My aunt died this past weekend. While her health took a sudden and dramatic downturn, the dying process lasted several days after she was admitted to a hospice care facility. It is not the first time I have experienced the loss of a family member. Three years ago, my father died suddenly from a heart attack, and I have visited church members and others in the days leading up to their death. But this was my closest perspective on the hospice process. It led to reflection on the processes of honoring the dignity of life even during the final stages of death.
After a long series of painful injuries and illnesses, my aunt and her family decided to discontinue medical intervention and allow the natural processes to take their course. Last Tuesday she was admitted to a hospice care facility near Pittsburgh. By the next day her health had clearly deteriorated, but she was still conscious and able to communicate. After a prolonged illness her strength had been sapped. As she lingered on the edge of communication she told her family that she was ready to die. Unfortunately, her husband of 59 years was hospitalized at the same time, though he now appears to be recovering physically. On Wednesday the family gathered at her bedside. Stories were shared from days long passed. Occasionally my aunt would speak out to offer a correction or to share a remembered detail. Speaking was hard for her. As the day went on, she seemed to be less communicative. She was worried about my uncle and worried that she was inconveniencing everyone. I prayed with her and for her. On Thursday I was occupied, but I visited again on Friday. At this point she had drifted into a semi-conscious dreamlike state. It is often said that hearing is the last to go, so I read the Scriptures to her for an hour. I hoped that she could her the promises of God and the comfort that is offered to those who are in Christ. Later in the day, I received a vivid picture of just how much the human voice was able to penetrate into the deepening veil of her silence. My uncle was rebounding in the hospital and he had been put on speaker phone on a call to my aunt. In a weak voice, he promised to care for her and come to see her as soon as it was possible. He reminded her of his love for her with the words of affection that they had shared for 59 years. The words seeped down into my aunt’s hazy sleep. After nearly two days of silence, she began to stir. Her eyes remained closed, but her mouth opened. Her lips formed words, but her lungs were too weak to push them into the air. Still, the response was startling. I stood up and walked closer. The bond formed over six decades was visible in her gasping attempts at response. Her words couldn’t break through the air around her lips, let along carry through the speaker back to her husband on the other end of the phone. But we know that she had heard him. In her own way, she was responding. We could assure him of that. Within a few hours, her breathing slowed and became more labored. The nurses shifted her on pillows to allow better air flow. Eventually, they needed to suction some of the fluid from her lungs. At one point on Friday evening her breathing became labored and it seemed that the end must be near. Family gathered around speaking last words to her. We couldn’t know if she had passed beyond being able to hear anyone. And so she was encouraged to let go… to commit her spirit to God… to slip into an eternal rest. It seemed to clear that she would slip beyond us and into the presence of God. Death was drawing close. Except that it didn’t. For everyone watching it seemed that it should be over. But it wasn’t. The nurses shifted her. Her breathing returned to a normal rate. She sunk deeper into sleep and her breathing – though shallow – remained steady. And we waited. The nurses came and went. She was bathed. The pain medication was continued and even increased. She remained asleep. Slow breath coming in little puffs. The vigil continued throughout the night and into Saturday. It was then, after the false climax that the hospice experience really began to impact me. In hospice we can see both the dignity of human life and its mysterious vitality that lies beyond our grasp. As life slowly slipped from her unconscious body the nurses continued to care for her. This is a reminder that life has value even when it has seemingly low quality. Who knows what could be happening inside her brain as she lay on the bed. Who knows what God could be doing inside a person who has embarked on the slow struggle that we summarize simply with the word: “dying”? The temptation to end her life prematurely could be strong. As “physician assisted suicide” gains acceptance in western culture, new measures may increasingly be introduced that would alter the way in which this situation was handled. How tempting it would be to play God and seek to intervene definitively once the end seemed certain. How easy it could become for well-meaning friends and family to encourage a poisonous injection that would have hastened the dying process. But instead, we waited. Our medical process still prohibits doctors and nurses from ending life so no quick fixes were offered. Instead, her pain was treated. Her body was washed. Her family spoke over her in kind words and quiet prayers. Favorite songs where played on an iPad. And we waited. Through the next day her closest family alternated in their vigil to assure that she would not be alone. When I wasn’t obligated to other ministry services I sat there as well. It had been days since eating or drinking, her IV offering only a regular supply of pain medication. For the entire next day, her breathing did not change. Life continued to flow within her silent body. But as we waited, we were changed. As we waited before the awesome and unpredictable shadow of death, I was changed. The dignity and wonder of life was impressed more deeply on my mind. Our fragility and dependence upon God was highlighted. Against the steady beat of modern technological control, the glow of life throbbed just beyond the edges of our control. And then, late on Saturday evening, my aunt’s breathing slowed. In the presence of her only sister, her shallow breaths stopped. And her heart beat no more. Then she was gone. I will miss her. My mom will grieve the loss of this last link to her nuclear family. My uncle will have to sit beneath the shadow of this loss for his remaining days. I am reminded why death is called an “enemy” in the Bible. It robs and it destroys. But I am also thankful for this experience of death. Until God intervenes in human history to fully establish his kingdom - death will reign. Broken only by the resurrection of Jesus and the promise of a great future restoration. In Christ our grief is rimmed with hope. Until God sets all things new, death will continue to bookend the final days of all our lives. Some of us will die quickly. Some will die slowly. Some will be surrounded by friends and family and some will slip into darkness in the quiet of our own beds. If I have my say, I would like to die with my closest friends and family nearby. I would hope for a process that upholds the dignity of human life made in the image of God. I would also hope for a process that leaves the final contours of life firmly in God’s hands and refuses to grasp for abrupt control at the end of life. I am thankful that the process of hospice, as I experienced it, continues to guard those two important principles. (A quick work of explanation for the blog. I couldn't update the blog at our last hotel spot, so I had to save the posts and put them up all at once.)
We are not yet fully home, but we landed in Philadelphia last evening. Slept the night at my sister’s house and we are preparing to go to church with them this morning. Afterward, we’ll drive to Clearfield where I will drop of my mom and then catch up with my family at a nearby cabin for two nights away before returning to work on Tuesday morning. I am eager to see my family and looking forward to being with my church family again for the Easter week. Mom did a great job on the trip. She was determined to see it all and she did just that. At times she needed a little boost, but she made it to the end of the road. I really admire her courage to go and her perseverance. It was not an easy trip, but it was a wonderful one. It was an incredible privilege to see Israel -to view the ancient ruins of Biblical cities and to immerse ourselves in the modern country that is making fertile lands out of the desert. We caught a glimpse of the conflict that mires the region and have renewed concern for complexity of the issues there. We are led to pray for the ministry of the Prince of Peace. May his gracious rule bring true “Shalom” to this troubled land. Our tour concluded with visits to both the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and the Garden Tomb. Visitors to Jerusalem know that they represent two very different options for locating Golgotha and the tomb of Christ. Of course, neither site can be confirmed. The first cathedral was built by Constantine in the 4th century, apparently on the location of a former chapel which commemorated the supposed location of the crucifixion of Christ. It was destroyed and rebuilt many times over the years, but is still a magnificent structure. Archaeologists have shown that there are tombs in the area which date to the first century, but beyond that nothing is certain. It is difficult to locate anything in a city that has been destroyed and rebuilt so many times.
By contrast, the Garden Tomb is a more recent discovery. British archaeologists in the 19th century noticed a rock structure that looked suspiciously like a skull. Since the Gospel accounts speak of the location of the crucifixion as the “place of the skull” (Golgotha) it was an intriguing find. The proximity to the road and the city gate fits the Biblical description and nearby excavation revealed an ancient vineyard. Further excavation uncovered an tomb that was cut into the rock and closed by a rolling stone. Unfortunately, the tomb has been determined to be from earlier than the first century. It is too old to be the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea. To their credit, the guides at the Garden Tomb don’t over-sell their case. Our tour was led by an Arab Christian from the nearby Palestinian village of Bethlehem. He not only shared information about the location and about first century practice, but he read to us from the Scripture. “The important thing,” he said, “is not where the tomb was, exactly. The important thing is what it means. The tomb means that God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that whosoever should believe in him would not perish but have eternal life.” I think that the words of Scripture spoken by the mouth of our Arab brother meant more to me than anything I saw at that location. In a similar way, my thoughts on the tomb of Jesus were shaped by an offhand comment from our tour guide. Our guide for the week was a Messianic Jew that grew up in the Soviet Union before immigrating to Israel. He clearly loved Israel and was fiercely proud of his people. But he had come to know Messiah Jesus while in Russia and brought his faith with him to the Holy Land. His encyclopedic knowledge was paired with wit and love for the Lord. Sometimes his off-hand comments were more memorable than anything else. At one point he tried to describe what we would see when we entered the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. He was animated by the details, but he knew that this historic location touched on the heart of the Christian faith. I will end with his words. “Inside the large dome of the church is a small dome. It is like Russians dolls – one inside the other. The people wait in a long line for hours to enter the smaller chapel. And inside the chapel what they think is the tomb. And the people wait for hours to go in and when they do, they look around and see that Jesus is not there.” And in a moment, his voice rose as he progressed from the technical description to proclaim his faith. “Jesus is not in the tomb… He is Risen!” That alone was worth a trip to Israel. My former post was about diversity among Christians, but that is only part of the story. Jerusalem is a 5,000 year old city and it contains layer upon layer of religious expression. Today it is still a very important religious city for the worlds three largest monotheistic religions. Jews, Christians and Muslims consider it to be a place of great importance. The Old City of Jerusalem is divided into sections of Jews, Muslims and Christians - all of whom trace their lineage back for hundreds of years in the city. Currently, the city is under Jewish control, but that has only been the case since the 6 Days War in 1967. In the tentative balance of Middle Easter politics, the local people navigate the delicate relationships which characterize their daily life.
At the Western Wall, the Muslim call to prayer, the Christian church bells and the groaning prayers of the Jewish people rise together into the air of this contested city. First a quick review. On Wednesday we saw Masada and En Gedi as we made our way to Jerusalem. Upon entry we went to the City of David and sloshed through Hezekiah’s Tunnel. Yesterday we started at the Western Wall, viewed the excavations under the city, then crossed the border into Palestinian controlled Bethlehem. We returned to see the traditional locations of Caiaphas’s house and the upper room. Today we did a walking tour of Jerusalem, starting with the Mount of Olives, into Jerusalem and the pool of Bethsaida and then along several stops of the historic Via Dolorosa, all the way to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. We then concluded with a tour of the Garden Tomb and walked back to the hotel. A couple of stories from this time demonstrates the tense nature of inter-religious balance. On Thursday we closed our day today with a visit to an old site that commemorates the last supper. It is highly doubtful that this marks the actual location of the last supper, but the building has been venerated for that purpose since at least the time of the crusaders and maybe before. Almost unbelievably, it is located on top of what the Jewish people recognize as the tomb of King David. The small building which contains the purported sarcophagus of David is filled with praying rabbis and is considered to be the second holiest Jewish site in the city. During the time of Turkish rule, the hostilities surrounding the use of this location created enough tension that the local Muslim ruler attempted to solve the problem by turning the building into a Mosque. That was not a great plan. After the city returned to Jewish control in 1967, you can imagine the problems that ensued. One location is considered a significantly important holy site by three religions. As we entered, our tour guide warned us: "The rules are very strict here. You cannot pray out loud, you cannot sing. You must be careful. We do not want to start a fight." On Friday I was struck by a vivid picture of these converging and conflicting religious streams. The Via Dolorosa is the supposed route that Jesus took as he endured suffering and rejection on the way to the cross. Some of the sites reflect Biblical stories and some are extra-biblical. Given that the city was so often destroyed and rebuilt, it is hard to know with any certainty where particular things were located. It is also interesting that the route progresses through the Muslim quarter of the city. The street vendors and narrow corridors make the route feel both foreign and ancient. We ate lunch on a corner where the Via Dolorosa turned onto a larger thoroughfare. The corner had one of many outposts of soldiers with the Israeli Defense Force. Military service is mandatory for all citizens (male and female) and many of the soldiers are in the late teens and early twenties. The larger street (by Old City Jerusalem standards) in front of our café was a major passageway for Muslim worshippers to access the Mosque on the Temple Mount. At the beginning of our lunch the call to prayer echoed through the streets as Muslims streamed down to the mosque. Throughout the meal, Christian pilgrims continued to pour down the Via Dolorosa. Eastern European women with their heads covered in scarves, and priests in long flowing black robes trekked in the ancient pathway of Jesus. During the meal, several young Palestinian men were pulled from the street, questioned and searched. A reminder of the continued police presence in this conflicted land. At the end of the meal, the flow of Muslim worshippers reversed course and moved backward, away from the Mosque. Now the two streams were moving in opposition. In front of our tables, the throngs of Christian pilgrims jostled with Muslim worshippers, under the watchful eye of the Israeli police. Distinct clothing marked the contrast in these great monotheistic religions. M-16’s and police baracades were a reminder of the ongoing hostilities. It was a picture of the conflict and the struggle to coexist in this ancient land. One of the most surprising aspects of this trip is the incredible diversity of life here in Jerusalem. That is happening on so many levels.
