Book Report 3, Part B

Bessenecker opens chapter six by delving into the parable of the sheep and the goats of Matthew 25. I have looked at this parable significantly over the last quarter or so of my education here at Fuller. I appreciate all that Bessenecker added to my thoughts on it. But what is more, it is immensely helpful in this work when he attaches personal encounters with people that are mirrors of the gospel message he is preaching. The story of St. Patrick that is interwoven into this chapter on the brokenness and frailty of the human existence, even among the new friars is inspiring and hopeful. In this way, efforts by the new friars to "embrace the messiness of community" seems realistic and possible (105).

Chapter seven touches on a touchy subject, common possessions. He writes, "There is something about intertwining our lives with others to the extent that possessions or space or time are held in common that offends Western sensibilities" (107). His use of the verb, "offends" connotes several strong images in my mind when I make a concerted effort digest this comment. I think he is correct. How, in our fragmented, suburban, fenced in, well lit lifestyles have we become so isolated and individualistic, both in our piety and sociability that we are offended by the mere idea of community to such a degree as this? I realize the answer to that question is fairly complex, and outside the parameters of this book report; still, he raises an important question, one that other writers of Christian simplicity like Richard Foster and Ronald Sider have also asked. If the rich sacrifice their opulence, are there enough resources in the world to satisfy us all adequately (108)? The quest of the new friars to lay aside American privatization and individuality for the sake of community relationships (including the grief and loss that accompanies impoverished areas) has led them to "relational wealth"--a concept shallow suburbia will never be able to understand, much less emulate (118).

Bessenecker offers a phrase that I want to adapt, "cocoons of familiarity" (127). As Tyler and I discuss what it will mean for the safety of our family to move into the ghetto, or at least a lower-class, urban area, we recognize with Bessenecker that the "pursuit of God's kingdom is a powerfully motivating force" even as it is "fraught with discomfort, failure, sickness, discouragement, and danger...leading us out of our cocoons of familiarity" (127). I am a firm believer that it is more dangerous to ignore the call of God on our lives than it is to pave a way to make that same call a reality.

As he near the close of his book he begins a discussion about how those who minister to the marginalized are bound to set themselves up for rejection. I do not find this all that intimidating, perhaps I am merely being naive. But is this not part of my denominational past, as a current Anabaptist, and also part of the larger Christian past, especially before Constantine? Finding my place in the meta-narrative of Christianity means coming to terms with disengagement with the empire and the ruling elite. This is why this point of new monasticism is so appealing to me, I guess.

In the concluding chapter he quotes the World Bank, "the late 20th century will go down in world history as a period of global impoverishment marked by the collapse of productive systems in the developing world, the demise of national institutions and the disintegration of health and educational programmes" (157). What a time for ministers of the gospel to practice the incarnation and offer the good news that the kingdom of God is near! This is why environmental conservation coupled with sustainable farming and other green practices in our homes has become paramount in our efforts to offer resources to the poor; otherwise, we will soon rid ourselves of the resources that the rich currently take for granted. In this way, Bessenecker ushers in a call to all of us when he writes, "the poor suffer most when the earth suffers, and the earth is in bad shape at the moment" (159). So as we move forward in an effort to "embrace marginalization" as followers of Christ, let us also shake our fists at unjust regimes, share our prayers with the hurting and impoverished, and live together under the hut of God's love.

Book Report 3, Part A

Written by Scott Bessenecker, an employee of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship/USA, this book describes the ways in which a sect of Christianity is making efforts to reconnect with the world's poor by mimicking the work of particular monastic legends, like St. Francis of Assisi and St. Patrick. These Christians confess that "God's plan was to keep the gap between rich and poor small...because both [the rich and the poor] deserve the dignity of sufficiency" (43). It is an admirable feat in my opinion, to turn one's "back on the 'American Dream' and a life of conspicuous consumption" in order to turn, instead, to God's dream of "simplicity and compassion" (13). I find very interesting his readiness to admit that the church often loses her emotional vigor with the onset of new movements and subsequently dies, and has died several times throughout the ages of her past and present (16). This in part is why I have been suspect of New Monasticism, I suspect? Who is to say this is more than another bandwagon effort to renew the church and keep her relevant in a culture obsessed with improvement? But Bessenecker goes on to say that this movement is different in that it comes on the cusp of many new developments and stems not from a position of power and influence, but with a grassroots mentality appropriated through equal leadership of service. I am inspired by the plethora of organizations and churches he names who are engaged in this work of serving the poor as the poor throughout the world.

