the harvest

We've been bringing in the harvest. My first day we dug potatoes and garlic. Yesterday it was tomatoes and red onions.

And this morning we started picking corn at 5:30 to be able to send it fresh to the farmer's market in town.

Then I came back, got a cup of coffee, and found the library. There was a book there by Jacques Ellul, on Revelation (a harvest of a different kind). I'd just been reading Revelation so I took a look, and it brought something interesting to my attention. There are only two (of the seven) churches that are not criticized or threatened by the Spirit in Rev 2-3. Smyrna and Philadelphia. Notice how they are described:

"I know your tribulation and your poverty (but you are rich)... Do not fear what you are about to suffer."

"I know that you have but little power, and yet you have kept my word... you have kept my word of patient endurance."

(Contrast this to the description of the church I wrote about a few days ago.)

And the promise to these poor, powerless churches?

"Behold, I will make [your oppressors] come and bow down before your feet, and learn that I have loved you."

like a child

"Truly, I say to you,
whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child
shall not enter it." (Mk 10.15)


Yesterday I was telling Heather about a conversation I had with Catherine in South Bend. I'd been describing my surprise about Heather, how I was not looking for a girlfriend when I met her, and even when I had imagined a woman who might embrace me, it was not a woman like her. I'd imagined a physically and mentally tough woman. One who was frugal, used to roughing it, who could handle a hard life of voluntary poverty. If any woman would put up with a life like mine, I thought it would be a woman like that. And that's not Heather.

But as I wondered about that, I realized something. I'm not like that either.

It's not toughness that has drawn me into this path or enabled me to persevere. It's not frugality or hard work that have made it possible. It's grace. And because of that, the path hasn't made me harder as I walk it, but meeker, gentler, more willing to be vulnerable and dependent. More childlike.

And that's what Heather is like, in the very best sense. A child. With a heart that wants to believe, to trust, to hope. Idealistic. Wanting to be a saint, because that's the very best thing to be (why don't all Christians want that?). Open. Eager. With hands up, ready to be lifted by God.

I won't beatify her any more than that. I'll just say: Me, too.

and... I'm home

"Sidebar," Ashley said, pulling one of the guys off for a private talk. When they came back, I was very surprised by what they had in mind.

I had stopped at a church just over the state line into Illinois, and was sitting out back reading, wondering if it would rain that night. Then I heard voices. Some teenagers had pulled up and began talking and joking. Soon someone noticed me sitting there and I introduced myself. They didn't seem bothered by my presence.

Then Jeremy came over to ask questions about my walk. We began talking and gradually all of them gathered around. They were friendly and interested, some of them members at the church, all of them surprisingly comfortable with a stranger. Then they surprised me more by offering to drive me all the way to the farm. "We've been thinking it's about time for a road trip. What kind of music do you like?"

They also arranged somewhere for all of us to stay that night (after I met some parents). We all slept in the lounge area at Restoration Ministries, a live-in rehab center affiliated with their church. Or rather, I slept. They spent the night mostly talking and laughing and telling each other to be quiet.

At around six the next morning, we piled into Eric's car with Joe driving. When we pulled up next to a red convertible with a businessman at the wheel and a "MR G" license plate, Joe shouted, "Hey, it's Mr. G! Hi Mr. G!"

"What are you teenagers doing up so early?" Mr. G wanted to know.

The ride was pretty loud and very fast. I had to brace myself around every corner (and broke into spontaneous prayer more than once). But even though they admitted to being "directionally challenged," we only made one wrong turn in our 100-mile journey.

The car bounced into the gravel farm road before eleven, and I went looking for Heather. Christi followed along, wanting to see Heather's reaction, and the rest of the group followed her. After knocking on two doors (since I didn't know which house Heather was staying in), she appeared at the third one. Her expression was a beautiful mixture of happiness and shock. How...? And who were all these teenagers looking at her?

Then we embraced and I was home.

They all stayed for lunch, then started back, arms waving out the windows all the way down the road. "Have a nice life!"

In all my travels, I never met a group of young people (or any people) like that before. But I'd like to again. That was a fun fifteen hours.


This morning Heather and I saw the sun rise as we walked to the fields for work. And later, sitting in the grass overlooking pretty Daisy hill, quiet all around, we chanted psalms together again:

For God alone my soul waits in silence,
for my hope is from him.

He only is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress; I shall not be shaken.
On God rests my deliverance and my honor;
my mighty rock, my refuge is God.

Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your heart before him;
God is a refuge for us.

took a short cut

Hammond, IN

Really enjoyed my time with the Catholic Workers in South Bend. Especially the longer talks with Catherine and Violet and Patrick. And going to mass with Jenna and Liz and others from the house.

At church there was a Holy Cross brother from Uganda, talking about their work and gathering funds. So I gave him $10. Then after the service a woman (who had just heard I'm walking) comes up to me and offers me $20. "If you wouldn't be offended," she said.

That suddenly came in handy this morning. As I was walking out of South Bend, concerned about the heat and about whether I'd make it to Plow Creek before the Jesus Radicals conference (it didn't seem likely), I came to the airport. Where I had caught a commuter train into Chicago to conclude my walk two years ago.