First, there is an remarkable diversity of Christian pilgrims in the city. Tour buses full of African Christians and Europeans from the former soviet block countries jockey for position in the park lots of the ancient churches. Tonight, as I write in the lobby of our hotel I watched a group of Italian priests receive an introduction to the hotel. After their departure the room fills with Korean women in the 50's and 60's. This morning I was asked to give a short devotional during our bus ride and I read from Isaiah 2:2-3. City Reformed people will know that we did a 6 week blog series based around those verses last year. Today I saw the most vivid depiction of God's people as we toured the Holy sites of the city. It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the LORD shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be lifted up above the hills; and all the nations shall flow to it, and many peoples shall come, and say: "Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths." (Isa. 2:2-3) Today I saw people from every continent flowing to the mountain of the house of the Lord. Literally. But diversity among Christians is only part of the story. Jerusalem is a 5000 year old city and it contains layer upon layer of religious expression. It is a very important religious city for the worlds three largest monotheistic religions. Jews, Christians and Muslims consider it to be a place of great importance. And that is not an easy arrangement. The Old City of Jerusalem is divided into sections of Jews, Muslims and Christians - all of whom trace their lineage back for hundreds of years in the city. Currently, the city is under Jewish control, but that has only been the case since the 6 days war in 1967. In the tentative balance of Middle Easter politics, the local people navigate the delicate relationships which characterize their daily life. At the Western Wall, the Muslim call to prayer, the Christian church bells and the groaning prayers of the Jewish people rise together into the air above this contested city. One particular story demonstrates the tense nature of this balance. We closed our day today with a visit to an old site that commemorates the last supper. It is highly doubtful that this marks the actual site of the last supper, but the building has been venerated for that purpose since at least the time of the crusaders and maybe before. Almost unbelievably, it is located on top of what the Jewish people recognize as the tomb of King David. The small building which contains the purported sarcophagus of David is filled with praying rabbis and is considered to be the second holiest Jewish site in the city. During the time of Turkish rule, the hostilities surrounding the use of this location created enough tension that the local Muslim ruler attempted to solve the problem by turning the building into a Mosque. That only made it worse. After the city returned to Jewish control in 1967, you can imagine the challenge of balancing these three different expectations. This one location is considered a significantly important holy site by three religions - with a long history of conflict. As we entered our tour guide warned us: "The rules are very strict here. You cannot pray out loud, you cannot sing. You must be careful. We do not want to start a fight." This sign was on the wall: Today we visited the most important place for modern Jewish people. The Western Wall, known as the “Wailing Wall” is an exposed portion of the ancient temple mount from the time of Christ. When the temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70 AD the walls around the base of the temple mount were all that remained. The Western Wall is particular important because it is close to where the Holy of Holies would have been inside the temple.
Until 1967, when Jerusalem was controlled by Muslims, the Jewish people had very little access to visit any of their holy sites. This fairly small section of the original temple mount was open to Jewish people one day each year. It seems to symbolize both their access to God and their vulnerable national identity. But because they believe that the temple was meant to be a “house of prayer for all people”, the Western Wall is open to be of all religious faiths. As moved closer to the wall, we became more than tourists – we became participants. Like other holy sites, appropriate dress was required. For the Catholic sites that means that men take off their hats. At the Jewish sites men have to cover their heads. Free yarmulkes are available for all who wish to approach in prayer. It took a moment to figure out how to make it sit properly on my head. It was early in the morning, so it seems that the crowd was smaller. I threaded my way through the rabbis praying with their disciples and approached the ancient stones. This is all that remains from the temple. Huge stones that are worn by sun and rain and countless people. As I placed my hands, then my forehead on the wall, I felt that the rock was cool to the touch. The wall was enormous. Hebrew prayers filled the air. A general murmur rose above the crowd. I felt small. And somewhat insecure. Had I covered my head properly? Was it ok for me to come close to the wall? I suppose that some of the insecurity rose from the experience of being on the “turf” of another religion. But I think some of it was bigger than that. The purpose of the temple is to show God’s holiness. His “otherness”. His bigness. And our consequent smallness. Modern western culture does not emphasize this aspect of the divine. Our secular culture seeks to eliminate God altogether, or at least minimize his presence. Even Christianity in the west tends to focus on making God accessible. But this is not the God of the Bible. The New Testament is rooted firmly in the old. We are told that we can approach God’s throne in prayer with confidence – not because God is small, inconsequential and cuddly. But we are invited to approach God’s throne in prayer with confidence because we have been cleansed by the sacrifice of Christ. Our confidence does not lie in God’s smallness, or in our own preparations. But our confidence lies in the mediation of Christ. I don’t want to diminish our confidence in prayer in even the smallest degree. But I do hope to retain this fresh reminder of God’s grandeur. I think of the words of the book of Hebrews: Therefore, let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire. (Heb. 12:28-29) We started the day in the Dead Sea - which was 1411 meters below sea level and ended the day in Jerusalem - which is 2470 feet above seal level. That is an elevation change of almost 4000 feet. Needless to say we spent the day going "up." Along the way we stopped at fantastic sites in Masada and En Gedi. Both have historic significant and are truly marvelous natural landmarks.
Much of this route ran parallel to the ancient pathway between Jericho and Jerusalem. Pilgrims from Galilee would have bypassed the most direct route to Jerusalem in order to avoid their long term enemies - the Samaritans. Most people associate the term "Samaritan" with a story that Jesus told in which the Samaritan did something unexpectedly "good." But if we are not familiar with the historic context we can easily miss the main assumption of the story. That is - no one expected a Samaritan to be "good", especially to a Jewish person. This historic enemies had a long history of mistreating each other. The ancient road from Jericho to Jerusalem runs along a valley known as a "wadi." Water would be available in this valley more frequently and would provided necessary nourishment for both the travelers and their pack animals. We pulled of the main highway to catch a glimpse of the landscape. At the ruins of an old monastery we bartered with Bedouin merchants for trinkets and fruit. This nomadic people still live in the desert and like to trace their lineage all the way back to the patriarchs. Seeing the remoteness of this passageway emphasizes why it made sense for the traveler in Jesus' story to get attacked on the road between Jericho and Jerusalem. It also gives a vivid picture of why the many psalms that were written about the approach to Jerusalem are called the "Psalms of Ascent." This final leg of the pilgrimage to Jerusalem was literally one long "ascent." One of them was particularly relevant for travelers in a dangerous country: I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth. (Psalm 121, a psalm of ascent) This route is also the path that Jesus and his disciples took during his fateful trip to Jerusalem. It was in Jericho that Jesus met a "wee little man" called Zacheus and brought salvation to the house of this rich outcast. From there, Luke tells us simple that Jesus continued his journey: And when he had said these things, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. (Lk. 19:28) It was there that his earthly ministry would take a deadly turn and Jesus would complete his greatest work. It is a reminder that danger is not limited to the road to Jerusalem. For Jesus the greatest danger awaited him after his arrival to this fortified city. We will see more of that the next two days. I woke up at 5:30 without an alarm clock, jogged and hiked to the top of a nearby mountain peak and finished with a refreshing swim in the sea of Galilee. Now, there are several parts of that sentence that are highly abnormal. But that is the nature of such an unusual trip in an extraordinary place. Today we headed South from Galilee, visited Nazareth, the ruins of a 1st century Roman city, Qumran (the location of the Dead Sea Scrolls), and concluded with a swim (bob) in the Dead Sea. In the morning we visited Nazareth, the hometown of Jesus. This was one of the highlights of the trip for me as we toured a recreated 1st century village staffed mostly by a group of local Arab Christians. It is like "Old Bedford Village" for the Ancient Near East. They had recreated aspects of village life from the 1st century on a plot of land in modern day Nazareth. The location is about a 5 minute walk from where it is believed Jesus lived. I enjoyed watching the recreations of ancient work and living spaces. Here are some pictures: (top left) Shepherd in front of a sheep pen.
(top middle) Builder (carpenter) working with wood. (top right) Weaver spinning wool into yarn. (bottom left) Inside a recreated synagogue. (bottom middle) Wheel for crushing olives, followed by a three state process of presses. (bottom right) Inside a recreated home. Where yesterday was marked by the sharp reality of being in Israel and visiting known sites, today was full of uncertainty. The views were beautiful, but a common theme for the day was… “maybe.” We started the day with a short hike to the overlook of Mt. Arbel. (left) The view was stunning. We gazed downward at the town of Migdal (1st century home of Mary Magdalene) and the Sea of Galilee. It is a spectacular spot and invites speculation about whether this could have been one of the lonely places that Jesus withdrew to for his regular prayer retreats. The answer is… “maybe.”
Next, we visited the church of the Beatitudes. The Catholic tradition holds that this is the spot where Jesus preached his famous sermon from Matthew 5-7, called the sermon on the Mount. Like most itinerant preachers Jesus probably preached a similar message in many places. (That is the easiest explanation for the differences between the gospel accounts in Matthew and Luke.) But is this the location that Matthew refers to in his Gospel? There are no historic markers to link this spot to the text, but it is a very nice location and it is certainly representative of the types of places that Jesus preached in regularly during his 3 year ministry in this immediate vicinity. So, again we have a solid "maybe" about this being the exact location. We had the same experience in the afternoon as we visited a church that commemorates the reinstatement of Peter in John 21. Neither John or Matthew seemed interested in giving those particular stories exact locations, so I don’t think it is profitable to press that too far. "Maybe" seems "OK" for this venture. In between we saw visited an extraordinary excavation in ancient Dan, in the far North of Israel. Unfortunately, this is one of the historic locations of one of the two golden calves used in the Northern Kingdom of Israel after the Kingdom was divided. When it came to following the commands of God, the people of this region wavered for a while with “maybe” then clearly choose the path of disobedience. On the positive side, it is pretty certain that an ancient Gate was uncovered from around 1900 BC, placing it in the time of Abraham. (below) That makes it most likely one of the oldest gates ever recovered in the history of the world. We also traveled into the Golan Heights. The region did not contain prominent biblical locations but it served to draw us back into the uncertainties of our modern moment. We toured the barracks of a border region where saw the former habitation of the Syrian Army. Recaptured in the 6 days war, the Golan Heights provide a protective barrier for modern Israel, but the region remains disputed. We were so close to Syria that at one point we could hear gunfire in the distance. Unlike central Israel the area is sparsely inhabited in spite of its bountiful farmland. Fewer people are willing to settle down in a region that remains in striking distance from Syria. Will Israel and her neighbors find a way to establish a lasting peace? The answer is a solid… “maybe.” We slept like logs after a fitful night on the plane. I woke early enough for a jog. After a quick breakfast our bus pulled out at 7:30 am for a long day of sight seeing.
(Photo) "Touristicus Americanus" - this species is not native to the region, but is spotted frequently throughout the landscape. The advantage of a group tour like this is that you get to see a lot of stuff in a short period of time. The disadvantage... you see a lot of stuff in a short period of time. We visited Cesaerea first in the morning. When Herod the Great built a deep water port here, the city thrived. But gradually the city faded and only recently was it replaced. This is highlighted by the smokestack of a modern natural gas power-plant rising above the ruins of the Roman ampi-theater. We were reminded that it was here that Peter first preached to the Gentiles and here that Paul appealed to Cesaer and began his journey to Rome in chains. On the darker side, we saw a stone commemorating a building project by the infamous Pontius Pilate and stood in the Hippodrome where later Jews and Christian's were fed to the lions. Our tour guide reminded us: "This sand has absorbed the blood of the martyrs." We flew from site to site throughout the day. We visited Mt. Carmel (below) and saw a commemorative statue of the prophet Elijah's deadly context with the prophets of Baal. Then we visited the ruins of the ancient city of Megido. Here 25 layers of habitation stretch back through seven millennia. The valley next to this region is known as the valley of Armageddon, site of John's apocalyptic conflict between good and evil. Then we visited the sea of Galilee. It is much smaller than I had imagined. We took a ride out onto the water on a modern boat and viewed a recently excavated fishing vessel from the first century. We closed the day with a visit to Capernaum. Since Jesus based much of his ministry out of this village, it was a very special stop. The ruins of a 3rd or 4th century synagogue are built on the ruins of a synagogue from the first century. (below) There is really no doubt that this is the ancient village of Caperaum, no doubt that this is the spot of the synagogue, and not doubt that Jesus preached in the synagogue of Capernaum. Therefore, we can be quite certain that we are standing on a place where Jesus did ministry. I have never before had the ability to say that. I'm still soaking that in. It was quite moving when our tour guide read, "I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die..." (Jn 6:48-50) "...Jesus said these things in the synagogue, as he taught at Capernaum." (Jn. 6:59) We arrived in Israel after a fairly long trip. Pittsburgh to Clearfield to Philadelphia to Frankfurt Germany to Tel Aviv. We have already heard the common Hebrew greeting, many times: “Shalom, Shalom.” The word means "peace", but so much of our arrival was a reminder that this land has long been anything but peaceful. It was interesting to travel to Israel with a connecting flight in Germany, as the attempted German genocide had such a role in leading to the restoration of Israel after the second World War.