As he began chapter 2 recalling his experiences in the slums of Ho Chi Minh City, I was drawn back to my experiences in Dhaka and Rajshahi, Bangladesh. The corrugated-tin walled houses, covered with thatch roofs, stacked above sewage, stinking of stale air, and packed full of families line the city streets this country. The people are beautiful and in great need. They lack not only the resources for solid education, but frequently the ability to attend the schools or places of employment that are available to them as well. It is yet another example of the "poverty you cannot break out of" (29). I like the bold statement, "So long as there is someone desperate enough to work for a dollar or two a day, there is someone else willing to exploit that labor for those of us who just want a cheap pair of jeans" (33). This is harrowing and honest. It forces us to deal with a personal issue on a corporate level. How can changing our own behaviors in the mundane of daily living affect for better the living conditions of the poor, especially those who dwell in the developing world? I believe strongly that decisions like refusing to offer our patronage to large (and evil?) corporate chains like Walmart is a small contribution. However, this simple act still does not connect us with the poor themselves, and it seems to be Bessenecker's argument that first and foremost we must in engage with the poor on a personal level before we can fully recognize the enormous amount of changing we must do ourselves in order to lessen their plight (35-36).

The "pull forces" of poverty are those that contribute to a generational cycle of "destitution and the intractability of the most desperate forms of poverty" (44). They reside in our cultures (44), our personal approaches to the issues of poverty (49), are are being disengaged through the work of spiritual forces like the new friars (54). However, his discussion of the forces of evil that manifest themselves so readily in the lives of the homeless and poor bring to the surface a theological question that I am working through right now. He notes that issues like drug addiction, emotional resignation, greed, prostitution, and sweatshops are "things dreamed up in hell..." (56-57). Yet, I want to believe that even in the midst of deplorable sweatshop conditions, God can still find room in there to work with and minister to the young women making gym shoes for Nike in Indonesia at some nine cents an hour. If we insinuate that these hellacious conditions are only from hell, (and I am not sure if he means that literally or metaphorically), then does that negate any potential for the incarnation to be present even in such horrid spaces? Is not hell the absence of the presence of God? All this to say, while I am very willing to confess that issues and places such as these are evil and the result of systemic injustices embedded deep within our cultural milieu, I am not comfortable saying that they are from hell. I want to believe in the power of redemption, and to me, hell negates that power.

Bessenecker uses a powerful word to describe one of the purposes of the incarnation, "solidarity" (60). Simply stated he writes, "There is something about living with a group of people that changes the dynamic of a relationship" (60). As I was speaking with a friend the other day about my desire to live in an urban environment among the poor she noted that a pastor friend of hers in a similar position said that it is not difficult to give up all the stuff--the new ipod or cool jeans or flat screen tv's. The part that is difficult in living with the poor is figuring out how to minister to them. I have been pondering this heavily ever since she shared it with me. This is what Jesus mastered! He gave up life enthroned with God to take on the likeness of humanity, and he ministered to them by serving them, dying for them, and paving the way for them to receive the great paraklete. Bessenecker argues that this is what those who live in voluntary poverty are doing as well (65).

Chapter 5 discusses this concept of incarnational ministry through poverty more intimately by bringing to light the power games that are ignored when both the minister and recipient of ministry are economic equals. "When the poor see 'outsiders' [those who rejected a status of privilege] subject to the very same conditions and realities under which they are suffering, something very powerful emerges in the nature of the relationship" (76). This leads me to rethink some of my earlier critiques of new monasticism. I am negotiating the lines between living with the poor as opposed to being impoverished as well. Many members of new monastic communities continue on with their white collar jobs, which are the result of many years of expensive educations, while their fellow community members might also continue in their minimum wage paying blue collar positions barely making ends meet. Is this acceptable with the presence of a common purse? Are there not still power-plays at work? Basically, I want to practically know what this looks like. Bessenecker has helped me articulate finally some more of these questions. He writes, "Intractable poverty is evil" (80). And as a means of combating this evil, Jesus precipitated the coming of the kingdom of God, a kingdom that is present to all, even in the slums, even in aids-ravaged villages, and even to people who are plagued with mental illness and abandoned on skid row. But they can only know of this kingdom if those who bear it live with them (80). This is a very powerful statement, one that is changing my life right now as a result of reasons beyond my control. So that, when he closes the chapter with the following statement, I cannot subdue the quickening in my heart beat:

But with a compulsion to incarnate the gospel among the bottom of the human food chain comes also a quest for devotion and spirituality that is hard to achieve in a life of material overabundance. Following Christ in his example of downward mobility brings a kind of intimacy and identification with the Savior that can be experienced in few other ways (84). Wow.

