Yesterday I had the privilege of hosting a friend from Uganda. This was my friend’s first time in America and I wanted to be sensitive to her needs as a hostess. I found myself struggling with a number of questions of how to introduce her to my people, my land and our way of life.
Given that I only had time for a day trip to show my friend around, I was limited to showing her around Durham. The historian in me craved taking her to see historic sites/museums. As I thought about what was around Durham, I thought about Stagville Plantation, the Duke Homestead, the Bennett Place (the location of a Civil War surrender), and a collection of places such as the Hayti Heritage Center, Black Wall Street and NCCU to show off Durham’s connections to the Civil Rights Movement. I was struck by the impression that these places might have on my Ugandan friend, especially as she lives under the uninmaginable personal history and experience of living with the Lord’s Resistance Army in Uganda.
How could I take a woman who has been a slave to see the heritage of her people as slaves at Stagville? How could I take her to the Homestead where most of the workers involved the history of Jim Crow and the legacy of slavery and tenant farming? (We did eventually chose this option though it focused more on the experience of whites). How could I take her to a place that describes an internal war of brother against brother, villager against villager when she has experienced war within her own country in a similar fashion? How could I take her to a place that might glamorize war and may even include re-enactments that would bring horrific images and experiences of real time warfare for my friend? Why do we as Americans like going to visit war sites? Who else in the world does this? This seems so bizarre!! How could I explain to my friend the history of the Civil Rights Movement outside of the history of slavery?
When faced with this dilemma, I called my Mom for help. “Take her shopping! She hasn’t really seen America unless she’s been to a mall!” I thought maybe I should complete her experience with a cup of coffee from Starbucks. I found that many of the ideas that I came up with outside of the real history of America that discounted the reality of slavery and replaced it with some form of consumerism.
As we passed around neighborhoods and I tried to explain homelessness, gentrification and the inequality of neighborhoods I was able to see much more in how we assimilate to cover our history with Africa. My friend and I found much to connect with over our discussion of farming the land while at the Duke homestead. She made a number of observations about American life in that time that surprised her: We had deep ties to the land, we made much of our living from farming, our homes, family life and our education was built around the land. It made me think about “becoming American” meant throwing off our ties to the land. Unlike my Grandfather, I grew up without a plow, yet I remember the labors the happened at his home over farming. Our family still gathers and eats a shared meal over the foods that came out of that garden. Why does becoming modern mean moving away from this older lifestyle that was very American.
It hit me that we have covered our ties to slavery and ultimately our ties to Africa with consumerism. We don’t want to remember our past, so we try to remove ourselves from farming and plantation life: even if we are white!! No one wants to be tied to the farm anymore, somehow being connected to the farm has been translated as ignorance.
I found that I cannot not explain my life as an American apart from slavery. My family profited from a system that affirmed and rewarded their skin color. My families Southern food, even down to the way we cook our cornbread is the way that black houseworkers made it for us. I have no way out. I must acknowledge my less than noble ties to Africa and also recognize and say no to the consumerist notions of identity that ultimately strips me of my true and real identity.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
My Jewish Need
So I'm in the middle of working away at my exegesis on Luke. After reading about 50 pages of commentary I find myself asking some pretty uncomfortable questions.
If Luke is so focused on telling "a good order of things/events" as the prologue tells us in Ch. 1, then what do I do with an historical interpretation of Jesus? What do I mean by that? In light of the Gospel story that Jesus is telling parables and encountering peoples that speak of the coming of a radical Kingdom where the poor become blessed, the lame are healed, the rich and poweful are brought low etc., I'm pretty happy with small stories that speak toward a grander narrative.
But sometimes I need historical information. Did Jesus really hang out with a guy named Zacchaeus? Did Jesus really heal the ten lepers in the way that Luke describes? There is such a focus in Luke about how intentional the author is to tell us something as Dr. Rowe paraphrases "for our catechesis/learning" and "for our faith to be grounded on something as sturdy as asphalt" that it makes me wonder what happened to the historical Jesus. Was all of this stuff in the Gospels (in this case Luke) just created and embellished at whim to make for a better overall story? Take the case of the dude who wrote that book that became an Oprah club book and it became a HUGE scandal and discredit to the man when it came out that he did the same to his memoir.
Yes, I can get some asphalt from reports about what others at the time said about Jesus' existence and the conversions of Jews to Christians. I can get some asphalt from the presence of my own faith. But what about from the text itself? I have intertextuality--not just with the other Gospels (especially the Synoptics) and the Christian New Testament, but i have the Old Testament. I also have the testimony of the Jews. Without the presence of the Jews and the foundation that was laid through God's self-revelation through a particular people in space and time I'm not sure how much asphalt I would have for the validity of Jesus, the validity of YHWH, and the validity of faith and practice.