I was warned that Israeli security is extremely careful, and it certainly is. After being screened at the airport in America, we went through another screening when we transferred flights in Germany. The process was more detailed than any I had ever seen. Every person was given a full body search. And after arriving in Israel certain people were pulled aside for further examination before being given approval for entry into the country. After flipping through my passport, the immigration agent called special security and I was relocated to the side room – presumably for suspicious people. Of all the travelers in our group, I was the only one who fit a profile alarming enough to warrant further investigation. So, there I sat – on the naughty bench with other suspected terrorists. There was no word, about what to expect. Would it take 5 minutes or 5 hours? Fortunately, it was 5-10 mins later that a border control agent came back with my passport and told me that I could go through. There was no explanation. The other suspects had not moved in that time. I am guessing that an American passport carries a fair amount of weight here. My fellow suspects were not so lucky. Mom thinks I was profiled because of my beard, but I think that it was because my passport showed a prior trip to Iraq (7 years ago.) So as I see it, my passport got me into trouble and it also got me out of trouble. We had flown into Ben Gurion airport and drove through Tel Aviv on the way to our hotel on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. Our tour guide told us that the center of Israel is by far the most populated – in part because the regions further to the north are within range of missiles from the Golan Heights. Another reminder of the conflict in this region. Construction cranes spot the skyline as the sprawling urban center stretches across the land. Jewish immigrants, like our tour guide, come from across the world to the relative safety of their ancestral homeland. We had a short wait until dinner and used the time to catch the sun setting over the sea. On the way home we sighted a statue commemorating one of our favorite musicals. The fiddler on the roof is apparently as popular in Israel as it is the States. Just last summer, Mom and I watched a community Theater production of the play in Ocean City. In the closing scene, the Jewish inhabitants of the small Russian village of Anatevka are fleeing to America to escape the persecution of the Tsar. In the musical, the fiddler accompanies them on their pilgrimage, symbolizing the continuation of their traditions. Now, he is here to great us and welcome us to this contested land. “Shalom.” I will be flying to Israel tomorrow for a seven day educational trip. The journey will begin tonight when I pick up my mom and head out to Philadelphia where we will met other team members for this tour of the Holy Lands. I am really looking forward to time with my mom. And I am really looking forward to a break. But I have to admit that I am a little ambivalent about traveling to the "Holy Land." Is it a pilgrimage? Should we think of a particular land as being more holy?
The idea of a pilgrimage to a holy land is woven into the fabric of many world religions. It reminds me of the Middle English classic, the Canterbury Tales. Geoffrey Chaucer's imaginative tale about religious pilgrims in 14th century England is required reading for many students. It begins: Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote... And specially from every shires ende, Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, (When April with its showers sweet, The drought of March has pierced to the root... And, especially, from every shire's end, Of England, to Canterbury they wend,) Chaucer's pilgrims were journeying to see the shrine of the martyr Thomas Becket. They believed that his bones would make the place holy and give them special access to God's power. As Chaucer wrote, "the blessed martyr helped them when they were sick." But Protestants have always been cautious about the idea of calling a certain location "holy." In the Old Testament God's Spirit was present in the temple in a particular way, especially in the Holy of Holies. However, at death of Jesus the veil of this inner sanctum was torn in two and 50 days later the Holy Spirit was poured out on the church at Pentecost. Instead of emphasizing the presence of God in a physical building, the New Testament speaks of the people of God as being a new "living temple." (I Peter 2:5, Eph 2:22) God's Spirit is tied not to a geographic location, but to people who call on him through faith in Christ. Jesus promised that his Spirit would be present when two of more of his followers gather in his name. (Matt 18:20) I can remember, years ago, a former pastor saying about his trip to Israel, "I would rather be where Jesus is than be where Jesus was." Since Jesus dwells in his church, it is appropriate to remember that we are best able to draw near to God ... not by traveling to a historic location, but by drawing near to Christian fellowship. But. That is not all. While it certainly more important to be where Jesus is, there is significance to the geographic locations where Jesus was. Once I get over my initial cynicism about pilgrimages, there is a great deal that is exciting and helpful about a trip to Israel. I am reminded that Christian faith is centered around the idea of Incarnation. God came near and revealed himself through the person of Jesus Christ. And Jesus was a particular person who lived in a particular place. This is what some theologians have called the "scandal of the incarnation." That is, Jesus did not live everywhere. He lived in a specific place -mostly Galilee, and died in a specific place - outside of Jerusalem. He spoke a particular language - Aramaic. He was Jewish. He traveled (and walked) on particular waters - the sea of Galilee. He told stories to people embedded in the first century middle eastern world of fishermen, farmers and scoundrels. I am growing increasingly excited about seeing those places. I am thankful for the incredible privilege I have to make this trip. I plan to share pictures and reflections during my time there. If you are interested in following along, keep an eye on this blog over the next week or so. By Rev. Matt Koerber
As we continue to develop this discussion, we are turning to a different topic. Admittedly, there are many aspects of immigration policy that we have not directly addressed. Topics such as “amnesty”, “deportation”, “sanctuary cities”, “services for undocumented immigrants” and “assimilation” have only been given cursory attention – if they have been referenced at all. As we said from the outset, there is more in this subject than we could possibly hope to cover in six weeks. It is not our intent to be exhaustive and it is not our goal to resolve every issue. Instead we want to explore a breadth of topics related to immigration and try to forge a dialogue that is balanced and biblical. There is room for Christians to draw different conclusions on these matters. This week we will discuss “Refugees.” It is important to note from the very beginning that refugees are different from other types of immigrants. While immigrants choose to relocate – usually for educational or economic reasons; refugees are forced from their homeland – usually from fear of violence or famine. This important distinction should have an impact on our policy considerations. Refugees are people who are in need and have little choice in the matter. Many readers of this blog may know that last summer, I spent two months with my family working with refugees in Athens Greece. Some of the people that we spent time with were from Afghanistan, but most were from the Middle East – especifically Syria, where a long civil war has driven millions out of their own country. Through our experience, we had a window into a huge worldwide problem. The United Nations Refugee Agency (UNHCR) estimates that there are 21.3 million refugees worldwide, over half of whom are under the age of 18. The largest numbers come from Somalia (1.1m), Afghanistan (2.7m), and Syria (4.9m). While Greece receives a great deal of visibility for their refugee care, they only host about 60,000, while Turkey has more than 2.5 million refugees (see statistics here). It has been challenging for many countries to know how to respond. Germany and France has wrestled with these issues publicly, and this past winter, the presidential travel ban put the US refugee resettlement program on hold. (The halt to the refugee program has since been delayed in the courts.) How should Christians think about this difficult issue?
By Rev. Matt Koerber
This is the final post of this blog. Throughout this week we have tried to both summarize the prior five weeks of the blog and also think about how we can apply the lessons moving forward. Thus far, we have not focused a great deal on the policy issues that surround our immigration debates. We have not spent a lot of time considering the details of questions about immigration policy, but have instead focused on the people involved. This seems like the necessary foundation for moving to policy. But perhaps it has seemed like there is an elephant in the room. The things that people are arguing about often relate to policy proposals. For example: Should we have amnesty for undocumented immigrants already in the country, should we seek to deport them, or something in between? We might also ask: How do we enforce border security? Or: How many refugees should we invite into our country? Freedom and Principle I want to begin by repeating what we have often said throughout the blog: these issues are very complex and there is freedom for Christians to disagree on many things. At the same time, there are biblical principles in play that we have to consider. On one hand, we should remember that many specific policies do not have a biblical proof text. For example, there is no bible passage that we can point to that will tell us exactly how to enforce border security. On the other hand, there are a large number of passages that speak to the way in which we treat refugees and immigrants in our midst. In fact, the category for “sojourner” becomes a biblical test case in the Old Testament for how we give justice to the marginalized. These are not a few isolated passages, but they are a substantial thread through the concept of societal justice in the Bible. A partial list of references includes: Ex. 22:21, 23:9; Lev. 19:10, 23:22, 24:22, 25:6; Num 9:14, 15:15; Dt. 10:19, 14:29, 24:19-22, 27:19; Jer. 7:5-7; Ez. 22:7,29; Zec. 7:10, Mal 3:5. Drawing out one of these texts, we can observe the seriousness with which God takes this issue: "You shall not pervert the justice due to the sojourner or to the fatherless, or take a widow's garment in pledge, but you shall remember that you were a slave in Egypt and the LORD your God redeemed you from there; therefore I command you to do this.” (Deuteronomy 24:17-18) Remembering the Big Story The passage above grounds the social ethic in the corporate experience of God’s people as former “sojourners”. Their people had been dependent and mistreated. Therefore, it was inexcusable for them to do the same. The same could be said of America. We are a nation of immigrants and we should be expected to keep that perspective when we think about this issue. But it is even more the case for Christians. We are called to think of ourselves as an exiled people (I Pet. 1:1, Heb. 13:12-14.) Therefore, we should be particularly aware of the challenges faced by immigrants and refugees. But most importantly, we need to ground all of our considerations in a reminder of the big story. Throughout the Bible, God is calling people to himself from every tongue, tribe, and nation. It is easy to see the way in which God is using the unprecedented people movements of the early 21st century as a means of achieving this goal. This does not resolve the challenging policy issues, but it should guide our hopes and dreams. I am not arguing for a policy of open borders, but I do believe that we can only think properly about this issue if we keep our eyes fixed on the big story. As people relocate around the world, God has a purpose. This purpose is found in many parts of the bible, but the grand vision of Isaiah expresses it very well: “It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the LORD shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be lifted up above the hills; and all the nations shall flow to it, and many peoples shall come, and say: "Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths." For out of Zion shall go the law, and the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.” (Isaiah 2:2-3) This is not a verse about people coming to America. It is a verse about people coming to faith in Christ and finding a common unity in their savior. It also shapes the way we think about people movements. God is shaking the nations and people are moving. We never fully know his purposes, but we do know that he is drawing people from every nation to himself through faith in Jesus Christ. You may have noticed that the themes of spiritual journeys were often interwoven into the physical journeys of immigrants and refugees in our blog posts. This is not an accident. This is what God is doing. We are mere witnesses. A Broken System One of the things that really stood out to me over the course of these last six weeks are the problems present in our current immigration situation. This should not be a surprise. There have been many legislative attempts at fixing this issue in the last two decades. All have ended in gridlock and as a result the broken system continues. Let me give a brief summary of what I see. Over the last couple of decades a large number of immigrants have entered the United States across the Mexican-American border. Again, this is not really a surprise. History is full of these sorts of movements, and they are often quite messy. It is estimated that there are as many as 11 million undocumented immigrants living in our country, many from Hispanic backgrounds. There are millions more that are living and working here as citizens or without proper documentation. Some people have entered the country legally but have overstayed their visa. Most immigrants are motivated by better economic opportunities. Many are willing to work for a lower wage. The influx of works has a downward effect of workers’ wages in many fields. Remember the interview with construction workers in North Carolina: immigrants are willing to work for less and they have displaced American workers in some fields. However, because immigrants are not able to compete in all occupations, the effect of this is not felt in all career fields. Manual labor and parts of the service industry are the hardest hit. “Loving our neighbor” requires that we show concern for the sojourner in our midst. But it also requires that we show concern for American workers who experience the suppression of wages associated with mass immigration. It can be easy for Americans who work in fields not affected by mass immigration to dismiss this to quickly. However, we can’t end our analysis there. Extricating ourselves from a difficult situation is not easy. We should remember that many other parties have been involved in this process and the benefits have also been felt unevenly. American employers save costs and underbid their competitors by hiring lower cost immigrant workers. American consumers also benefit because they pay less for services done by immigrants. Undocumented Immigrants gain economic opportunities, but also suffer. They are not afforded the full protection of the law and are often vulnerable to being taken advantage of. Although the system is broken, there are winners and losers. The following chart lays this out: The reason that the system remains broken is because the solutions are hard and our country is deeply polarized. But American employers and consumers are willing to tolerate the system mainly because we are not the ones who pay the costs. American workers and undocumented immigrants continue to bear the cost. Immigration Reform I am more convinced than ever that immigration reform is necessary. Allowing the current system to continue only perpetuates a bad situation. Undocumented immigrants are vulnerable. But while they are undocumented they are less able to bargain for competitive wages. This is turn contributes to suppression of wages and harms many types of American workers. Most attempts at immigration reform have three components. First, they attempt to deal with the millions of undocumented workers that are already here. Second, they deal with immigration controls going forward – such as border security. Third, they deal with enforcement in the work sector – pressuring employers to hire only documented workers. I will make a few brief comments on each section. i. Eleven million undocumented immigrants This is a very challenging issue and many of the previous attempts to “fix” the immigration issue floundered here. What do you do with the millions of people who already live in our country, but not currently documented? There is no answer that is simple and good. One simplistic, but extreme solution is to deport everyone who does not have documentation of legal entry into the country. However, like most simple solutions, it runs into many roadblocks. Deporting 11 million people is a massive operation and would seem unjust to many Americans. It is not a realistic solution. Beyond being unreasonable, I believe that it would be unjust. Consider the following. Even if we were to think of illegal immigration as a crime, nearly all crimes have a statute of limitations. Crimes also need to have intentional activity. Think through the challenges of these questions:
It seems to me that a just process of immigration reform would need to provide pathways to citizenship for immigrants who have lived in this country for a significant amount of time. That is not to suggest that this is a normal course, but a necessary corrective as we re-calibrate a system that has been out of whack for a long time. ii. Border Security Just as there are simplistic answers for dealing with undocumented workers currently here, there are also simplistic answers for border security. The president’s proposal to build a wall is often viewed as being unrealistic and overly harsh. It seems to me that the opposition is primarily to the symbolism of the action. (This is not to minimize the impact of symbolic actions, which can greatly impact the way policy is enforced and shape public opinion.) All walls have doors in them and even a wall on the entire border between the United States and Mexico would have places of entry and egress. In my view, border security is necessary as long as we have reasonable access to and from the country, whether there is an actual physical wall or not. On the other extreme, some people would profess that an “open border policy” would solve our immigration dilemma. But, insistence on open borders fails to offer any protection for American workers and fails to recognize real threats to national security. In his letter to the Romans, the apostle Paul reminds us that God’s purpose for the government of any nation is to protect its citizens (Rom. 13:4). There are real threats in the world and pretending that they don’t exist does not make our neighbors across this nation any safer. Given the turmoil in the world, it would seem to me that concern for border security is not only realistic but necessary. iii. Enforcement of employment laws Enforcing employment laws would create a more just work force for both American workers and immigrants. Currently, American consumers and employers have benefited from the services of undocumented workers. Justice requires that we hold employers accountable for who they hire. In the current system, there are large disincentives for doing this. Employers in certain fields (like construction and agriculture) cannot compete without hiring immigrants. Lack of enforcement in this area creates an uneven playing field. It penalizes American workers and documented immigrants. It also creates an environment in which undocumented workers exist outside of legal structures. They are not afforded the protections of the law and have reduced bargaining power. This situation is clearly viewed in the Bible as being unjust. Consider this biblical command: “For the assembly, there shall be one statute for you and for the stranger who sojourns with you, a statute forever throughout your generations. You and the sojourner shall be alike before the LORD.” (Numbers 15:15) Perpetuating our current system would have some benefits for employers and consumers, but it is not good for American workers and immigrants. It is clearly the type of system that the Bible would call “unjust.” It would seem to me that justice requires enforcing immigration laws in the market place. Refugees are Different As we have frequently said, the issues are complex. One area of complexity is the distinction between immigrants and refugees. Immigrants enter the country by choice, while refugees are driven from their homeland because of famine or violence. (When we were in Greece, this distinction was readily acknowledged by everyone in the society.) As a result, it is not reasonable to run the same cost-benefit analysis for refugees. Refugees may assume a measure of risk for a host country. Yet, we do this because we are called to be merciful to those in need. Many of the biblical commands about caring for sojourners assume this sort of situation. When we think of the story that Jesus told about the good Samaritan (Luke 10:29-37), we are reminded that stopping to care for a wounded stranger on the Jericho road would place the Samaritan at risk. It was also a financially costly endeavor for the Samaritan. But according to Jesus, it is the definitive expression of neighborly love. We ignore this to our own peril. Furthermore, it is helpful to distinguish the immigration system from the refugee system. Unlike the former, the refugee system is not broken. Refugees are thoroughly vetted before entering this country. This process is not nearly as thorough in other countries. In most cases it is a two year process to enter the United States. As was stated in an earlier article, there has never been a violent terrorist attack by someone who entered the United States through the refugee system in the four decades of its existence. That is not to say that there is no risk in welcoming refugees, but it does tell us that the risk is pretty negligible. We already have “extreme vetting” in our current refugee system. There are violent people in the world and we need systems that screen them out. But an indiscriminate halt to the refugee program punishes those that are fleeing violence. We cannot love our neighbor without assuming risk, but we want to be certain that our fears do not prevent us from extending refuge to those who are in need. More Discussions to Come If you are still reading this post… there are ways in which you can participate in the discussion. We are planning to have a Monday evening Agora Forum discussion which will focus on the topic of immigration policy. We are currently planning to do this on Monday, June 26, 7:00-9:00 pm at City Reformed’s office. If you want to contribute or push back to any of these ideas, please feel free to come and talk with me in person. I will present some of the things listed here and others will present proposals that may differ. We want to foster a place for reasonable discussion. Conclusion I will conclude with special thanks to Kevin and Evelyn for their partnership in the blog. Even if I could have pulled this off alone (not likely) it would have been an impoverished product without your many insights. I am deeply thankful for your participation. I would like to thank the many contributors who really made this blog special. By my rough estimate we have had over two dozen contributors during the course of this blog. What an amazing wealth of perspectives and insights! Many were from our congregation, but others from throughout the country and across the world. I am also thankful for my wife, who sacrificed time from our already busy schedule to let me write. Finally, I want to thank our many readers. Your comments and questions helped to stimulate the endeavor. Your “likes” and “reposts” spread the news. Your encouragements kept us going. Above all, we thank the living God. He is calling people from every place to himself. The nations are streaming to the temple of the Lord through faith in Christ Jesus, and we are all invited to “learn his ways” and to “walk in his paths!” By Kevin
In the last days the mountain of the LORD's temple will be established as chief among the mountains; it will be raised above the hills, and all nations will stream to it. Many peoples will come and say, "Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths." (Isaiah 2:2–3) I love solitude and the outdoors. There’s no place I’d rather be than hiking a lesser-known trail up a mountain in a National Park, with no more than two companions with me. I try to avoid easier and more accessible trails that tend to be swarming with people who don’t respect silence and solitude – people unlike me and those I accept as my companions. I mentally give them two choices: learn to respect my way of hiking, or get off the trail. Don’t we all have preferences for the people we would like to share fellowship with? Don’t we find people with certain backgrounds/origins/beliefs easier to be in communion with? Don’t we wish they were less ___ and more ___? I have found that my own perspective is woefully inadequate for detecting my own prejudices, even as it is incredibly sensitive to the prejudices of others. I am pleased with my ability to accept and love others; I silently proclaim, “See how welcoming and inclusive I am, unlike [insert enemy here] who judge and exclude others”. I see how my beliefs and practices display justice, while the ignorance of my enemies displays injustice. Especially in today’s polarized political climate, we are all prone to excluding our enemies. God promises to teach his people how to transcend this bent to exclusion: by calling us to go up to God’s mountain together. Pentecost gives us a picture of what this looks like: a multitude of people of different tribes and tongues being brought into the same family. In the buzz of Pentecost, God does several things by forcing us to walk alongside the other. First, he reveals to us our tendency to either exclude the other or try to shape them into our image (the two choices I give people on hiking with me). Second, he gives us the means of overcoming that tendency by forcing us into communion with the other. Whether in our local church or the universal church, we worship alongside Christians with diverse experiences and backgrounds, resulting in diverse expressions of the same faith. Because my sister has gone through trials I know nothing of and was brought up in a culture that is foreign to me, her cares and fears will be different from mine. This is a gift, and is the reason we have filled this blog with stories by Christians with diverse ethnic, cultural and historical experiences. These stories enable us to transcend our own perspective. I have my own way of viewing myself, others, and the world. On my own, my perspective is not large enough to encompass all that God has revealed to me. We are called to practice what theologian Miroslav Volf calls double vision: seeing from the perspective of others, so that we might understand how they see us, themselves, and the world. He writes, “We use our imagination to see why their perspective about themselves, about us, and about our common history, can be so plausible to them whereas it is implausible, profoundly strange, or even offensive to us”. Here are questions I ask myself. How are my words being understood by the other? Am I assuming things about them and their beliefs? How does someone manage to say such a thing if they care about justice? (This last question invites us to imagine other conceptions of justice and good that we may not immediately see). I don’t always have the answers, and when I don’t, I have to seek out the ‘other’ to understand her. This is challenging and risky. If our perspectives are in conflict, must one be rejected? Can a compromise be found? Compromise may not be possible. But unless we are willing to see from the perspectives of others and let their perspectives stand next to ours – letting their voices, fears, and concerns resonate within us – we will not be able to properly reflect on whether one or the other is right, or more likely, where each is partly wrong and partly right. But we may be surprised. In some cases, seeing from others’ perspectives might reveal the blindness in our own perspective and open us up to new worlds of wisdom, truth, and hope. In other cases, it may allow us to see a shared concern for justice where before we only saw enemies perpetrating injustice. In yet other cases, a willingness to listen and understand (rather than argue against) an enemy’s perspective may help disarm conflict and bring peace. I have too often allowed myself to judge and form beliefs about others in isolation. Judgments need to be made (though probably way less often than we think), but they must be made against the backdrop of Pentecost: in communion with fellow believers who have different perspectives. It requires us to hear them speaking in “different tongues”, and still understand them. If they are fellow believers, I love them, and if I love them, I will want to hear their voice. Perhaps this sounds too dramatic. Maybe you don’t consider anyone an enemy the way I do. But might there be others to whom you have become an enemy? Seeing from the perspectives of others will open our eyes to this. Perhaps this sounds too unrealistic; maybe you feel that seeing from the perspectives of others merely opens us up to being controlled or manipulated by them, and tacitly gives legitimacy to wrong and unjust perspectives. Consider the example of Jesus, who suffered though he was innocent (1 Peter 2:21-25). Even though we were his enemies, he took on our perspective and sin in his body, that we might be reconciled to God and each other (2 Cor 5:18-21). At Pentecost, this same Jesus gave his spirit, that the diverse believers would each speak and be understood in their own tongues – across cultural and linguistic barriers. Jesus gives us his same spirit today, enabling us to be heard and understood across barriers. Against the backdrop of Pentecost, the cultural / national / ethnic / political ‘other’ is God’s means of saving us from our own prejudices. Without including their voices and perspectives in our own, the church will not reflect the fullness of God’s power at Pentecost. With them alongside us, we just might make it up to God’s mountain. By Evelyn
It’s hard to believe it is already the last week of the blog. To revisit some of the themes we covered, I talked to some people in the church who are doing bridge-building (and therefore Kingdom-building) work to hear what pricked their hearts to reach out to outsiders in our midst. It can be hard to know how to get started when all you feel is a heart tug, and so I have also asked today’s contributors to suggest helpful resources for those who are interested in the same groups of outsiders. You will notice that in all cases, there is some degree of intentionality required. It can be awkward interacting with a new person, regardless of their background. It can be difficult to know how to talk to someone from a different culture or religion. When Kevin first arrived in the US, long before we were interested in each other, he was suspicious of me greeting him at church. At the time, I was teaching ESL classes, and he assumed I was only befriending him so he would join my class. (English is his native language.) That was obviously not my intention, and we now laugh about how our signals were crossed. International adoption The Hommes Family shared their story about international and interracial adoption. Melanie told me more about what drew them to international adoption: When we decided to begin the adoption process we quickly decided on exploring adoption in China. We had a deep love for Japan and her people due, in large part, to Jim growing up there. It is now nearly impossible to adopt from Japan and so our thoughts turned to China. We knew that there were hundreds of children in China that needed homes and we had a home that was in need of children. After reading the book Lost Daughters of China by Karin Evans, we were more committed than ever to adopting our children from China. I would strongly recommend finding someone who has already walked this path to walk it with you. Having someone who has experienced it all can be so helpful in your journey through all of the paperwork, the interviews, the waiting, the changing rules of the country you are adopting from, the travel, and the welcoming of the adopted child into your family. I am willing to talk with anyone who is interested in this. I would also explore adoption websites and I highly recommend the agency that we used when adopting Jake: Chinese Children Adoption International (CCAI). After reading all of the online information, call and talk with people that work there. CCAI is so committed to assisting you with any question at any time. The owner also has an amazing testimony. Refugees in Pittsburgh Others are connecting with with refugees who have resettled in Pittsburgh. Mark and Emily Weaver are currently working to foster relationships with local refugee families. It is a process that can take some time due to how overwhelmed and understaffed many resettlement agencies currently are. Mark shares how they first started thinking about forming these relationships: We were both motivated to engage with local refugees after reading and listening to news stories that not only told the stories about the conflicts that are creating refugees but also how those refugees were integrating into the nation. I was particularly influenced by a story about how some Canadians were interacting and guiding refugees and some of the challenges that are included. We wanted to be a part of welcoming people to a new culture and nation; making that transition smoother. I think everyone should try to engage with the stories of refugees and feel that empathy for the stranger. There are many organizations, both Christian and otherwise, that people can seek out based upon their own passions. Employing refugees Daniel Essig owns a contracting business, Essig Renovation & Design, and has hired some refugees over the last year for fair wages. He describes his own experiences as a temporary sojourner, and how that changed his posture towards those who are permanently displaced from their homeland: My first interest in refugees/immigrants was sparked when I lived abroad for an extended period; I worked in Mexico for 3 months, and studied in Scotland for 4 months. Those experiences gave me at least a small glimpse of what it’s like to not know the language/customs of where you have set up home and what the implications are for earning a living and building community. Our community group attended a refugee informational panel discussion last year, which we found really helpful! After that meeting, Kate and I talked about what we could do to help these folks. It seemed clear to us we should consider what it could look like to hire refugees. Currently, I have 2 Somali refugees working for my company. I was able to do this by approaching the manager of a local refugee organization who was at that panel. He set up a meeting with a caseworker, who passed our name onto multiple caseworkers, who connected us directly with