Some say that the world would be a better place if Jesus were in it just a little more. That's a way of saying that life for most people could be better if more people shared and lived the Christian faith.
Is that true? Some say that we can get along better without Jesus or any suggestions of God. There is a belief that religion is dangerous. According to some authors and bloggers, any God-talk is a danger because it generates fanatical attitudes that lead very quickly to acts of violence against others. If you believe God is on your side, then others could end up on the receiving end of your Inquisition or Islamic Jihad.
On another level there is the feeling that the world is improving without any involvement of God, or belief in a god if there is none. The prosperity we enjoy appears to come through secular economic and political systems that have jettisoned all connections with religious institutions. Without praying, it seems, we are able to overthrow and kill dictators. The Arab Spring, current student uprisings and the Occupy Movement might be a quest that is more about universal human aspirations toward justice and freedom and a whole lot less about religion - in spite of the apparent revival of Islamic politics and Sharia Law where the Arab Spring continues.
I don't want to pose the question, "What does religion have to do with the future?" because that immediately begs the question, "Which religion?" They are definitely all not "basically the same," as we are so often told. The question has to be much more specific. "What does Mohammed have to do with the future?" or "What does the Buddha have to do with it?"
I'm limiting my question to this: "What does Jesus Christ have to do with the improvement of our lives for the future, in this world?"
The response some Christians have to this question can be disappointing. Some believers feel that Jesus' main plan is to take his followers away from this earth to heaven and that ultimately, heaven is the fitting home of those who believe in him. If that's true this world doesn't have much value and its improvement is not a great priority. This is the kind of view you get, for example, in the very popular Left Behind book series.
Other Christians, especially in the later nineteenth and earlier twentieth centuries used to take the view that such interventions seemed too crude for God and for Jesus. They surmised that Jesus is intervening in a more sophisticated sense: through human evolution of all kinds he is helping the world reach utopia. Two barbaric world wars cut away this understanding - though some religious optimists failed to catch on.
What if, though, the Bible's account of Jesus suggests something different? That he is indeed present in some way, especially through his people and his Spirit; but that he is in another sense absent and preparing to come back. His return will not be for the purpose of lifting his own to heaven, but for the purpose of welcoming heaven back into our world and into our lives. He will come put all things right. Judgement will happen. But God's judgement in the Bible is always a good thing. It is a judgement in favour of the oppressed and marginalized and a judgement against oppressors of all kinds.
This would mean that his people should be preparing for his return by thinking and acting in hope. Preparing for him does not mean withdrawing into a life of only prayer and devotion waiting for his return. Rather it means getting your hands dirty; it means putting your feet on the ground, looking for ways to demonstrate compassion towards people in trouble right where you are; it means working for justice and fairness in every way that is available to you; it means supporting others who may not share faith in Jesus, but are also on a quest for a world that is more just than it is.
Jesus Christ will return. And in the meantime, his people can be a signpost of hope in a world that is difficult to negotiate. God cares, and the evils that currently trouble all of us will one day, suddenly, fade to black. When he comes back heaven's light, grace and redemption will dramatically fill this world, our planetary home.
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
Thursday, 13 October 2011
"It Doesn't Cost Anything To Love Our People"
The stories were heartbreaking, and more about them in a moment. Last week I attended a hearing of Canada's Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) at Indian Brook, NS. The event took place not far from the very residential school that some of the survivors at the meeting were once forced to attend.
With seven public hearings scheduled across Canada and a $60 million budget, the TRC is a national listening ear. It is mandated to provide an inclusive, victim-sensitive, and culturally appropriate setting for aboriginal people to share their experiences of the residential schools.
Survivors may tell their stories publicly or in private meeting rooms. They are not cross-examined. Their stories are only heard and recorded. The purpose of the hearings is to listen to "your truth," as Commissioner Marie Wilson put it. The process is intended to help government, churches, and indigenous communities come to terms with the tragedy of Canada's residential schools.
The survivors of the schools are aging so that increasingly their children are called upon to recall the suffering of their parents. Churches ran the schools for the government - implementing the government's policy of eradicating aboriginal cultures. Children, as young as four years old, were forcibly taken from their homes and placed in the schools. An organizer told me that even though the schools might be located only a few blocks from the homes of aboriginal families, family contact was forbidden for months in a row.