A New Church Find

This is what I'm talking about these days--a church that embraces plurality in the name of their unity, cares about the poor, is lead by women, and is open and affirming to everyone! United Parish Church of Brookline, MA just accounted for the 251st reason that I want to move to Boston! It's a merger of three churches originally in Brookline: American Baptist, United Methodist, and United Church of Christ, all of which were struggling on their own. They joined together in the '70's, maintain even today their separate denominational affiliations so that when someone joins, they pick which denomination they're joining, and they busy themselves with social work that extends well beyond the walls of their sanctuary. (Oddly enough, the Baptist Church was sold and deconstructed for a new development, and the Methodist church is now condos in the original structure, not an uncommon New England site at all!) Okay, the last thing is that the senior pastor graduated with her M.Div. from Harvard Div School where for her senior thesis thingy she did a project on New Monasticism in the late 80's. Pretty cool...

Book Report 1, Part C

Almost anyone who has seen violence longs for some balm to heal the wound that it exposes. The peace of Christ has been a comfort to young men in foxholes, mothers back at home, conscientious objectors sitting in prison, and martyrs who refused to fight. Our violent world aches in anticipation of the kingdom of peace that it was made for. That Jesus came preaching peace is good news for all of us (110).

This outstanding quote by Wilson-Hartgrove addresses the importance of a non-violent, turn-the-other-cheek agenda, without demeaning those who are not pacifists. His sensitivity tempered with his call to action offers readers a challenge without invoking resentment or fear. As a member of a peace church, my church community has demonstrated well for me the benefits of peacemaking as it is at odds with "the world." Wilson-Hartgrove's addendum as he interprets it from Ephesians, that all can be reconciled back to God through the cross, which is part of the church, gives us hope and a directive to expect such reconciliation among enemies in the name of Jesus through the body of the church. What a powerful mission for the church to express and practice. But, like he points out in the example of racism in the South (112-114), the church seemingly is better at constructing walls of division and hate, rather than living in the truth that Jesus has already laid those walls to rest.

What new monastic communities have found is that when you start walking in Jesus's way of peace you inevitably get in the way of the death-dealing powers in this world. This can be frightening, since no one wants to die...It's scary to look death in the face, but it's even more frightening to imagine life outside the body where we are reconciled with God through the crucified flesh of Jesus (115).

I found this community's experiences with civil disobedience protesting the death penalty admirable, gutsy, and worth emulating.

In chapter eight, Wilson-Hartgrove raises to question our call to unity as brothers and sisters in Christ, both on an individual level, but more importantly, also on a church-to-church level. He states that the only way to Christian unity is through the grace and truth of Christ. The reality of this sentence is one, which he claims and I support, that has kept churches uninterested (120) for quite a while, arguably since her inception in the first century. The misfortune of this reality has given way to the plurality of American denominations, sects, and splits. So, I wonder then, in an effort to embrace our American, Christian pluralism but also as a means of challenging the sheer existence of it, how do we practically enact and practice the art of reconciliation, especially between rural, urban, suburban, and ex-burban ecclesial communities?

At this point, Wilson-Hartgrove offers one solution by the name of "grassroots ecumenism" (132). This is inspiring, and it seems as if it can be a reality of different-minded people coming together under the cross through acts of loving one another. For this reason, I am a huge supporter of small groups in church building their time together on service opportunities and projects rather than through shared interests. It appears from my own experience in the church that if small groups and churches are insular and concerned with being like-minded they will turn away from the needs of the world and build up another protective wall around their borders. But if individuals concentrate their energies on the "loving of God and loving one another" the need for fort defenses and border control fades into the background and enables sundry people to unite for a common purpose.

At the close of this chapter when the author is lamenting the ways in which the church fails to serve one another because we fail to know the basic needs of the other, since we fail to engage in life with the other, my heart started pounding (138-140). The reverb of this beating is the motivation for much of why I want to pastor--to help the children of God live out the hope and truth of their callings enough (to regress back to Ephesians for a moment) and to know their neighbors enough, that service does not need to happen through programming or intentionality, but that it just is, because the needs are present and known and addressed...naturally. What a beautiful picture, and I think right now it is possible because of places like the Rutba house where it is already happening. It is breaking down some of my cynicism about the shortcomings of the church and reminding me that God has not yet given up on the church.

