True Allegiance

“They live in their own native lands, but as aliens; as citizens they share all things with others; but like aliens, suffer all things… Every foreign country is to them as their native country, and every native land as a foreign country…”

Living as I do in the midst of so much Christian nationalism, in which to be un-Christian means to be un-American (and vice versa), these sentences hit me with a blunt force. How it restored my hope, to read such a clear statement that we follow and serve a King whose suffering love extends to all peoples, and that as his followers we are to be known for the same.

“They are passing their days on earth, but are citizens of heaven. They obey the appointed laws, and go beyond the laws in their own lives.”

In my History of Christianity class (which is where I came across this “Letter to Diognetus” in the first place), the teacher remarked that while Rome had many gods, Rome’s real god was Rome.

Rome’s gods were subservient to the Rome’s dreams and Rome’s thirsts, Rome’s lusts and Rome’s rages; and Rome allowed people to keep their gods as long as they swore allegiance to the idea of Rome and the strength of its legions.

During the 2nd and 3rd centuries, Christians were singled out for persecution because they believed it was Christ (and not the empire) who would bring healing and peace to the world.

My question for today is simply this, and I ask it sincerely and with all seriousness:

Do we believe in America more than we believe in Jesus?

Do we believe in America more than we believe in Jesus?

In our pride and our hurt and our “strength” we have declared that we will love those who love us, and hate those that hate us. We blunder across the stage of the world swinging futile arms. We work ourselves into frenzied tangle swinging at that which cannot be fought with human powers. We try to douse fire with kerosene, as if believing it to be water.

Is it in the strength of men that we place our hope?

Can the gun and the sword and bomb bring us salvation?

No, our salvation is found in the cross, and in the way of the cross, and in the Spirit that gives us the strength to walk that path in love, in union with Christ our Savior and our Friend.

Letter to Diognetus

We have about 1,800 years between us, the author of the “Letter to Diognetus” and I. And yet, I can’t dismiss him as unelightened, ignorant, or hopelessly pre-modern. Though translated, his words express a hope and understanding that I believe we should be both inspired and humbled by. His hope in the ability of Christ to work healing and redemption through regular people is large. His understanding of the relationship of Christians to the world, to the societies in which they find themselves, is frankly more mature than that of many American Christians.

I will be writing some responses, and posting them separately.

For now, this is what he has to say:

“For Christians are not differentiated from other people by country, language or customs; you see, they do not live in cities of their own, or speak some strange dialect, or have some peculiar lifestyle…They live in both Greek and foreign cities, wherever chance has put them. They follow local customs in clothing, food, and the other aspects of life. But at the same time, they demonstrate to us the wonderful and certainly unusual form of their own citizenship. They live in their own native lands, but as aliens; as citizens they share all things with others; but like aliens, suffer all things. Every foreign country is to them as their native country, and every native land as a foreign country. They marry and have children just like everyone else; but they do not kill unwanted babies. They offer a shared table, but not a shared bed. They are at present ‘in the flesh’ but they do not live ‘according to the flesh’. They are passing their days on earth, but are citizens of heaven. They obey the appointed laws, and go beyond the laws in their own lives. They love everyone, but are persecuted by all. They are unknown and condemned; they are put to death and gain life. They are poor and yet make many rich. They are short of everything and yet have plenty of all things. They are dishonored and yet gain glory through dishonor. Their names are blackened and yet they are cleared. They are mocked and bless in return. They are treated outrageously and behave respectfully to others. When they do good, they are punished as evildoers; when punished, they rejoice as if being given a new life. They are attacked by Jews as aliens, and are persecuted by the Greeks; yet those who hate them cannot give any reason for their hostility. To put it simply – the soul is to the body as Christians are to the world. The soul is spread through all parts of the body and Christians through all the cities of the world. The soul is in the body but is not of the body; Christians are in the world but not of the world.”

Babylon Besieged

(note: I actually didn’t mean to post this on the anniversary of 9/11. I didn’t write the poem with 9/11 specifically in mind and I did a double-take when I noticed this morning that I had posted it by accident on the hallowed date. Nevertheless, in a more general way I did write the poem in dialogue with a world that is filled with violence, that has been made weary and frayed by too many wars and bombings and genocides and lynchings and disappearings. It is in this world that I hold out my hands to Christ and ask him to give me a new song to play.)