I heard stories of survivors being cruelly strapped for running away, for bed-wetting, and for even accidentally letting any Aboriginal word - even a "thank-you" - slip from their mouths. The children of survivors shared how their parents physically abused them because the parents had learned that beating is the main form of discipline. Some shared that the standing of parents and elders was destroyed by the schools. Others told about their long-term abuse of alcohol and drugs as a way to escape school memories.
One man reflected on the possibility of forgiveness, and how difficult it is to forgive the "black robes," the church, the government, the media, and the agencies that regulate compensation payments. "The black robes were the instruments of the government to destroy us," were his words.
There was the gut-wrenching story of a sister who was forbidden from visiting her brother in the school. She risked a great deal to sneak over to him. I heard a man tell the story, broadcast later that day, of how his hands were so badly swollen from strapping that his cousin had to feed him that evening.
One woman shared how the residential school was an evil presence. She was one of the very last residents of her school. On the day she finally left, a sister (a teacher) called out, "Wait, you forgot something," and brought out her Bible. She took the Bible from the sister's hands and threw it away. It seems that, as one survivor from PE said, "God too was a victim of the residential schools."
Throughout the day I began to realize that the survivors who spoke are not just victims. After all they don't call themselves that. Their very presence at the hearing was a presence of courage. And a presence of hope. Otherwise, why bother?
A very hopeful comment was one I heard later that afternoon. It came from a survivor who had become a social worker and now uses her sensitivities to help families and youth on the reserve. She chided aboriginal leaders who don't listen to survivors and their children. She called on them to love their struggling people. "Help will in the end not come from the government. It must come from our own people. It doesn't cost anything to love, to care, to pray for others, to treat them as human beings. It doesn't cost anything to love our people."
When she finished I realized that this was the note on which I wanted to leave; I picked up my things and walked to the exit.
With seven public hearings scheduled across Canada and a $60 million budget, the TRC is a national listening ear. It is mandated to provide an inclusive, victim-sensitive, and culturally appropriate setting for aboriginal people to share their experiences of the residential schools.
Survivors may tell their stories publicly or in private meeting rooms. They are not cross-examined. Their stories are only heard and recorded. The purpose of the hearings is to listen to "your truth," as Commissioner Marie Wilson put it. The process is intended to help government, churches, and indigenous communities come to terms with the tragedy of Canada's residential schools.
The survivors of the schools are aging so that increasingly their children are called upon to recall the suffering of their parents. Churches ran the schools for the government - implementing the government's policy of eradicating aboriginal cultures. Children, as young as four years old, were forcibly taken from their homes and placed in the schools. An organizer told me that even though the schools might be located only a few blocks from the homes of aboriginal families, family contact was forbidden for months in a row.
I heard stories of survivors being cruelly strapped for running away, for bed-wetting, and for even accidentally letting any Aboriginal word - even a "thank-you" - slip from their mouths. The children of survivors shared how their parents physically abused them because the parents had learned that beating is the main form of discipline. Some shared that the standing of parents and elders was destroyed by the schools. Others told about their long-term abuse of alcohol and drugs as a way to escape school memories.
One man reflected on the possibility of forgiveness, and how difficult it is to forgive the "black robes," the church, the government, the media, and the agencies that regulate compensation payments. "The black robes were the instruments of the government to destroy us," were his words.
There was the gut-wrenching story of a sister who was forbidden from visiting her brother in the school. She risked a great deal to sneak over to him. I heard a man tell the story, broadcast later that day, of how his hands were so badly swollen from strapping that his cousin had to feed him that evening.
One woman shared how the residential school was an evil presence. She was one of the very last residents of her school. On the day she finally left, a sister (a teacher) called out, "Wait, you forgot something," and brought out her Bible. She took the Bible from the sister's hands and threw it away. It seems that, as one survivor from PE said, "God too was a victim of the residential schools."
Throughout the day I began to realize that the survivors who spoke are not just victims. After all they don't call themselves that. Their very presence at the hearing was a presence of courage. And a presence of hope. Otherwise, why bother?
A very hopeful comment was one I heard later that afternoon. It came from a survivor who had become a social worker and now uses her sensitivities to help families and youth on the reserve. She chided aboriginal leaders who don't listen to survivors and their children. She called on them to love their struggling people. "Help will in the end not come from the government. It must come from our own people. It doesn't cost anything to love, to care, to pray for others, to treat them as human beings. It doesn't cost anything to love our people."
When she finished I realized that this was the note on which I wanted to leave; I picked up my things and walked to the exit.