And it doesn't make any more sense to pretend that we can take care of each other through "random acts of kindness" than it does to imagine that preachers can proclaim good news through random inspiration...When we tend to one another, God's glory is revealed. And it looks like a culture of grace where people care enough about one another to speak the truth in love (140).

Wilson-Hartgrove closes his book with a humble and profound thought: new monastics need the church because they, like all of us, are a people of God (141). And as people of God, so he says, just as we need our Father who art in heaven, we also need our mother who teaches us to confess and instructs us as to the ways of reconciliation via the roads of grace and truth (142). For this reason, I always have been and hope to always be, prochurch!--it truly is the hope of the world as she is founded on Jesus and lead forth by the Spirit.

Book Report 1, Part B

“What game does the Bible gives us instructions for?” is metaphor that opens chapter 4 and highlights the readiness with which we misinterpret Scripture. In this mindset, recognizing that we might be reading the Bible as a rule book for the wrong game then proffers us freedom to reinterpret it (58), as a community (60) for the right game--the game of life as a people called by God. I wonder about the story he shares regarding the San Francisco community. I do not know how I feel about the call to live as “set apart,” especially with external markers like cross necklaces (cf. 64-65). We are invited into this redemption narrative through grace, not merit, and certainly not because we are Jewish like the Israelites of the Torah--so, I'm not sure that comparison is valid. While I think we are called to speak a different language than that of the world, namely a language built on the love of Christ, it seems like that should be enough to set us apart. Let people know that we are Jesus-followers not by our jewelry, but by our love and acceptance.

I found myself tracking with Wilson-Hartgrove throughout this entire chapter until the very end when he writes,

But if pledging our allegiance is a way of saying who we are and where we’re going…we’ve got to say that our primary commitment is to the church (73).

No, not the church…Jesus! My primary commitment is to Jesus. Like the hymn sings, “The church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ our Lord.”—not herself! He goes on to say that our churches must then get serious about their membership (73); I totally disagree. Our churches need to get serious about loving God and loving God’s people (he did say this earlier). I readily understand and adopt his point that our ecclesial communities need to be more than just another event to attend in a suburban lifestyle that is already jammed full with too many events. But the church is not going to be legit with such a subversive message (that it is a way of life and not an activity) if it is about membership and loyalty to community over allegiance to Jesus and the kingdom of God.

The discussion that Wilson-Hartgrove begins on page 80 is the piece in this puzzle that moves me the most. Moving into places that the Empire has rejected seems to me to not only be what Jesus modeled in who he spoke to and ate with, but even more realized in the fact that our allegiance is found in the Kingdom of God, as it was brought about by Jesus (which is why I cannot pledge my allegiance to the church). The poor, the mentally ill, the imprisoned, the handicap, the hungry, the ugly, the non-white, the immigrant, etc. live in areas of America that Capitol Hill, Wall Street, Madison Avenue, Rodeo Drive, and the Magnificent Mile do not pay much attention to. I share this call with the new monastics to give voice and attention to these citizens by living with them. Jesus epitomized the significance of grass-roots movements such as these. I love this principle of new monasticism! While Wilson-Hartgrove does not call every American citizen into the new monastic movement, he does emphatically state, "...The renewal of the church depends on our relocating" (86). His idea bout Sunday School classes leaving the church education wing and moving into the turf of those who are marginalized is brilliant--too bad many of these people would then have to drive 30+ minutes to get to a region of oppression. What, then? Not that I am expecting Wilson-Hartgrove to have all of these answers; I am merely asking more questions the book raised for me.

In regards to the finance chapter, how fitting that it begins with a prayer, and not just any prayer, the Lord's Prayer. As this prayer comes at the close of the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew's Gospel, it also serves to encapsulate everything Jesus had just finished teaching. So, I find it enlightening that only in learning to pray in community "Thy kingdom come..." that an individual can then expect to share their financial resources with the entire community, taking serious the call in Acts 4:32 about a common purse and and receiving their "daily bread." In this way, the marriage metaphor that the community in Eugene, OR, Church of the Servant King uses is perfect, and also one that Wilson-Hartgrove briefly references (94). I learned from the discussion on God's abundance. Jesus is not an emissary from a scarce, simple God. Instead, Jesus represents the God who turned five loaves and two fish into enough to feed thousands, and a God who made light, and a God who sacrificed all of his son, and on and on (97). This is a beautiful image of God. How much more is God's abundant love for us? I wish our churches could preach this message more; I find it very liberating. It is, like Wilson-Hartgrove acknowledges, an economic point-of-view radically different from the world's perspective of scarcity and limited resources (98).