That gave me an idea. I checked the map, then hopped on the train. And now I'm several days closer (and I also slipped through a couple big thunderstorms). I wasn't sure where I'd be when I got off the train, but the concessions guy in the station pointed me to the library. So I'm back on track.

"in the waves of the divine will"

I have the feeling that what is asked of us is to live in the whirlwind, without keeping back any of our substance, without keeping back anything for ourselves... in fact to let ourselves pitch and toss in the waves of the divine will till the day when it will say: "That's enough."

-Raissa Maritain

I've had some good conversations with the Catholic Workers here in South Bend. Like today, with Patrick, about how to best help people who are alcoholics. Yesterday I happened to be there when several of the workers were confronting a guest who has alcohol problems, who has made life in the house very difficult at times and who has had trouble making any progress. They continue to be patient with him. But it's hard to know what love calls for in a case like that.

A couple things seem important for me in dealing with such hard situations. One, I'd want to remember to always keep focused on doing what is best for that person, rather than myself or even others in the house. That's the only way for love to be communicated clearly. If we're trying to protect ourselves or our property or other people, the person will sense that our loyalties are elsewhere. And I believe if we truly are doing what's best (most loving) for that person, we will also be doing good for the other people involved. As was read in church this morning: "In everything God works for good with those who love him." (Rom 8.28) Real, God-inspired love cannot be divided against itself. Love never conflicts with love.

And, two, I'd want to be ready to suffer when the person is untrustworthy or unfaithful. God keeps his covenant with us even we don't live up to our part of the agreement, so we should also forgive and be faithful in our love for others even when they break their promises (as people with addictions often do). And this usually includes loss and suffering on our part. Are we willing to let go, "to let ourselves pitch and toss in the waves of the divine will"?

I'm very thankful not to be alone in this. At lunch I was making new friends with Mike and Violet, a young couple who are also interested in raising a family in community and with the poor. And this morning in church, backed up by a lively gospel choir, Brenna sang beautifully this song by Danielle Rose:

Holiness is faithfulness
Holiness is joy
I am not bound to loneliness
When I follow Christ my Lord

"To the church in Anytown, USA, write..."

I'm in South Bend, IN, at the Catholic Worker here. This is also where they have the offices for the Catholic Peace Fellowship, an organization to inform and assist conscientious objectors.



This morning I read these words in Revelation, and think they are appropriate for most churches in this country:

"I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth.

"For you say, 'I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing'; not knowing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.

"Therefore I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, that you may be rich, and white garments [of suffering] to clothe you and to keep the shame of your nakedness from being seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, that you may see.

"Those whom I love, I reprove and chasten; so be zealous and repent." (Rev 3.15-19)

the brethren

Saul arose from the ground; and when his eyes were opened, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus...

Thinking this morning about how I got to be among friends here, I remembered the story of Saul's conversion (in Acts 9). From the moment his eyes were opened he was led by the hand, into a series of relationships and underground communities who helped him and sheltered him. The vision of Christ threw his plans into disarray and isolated him. But then someone was sent to take him in and introduce him to new brothers and sisters, who (cautiously) embraced the one who had formerly hunted them.

When I left the seminary and first started walking, in the summer of 2000, I felt very alone. Not many encouraging voices and no one (at least no one alive I could see) to show me the way. That isolation made even an introvert like me hungry for someone who understood. Then, that winter I found the Jesus Radicals website, which said what I was hoping to hear: "You are not alone."

I spent a lot of time that winter in the JR discussion forum, talking with Andy and Nekeisha (and others around the country) about a wide range of thoughts on the Christian life and the society around us. And, in the years that followed, I visited many of those people on my walks. In South Carolina, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York. During one walk, Eric, a friend from the forum and a Catholic Worker in Illinois, arranged to pick me up to take me to the first JR conference. That was in New York City, where I first met Andy and Nekeisha in person.

The following year I heard of Reba Place in the forum, and since I was walking to Chicago anyway, I decided to visit. And ended up staying for almost three years. There I found many new friends, living in a household with ten other people. And there I met Heather.

Last fall, just as Heather and I were wondering about our next step, Eric invited me to lead a discussion at the Catholic Worker in Champaign, IL. That turned out to be our introduction to the many people who we'll be living and working with for the next year. And it inspired my visits to several CW houses this summer, in Akron, Cleveland, and now South Bend. Lots of new friends and kindred spirits.

This year's walk will end at Plow Creek farm, a community that sprung out of Reba Place. There I'll see Heather again, as well as Reba friends, and get to see Rose, a new friend I recently met in the JR forum. And several of us will go to this year's JR conference in Chicago. Then back to the farm for a few weeks, to work and get to know "the brethren" there.