Perhaps this is what Dr. Jennings has tried to drill into our heads while reading T.F. Torrance who seems to give this very same theological explanation (minus the wonderings and Lukan-ness). Thanks Jennings and Torrance. But I must say, thank you God for the testimony of the Jews!
If Luke is so focused on telling "a good order of things/events" as the prologue tells us in Ch. 1, then what do I do with an historical interpretation of Jesus? What do I mean by that? In light of the Gospel story that Jesus is telling parables and encountering peoples that speak of the coming of a radical Kingdom where the poor become blessed, the lame are healed, the rich and poweful are brought low etc., I'm pretty happy with small stories that speak toward a grander narrative.
But sometimes I need historical information. Did Jesus really hang out with a guy named Zacchaeus? Did Jesus really heal the ten lepers in the way that Luke describes? There is such a focus in Luke about how intentional the author is to tell us something as Dr. Rowe paraphrases "for our catechesis/learning" and "for our faith to be grounded on something as sturdy as asphalt" that it makes me wonder what happened to the historical Jesus. Was all of this stuff in the Gospels (in this case Luke) just created and embellished at whim to make for a better overall story? Take the case of the dude who wrote that book that became an Oprah club book and it became a HUGE scandal and discredit to the man when it came out that he did the same to his memoir.
Yes, I can get some asphalt from reports about what others at the time said about Jesus' existence and the conversions of Jews to Christians. I can get some asphalt from the presence of my own faith. But what about from the text itself? I have intertextuality--not just with the other Gospels (especially the Synoptics) and the Christian New Testament, but i have the Old Testament. I also have the testimony of the Jews. Without the presence of the Jews and the foundation that was laid through God's self-revelation through a particular people in space and time I'm not sure how much asphalt I would have for the validity of Jesus, the validity of YHWH, and the validity of faith and practice.
Perhaps this is what Dr. Jennings has tried to drill into our heads while reading T.F. Torrance who seems to give this very same theological explanation (minus the wonderings and Lukan-ness). Thanks Jennings and Torrance. But I must say, thank you God for the testimony of the Jews!
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The Canaanite Woman
I do not like this parable. I don’t like the thought of Jesus giving someone in pain the cold shoulder. I do not like the idea of Jesus calling someone a dog. I do not like the way this meshes against other stories of Jesus including Gentiles into his ministry. But maybe that’s the point.
The story of this woman comes in Matthew 15, placed in the text after an account of the Pharisees and even the Disciples getting tripped up over external appearances. The first account shows the Pharisees and scribes trying to understand Jesus’ weird ways that appears to be in opposition to Jewish traditional practices. Why is Jesus breaking the law? Jesus is quick to point out that they themselves are lawbreakers simply by what has formed in their hearts. Evil is formed on the inside of someone.
At the outset of coming across the Canaanite woman, Jesus ignores her, following the standards of Jewish existence—ignoring Israel’s enemies, ignoring and putting a boundary between what is clean and not clean. It is interesting that this woman calls Jesus “Lord.” I’m not sure if this is a widely used term in Matthew or not, but it seems to show that this woman has already seen something kingly and/or Messianic even about Jesus. Her only hope is Jesus. As Dr. Jennings has so wonderfully explained about Gentile existence, this woman is putting herself in a vulnerable spot, going to an “enemy” and asking for help. She clearly believes that there is something to the Jewish people, their God and this Jesus.
She reminds me of Rahab, the prostitute who sheltered the spies sent into Canaan by Joshua. Rahab was an unlikely “convert.” She abandoned her Canaanite people, her gods, her king and forsake them out of fear of the Lord. This woman and her family was spared when Israel came to pursue the land that was promised. Perhaps this is what is going on with Matthew’s Canaanite woman. She puts herself in a vulnerable place, forsaking all others, hoping for the in breaking of the new Promised Land. Jesus seems to tell her that the covenant relationship is not for her, yet she argues that she is still desperate for Jesus. She does not revoke his title of Lord, but rather she still begs for him.
