believe that God has his own plan that we can’t really understand? How do you feel when you’re praying—and after? What effect does prayer have on your group/community?

And here’s a silly but vexing question from me: Why close your eyes when you pray? Why is there this feeling in church that you’re being seditious if you open your eyes while praying? What does it mean in Timothy’s group’s case when he says, “open eyed prayer?”