love inspiring love

Some good memories from the last couple days:

Enjoying breakfast sandwiches (egg and Canadian bacon on fresh-baked biscuits) and coffee with guests out on the front porch, warmed by the sun after a cold night.

Not being able to hear while I was talking on the phone, because all the people at dinner were laughing so loudly.

Heather playing a board game with the four boys in the dining room (and trying to keep the 2-year-old from stealing the pieces), while the other guests ate popcorn and watched a movie in the living room.

A soup kitchen guest happily firing up the grill out back to cook some steaks he had gleaned from somewhere.

Hearing a young woman start crying with relief when she heard she could stay on our couch (she is trying to move away from an alcoholic husband, and four other places had just turned her away).

Watching Heather carefully sew a torn down-filled jacket so we could give it to one of the guests.

Inviting a (surprised) homeless couple in for pizza when they knocked on the door just as we were sitting down to dinner.

Hearing a guest offer to come back and volunteer when he and his wife move into their new apartment (he has also cooked for us, washed dishes, and scrubbed the porch, where he has been sleeping).

Yesterday I read Luke's story of the woman who washed Jesus' feet at dinner in a Pharisee's house. It ends this way:

Turning toward the woman he said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I entered your house, you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.

"Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little."

It's truly a generous mercy that can inspire such gratitude, such generous love. That's the kind of mercy we have received. And that's the kind of mercy we must offer. Not just the minimum, enough to scrape by, what we think the person deserves. But much more than they deserve. An overwhelming kindness that surprises them with its generosity and fills them so they want to turn and give to others. That's love inspiring love.

"Go to the people"

This morning as we were eating breakfast, a man I hadn't seen before came into the house looking nervous. He said he had a court date in the next town and needed a bus ticket. When Heather went to see if we had money for that, he asked for food so I warmed up some macaroni and cheese and brought him a cup of coffee.

As we were walking with him to the bus station, the conversation somehow turned to religion. And Charles said, "They always tell people to come to the church. But Jesus went right out to the people, he walked in their neighborhoods, their homes. That's what the pastors should do. Go to the people." I agree. We all should do that.

the "new monasticism"

Last week I noticed Christianity Today in the magazine rack in the library, with a familiar face on the cover (Shane Claiborne from the simple way). So I read the article. It was very favorable, talking not just about the simple way and Camden house (who were both at the camp meeting last month), but also Rutba house, and even mentioning Reba Place Fellowship.

It was so favorable, actually, that I wondered. How do these radical groups come off sounding so good in this mainstream Christian magazine?

The beginning of the monastic movement (i.e. the desert fathers) was very critical of society, including its religion, and their complete withdrawal was a strong statement of that critique. Other monastic "revolutions" (the Trappists breaking away from the Cistercians, which broke away from the Benedictines, for instance) were also a reaction against what they saw as the dilution and laxness of discipleship in their religious orders. So there was definitely criticism of mainstream religion there.

But in every case, the movement is eventually assimilated and given a place and role in the social and religious structure of the time. Its critique is quieted and the tension relaxes. So "monasticism" loses its radical challenge.

I assume the new monasticism also springs out of a strong critique of society and the church, and that their different way of living and serving others is meant as a prophetic challenge to the church. I guess I see signs of that in the article's complaint about "shaming messages" (to other Christians):

In intentional community movements, one sometimes senses an element of guilt that is used to manipulate suburban youths into giving their lives to work with the poor. “And the flip side of that [guilt] tends to be self-righteousness projected on everyone else,” says Jenell Williams Paris, who lived in community during college and graduate school from 1991 to 1999 and now teaches anthropology at Bethel University in Minnesota. “When I went to Philadelphia, I heard people like Tony Campolo, Ron Sider, Jim Wallis, give these, what they called, prophetic messages, and what I now understand as a lot of shaming messages to white, middle-class evangelicals.”

But I didn't hear those messages in the article, except perhaps vaguely. I'm not sure why that is (edited out, maybe?). But shouldn't the prophetic challenge be there?

This part of the article pretty well describes the prophetic role (my italics):

A group of "monks" could help American Christians better stand against the pervasive consumerism and individualism of pop culture by providing an ideal of unworldly living. As CT wrote in 1988, such a remonasticization "would look to the biblical antecedents for a select group of holy persons set apart to call all persons to holiness, such as the Old Testament Nazirites … and Jesus' calling of disciples to train and teach with the goal of drawing all Israel to the same discipleship."

But why does this sound so acceptable? Where is the opposition to the prophet?

Maybe it's because it's not clear that they are calling all Christians to the same "ideal" discipleship. Isn't that what is usually offensive? Jesus said, "For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees [the standards of religious morality of the time], you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." (Mt 5.20) And he preached "Woe to you!" and "Hypocrites!" He was clear that the discipleship of the majority (even of the most respected religious leaders) was not good enough. So they hated him and saw him as threatening to the religious and social structure. But isn't that how people always reacted to the prophets?

