Time and Space

There are two primary ways the church teaches us to engage God: time and space. We must pay attention to time for it is the most precious gift we can give to God and to others. It is a gift that far outweighs any dollar amount (despite the consumerist notion that "time is money"). Equally important is space. We are called to willingly create space for God in the midst of our crowded schedules.

Time. This is a sensitive subject in our rat-race, gotta-do-one-more-thing culture. We feel a sense of pride when we look at our planners/palm pilots and see "our time" filled up. We feel important. We feel as if we matter. We feel full of purpose. The rub comes in our spiritual assessment of things . . . that is, after running (for God on our best days) we suddenly realize we ceased to pause for the things that ultimately matter, the lasting things.


Space. Though often ignored, space is as important as time. Especially in suburbia where "bigger is better." After all, we want bigger houses, cars, backyards, HD screens, and engagement rings. We may not always know what we want but we know we want it Super-Sized. The downside, of course, of living in a McDonaldized World is that we crowd out room for God's surprises and interruptions.

While technology promises to make life better so that we can have more time and space for others, we slowly become slaves to the very things that are supposed to set us free. We begin to stack bricks for the vacation home, ESPN, Apple, the Shopping Network, The Gap, American Idol, and e-mail (dare I say blogging?).

God wants to meet us in particular moments (time) and particular places (space). But he never forces himself upon us. Like a patient lover, he waits . . . and waits . . . and waits. He waits for us to get serious about how we spend our time and where we spend our space.

Last night, we held a contemplative prayer service at Rochester Church. It was filled with prayers, readings, silence, confession, worship, more silence, repentance, and listening. It was holy because we gave up "our" time and "our" space to hear from the One who spoke creation into being.

Dancing with Both Legs (Part Two with Brueggemann)

In an attempt to elaborate on what I wrote in the previous blog, here's some more food for thought. I know some will get lost in the language, meaning, and logic . . . faith is not for the faint of heart. You have to work at it. I've always been suspicious of "the easy way" and equally suspicious of "easy answers" . . .

People often misunderstand Judaism as “salvation by works”. However, this fundamentally misinterprets the covenant relationship between Israel and YHWH. Because of their relationship, God expected them to behave in certain ways. Lev. 19:18 (“Love your neighbor as yourself”) for instance is one of the most powerful texts in all of Torah even though it is embedded in an entire section of rules, commandments, and decrees. If one reads Leviticus 19:18 as the center/heart of this particular text, the advocacy becomes clear. While some make the conservative contestation that religion remain private (i.e. "Let's keep religion within the cult and private. Our duty is to simply keep the commandments of God.") others make the liberal contestation that "the rules are passé, leftover relics from the faith of our grandparents. The public element (public justice) is what is the heart of true Israelite religion.” Leviticus 19 offers a third way for it is concerned with obedience to the obligations set forth and the relationship of caring for the neighbor. That is, live in these particular ways (obeying relatively minute decrees) and once you find yourself in that cadence of spiritual habit, loving your neighbor will be the natural extension. If you will keep the strict dietary laws, etc. you will be able to have an open posture towards the "other" . . . it will be impossible to have any invisible persons in your midst because you will be so attune to God's presence.

Sabbath is a “discipline” which prepares people to do justice. You cannot truly love the poor and pray for liberation if you are not willing to practice Sabbath. Sabbath is practiced every seven days. The Year of Jubilee happens seven years times seven (Finally Comes the Poet, 49). Social justice, according to Brueggemann, is connected to personal piety devotion. The two cannot be separated. Evidently, the liberal and fundamentalist need one another! “Sabbath is the end of grasping and therefore the end of exploitation. Sabbath is a day of revolutionary equality in society. On that day all rest equally, regardless of wealth or power or need (Exod. 20: 8-11). Of course, the world is not now ordered according to the well-being and equality of Sabbath rest. But the keeping of Sabbath, in heaven and on earth, is a foretaste and anticipation of how the creation will be when God’s way is fully established,” (Brueggemann in Interpretation: Genesis, 35-6).

Dancing with Both Legs

I use the phrases "personal piety" and "social justice" not because I personally use them often but because I hear them used often by theologians, ministers, students, and other people interested in religious/spiritual conversations.

I've noticed that people who are primarily passionate about personal piety (reading the bible, devotionals, keeping a journal and other daily rituals) do not always place nice with those who are strong advocates for the poor, homeless and invisible among us. And the same is true of the latter regarding the former. Anne Lamott once wrote, "You know you've created God in your own image when he hates all the same people as you."

I'm perplexed about this.

There are two examples within Torah/Pentateuch (first five books of the Hebrew Scriptures) that seriously challenge the separation of personal piety and social awareness.

