I want to get arrested. I have always resonated with the actions of the apostles. “The apostles left the Sanhedrin, rejoicing because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name.” I want to be on the frontline addressing social justice, but at the same time I live in rural Michigan among working class people. I have to come to terms with what it means to engage in the fight for justice here.
While my community doesn’t see many homeless on the streets (if there are any I am blind to it) in many ways the people are subject to injustice. There is one factory that sits empty most of the time and struggles to stay open when a new owner takes it over. The last owners made good on a threat to close the plant if the workers unionized. The majority of people in my congregation are retirees receiving pensions from GM. The status of the auto industry and concessions the UAW allow affects their health insurance and incomes. A few of my parishioners are ex-cons faced with the difficulty of reintegrating in to society with the added strain of a jobless market. Our downtown is empting out, as business after business can’t make it. Our young families are either moving away or work in another town and don’t connect with the community or local churches. In very real ways some the work of social justice involves the people sitting in my pews and the people living on my block. How can I address these issues? Is there a time when I might be persecuted for making a prophetic stand against injustice?
Community
Reading Shane Claiborne’s book, Becoming The Answer To Our Prayers, I resonated with the new monastic concept of community. When my wife and I were first married, we ran across and article on theooze.com about singles and married couples with children living in community . We were intrigued and drawn to the idea. It has long been a goal of ours to live in community in a big house with people and start micro-churches. A number of years back I wrote a story and play for families based on 1 John 5 that was set on a moon colony. The moon colony was what I called a neo-monastic commune. My ideas about how that would work were surprisingly close to what Shane and the new monastics call the twelve marks of new monasticism.
In Acts just after the first account of Peter and John being released from the clutches of the Sanhedrin, the young church prays for boldness, the house is shaken and they are again filled with the Spirit. It is in that context Luke notes something interesting. “All the believers were in one heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had.” I’ve always been able to almost feel the camaraderie of the community in the early church. I long for the relationships, the closeness, and the generosity that the family of God had then. It has been said by many that this kind of communism couldn’t be sustained. But couldn’t it really? Not as a social system but as the outflow of love and commitment?
There is an intimacy to worship. In a gathering that lacks community, lacks intimacy and the shared journey of faith, I have found myself distrustful of sharing my worship with others. I almost feel jealousy toward these others claiming to love my Jesus. In our retreat I did not have any of these feelings. I was surrounded by like seekers. Our journeys had brought us together on parallel tracks for a time. I could worship in true freedom and with an intimacy that comingled with the others in the room. This I think is the family of God!
My own cohort is especially a dear example of what the church is to be. Our love for each other is unfeigned and without condition. As much as I may cherish my worries about how cool or un-cool I am, how annoying or foolish I may come across my cohort expressed love for me that denied these concerns. This concern for each other extends in our sharing and praying for each other as we in real ways bear up one another’s burdens (and continue to do so as we are home).
My cohort shocked me with their love. I was embarrassed to tell them (as I am embarrassed to admit now) that I came to Philadelphia with empty pockets. The only transportation I could afford was catching a ride with the SAU team and committed myself to the added cost of eating and an extra night in the hotel. Elaine gave me her Christmas bonus from work, which we had picked up on our way, which paid for my food. When we got to the hotel I swiped my debit card knowing that it would cause and overdraft back home. I had to tell my crying wife that I was too ashamed to ask for help from one of my friends.
As we talked about the frustrations we had with our attempts at social justice, I related to my cohort that I was ashamed that my family was on food stamps and I couldn’t provide for them. Then I found myself telling them what coming to Philly had meant for my family. They prayed for me and that was all I wanted. It was a beautiful prayer that delved into the real concerns of my heart, the church and family I left at home. They didn’t stop there, however. They took up a collection! They provided me with over $300 and paid my way back home. I am humbled. As I write this tears well up at the realization of the love of the family of God.
It has been said at every residency retreat, “this is what the body of Christ looks like.” This is true.
The abandoned places
Whispered echoes keep coming back to me from the places the new monastic communities find a home – the abandoned places. Setting up shop as disciples in the abandoned places of the world seems dear to me. I think about my friends Steve and Roderick buying an abandoned house for a dollar in the desolate lesser cathedral district of Saginaw. As they fix it up and inspire others to move into the neighborhood, they are transforming the community.
I think about the abandoned downtown Sebewaing. Could fighting for social justice in my little town mean bringing life back to the downtown – life and hope? For a few years we (the local ministerial) have been working with the school district to better meet the needs of teens. We have started what has been called a movement to start a coffeehouse and restore a movie theater in downtown Sebewaing. The coffeehouse has been located in my church basement for the last couple years, but now, as we look to move it out into the public, it is exciting to see how God is moving. Could God be so interested in this project because moving downtown will somehow free the poor and oppressed in my village? I am excited to see that we are already engaging in the social justice fight and it has been just because we have been trying to follow the leading of God.
What about the abandoned factories and the abandoned houses? Is there any way we can begin to extend our household here? Can our church family begin to share resources, tables and lives in a culture that is so individualistic and independent? Can we share a garden? Tools? Food? How about sharing our spiritual journey? These are the questions that are fire to my mind this month, I pray the fire does not die but is fanned by those who ask the questions with me.
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