And isn't that how people should see us as well? "Remember the word that I said to you, 'A servant is not greater than his master.' If they persecuted me, they will persecute you... They will put you out of the synagogues..." (Jn 15.20, 16.2)

I'm not a Catholic Worker

Heather and I enjoyed the weekend away. In Iowa I saw friends from the Catholic Worker houses in Cleveland and South Bend, and met some interesting folk from St. Louis as well. The landscape there is beautiful rolling farm land. And worship Sunday morning was joyful and fun.

But I was also reminded of the things that I really don't like in the Catholic Worker culture. Like the emphasis on political activism, especially "arrestable actions," the Bush-bashing (even the kids were doing it), and the hyper-sensitivity to gender language ("Amen... and A-woman!"). The main point of the priest's message Sunday morning was "Whee!"--I'm not joking. But he also opened it up for others to make comments about the readings and there were some good ones, like about forgiving others, including politicial leaders and those who oppress us. I liked that. But the other stuff, which I find very hard to respect, is enough to remind me why I veered away from the Catholic Worker movement years ago, and still feel a little uncomfortable, like an outsider, at gatherings like that.

On the way back we stopped at Plow Creek farm and spent the night. We saw old friends (and new baby Elaina), were welcomed warmly, and Heather and Miranda even got to ride the horses. Then yesterday morning I sat outside as the sun was rising and listened. It was very quiet. Only the wind was moving, and as it stirred the trees it felt very familiar and comforting to me. I don't know if it was the feeling of God in nature, or the symbolism of the Spirit, but I rejoiced in it and at the same time respected it deeply. And I thought, this is the source of my identity and at-home-ness much more than any human organization or culture.

And I thought that there is wind in the trees here in Champaign as well. And that the Spirit "blows where it pleases," also among people that seem at times misguided or silly to me. There is much I respect in how the Spirit works through people here and at other houses of hospitality across the country. So I'm glad to be here. But it's clear to me that I'm not a Catholic Worker.

[Today after lunch in the soup kitchen, I went and sat by the cross outside St. Mary's. And listened to the wind rushing through the pines.]

"I'm blessed"

Mary, our grandmotherly guest, collapsed while out for a walk the day before yesterday. But she seemed okay when we visited her in the hospital last night. When I asked how she was, she replied with her usual, "I'm blessed, baby."

And then, shortly after we got back, a mother and her four boys (ages 3-10) moved in, so we have a full house now. With lots of pitter-pattering of big and little feet.

It seems like good timing for our weekend away in the country. Most of us are going to a farm in Iowa for a gathering of people from Catholic Worker houses in the midwest. I think at least a hundred people should be there. But I'm mostly looking forward to seeing some of the people I met this summer on my walk. (Then we're stopping at Plow Creek farm on our way back, so we'll be able to see our new friends from there as well.)

in the midst of the storm

The night before last, a woman called and asked to come just as I was about to lock the door. So I waited for her to show up (and got together some things for her to sleep on the couch). And a guy wanted to sleep on the porch, so I got a blanket and pillow for him. It was pretty late when I got to bed.

And volunteers start arriving here fairly early, to make lunch for 50-70 people. So it's busy all morning and very crowded until almost 2pm. Then there's a break for a few hours, but by about 4pm people are making dinner and the house is busy again.

And I've caught myself becoming part of the busyness. It's easy to do. There's so much going on and it's for a good cause. But I'm finding it tiring in more than just a physical way. I'm feeling a bit scattered and unfocused, not able to pay attention to what I'm supposed to be doing here (or at any particular moment). So I'm trying to find some space to quiet down and listen to God, to clear my head and focus.

I've started taking a walk after lunch at the soup kitchen. To St. Mary's church, about a mile's walk through town. There a big cross there, outside, with several tall pines framing it and a huge, old maple tree that provides a shady spot to sit in the grass. And it's quiet. I think the walk and some prayer there will help me.

I guess I feel a little like Mary there, sitting at the feet of Jesus, listening.

But I'd also like to learn to rest and be calm and focused in the midst of the action. It makes me think of this story:

Leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat... And a great storm of wind arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him and said to him, "Teacher, do you not care if we perish?"

And he awoke and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Peace! Be still!" And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.

He said to them, "Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?" (Mk 4.36-40)

I like how Jesus was relaxed while everyone else was panicking and trying to control the situation themselves. He trusts that things are in God's hands. Then gets up and proves it with a word. I'd like to have that assurance, and be able to say or do the precise thing needed in any situation.

If only I could learn to sleep while everyone else is bustling around...

labor day

Going on a little farther, Jesus saw James the son of Zebedee and John his brother, who were in their boat mending the nets. And immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired servants, and followed him. (Mk 1.19-20)

Yesterday we had a cook out for Labor Day, with lots of people gathered around the grill, talking and laughing. Ribs and chicken and brats. A feast for the poor.