refugees who had construction backgrounds, or at least had a desire to learn construction. Mentoring refugees Joel Chan and Anna Yong have been connected to a refugee family as part of a mentorship program. Anna shares their motivations for getting involved: We became invested in getting involved with refugees because we felt broken about the global refugee crisis and we decided that we HAD to do something. We had been praying and donating money to organizations that serve refugees on the ground, but we wanted to do something more. Refugees were the subject of a lot of the discourse surrounding the past presidential election, and the debate over refugee policy is complex – and out of our hands since we cannot vote in the US. We felt that, regardless of policy, we were called to love those who are already here in Pittsburgh. Our family is volunteering with Hello Neighbor, a brand new mentorship program that matches people like you and me with refugees, in order to help them integrate and settle into their new lives here in Pittsburgh. People can also get involved (either by volunteering or donating goods) through one of the three resettlement agencies in Pittsburgh that are responsible for helping refugees in their first 90 days in the USA: Acculturation for Justice, Access and Peace Outreach (AJAPO), Jewish Family and Children's Services of Pittsburgh, and Northern Area Multi Service Center's Community Assistance and Refugee Resettlement (NAMS). There are countless ways to get involved. We are happy help you figure out where to start! These responses highlight some of the informal ways that members in our congregation have reached out to particular people groups. Some of the other blog contributors may not be able to publically share the group, organization, or NGO they are connected with for security reasons. I invite you to reach out to me, Kevin, or Matt, or even to the authors themselves to get more information on how to be involved in the work those contributors are doing. There are many more people in our church doing things like this than are listed here, and there are many more organizations in Pittsburgh connected to adoption, immigration, or refugee care than are listed here. For example, I spent a year volunteering with Greater Pittsburgh Literacy Council as an ESL tutor for a postdoc from Japan. One of City Reformed’s formal partnerships is with PRISM, a group that serves international students, visiting scholars, postdocs, and their families in a number of ways. Christa Saenz is the contact person for getting involved in that ministry. Some of our community groups serve at PRISM events once or twice a year. If you are feeling called to serve a people group, don’t let that interest fade in the face of uncertainty. If God is putting a call on your heart, have faith that He will also provide support for you to step out and serve. Pentecost Blog #35: What does true peacemaking look like? (Reflections from a naive journeyman)6/6/2017
By Joel Chan
I’ve always thought that I made a natural peacemaker. I enjoy thinking about things from different perspectives; it comes naturally to me. It also takes a lot to rattle me emotionally. I share these opinions about myself not to brag, but to give you a sense of (the naive) place from which I started in my thinking about peacemaking. I thought these qualities were sufficient for the job of a peacemaker. Critically, I thought peacemaking looked like people agreeing and compromising over differences of thought, and coming to a shared consensus of the world. I assumed that everyone recognized their limited perspectives, and were open to changing. I now know, in practice, how seldom these conditions are true, particularly for the kinds of contexts in which Christ calls us to be peacemakers. I’ve also (somewhat painfully) come to a deeper understanding of what true peacemaking looks like, what it demands of us, and how it actually happens. I’d like to share a bit more about these views, first by sharing the experiences that shaped them, then describing those views in a bit more detail, and finally reflecting a little on their implications for working together for God’s kingdom in the context of immigration policy. My experiences Over the last 6-8 months, I have in varying capacities attempted to bridge divisions between people with differing theological and political beliefs, specifically, gender roles and the issue of race-police relations. The divisions turned out to be painful: in some cases, it caused the people involved to lose respect for each other, and in other cases, it led to painful conversations about leaving the church over their differences. Both issues were enflamed by the events and conversations surrounding the recent Presidential election. I watched these divisions play out with a heavy heart, especially since I was very close to those most involved. So I set out to try and make peace. My goals were to 1) get each side to see their opponents as image-bearers, with views that were not as bad as they thought, and consequently 2) foster unity. My peacemaking attempts involved a range of activities, from extensive one-on-one conversations (online, in-person, and by email), group conversations, book discussions, and collaboratively planning and running an Agora Forum series on race and police relations. In the end, I wasn’t quite sure I had made a difference. I seemed to have achieved very little of my goals. For example, during the Agora series, I was heartened by the effort from both sides to attend and listen to each other. There were no blow-ups in person. However, I saw very little evidence that anyone had changed their positions, either intellectually or emotionally. Some of the people who were considering leaving the church ended up deciding to leave. Reflecting and praying over these experiences, and putting them in conversation with Scripture, I have come to see that peacemaking is harder and slower than I thought. True peacemaking is HARDER than I thought The phrase “the peace of God that passes all understanding” (Philippians 4:7) has taken on new meaning for me. I’ve come to believe that the church is a radical experiment in diversity that — by all accounts of what should be humanly possible — should fail. The only requirement for being in the church is a commitment to Christ: not cultural affiliation, socioeconomic status, or even denomination/theological tradition or political ideology. This means that Christians within the same church may (whether they know it or not) have very substantial differences on some of these dimensions. Sometimes these differences flare up into conflicts, and peacemaking becomes necessary. In these instances, the differences tend not to be simple differences of thought that are more easily resolved, or considered less essential to what it means to be a Christian (e.g., how much should we rely on liturgy in a worship service?). More often, the differences that divide us are theological and political beliefs that have deeper implications of values, for what we consider good vs. evil. Is it right that women are excluded from being elders? Should governments be able to decide that criminals should die? Is it right that there are racial disparities in treatment by the police? Are there any circumstances under which abortion is a morally acceptable action? Those are not beliefs that we hold lightly; and people who hold different beliefs are not just different, or even mistaken: we’re driven to see them as bad, as obstacles, or even outright threats to the Good. It was these sorts of differences that were at the root of the divisions in which I tried to make peace. In light of the nature of the differences at play, it’s not surprising that peace and unity in the church should be seen as a sign of God’s supernatural power at work. That’s why one of the key markers of true Christian community is that we actually love each other (John 13:34-35; 1 John 3:14). Yes, that includes the people we disagree with. The world will see our love and be amazed, asking “How can you be friends with him? How can you love her?” It’s not humanly possible: something Else must be going on. Blessed indeed, then, are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God (Matthew 5:9). It’s okay, then, perhaps even proper, that unity and peacemaking are experienced as hard. The gospel of Mark records how Jesus responded to James and John’s request to sit at his right hand with a gentle, yet sobering correction: “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or to be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?” (Mark 10:38). Jesus was referring to the cup that he asked to pass from him in the Garden of Gethsemane, overcome with a sense of the suffering that it contained. This tells us that the Way of the Cross is hard. It’s okay to experience it as hard; that doesn’t diminish it’s goodness, but may actually enhance it. If even Jesus was weighed down by the pain of servanthood, who are we to claim it is easy? That is comforting to me. It’s okay if I struggle with unity and peacemaking. It’s a sign I might be walking in the Way of the Cross. As a dear friend said to me when I was in the thick of trying to make peace, “If peacemaking feels really hard, that’s probably a sign that you’re aiming for the right kind of peacemaking”. True peacemaking is SLOWER than I thought I’ve also changed the way I think about what true peacemaking looks like. It’s slower. It may not look like much progress has been made. But if at the end of the day we walk away at least recognizing that the other is not to be completely shunned, maybe some progress has been made. The way God talks about his word bearing fruit is instructive: “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it. (Isaiah 55:10-11) The imagery here is agricultural, and perhaps unfamiliar to many of us. There’s a reason people say that something is as boring as “watching grass grow”. Like other areas of spiritual growth, peacemaking is slow and often barely noticeable. We have to take the long view, and not prematurely declare victory or defeat. We must not despise small beginnings (Zechariah 4:10); His word will accomplish what He purposes. So what does “successful” peacemaking look like? As I mentioned, some of the people involved in the divisions ended up leaving the church. Were my peacemaking efforts a complete failure? I’m still reflecting on that one. How do we balance the reality of the depths of our differences and our brokenness, with the idealistic call to unity? Does unity mean we must remain in the same local church? Can we be in different local churches (like living in different neighborhoods), but still remain family, and work together for the Kingdom? Is that a cop-out? There is some Scriptural evidence that people separating into different local churches, but remaining in fellowship within the same Church universal is okay, or even part of God’s plan. I’m not 100% sure what the answers are, but I know this: the people who left could have left in a far more contentious manner than they did (and indeed many remain connected the people in our church in some form or another), and the relationships I formed and deepened during the process have been real, dear, and life-giving. I hold out hope that my peacemaking efforts may yet bear fruit that I cannot anticipate. And maybe there is goodness inherent in the act of peacemaking, regardless of end result. For example, were there fruits of the Spirit (e.g., peace, gentleness) that grew in me through this process? What does this mean for a Christian response to immigration (policy)?Let me close by trying to connect these thoughts to the main content of this blog series. I suppose this is what makes my experiences relevant to the current blog: as we reflect on the practical outworkings of Christian perspectives on immigration, we are faced with the hard task of not simply discussing and resolving differences in opinion, but differences in deeply held values of safety/prudence and sacrificial love. It seems impossible at times, but this task is an important prerequisite for shared action. Peacemaking, then, is an essential component of a practical response to our conversation about immigration policy. I hope that my thoughts about what true peacemaking looks like will be helpful to some of you as you press into these conversations with your fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, with whom you disagree. Let us “not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9). By Dr. Ken Woo
MK: This post is from Dr. Ken Woo. Ken is a Calvin scholar who teaches history at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. Ken is an ordained minister, affiliated with the RCA. He and his family attend City Reformed. I had the privilege of talking with Ken about the influence of Calvin’s refugee experience on his own writing. Ken was gracious to write this post as a contribution to the blog. During this final week we are considering how we may be called to respond to things discussed in this blog. In this post, Ken draws from the experience of John Calvin to show that his refugee experience produced deep theological reflections. This is something that we should all seek to emulate. “Earnest believers don’t always get what they want, but rather experience all kinds of pain because they left their country. Let such people be consoled with a single thought: 'Nevertheless, we are still in the house of God.'" Readers of this blog might be surprised to learn that these words of comfort for immigrants and refugees, so timely in our present context, were spoken nearly five hundred years ago by none other than John Calvin (1509-1564). In this 1549 sermon on Psalm 27, the Genevan reformer held forth the importance of gathering to receive spiritual provision available only through the church’s ministry of preaching and sacraments, even if this means leaving places where such worship according to God’s design is not possible. Evangelicals across Europe made this choice, fleeing harassment and even the threat of death for their faith commitments. Many sought refuge in Calvin’s Geneva. Some came with their families. Others left family behind, along with property, livelihood, and social standing. A good number came from Calvin’s native France. These included the wealthy, who quickly transformed Geneva’s social elite. A significant group also came in poverty, representing a different kind of burden for their new city. Calvin’s congregation was mixed, comprised of native Genevans and an expanding throng of outsiders whose presence was not always welcome. He addressed Christians experiencing a sense of loss and displacement as the result of persecution, as well as those whose lives had been disrupted by the mass influx of foreigners. Nobody felt at home. As their pastor, Calvin offered this shared consolation: Our true belonging is with Christ, who nurtures us during our lifelong pilgrimage through a world in which we reside as perpetual strangers and aliens. Gathering as a community of sojourners, the church in worship enters the “house of God” in exile, a foretaste of home for weary pilgrims. Calvin’s message was personal. He lived most of his adult life as a religious refugee, having left France for good in 1536 after embracing the Protestant faith considered heresy in his Catholic homeland. The Frenchman’s tenure in Geneva was an uneasy relationship for both. City officials banished him for three years over differences regarding church discipline and sacraments. Calvin clashed frequently with powerful members of the city’s native families who did not appreciate his reforms. That many of Geneva’s pastors were exiles from France did not assuage tensions. Calvin and his colleagues epitomized how foreigners were threatening old ways of life. Though he would gain increasing acceptance and influence over nearly three decades, one wonders if Calvin ever truly felt at home in a city that did not award him citizenship until 1559, just five years before his death. The reformer pastored immigrants and refugees as a fellow exile. The Reformation scholar Heiko Oberman has suggested that Calvin’s theology was influenced by his situation as a religious refugee writing for refugee communities across Europe shaped by persecution and flight. Read in light of this context, Calvin’s familiar reflections on topics such as divine providence and election, the church, and the Lord’s Supper exhibit dimensions easily overlooked. To pilgrims who often feel only the sting of displacement, the reformer supplies a robust account of the Christian’s lasting home. Word and sacrament are manna in the wilderness, extended to the spiritually hungry through the church’s ministry. In such means of grace, God “has ordained a way for us, though still far off, to come near to him” (Calvin, Institutes, I.4.1). Regardless of their present circumstances, the gospel invites believers into a deeper sense of belonging and hope in union with Christ: “Nevertheless, we are still in the house of God.” 2017 marks the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses, widely associated with the beginning of the Reformation. As the church considers the complexities of welcoming immigrants, refugees, and political exiles today, Calvin could become a valuable conversation partner from another era rife with religious violence and mass migration. Oberman observes, “The fast-food of the neo-Calvinist Geneva-burger could not have met the needs of Calvin’s contemporaries and fellow-trekkers nor could it have provided the power for Calvin’s movement to survive to our own day” (John Calvin and the Reformation of the Refugees, 2009). Have we risked a distorted view of Calvin’s theology detached from the realities that informed it? Reading Calvin with his original context in mind may open connections between his situation and ours that are both surprising and fruitful. Good places to begin include the following resources.