First, the entire book of Leviticus. Many OT scholars now read Lev. 19 (specifically, love your neighbor as yourself) as the center or crux of the entire work. Anyone who's read Leviticus knows that the decrees are nuanced, detailed, and seemingly overbearing. OT scholars now suggest that Leviticus is an argument that to care for social issues, means one will take personal piety seriously. Therefore, the only way you can love your neighbor as much as you love yourself (and how many people do not truly love themselves) is if you keep the daily requirements. If that does not convince you, perhaps you should remember that Jesus himself said that loving God and loving neighbor was the heart of true religion.

Second example comes from the Sabbath. The Sabbath (shabbot) is God's commandment to humanity to rest just as he rested after creating the earth. In Torah, Sabbath is a part of a cycle of life leading up to Jubilee (something Jesus again picks up on in Luke 4 as he is preaching to his hometown congregation concerning the essence of his ministry). Jubilee was the time in which land, slaves, and debts were forgiven. It was God's radical act of justice in a world that was primarily concerned with profit, exploitation, and economic gain (like our world today). Therefore, if you wanted to end injustice, the way to do so, was to keep Sabbath. You rested on the seventh day. Sabbath created the space for humans to remember God's role as Creator. And to remember that there will be a day when all peoples of the world will rest, what some call "heaven."

You can't separate personal piety from social awareness. At least, not if you want to be a person who is formed by the Torah, and the teachings of Jesus.

The two largest groups of Christians in the United States (evangelical and mainline) seem to be interested in opposite sides of the same coin. Most evangelicals are interested in bible study, prayer, journals, book clubs, bible classes while many mainline churches are interested in slavery in Uganda, wars in the Sudan, poverty in India.

Of course, this has radically changed in the last twenty years. But it's still the overwhelming legacy of the twentieth century.

Mainline churches went wrong because they equated the Gospel primarily with social issues. Evangelicals went wrong because they privatized faith. Both are equally offensive. The product of personal piety and devotion is engagement with the world and neighbor. The sustaining force for those passionate about social issues is personal piety. If one is missing, it's like dancing with one leg. It can't be done.

The Bible and The Color of Water

Tonight, I begin co-teaching Luke-Acts for ministry majors at Rochester College. I usually begin the class the way I was taught by one close friend: we talk about Scripture.

I will inevitably talk about two important elements of reading and interpreting the Bible. By the way, simply reading is interpretation. First, we’ll discuss location. Physical location is crucial for, as is the case with real estate, it’s all about location, location, location. Where you read shapes what you read. Most people read the bible individually in a cozy space. However, what if you read, for instance, Jesus words about wealth and simplicity in the slums of Calcutta? Or the suburbs of Dallas, Texas? One’s physical location directly determines one’s “found meaning.”

Also, we will discuss social location. Who you are, shapes what you read. I’ve now taught for three years at the college level with students from all different perspectives. I can tell you that white men read the bible quite differently than black women (just one example). The point: we must read the bible in various spaces with various people to experience the rich depth and power of God’s story. I will never forget the time an African American female student twice my age stood up after I retold the Ruth/Boaz story and declared, "Josh, I'm still looking for my Boaz."

After talking about “location” we’ll discuss “nature.” I’ll deconstruct the myth that the bible is a rule-book or collection of timeless principles and (attempt to) make the case that the Bible was meant to be reading as a holy unfolding drama in which you and I are just as vital to the Message as was Lydia, Phoebe, Paul, and Peter.

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I was able to read The Color of Water last week during the early morning hours of life in the city. It’s an amazing piece of American cultural life. This biography is about the life of a white Jewish woman who marries a black man during the 1940’s in New York City and her subsequent journey of raising “mixed” children in a politically divisive world. The author, James McBride, is the product of this woman’s determination and love for he is one of her sons.

The book challenges many assumptions that under-girds politics in these United States, both left and right, political and conservative. It’s a story of family, suffering, poverty, identity, faith, Jesus, and hope. I suggest it to anyone wrestling with the question, “What does it mean to be human?”

The "D"

I just returned from our annual Rochester College/Rochester Church of Christ Urban Formation Week.

It was, to say the least, a great week. I'm worn out. 

I'll write more in the coming days (I think).

For now . . . I'll simply say this. Perhaps more than most places, Detroit is the ultimate paradox. There is an abundance of life, creativity, history, energy, diversity, talent, light and hope. And yet, there is an equal amount of death, stagnation, despair, idleness, homogeneous tribalism, darkness, and depression. I love Detroit and I mourn for Detroit--all in the same breath. 

God is on the move. I saw that truth up close and personal.

Out of the ashes . . . God does his best work.