Monday, 10 October 2011
Israel and the Parable of the Good Palestinian
In the 1930s and '40s Jews were horribly persecuted. Anti-Semitism of course thrived in Nazi Germany. But it was also alive, in (usually) less extreme forms, in the rest of Europe, in the United States, and yes, in Canada.
In the aftermath of World War II, much of the world recognized Jews as an oppressed people, marginalized, victimized, and hounded almost to extinction. And when, through their own fierce determination, they began to gather in Palestine and press for recognition as the legitimate state of Israel, the United Nations gave it to them. At the same time, the U. N. also envisioned a Palestinian state.
Perhaps other reasons for the recognition of Israel determined that outcome. Historians have pointed out that the U. S. wanted an ally in the Middle East, in order to, among other things, encircle the post war threat of the then communist Soviet Union.
Nevertheless, widespread sympathy for Jews no doubt was a key factor. Some have argued that the moral failure of the West to honour Jews over the centuries has lead, not only to its little-questioned approval of Israeli statehood. It has also made it impossible for Western countries to seriously challenge the way Israel has forced non-Israelis to either accept Israeli political authority or leave.
Twenty centuries ago, a young Jew told a story, the "Parable of the Good Samaritan." In the story, Jesus told of a Samaritan man who stops to give first aid, and then transportation and housing, to a Jew who had been robbed and left to die on a dangerous stretch of road.
In those days, Jews living in the south of Israel looked down on their Samaritan neighbours to the north. They saw Samaritans as religiously unclean and a threat to the proper life Jews were to live. Samaritans were the "other", outcasts who did not deserve compassion from well-established and respectable Jews of that time. And yet, in the story, this "good Samaritan" had compassion on a Jew.
The Parable of the Good Samaritan forced upon many of the Jewish leaders of the day disturbing questions - questions about their own righteousness, and their inability to see the Samaritan people as human beings who could also respond appropriately to God, as people who could be compassionate, and who would, in turn, deserve recognition and compassion from Jews.
In an online CNN post, Carl Madearis suggests that if Jesus were alive today and living in Israel, he would not tell the Parable of the Good Samaritan. He would tell the Parable of the Good Palestinian. Thinking about this I wonder if he would be crucified for it. Likely. While countless Jews of Jesus' time embraced him and began the Christian movement, some crucified him for telling a story that questioned their treatment of their neighbours.
In the aftermath of World War II, much of the world recognized Jews as an oppressed people, marginalized, victimized, and hounded almost to extinction. And when, through their own fierce determination, they began to gather in Palestine and press for recognition as the legitimate state of Israel, the United Nations gave it to them. At the same time, the U. N. also envisioned a Palestinian state.
Perhaps other reasons for the recognition of Israel determined that outcome. Historians have pointed out that the U. S. wanted an ally in the Middle East, in order to, among other things, encircle the post war threat of the then communist Soviet Union.
Nevertheless, widespread sympathy for Jews no doubt was a key factor. Some have argued that the moral failure of the West to honour Jews over the centuries has lead, not only to its little-questioned approval of Israeli statehood. It has also made it impossible for Western countries to seriously challenge the way Israel has forced non-Israelis to either accept Israeli political authority or leave.
Twenty centuries ago, a young Jew told a story, the "Parable of the Good Samaritan." In the story, Jesus told of a Samaritan man who stops to give first aid, and then transportation and housing, to a Jew who had been robbed and left to die on a dangerous stretch of road.
In those days, Jews living in the south of Israel looked down on their Samaritan neighbours to the north. They saw Samaritans as religiously unclean and a threat to the proper life Jews were to live. Samaritans were the "other", outcasts who did not deserve compassion from well-established and respectable Jews of that time. And yet, in the story, this "good Samaritan" had compassion on a Jew.
The Parable of the Good Samaritan forced upon many of the Jewish leaders of the day disturbing questions - questions about their own righteousness, and their inability to see the Samaritan people as human beings who could also respond appropriately to God, as people who could be compassionate, and who would, in turn, deserve recognition and compassion from Jews.
In an online CNN post, Carl Madearis suggests that if Jesus were alive today and living in Israel, he would not tell the Parable of the Good Samaritan. He would tell the Parable of the Good Palestinian. Thinking about this I wonder if he would be crucified for it. Likely. While countless Jews of Jesus' time embraced him and began the Christian movement, some crucified him for telling a story that questioned their treatment of their neighbours.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)