Most of us unemployed, too. Actually, Labor Day was not mentioned. It was mentioned at mass though, when the priest reminded us that Jesus was a carpenter and connected his work with the work of the burdened laborers throughout the world, who have to work like slaves just to survive.

But should we assume Jesus worked like that? Was he dependent on his carpentry for his survival? I think it's worth noticing that he walked away from his carpentry, just as James and John walked away from their nets (and the other "hired servants"). They were not dependent on that income or slaves to their trade. And later Jesus even preached, "Do not labor for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to eternal life, which the Son of man will give to you." (Jn 6.27) Both he and his disciples showed what this looked like, and how God supported them in this work.


Yesterday I also thought of a scene from The Passion of the Christ. Mary comes out while Jesus is making a table and asks him about its unusual design. "It's for a rich man," Jesus (the actor) replies. I'm not sure if there was a bit of mockery in his voice, or resignation. But in either case I find it hard to imagine Jesus actually working in that way.

Jesus did serve the rich during his ministry, but it was always serving them with a warning: "Woe to you who are rich!" (Lk 6.24) What would suggest that Jesus would sell his labor to the wealthy so that they could better adorn their homes? The rest of the world bows to those with money and obeys the will of the one paying the bills. But when did Jesus ever do or teach that? His relationship to the wealthy was one of rebuke, calling them to change the way they live.

I was disappointed to hear that several of the former volunteers here are now employees of the wealthy, manicuring their lawns or teaching their children. And I objected at Reba Place when they opened an Amish furniture store which sold items only the rich could afford (the store is now closing).

How do we choose who we labor for? Is it for those who can pay us the best wage? Or those who need our help the most?

trying to help

Saturday night we watched the movie A River Runs Through It, and I noticed this conversation:

"I thought we were supposed to help him."

"How the hell do you help that son of a bitch?"

"By taking him fishing."

"He doesn't like fishing. He doesn't like Montana and he sure as hell doesn't like me."

"...Well, maybe what he likes is somebody trying to help him."

In the office, which now doubles as my bedroom, there's a framed collection of things that belonged to a former guest who died of alcoholism. Childhood pictures, his cap, a worn ticket stub and a religious medal he used to carry in his pocket. And the date he died. I'm sure there are many others who visit here who will not be helped out of their biggest problems (like Nathaniel a couple days ago). That can be very discouraging.

But maybe love doesn't necessarily mean being successful in fixing people's problems, but trying to help them. And not giving up on them, even when they don't accept our help.

I'm reminded of these words by Thomas Merton:

Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, essentially an apostolic work, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the rightness, the truth of the work itself.

Jesus taught us to love others as he loved us. And, from his perspective looking down from the cross, his work probably seemed pretty unsuccessful and useless. But the appearance of such love is always of infinite worth.

so far, so good

The last couple days have been pretty busy and exciting. With the help of a few other volunteers, Eric, Miranda, Heather, and I cooked and served lunch yesterday at the soup kitchen. We made spaghetti sauce from fresh tomatoes, with basil and oregano from the garden, and polish sausage. Also collard greens from the garden.

Then last night we welcomed four women to live in the house. Two are married, with husbands staying at the Salvation Army men's shelter (they should be able to have dinner with us here most days). And one is a grandma. A good group, who seem to get along well and are happy about their new home. There is one more room available, but that's being saved for a family.

And a man showed up at the door after we locked up last night. He was drunk and shirtless. Asking for food and clothes and a blanket, which I brought out to him (with a pillow too). He slept on the porch. This morning he thanked me when I opened the house and brought him out some coffee, then he left. His name is Nathaniel.

So far, so good. Though I've had that nervous-excited feeling that comes when you're doing something that pushes you further than you've gone before. But I like the atmosphere and work here so far.

The only thing I'm hesitant about is being in charge of the emergency fund, which can be used when people come asking for money for something (bus tickets, bills, ID cards, etc). I don't think I want to do that. Someone today was already asking if I was able to sign checks. And I don't want to be looked at that way, like a rich benefactor. I understand that people can be helped in many more ways if we have that money to spend, but I'm not sure I want to help people that way. Dependence on money is not something I want to promote. And it's such a temptation for people to be dishonest in their requests; it's not the same way when we're giving out food or clothes. Then there's the personal tempations that come when we take the power of money into our own hands. I've stepped away from the problem of money in my personal life and I don't think I want to step back into it here.

The good news is that there's lots of other ways to help people. Jesus showed us that.

"What then shall we do?"

This morning I was reading in Luke and came across this:

John said to the multitudes that came out to be baptized by him... "Even now the axe is laid to the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire."

And the multitudes asked him, "What then shall we do?"

And he answered them, "He who has two coats, let him share with him who has none; and he who has food, let him do likewise." (Lk 3.7-11)

A good passage to keep in mind today as we make plans to take in guests tomorrow. A few women (including Darcy) have already asked to stay here.