By Rev. Matt Koerber
We plan to conclude our blog by spending the final week thinking about application. We have addressed some challenging problems and we have heard some amazing stories. I hope that some readers are asking the question: “How do we respond?” Over this next week we will hear from people who have reflected on that question. At the end of the week I will try to present some ideas related to immigration policy. For today’s post, I am going to go slightly off topic and advertise an event that is happening Monday, June 6th, from 7:00-9:00pm at the City Reformed Church office. While it does not relate directly to immigration, it connects strongly to our theme verse. When we think about “all of the nations streaming to the mountain of the Lord,” it is impossible for Americans to ignore our own racial history. At this event – part of the “Agora Forum” series – we will watch and discuss one of the most intriguing documentaries that I have ever seen. “Accidental Courtesy” is a documentary from Independent Lens (PBS), which follows the story of a truly remarkable man. Subtitled “Daryl Davis, Race and America” it explores the life and mission of an African American musician who has a history of forming friendships with the most unlikely people. He forms friendships with members of the Ku Klux Klan. As a result of these relationships, dozens of people have left the Klan and other white supremacist groups. Daryl Davis was driven by a simple question: “How can you hate me, if you don’t even know me?” He had traveled the world as an adolescent and had learned to relate to people of many different cultural backgrounds. Returning to the United States, he was surprised by the overt racism that endured. His adventures started accidentally, when he was playing country music at a bar in the South. He met someone from the audience who liked his music and as they talked over a beer the man sheepishly revealed that he was a member of the Klan. Undeterred, Eric pressed in. He asked questions and refused to back away. Then something extraordinary happened. The Klansman asked to see him the next time he was in town. Something had changed. He began to see Daryl as a friend. When he left the Klan he gave his Klansman robes to Daryl. The story was repeated in different ways in different places. Not everyone that Daryl talked with changed their mind. Not everyone thought of him as a friend. But his pursuit of friendship with members of the Klan is one of the strongest depictions of “loving your enemy” that I have ever seen. I found his courage to be inspirational and I was moved by the power of his compassion. A trailer for the documentary can be viewed here: http://accidentalcourtesy.com/. The full documentary is available on Netflix. It can also be purchased through PBS (Independent Lens.) On Monday night, we will watch (part of) the documentary. I am delighted to say that my friend, Eddie Jones will help to lead the discussion. Eddie is a pastor at Eternal City Church in Wilkinsburg – an intentionally multiracial congregation affiliated with the Acts 29 network. Eddie has been a wonderful conversation partner for me. He is man of great spiritual insights who is deeply committed to building bridges across social divides. I hope that you can join us, but if not… please check out the documentary. Editor's note: the author's name has been removed from this post.
From a young age, I felt called to serve overseas in places where there is no Gospel witness. I grew up reading biographies of missionaries, and met many workers my church supported. As I grew in my faith, I learned that God made and loves all people. Scripture from beginning to end shows God’s heart for all nations, desiring that people from every people group would come to know Him and worship Him. God’s intent has always been for His people to be a city on a hill, a light shining in the darkness. He told Abraham that in him all the families of the earth would be blessed. The Psalms and Prophets are full of passages showing God’s love for the nations. Jesus commanded his disciples to go and make disciples of all nations. Revelation shows beautiful imagery of the throne of God surrounded by people from every tribe, tongue, and nation. As I looked at the places that seemed to have the greatest need, I was drawn toward Muslim areas. Millions of Muslims live and die having never met a Christian or hearing the Good News. Through college, God grew in me an interest in the Middle East, and following a trip to Jordan, I felt this confirmed. My mission I work for a Christian organization (I can't reveal the name for security purposes) that seeks to help Muslims follow Jesus. Its vision is to see the Gospel take root, grow, and multiply in Muslim communities, by coming alongside Muslims to share the Gospel, serve them in practical ways, and disciple them to follow Jesus. I am part of a team working to launch environmental businesses in places with little or no access to the Gospel and jobs, beginning in North Africa. With a holistic view of mission, we are seeking to live out the Biblical mandates given to us as followers of Jesus. Having a mandate to care for and be stewards of the earth, we believe that we all have a responsibility and a role to play. From the beginning of the Biblical narrative in Genesis all the way through to Jesus’ teachings, we see a clear theme of stewardship. The gifts God has given us are never for ourselves, but are always intended to flow outwards in blessing to others. We are commanded to love our neighbor as ourselves. Further, we see in Scripture that we are created to work. Our work has been subjected to the curse, and thus we experience frustration and futility, though work is good nonetheless. Being able to provide jobs for those without opportunities allows us to love and bless our Muslim neighbors and help restore dignity. Business also provides a natural way to enter countries and contexts in which Christians might not otherwise have access genuinely and without pretense. Once we have entered those contexts, we can start building relationships. We’re currently in the research phase of our project, and are looking to take an initial trip to the place we will be serving in early 2018, then launch our project and actually move overseas later that year. Concurrently, we continue our mission to our Muslim neighbors here in Pittsburgh, as we work with the Somali Bantu, coming alongside them as we seek to love them unconditionally and serve them practically. In the context of deep, authentic friendships that we have formed with them, we work closely with the leadership of their community to identify their real and felt needs, and assist them in meeting those needs. This plays out in a variety of ways, including assisting in the development of a non-profit community organization, connecting them with practical resources such as beds, furniture, and clothing, teaching conversational English in their homes, and helping them create a for-profit urban farming venture. They’ve come to trust us at a level that often can take years, and we’ve seen God open doors, provide, and answer our prayers. Muslims in the US & beyond In their journeys to Pittsburgh, my Somali Bantu friends have experienced deep hardship and pain beyond what I can imagine, and yet they maintain joy and show a resiliency that is an inspiration to me. In Pittsburgh, they still face bullying, misunderstanding, and persecution. Their kids have been bullied downtown on their way to school. I had a friend tell me about a man who verbally attacked her at a bus stop while she waited with her kids. After a member of their community was targeted and killed, one friend’s children begged her to take them back to Somalia, a country they have never known. My Muslim friends will tell you that terrorists are not real Muslims, often pointing to a verse in the Quran saying that killing one person is like killing all of humanity. We should not forget that today, all across the world, we see people of all creeds (both religious and secular) commit terrible acts in the name of their “beliefs”. We should also not forget that the vast majority of the victims of terrorist bombings are Muslims. While extremism exists in the Muslim community, the vast majority of Muslims are peaceful people. They’re our neighbors, classmates, coworkers, and friends. They’re trying to practice their faith and build a life for themselves and their families. Their faith looks different than Christian faith, and the women may have their heads covered, but we are more similar than you might imagine. For those in the US, they find themselves in a context where they often feel unwanted and unwelcome. For my Somali Bantu friends, the refugees trying to enter the US are people like them, and in many cases are their sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. Having had the opportunity to interact and befriend Muslims in different places throughout the years, I’ve found that Muslims tend to be some of the kindest and most hospitable people I’ve met, while being people like you and me with hopes and dreams for the future and their families. Just as most Christians have never met a Muslim, most Muslims have never met a Christian. MK: Originally from Pittsburgh, Sarah teaches English in Iraq through an NGO. Her Christian faith compels her to cross boundaries and serve the people of Northern Iraq. When the presidential travel ban prompted international outcries and anger against Americans abroad, Sarah wrote a particularly insightful post. I have republished it here with her permission. These three short posts offer a window into her world.