Book Report 1, Part A

I will be taking a class in a few weeks entitled "Evangelizing Nominal Christians: What Churches Can Learn From Monks and Trekkies." It's taught by Ryan Bolger and TA'd by Wess Daniels, who is a friend from church. (Check out their sites, they're pretty great.) I have to post four book reports, which I will do here.

The first book, New Monasticism: What it Has to Say to Today's Church is one that I have already briefly discussed on my wealth and poverty blog. Because I have too much to say about this movement, my first report will come to you in three parts. This first posting refers to the first three chapters of the book.

I picked this book up with a certain amount of skepticism (actually quite a bit, if I’m really going to be honest). Why has this movement been so heavily marketed? Why are the vocal leaders seemingly just another group of white males? And as a close friend noted, what historical movement has named itself? Plus, is this idea of communal living and shared resources really all that “new?” At the risk of sounding pompous, in case I don’t yet, I was struck with mixed emotions upon the introduction to Wilson-Hartgrove’s work.

While my questions still stand, I was struck by his humility. Writing as if this new monastic way of life is only one more attempt to practice church-ing and a way to minister, yet also as if this movement offers the casual church go-er more than just feel-good spirituality, Wilson-Hartgrove provided me with a lens in which I could read his work as a learner and participant. While he is fairly overt in his claim that this is the future of the church if the church plans to survive, his overall presentation of the movement itself and his personal experiences with it are less dogmatic. When he writes, “So many Christians in America today feel paralyzed by the paradox of a church that promises so much yet seems so hard to find in reality,” in regards to the contemporary church, I found myself agreeing (19). On the other hand, I cannot adapt the dominant phrase of his initial chapter, “It’s hard to be a Christian in America” (18).

I am not sure I understand this phrase. When Wilson-Hartgrove speaks of war, racism, immigration, abortion, and billboards (in that they symbolize a quest for perfection and sexuality, or bad theology) as markers that highlight the difficulty of professing our Christianity in America, I agree that these issues are troublesome, but I do not believe that these realities make it any “harder” in America to follow Jesus than elsewhere. In fact, I would like to argue that compared to what it must be like to be a middle-eastern Christian is much more difficult than an American one. However, I am trying to understand his point that the current status of the American church, evangelical or catholic, charismatic or liturgical, is that it has failed in certain ways to serve the people of God by neglecting to fully offering life and hope. Let us simply not isolate that experience to us Americans, however.

Wilson-Hartgrove’s discussion of how his time with Shane Claiborne and the people at Simple Way taught him the importance of reading Scripture with the marginalized and oppressed people emphasized well how important it is to lay aside critical understandings of these holy writings (25). The uncritical reader, the readers who are not theologically trained, and those outside of the biblical academic milieu provide alternative hermeneutical approaches that are not only just as viable, but wholly authentic and necessary, especially for someone in seminary training to pastor like myself. The author also makes the point that New Monasticism, may not be all that “new” by describing several other American intentional communities. However, while he admits the temptation is there to view it as such, he hopes new monasticism is more than just another fad, a church meme that is the latest bandwagon of relevant activity. Even in his attempts to recognize it as another fad for church in American Christianity, he writes,

Maybe everyone who finds Christian community chooses it because it offers something new…But I have stuck with it because I believe it part of something eternal—part of God’s plan to redeem the world through a peculiar people (34).

I am thankful that Wilson-Hartgrove places this redemptive activity of New Monasticism appropriately into the context of the entire meta-narrative of Christianity and God’s redemptive plan when he states that “New Monasticism doesn’t mean a departure from God’s movement in the past (34). He does this even more explicitly in chapter 3, where he outlines the historicity of several monastic orders. As a current member in an Anabaptist church (Pasadena Mennonite), I value the way in which he attributes the desire for the radical-reformers to re-baptize as less of a theological principle, and more about allegiance within church-state, socio-political issues. Furthermore, his discussion about the slave churches (53-54) reminds me of my earlier point about the bounty that comes from approaching Scripture with ordinary people on the fringes of society. Scripture teaches, then, about liberation and healing—two realities white, middle-class people in America rarely need, at least politically. He ends the chapter with,

These saints who’ve called us back to our roots generation after generation reminds us that the roots of God’s kingdom…spread beneath the surface, effecting change from below (54).

This attitude of simplicity earmarks the entire movement as a positive one in my opinion. I want to emulate it in my own pastoral ministry, especially as I envision it unfolding in urban America.