In light of both OT and NT examples of sparing/inclusion of Gentiles, it seems clear to me that Jesus is not saying that the Gospel is never for the Gentiles, but rather that the covenant has graciously been opened for them. I’m not sure what the fine differences are in these distinctions, but I still hold tightly to Gentile inclusion yet through the sheer grace of God. After a closer look, this passage begins to sit a little better with me. It reminds me of a deep fight I had with God where I was ready to give up because following Jesus was seeming to be too hard, too costly. I remember crying out to God, screaming and in tears, angry that God wouldn’t operate on my terms and save me from hardship. “If I leave you, where else will I go?” I thought to myself. How excited I was when I realized that I was not the first to have uttered such words. In John, when Jesus asks the disciples if they too would like to withdraw from discipleship, Peter says “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life (Jn 6:68).”
Where else does the woman have to go if she has already identified and believed that Jesus is the one, the only one who could help her? This woman is reminder to me of what it means to have the doors of grace and mercy opened for me. My salvation is NOT about me. It is about a story that is larger than me. It is about Jesus. Not only is it about Jesus, but it runs deeper through the history of Israel. It is a reminder that humility and faith can and should co-exist. This woman knows her place, yet confidently looks to Jesus to what He alone can offer. So often I go to the Lord out of the assumption of how good and deserving I am rather than out of acknowledgement of my own wretchedness and inability to provide for myself, yet deeply in need of the Lord.
The story of this woman comes in Matthew 15, placed in the text after an account of the Pharisees and even the Disciples getting tripped up over external appearances. The first account shows the Pharisees and scribes trying to understand Jesus’ weird ways that appears to be in opposition to Jewish traditional practices. Why is Jesus breaking the law? Jesus is quick to point out that they themselves are lawbreakers simply by what has formed in their hearts. Evil is formed on the inside of someone.
At the outset of coming across the Canaanite woman, Jesus ignores her, following the standards of Jewish existence—ignoring Israel’s enemies, ignoring and putting a boundary between what is clean and not clean. It is interesting that this woman calls Jesus “Lord.” I’m not sure if this is a widely used term in Matthew or not, but it seems to show that this woman has already seen something kingly and/or Messianic even about Jesus. Her only hope is Jesus. As Dr. Jennings has so wonderfully explained about Gentile existence, this woman is putting herself in a vulnerable spot, going to an “enemy” and asking for help. She clearly believes that there is something to the Jewish people, their God and this Jesus.
She reminds me of Rahab, the prostitute who sheltered the spies sent into Canaan by Joshua. Rahab was an unlikely “convert.” She abandoned her Canaanite people, her gods, her king and forsake them out of fear of the Lord. This woman and her family was spared when Israel came to pursue the land that was promised. Perhaps this is what is going on with Matthew’s Canaanite woman. She puts herself in a vulnerable place, forsaking all others, hoping for the in breaking of the new Promised Land. Jesus seems to tell her that the covenant relationship is not for her, yet she argues that she is still desperate for Jesus. She does not revoke his title of Lord, but rather she still begs for him.
In light of both OT and NT examples of sparing/inclusion of Gentiles, it seems clear to me that Jesus is not saying that the Gospel is never for the Gentiles, but rather that the covenant has graciously been opened for them. I’m not sure what the fine differences are in these distinctions, but I still hold tightly to Gentile inclusion yet through the sheer grace of God. After a closer look, this passage begins to sit a little better with me. It reminds me of a deep fight I had with God where I was ready to give up because following Jesus was seeming to be too hard, too costly. I remember crying out to God, screaming and in tears, angry that God wouldn’t operate on my terms and save me from hardship. “If I leave you, where else will I go?” I thought to myself. How excited I was when I realized that I was not the first to have uttered such words. In John, when Jesus asks the disciples if they too would like to withdraw from discipleship, Peter says “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life (Jn 6:68).”
Where else does the woman have to go if she has already identified and believed that Jesus is the one, the only one who could help her? This woman is reminder to me of what it means to have the doors of grace and mercy opened for me. My salvation is NOT about me. It is about a story that is larger than me. It is about Jesus. Not only is it about Jesus, but it runs deeper through the history of Israel. It is a reminder that humility and faith can and should co-exist. This woman knows her place, yet confidently looks to Jesus to what He alone can offer. So often I go to the Lord out of the assumption of how good and deserving I am rather than out of acknowledgement of my own wretchedness and inability to provide for myself, yet deeply in need of the Lord.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
The "Holiday" Season
Ok, seriously...I don't like having to view Halloween stuff in September and Christmas stuff in October. It's just wrong. The conglomeration of very distinct holidays into "the holiday season" is so disgusting to me I can't even begin to really explain it. Not sure how we got to this point, but I know it has something to do with commercialism. Craziness!
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