January 28: Christians, why do we idolize the illusion of safety for our temporal time on earth over the potential guarantee of eternal security for another person? Have we drifted so far from the legacy of Jim Elliot? January 30, 2017: Today, driving home from school, The World's Greatest Taxi Driver* got quiet for a minute and said, “Sarah. Please be careful today and this week. Things are very strange right now with America. If anything happens, I will call you and come get you and Susanna and take you to my village.” What he didn’t say, but what I know to be true, is that he would also drive us 5 hours to the Turkish border at great personal risk to himself, to get us out of the country. And if it came down to it, I know that he would actually die for us. He is a Muslim from Iraq. The last few days have communicated to the community that I love and have made a home in that they, as individuals and collectively, are inherently suspect because of who they inherently are. When our fears over possible outcomes that are never going to be 100% preventable rule our hearts and minds, not only do we not win, but everyone loses. Americans, Syrians, Iraqis, Somalis, Yemenis, Iranians, Sudanese, Libyans, and the whole wide world. The whole world loses when we turn whole people groups into the boogeyman. Christians, do we really have such a poverty of trust in our Lord? Iraqis are not all angels. But nor are they all devils. They are varied and a very complicated collection of individuals of numerous tribes, ethnicities and religions bound together by geography (and a fierce love of chicken and rice). And each individual is just as fallen as I am, and just as loved by God. So, please, when you are obsessed with your own illusion of keeping your country safe from Muslims, know that there is a Muslim who has told these Christians that he would keep us safe. And he is not the only one. (*Sarah introduced the “World’s Greatest Taxi Driver” in an earlier post.) April 6, 2017: For the last few years the mud swallows have returned to this nest outside our door each spring. Because it is messy and the birds are so loud, the nest was removed last week, just as the birds came back. But we were so sad about it. It seemed like one more small loss in a part of the world where there are so many large losses. A few days later, the swallows began to rebuild it in earnest. And an unknown neighbor left a note asking people to not destroy the nest. There are so many horrible and sad things that are happening in the world right now. And birds rebuilding nests do not give refugees homes or bring children dead in chemical attacks back from the grave. But there is a promise I am clinging to that there are no more tears at the end of all things. And that the Lord Christ is reigning over all. And sometimes I am reminded of that in birds and mud and notes from neighbors. Come, Lord Jesus. By Rev. Matt Koerber
I met Ashur* when I visited Iraq five years ago. He is friendly and quick to make newcomers feel welcome. We were almost complete strangers when he invited me to his house for dinner with his family. I am thankful that we could stay in touch (mostly through mutual friends). Ashur is part of a minority ethnic group in Iraq that is historically Christian. He lives in the United States now and hopes to work for the US Army. I initially interviewed him about what it was like to be a refugee, but we talked so much about the complexities of being a Christian in a Muslim majority country that it made sense to publish the interview this week. When I called Ashur to ask if I could interview him for the blog he responded with characteristic enthusiasm. He assured me, “I’m gonna answer with the only truth that I know. Be prepared!” He is quick to smile and invite you into his confidence. The outwardly friendly persona can initially hide the fact that he has had a very difficult life. “My family was born in Baghdad, but because of being Christian you cannot stay at the same place for all of your life. It depends on the political situation, and your religion can affect the place where you live. My father and mother grew up in Mosul, which is the ancient city of Nineveh. My father was an engineer and worked for a private company outside of Baghdad. After his work project ended, we moved back to Mosul where he lived with family. At that time the government started to harass people who were not part of Saddam’s Baath (political) party.” Ashur loves the history of Iraq and used the occasion to launch into a discussion about the social fabric of the region. He continued, “The thing that you need to understand is that in Iraq there are inhabitants from different ethnic groups: Arabs, Kurds, Assyrians, and Izidis. In all of the cities of Iraq, you can find Christians. They were there before the Arabs.” I knew from my brief visit to Iraq that in that part of the world there is no distinction between religion and ethnicity. To be Kurdish or Arabic is to be a Muslim. And to be Assyrian or Chaldean is to be a Christian. One Iraqi friend once told me that he spoke “the Christian language.” What he meant was that he spoke Assyrian. But that is how people talk about it. It is how they think about the entwined nature of religion and ethnicity. Most of the Assyrians have connections to the Orthodox Church. It is the part of the world close to where the Biblical adventures of Jonah and Daniel occurred, and where some of the earliest Christian monasteries and chapels were built. Not far from where Ashur lived, was the hometown of the prophet Nahum. For years, the local Jewish community had maintained what they believed to be his tomb. However, the Jewish inhabitants of Iraq have mostly been driven from the area and now the ancient synagogue housing Nahum’s grave lies in ruins. Ashur is proud of his people’s history and eager to share its importance. “The language of our people is called Assyrian, but it is – as far as I know – very similar to the Aramaic which Jesus would have spoken,” he told me. In a world dominated by Arabic, it is often hard to keep the language in use. He continued, “Growing up, the only place that I retained my language was in church. Some people go to church to be religious, but many go to retain their language.” I asked him what it was like to grow up as a Christian in Iraq. “I grew up in a Catholic school in Nineveh. It was a very good school, and at that time in the 80’s many rich and politically important families sent their kids to these schools. They believed it was the best education… But there were challenges for my family – my father couldn’t find a job. Being a Christian and not having family connections made it really hard. It is not like in America where you just apply for a job. You have to know someone. My uncle was part of an opposition party, which was under government investigation. That made it even harder for my father. They took him to the police station to be interrogated. They wanted him to be an informer, but he refused. The police told my father, ‘as long as Saddam lives you will go hungry.’ After that, the only jobs he could get were under the table.” But political and religious ties are not the only relationships which mattered in Iraq. Their Muslims neighbors felt a responsibility to help out. In spite of ethnic and religious differences, members of the community reached out. This is the complex web of life in the Middle East. “Our neighbors would help us to get a job (with under the table pay). The Arab neighbors had connections,” Ashur said. This is another difference between the Middle East and America; “In Iraq, neighbors see each other in their gardens and greet each other. We will invite each other to eat. Connections are more strong there.” But as the political situation grew more tense, life got even more difficult for Ashur’s family. “They took my father for 40 days in the late 1980’s. He was tortured and then released. After 1991 (and the First Gulf War), it started to get really dangerous for Christians of Syrian origin. (Other Christians from different tribes were not persecuted.) Then, my family moved to the Kurdish region, to the city of Zakho. After ‘91 they started to declare their own government in the Kurdish region. In those days there were only a couple of hundred families in Zakho. Now it is a bigger city.” I asked him how things were different in Zakho. He told me, “In Zakho, it was a very different story. These people were Kurds. They still live with a tribal mentality. They are not radical Muslims.” I know from experience that the Kurds have a strong sense of ethnic identity. They have been persecuted by many Arab groups over the years and are generally very tolerant. They had felt the heavy hand of Saddam. There are museums which enshrine the memory of Kurdish civilians killed in a gas attack by Saddam’s army. In my experience, the Kurds were delighted by the outcome of the Second Gulf War as it solidified their semi-autonomous position and further shielded them from the attacks of their neighbors. To this day, the question of Kurdish independence haunts all geopolitical debates in the region. Ashur told me how things again changed after the Second Gulf War. He said that Kurdistan (the informal name for the Kurdish region of Iraq) was quick to embrace the Americans and they began to see job growth. After finishing college, Ashur began to work for the US Army as a translator. He spent 2 years in Mosul and after the occupation returned to Kurdistan where he began to teach at an English language school. But while things were looking up for Kurdistan, things were getting harder for Ashur in his personal life. After his father died from cancer, Ashur felt the burden of caring for his family. He decided that his best opportunity for work was to try to emigrate to the United States. There is a special immigration visa for people who had worked in the army and who were experiencing persecution. Ashur applied for the visa and came to the U.S. in 2014, where he lived for a time with his former army captain. He struggled to find a job and after a traumatic bout of appendicitis he returned to Iraq. Back in Iraq, his options grew dim and hope faded. Ashur began to despair of life itself. In the depth of despair, Ashur encountered his faith in a new and vibrant way. “When I was young, my family went to church. I always had a feeling that God was with me. But I didn’t know Jesus until my father died. I knew him in my head, but not his presence. Because we lived in a Muslim society – where they don’t believe in the Trinity – there were times in my life that I did not really want to pray to Jesus. But he touched me and changed my life. At my lowest point, I was sitting on the roof of a building looking off the edge of the third story. I honestly began to think about jumping. But Jesus met me in that place. I felt as if he grabbed me. I knew that he was real. And everything good happened after that.” After that crisis point, Ashur made a personal commitment to read the Bible every day. In the midst of great personal turmoil he has kept that commitment and found it to be a source of spiritual life. He returned to America where he stayed with a friend that he knew from Iraq. He has worked hard in a variety of low paying jobs but has finally been received into an army training program and the promise of a solid career. I asked him to reflect on the complexities of his life in Iraq. He told me, “I love my Kurdish neighbors.” But he was also wary of the wide range of interactions that were possible. “There is a spectrum of ways that my Muslim neighbors might interact with me. Since Saddam fell, Kurdistan has become more religiously observant. Some people can start off friendly – religiously moderate – and then they change. Some people get drawn towards radicalization. There are a lot of signals that help me determine if a person is safe. How they dress, how they talk to women. Ashur expressed concerns about processes that shifted some people towards radicalization. Often, people who feel like they have few options and little hope can be easily swayed. He has concerns about what might be taught in a particular mosque and expressed a belief that some housed recruiters for more radical expressions of Islam. He described his perception of how this might play out. “There are people that you know in the community that will disappear for a period of time. You know that they are doing something wrong. Someone came to him and recruited him to do something violent. Poverty is a big factor. A lot of these people who are poor are the ones who disappear.” The varied experiences that Ashur has with Islam are not easily reconciled. On one hand, he summarized the experience of Christians in the Middle East as being very difficult. “If you are a Christian, you are still a second-level citizen.” On the other hand, he is thankful for the hospitality of many Muslim neighbors and misses the communal nature of Middle-Eastern life. Perhaps it would be best summarized by an observation he made about daily life back in Iraq. “You have to take each person one by one,” he said. “You have to get to know people.” *Ashur’s name and personal information have been changed for the safety of his family still in Iraq. By Kevin
This is the most difficult piece I have had to write for this blog. I have split it into two halves. In yesterday’s post, I wrote about the experience of growing up in an Islamic country. Today, I will write about growing up as a Christian amongst Muslims. I hope to distinguish between Islam as a system on one hand, and Muslims as individuals on the other. While the relationship between the two is complex, it is my belief that we too easily conflate the two. If there are things in one of these posts that conflict with your views, I ask for your patience, and suggest that you read the other half. There are things about the Malaysian Islamic authorities and government that I have purposefully left out, because even expressing the views I have may put my family and friends back in Malaysia under scrutiny and at risk. You may notice, in addition, that we have removed my last name from the blog to protect my family’s identity. My wife invites you to share a drink with me if you want to hear more. My views of Islam as a system (discussed in my last post) have evolved since I was a child, for two reasons. First, my perspective is informed by having inhabited multiple cultures, something I gained from having lived in the West in more recent years. Second, I believe the increasing Islamization of Malaysia has sped up – it is a much bigger factor now than it was when I was growing up. But deeper than those views, and more impervious to time, has been the deep affection for individual Muslims borne out of first-hand experiences I have shared with them while growing up. My deepest affinities for Muslims got rooted deep within me before the present wave of Islamization hit Malaysia. It takes a village I grew up in a racially (and consequently, a religiously) diverse neighborhood. The Muslim Mak Ciks (literally, Sister-Mothers; the Malay equivalent for Aunty. In Malaysia, every adult acquaintance is an Uncle or Aunty) helped raise me. My parents tell me that when I was a baby, our Muslim next-door neighbor would rub my belly with an herbal ointment if I was crying to help me sleep. A different Mak Cik would walk me home from school when my parents needed someone to get me. The Mak Cik across the street was my third grade math teacher. When any of my family were sick (especially my dad, who had long bouts with cancer), they would be ready to drive us to the hospital or provide meals if we needed. Last summer, many of them came to my wedding reception in Malaysia and shared in our joy, generously giving us traditional Malay gifts of glassware and linens. Every Eid al-Fitr (the festival marking the end of Ramadan), there were at least 4 or 5 Muslim neighbors I would be expected to visit and share a meal with. Sometimes, there would be so many invitations my family would have to strategically send me to some on my own. I would be welcomed like a nephew. These families would show up at my family’s home at Christmas. When I moved to the US, I found the relatively insular family celebrations of holidays an oddity. The Muslims I grew up amongst embodied what it meant to be a good neighbor. They loved me, a Christian, as themselves. This did not change even as the public sphere in Malaysia faced the pressures of Islamization. While Islamist leaders and politicians in Malaysia have warned Muslims against sharing in the religious celebrations of non-Muslims (for fear of tarnishing their faith), our neighbors seem to view sharing life with us as central to their faith, even if (maybe especially because) we are not Muslim ourselves. When I visit home, I meet these Muslim Uncles and Aunties. We reminisce and catch up, and they are proud of me and how my life has gone, as Uncles and Aunts are with their own nephews and nieces. On our last trip, several of them had the chance to meet Evelyn. They welcomed her into the neighborhood, unconcerned with her otherness. One Mak Cik handmade and delivered her special chicken pot pie for us to eat on Christmas Day, even though she was weak from her own cancer battle. Muslim brothers I attended a public school in Malaysia, with a racially and religiously diverse student body. I am ethnically Chinese, while almost all Muslims are ethnically Malay. Friendships across religious and ethnic lines were common as I grew up, but are becoming less common with Malaysia’s creeping Islamization polarizing people and sowing seeds of suspicion and fear. I weep for future generations of Malaysians who may never know the deep friendships I have shared with my Muslim friends. These are people I have played countless hours of soccer with, shared meals with, and even talked about my faith with. In a country where sharing one’s faith with Muslims is illegal, the likeliest way they will encounter the Gospel is through friendships with Christians. In turn, I have learned much about Islam through my friendships with them. Friendship made us willing to listen to each other. I don’t know if any of my Muslim friends will ever come to believe in the God revealed in Jesus the way I do. I don’t know how any of our conversations will have affected their beliefs. But I think these friendships still matter because they are not merely means to an end of conversion. There have been periods of racial violence in Malaysia’s past, primarily between the Malay Muslims and the ethnic Chinese. I have no doubt that many of my Muslim friends would have given their lives to protect me, a non-Muslim, if violence of that sort were to return to Malaysia. Would I, a Christian, lay my life down for them? It’s a question I have asked myself this past week. Love thy neighbor Why have I told you about these friendships? I view these friendships as forms of resistance against the fear and resentment that can fester between different communities (particularly between non-Muslims and Muslims). I view them as the means by which Christians love their neighbors as themselves. In my last years in Malaysia before moving to the US, this became more difficult. The creeping Islamization made it harder to distinguish between the system of Islam that I grew fearful of on one hand, with the Muslim friends I knew and loved on the other. I began to wonder if my Muslim friends even recognized the erosion of religious freedom that I felt due to the actions of an Islamist-leaning government. Though our friendships went deep, it was hard to resist being conditioned to fear Muslims – had they become my enemies? I will never know how I could or should have overcome my fear in order to move towards them. My increasing awareness of the effects of Islamization in Malaysia should not have made me fear; it should have driven me to deeper compassion and friendships with them. It is easy to demonize and fear a group when we do not have friendships with individuals from that group. Even with the personal knowledge I have of my Muslim friends, this fear is hard to shake. How much greater is the fear when it is bolstered by a lack of knowing individual Muslims? Does our fear prevent us from seeing individual Muslims as the image-bearers they are? Does this fear prevent us from moving towards the Muslims in our neighborhoods with open arms and friendship? Are we more concerned with our own safety than the safety of refugees and displaced peoples from Islamic countries? In my last post, I suggested that an awareness of Islam as a system was necessary for informing our engagement with Muslims: we need to be aware of how it can influence individual Muslims. However, no knowledge or perspective about this system changes the call to love them as neighbors, even at great personal cost. I’m convinced that our Muslim neighbors here in the US need the friendship of the church. This friendship may be uncomfortable. In addition to crossing cultural barriers, some may worry that befriending Muslims may imply a tacit endorsement of Islam as a system. To this, I would say two things. First, we cannot properly understand Islam as a system separate from individual Muslims. Second, if we place preconditions on our love for others, we fail to understand the power of the Gospel. In fact, this friendship may be costly. I can attest to how much it costs the Malaysian church to love Muslims. Even if the system and structure of Islam in Malaysia exerts great power against the church, the church is not exempt from loving its neighbors, some of whom may in fact be enemies. I believe the same call of Jesus to lay down our lives applies to us in the US, for we are part of the same church he has called. By Kevin