Babylon Besieged

Children starve and nobles dance
But the poor weep
While we cannot
And I
I am a rich young ruler
Who has never known what it means to be alive
Though perhaps now
I am beginning to learn.

In such a world
I could have sung a brazen song, pretending
Life like a prop against the gate
Of Babylon besieged
But why
Should I disguise the sting of your poison?
My bloody heart.

I remember a day when
Golden sunlight anointed the dust
And I saw our future written in the clouds
The bombs fell so slowly
That the children played in the patterns
Of their shadows on the rooftops.
We have lived with death
And forgotten its meaning.
We have lived without life
And forgotten our purpose.

Today was born in smoke
I can’t see the city- I can’t see the street
Nevertheless, life has always been beyond my reach
And that is why I’m kneeling on the gravel
Here and now Friend
Reaching out my hands to you.
Will you fill them overflowing
With foolishness?
With a life I’ve never had?
I dream of a life
My city cannot understand
But I’ve heard your call
And I pray to you
Give me a heart.

My faith is kneeling in the bloody city
Beyond the irreversible stutters
And statics of the bullets
Of shells bursting in air
Beyond the dollars and dusts that numb the scars
Of souls malnourished
And overcoming all lonely tears and propaganda fliers
And overflowing dumps and empty hearts
Love cries a new song
Triumphant in death but never dying.

My Irreplaceable Friend,
In you I play a new song
Because you are the breath
That moves in me to love.
Here in Babylon the besieged
You are my breath
You are my love
You pick me up off the pavement
You set me on my feet again.
And for that
You have my love
And my devotion forever.

The Splash Down

This week, certainly, has been more than eventful.

Life at university has begun once again, and with it a whole world of happenings and persons.

I came to my senses a couple hours ago, after my last class ended. Hey, the week’s over! I don’t mean that I was literally asleep or intoxicated or anything like that, just that in the midst of the rush of things all you can see or think about is that rush. It’s like being in a water-slide. You’re in the tube, flying along, and you forget about everything else for those seconds. You shoot out the end and splash down into the water. And then there’s that moment, which figuratively I feel like I’m at right now, where you come up to the surface. The ride’s over. Welcome back to the in-between world, where you have time to think about other things, put on sun-screen, and perhaps buy some overpriced food.

So, now that I’m here in this in-between, and can think again, perhaps I will share and reflect on how things are going thus far:

1. Dorm life: I’ve moved into the Shalom Community Center, also refered to variously as the Nursing Home (for humor), Cornerstone (for official purposes), or “Shalom Home” (the best one because it rhymes). I’m about 75 to 80 percent unpacked, which means I’ve unpacked everything I need in order to function. Winter clothes and a substantial amount of books remain stuffed under the bed in all of their glorious disorder. So far the building has been, appropriate to its name, peaceful, a good place to retreat to between classes. We have twelve students living here, and two “graduate assistant ministry interns” to look after us and lead us in our goal of being an intentional community that pursues God’s wholeness and peace. This week we met to decide on dorm policy, followed up by some late-night ice cream and cake in the downstairs kitchen. But it’s this next week that we’ll meet again to really get down to business and discuss our dreams and visions for what our life as a community will be this year.

2. Classes: I’m looking forward to the interplay between History of Christianity, Sociology of the Middle East, Conflict Mediation, and American National Politics. Very distinct classes, but I think they will all have things to say to each other and I have the feeling that the combination will be very thought-provoking.

3. School tradition: I had forgotten how great Traditiation is. But yelling the old Carlson chants, the cacophony and waving flags at Mock Rock, and the over-the-top muddiness of the Carlson water-slide, brought that back (Meanwhile, “Shalom Home” has the funny dynamic of being neutral and a newcomer. Feels a little like being Switzerland).

4. Being a sophmore: The influx of about 500-600 newcomers on campus means a new sea of unfamiliar faces. In such a situation, people that I thought of as just acquaintances last year are nevertheless that much more likely to become friends this year. In general, seeds planted last year have sprouted, paths set out upon have led to exciting new territory. The year seems full of the promise of growth, intellectual, spiritual, practical. I think the greatest danger for me will be taking on too much.

To end with, just a couple of more minor points:

1. At this point (pre-Winter), having a bike is allowing for very fast transport around campus, which is a wonderful thing. And certainly more fun than walking.

2.  Aradnha. These people’s melodies have been stuck in my head all week; right now I’m in that honeymoon, listen-every-day phase of discovering an really good band. Seriously, for the sake of your happiness, check these people out.