This is the most difficult piece I have had to write for this blog. I have split it into two halves. In today’s post, I write about the experience of growing up in an Islamic country. Tomorrow, I will write about growing up as a Christian amongst Muslims. I hope to distinguish between Islam as a system on one hand, and Muslims as individuals on the other. While the relationship between the two is complex, it is my belief that we too easily conflate the two. If there are things in one of these posts that conflict with your views, I ask for your patience, and suggest that you read the other half. There are things about the Malaysian Islamic authorities and government that I have purposefully left out, because even expressing the views I have may put my family and friends back in Malaysia under scrutiny and at risk. You may notice, in addition, that we have removed my last name from the blog to protect my family’s identity. My wife invites you to share a drink with me if you want to hear more. I’m woken up at 5:39 a.m. by the local mosque’s muezzin (the person appointed to read public prayers) reciting the Adhan. Every neighborhood in Malaysia has several mosques, and each broadcasts its prayers via loudspeakers. Allāhu akbar (God is great), they begin each morning, heard by all. The nation’s Muslims (who are mostly ethnic-Malay and make up over 60% of the population) are called to begin their day in prayer. The non-Muslims (consisting mostly of ethnic Indian and Chinese Malaysians) are woken up with them, even if they are not called to the same prayers. Life in Malaysia is punctuated and driven by the rhythms of Islam. It has been this way for generations. Malaysia is a former British colony. When (then) British-Malaya gained independence in 1957, the nascent constitution left the country with a mixed religious identity. Freedom of religion is a right, but only for non-Muslims, as proselytizing Muslims is against the law. In addition, Muslims cannot renounce their faith without incurring consequences from the state. Due to the large number of Muslims and Islam’s historical roots in the region, Islam has always had a strong influence on public life. Growing up, I took Islam’s influence as a fact of life. Some of it was positive; we got many more days off school due to various Islamic holidays. Some of it was common sense; during the holy month of Ramadan when Muslims fast during the day, non-Muslims were told to eat discreetly. To me, this was simply being a good neighbor. Some of it seemed necessary due to the population’s composition; various jobs and positions in society, particularly within the government, were out of reach for non-Muslims (e.g. in 9 of Malaysia’s 13 states, the state government’s head must be a Muslim, by law). For the most part, I grew up loving my country’s social fabric. Muslims were just another community of faith worshipping alongside Buddhists, Hindus, Sikhs, and Christians. It wasn’t merely coexistence; the diversity enriched our culture. I grew up joining neighbors and friends celebrating their religious holidays. Celebrating Eid al-Fitr (the festival marking the end of Ramadan) at my friends’ homes – and having them over to celebrate Christmas at mine – remains a precious memory. Malaysia has long boasted of its cultural diversity and harmony. Over the past 20 years, there has been a gradual shift in how Islam’s influence in Malaysian public life was expressed. The public sphere in Malaysia is increasingly controlled by Islamists: Muslims who believe that Islamic principles should dictate legal, public, and political activity within a state.* While “revolutionary” Islamists may use violence to achieve this, those in Malaysia consist mainly of “reformist” Islamists who seek to Islamize the nation using democratically gained political power. The historical reasons for the creeping Islamization are complex.** In its simplest form, it has been driven by Islamist groups and individuals courting a Muslim-majority electorate by promising to secure Islam’s position of power within the country. This has taken on multiple forms. For non-Muslims, there has been increased scrutiny and (dare I say it) persecution. Here are some examples:
The Islamists involved in some of the examples above may be individual Muslims, but I am concerned mainly with their use of Islam as a system to wield power over non-Muslims in the public sphere. However, the same system and power can be used on Muslims. It is vital to recognize that Muslims are a diverse group, many of whom do not seek to wield power in the service of Islam as a system (as Islamists do). As challenging as things have become for non-Muslims, I believe the creeping Islamization in Malaysia has oppressed my Muslim neighbors most of all. Some examples:
Understanding and engaging with Islam is extremely complex. My experience and history in Malaysia enables me to make the distinction between Islam as a system and Muslims as individuals. This allows me to see that it is not a matter of Us vs. Them, because Christians are not the only ones who face difficulties within a Muslim-dominated society; Muslims are often severely oppressed, and stopped from hearing the Gospel. How can we serve these people in need if we do not see them as individuals? At the same time, I do not believe we will be equipped to engage with and serve them if we do not recognize that Muslims in Muslim-dominated societies are often embedded within a system of Islam influences the way they think about and practice their faith. Here in the US, many barriers have been removed (e.g. there is no law prohibiting sharing our faith with Muslims), and Islam as a system does not have the same power in the public sphere. Engaging with Muslims demands wisdom to discern how each individual Muslim relates to Islam as a system. But more than anything else, it requires us to see Muslims as neighbors we are called to love. Here in the US, I am not woken up by the Adhan. Some mornings, I wake up half-expecting to hear it. I sometimes miss it, along with the Muslim friends I have left behind in Malaysia. * I make no claims about whether it is due to a particular (correct or incorrect) interpretation of Islam’s teachings (as Matt Koerber said, only Muslims are in a position to judge what constitutes “true Islam”). I am simply describing what is observable: that these groups and individuals have sought political power with the stated goal of securing Islam’s influence over society (and by extension, securing the security of Muslims). ** See Islamization in Malaysia: processes and dynamics by Abbott and Gregorios-Pippas (2010) for a comprehensive analysis of the historical factors that led to this. *** Allah is simply the generic Arabic word for God, which has been used by followers of all the Abrahamic faiths for centuries. By Rev. Matt Koerber
We had anticipated from the beginning that the fifth week of the blog would be its most challenging. We reserved this week for a discussion on “Engaging with Islam.” After a one week break from the blog, we returned to find that the topic is more challenging than ever. The newspaper headlines remind us that this topic is relevant for all of the wrong reasons. On Monday, May 22, a suicide bomber killed 22 civilians at a concert in Manchester, England. The bomber had been reported to the authorities as a suspected terrorist when he previously expressed the views that "he was supporting terrorism" and "being a suicide bomber was okay". The Islamic State (ISIS) has claimed responsibility for the attack, but the truth is unclear. The alleged bomber was a British citizen, born in England to Libyan parents who came to the country as refugees. Classmates reported that he had become increasingly religious and that he had traveled to Libya on several occasions. At some point, he became radicalized. On Friday, May 26, ISIS gunmen attacked a tour bus full of Coptic Christians, leaving 29 dead. Coptic Christians represent about 10% of Egypt’s population and have been targeted for violent persecution with increasing regularity during recent years. To quote a director from human rights group Amnesty International, “This terrifying wave of attacks has seen Coptic Christians in North Sinai hunted down and murdered by armed groups. No one should face discrimination – let alone violent and deadly attacks – because of their religious beliefs.” These particular incidents are part of an ongoing trend of violence associated with Islam. Many Muslims condemn such attacks, but the backlash can make life difficult for Muslims living in the West. For example, the Manchester police reported a spike in threats against Muslims in their community after Monday’s bombing. Also on Friday, May 26, in Portland, Oregon, two men were killed while defending a Muslim woman wearing a headscarf. It appears that the attacks may have been motivated by animosity towards the religion of the two Muslim women. (It is unclear whether the attacker was mentally competent.) Closer to home, personal friends of mine have expressed the increasing difficulties that they experience as Muslims living in Pittsburgh. These challenges are particularly relevant to our political dialogue about refugees. This past Fall, there were heightened concerns about Syrian refugees being resettled in the United States because many of the refugees are Muslims. As a candidate, Donald Trump highlighted the fears of some Americans when he called for a ban on Muslims entering the country. Since becoming President, his executive order travel bans have created controversy and legal uncertainties. Beneath the challenging questions of political policy lie more important questions, ones that strike close to the central purpose of this blog. How should Christians think about Islam and Muslims? How should this affect our views on refugees and immigration?Over the course of the next week, we will include a number of different voices from people who are deeply involved in this issue. But for both Kevin and me, this topic is deeply personal. I have been privileged to travel to both Iraq and Turkey, and last summer my family and I spent two months working with Middle-eastern refugees in Athens, Greece. I have close friendships with many Muslims and I am privileged to have many Muslim neighbors. But the situation is even more personal for Kevin. His home country of Malaysia is predominantly Muslim. He knows first hand the challenges of living as a religious minority in an Islamic country while also enjoying rich friendships with many Muslims. Like many of the other issues that we have faced, it is worth saying at the outset that this is complicated. It is our conviction that many of the predominant approaches towards Islam are fundamentally flawed. Westerners often find the issue to be foreign and confusing, thus gravitating towards simplistic approaches of understanding. These simplistic approaches for understanding Islam and our engagement with it are inadequate for the task at hand. Let’s consider two competing approaches and then try to sketch a third approach which better represents the facts. Simple Approach #1: “All Muslims are Terrorists” In light of the claims of ISIS to be the representatives of true Islam, and in light of the expressed religious convictions of many high profile terrorists, it seems like a short step to draw a one-to-one connection between Islam and religious violence. People who take this interpretation typically assume all Muslims are inherently violent. It may even be assumed that they are under-cover agents who are committed to religious conquest. What this view fails to regard is that Muslims are not a monolithic group. Throughout the world, many different expressions of Islam are found with different views of religious violence. Individual Muslims believe a wide range of things, and I am thankful to have many personal friends who are both Muslim and committed to peaceful coexistence. Simple Approach #2: “Islam is a Religion of Peace” I want to be clear: I do not believe that it is simplistic for a professing Muslim to say that their religious system is committed to peace and nonviolence. I am thankful for the many who do so. What I am thinking of here is the propensity for (well-intentioned) non-Muslim Westerners to offer their assessment of what constitutes “true Islam.” I believe it is only appropriate for a Muslim to speak about “true Islam.” An outsider is not in a position to make those claims. We can only speak of “true Islam” if we believe that Islam is true. What we can know is this: just as there are many Muslims in the world who affirm the peaceful coexistence of different religions, there are also many people who affirm the necessity of religious violence in the name of Islam. I certainly have a strong preference for the practice of peace-loving moderate Islam over hardline Islam. But it seems that many Westerners are tempted to turn a blind eye towards expressions of religious violence associated with Islam in the name of being “inclusive.” This sort of wishful thinking does not allow us to think carefully about the real-world challenges that that we are facing. A Third Way Rather than make blanket statements about the true nature of islam, or claim the ability to judge the true intentions of every Muslim, it is far better to think about the issue in a different way. We can move forward by distinguishing between systems of thought and the individual people who associate with a particular religion. First, Islam is a religion that has a history and a central book (the Quran). We can examine this history and we can read the book. There are varied approaches to interpreting the Quran and we can talk with people about their approach. We can also make observations about the nature of government and individual freedom in Islamic-dominated countries. These sorts of questions are essential as we seek better understanding between Islam and the West. When we start with presumptions about the true nature of Islam, we short circuit this process. To put myself on record, I believe that there is significant reason for concern in regard to basic human freedoms found in many Muslim-majority countries. Second, individual Muslims are unique persons, made in God’s image, with dignity and value. Each person may have differing beliefs about religious freedom, freedom of conscience, and other important matters. Experientially, I have found it easy find common ground with many Muslims. In many cases, I have found shared commitments to religious nonviolence and towards safeguarding the dignity of all people. To share a specific example, two years ago I wore a shirt commemorating the Christian victims of ISIS. Since I play soccer with many Muslim friends, I was slightly uncertain of how I would be received. Not only did my friends express deep concern and sympathy towards the victims, as well as a deep hatred towards ISIS, many wanted to buy a similar shirt to express solidarity. I want to go on record to say that I have had a large number of deep relationships with Muslim friends. I cannot write about this topic without recognizing the admirable qualities these friends of mine possess. My life would be impoverished without these friendships. I am also reminded that throughout the world, religious violence takes a heavy toll on the Islamic community. “Muslim-on-Muslim violence” is a significant problem in many countries, especially between opposing factions. Furthermore, a measure of humility is required when considering this issue, since Christians have also used religious texts to support their injustices. (See: the African Slave Trade.) Finally, we should remember that Jesus calls Christians to love their neighbors. This command to love directs us to engage with people as individuals and seek their good. We can sometimes find amazing common ground with Muslim neighbors. But even in the absence of common ground, we are called to love our enemies. Loving our enemies does not mean that we take foolish risks or naively assume that everyone is safe. But as a follower of Jesus, I am not excused from loving, even when people are committed to religious violence. Throughout the week we will hear other voices address this complex matter. We do not expect to resolve something this challenging in a few posts, but I hope that we can begin to model a different manner of engaging with this issue. |
AuthorMatt Koerber is the senior pastor at City Reformed Presbyterian church. This is his personal blog that he also asks guest writers to participate on. Archives
August 2018
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