It just seems like an ever widening web of relationships and friendly places that I've been led to, from the moment of my first shaky step. And my travels and visits to a variety of communities has helped me see the common spirit and spiritual interconnectedness among the people of God. So I'm not inclined to accept a structured, institutional substitute for "the brethren." It's the Spirit that makes us brothers and sisters, and that spirit blows where it pleases. It shows us the relationships that we have been brought into through Christ, directing us to the people and places prepared for us. Leading us by the hand.

thy kingdom come

I'm still in Elkhart, but now that Andy and Nekeisha have come home I'm staying at their place. Their being away, though, allowed me to spend several enjoyable days at Emmaus house with Biff. We have a lot in common and had some long conversations.

One of the best ones had to do with the present reality of the kingdom of God. As I was looking at a Catholic Worker paper the day before, I noticed indignant protests against injustices, and frequent references to hopeful Old Testament promises. It made me think of the Israelites crying out from bondage in Egypt. And that's how I've often heard people praying "Thy kingdom come." As a cry for mercy. A cry that doesn't seem to be answered, if we look at the suffering around us.

Is God really withholding his kingdom from us, delaying his promises to his suffering people? Or is his kingdom being held back by the powers of this world: oppressive governments, global corporations, authoritarian religions? It would seem that way, from some of the sermons I hear and the diatribes I read...

But what of Jesus' proclamation: "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand!" (Mk 1.15) Isn't that the "good news"? The long hoped-for moment, the release the Israelites cried out for?

Doesn't Jesus' announcement make any difference? He didn't mean it as just some internal attitude adjustment, or a salvation for souls only--someday. Jesus spoke in very concrete terms:

"Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands, for my sake and for the gospel, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this time, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and in the age to come eternal life." (Mk 10.29-30)

And his life demonstrated the very physical reality of this. I read these lines again yesterday morning, sitting in a new house, with a new brother waiting for me downstairs.

The kingdom of God is not withheld from us. It is available to all who accept it as real and as a gift from God, the "pearl of great price" for which we are glad to sell everything we own (Mt 13.45-46). And we don't have to be privileged (socially, intellectually, economically) to experience it. To the privileged, Jesus said, "Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before you." (Mt 21.28-31)

They're going in. Right now. We need not complain to God or blame the powerful for holding back God's kingdom. We need to joyfully accept Jesus' announcement, "The kingdom of God has come upon you" (Mt 12.28), and enter in.

followers, not admirers

Yesterday I found this in an excerpt from one of Soren Kierkegaard's writings:

It is well known that Christ consistently used the expression "follower." He never asks for admirers, worshippers, or adherents. No, he calls disciples. It is not adherents of a teaching but followers of a life Christ is looking for.

...Admirers make the same demands that are made in the theater: to sit safe and calm. Admirers are only all too willing to serve Christ as long as proper caution is exercised, lest one personally come in contact with danger. As such, they refuse to accept that Christ's life is a demand. ...[If] they honestly see Christ for who he is, they are no longer able to experience the tranquillity they so much seek after. They know full well that to associate with him too closely amounts to being up for examination. Even though he says nothing against them personally, they know that his life tacitly judges theirs.


...Now suppose that there is no longer any special danger, as it no doubt is in so many of our Christian countries, bound up with publicly confessing Christ. The difference between following and admiring still remains. Forget about this danger connected with confessing Christ and think rather of the real danger which is inescapably bound up with being a Christian. Does not the Way--Christ's requirement to die to the world and deny self [in the midst of a society that does the opposite]--does this not contain enough danger?

...The admirer always plays it safe. Though in word he is inexhaustible about how highly he prizes Christ, he renounces nothing, will not reconstruct his life, and will not let his life express what he supposedly admires. ...The follower aspires with all his strength to be what he admires. And then, remarkably enough, even though he is living amongst a "Christian people," he incurs the same peril as he did when it was dangerous to openly confess Christ.

"[We] know full well that to associate with him too closely amounts to being up for examination..." So we imagine a Christ set apart from us, who we can admire--but never be.

This may even be the case in the Catholic Worker emphasis on "seeing Christ in the poor" (illustrated in this popular picture, "Christ of the Breadlines" by Fritz Eichenberg) or "serving Christ in the poor" (based on Mt 25, which I've written about before: here, here, and here). This seems to be a humble attitude to take, seeing "the other" as Christ. Just as it seems humble to say "I'm only human." But seeing Christ in others, loving Christ in others, serving Christ in others, is still setting ourselves apart from Christ, distancing ourselves to some extent.

And Jesus prayed that he be, not "the other" to us, but in us:

"I do not pray for these only, but also for those who believe in me through their word... that the love with which thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them." (Jn 17.20,26)

And Jesus taught his followers that they would be his presence, his body, in the world: "He who receives you receives me... He who hears you hears me, and he who rejects you rejects me..." (Mt 10.40, Lk 10.16)

To accept the call to be the presence of Christ in the world is not prideful--terrifying is the better word. Because we constantly must face the "examination" of his life compared to ours. And the dangers of following his Way. We recall that when Jesus said, "It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master," (in Mt 10) he was sending out his followers "as sheep in the midst of wolves."

"Take nothing for your journey"

On recommendation by Andy Alexis-Baker (a Jesus Radicals friend), I'm staying with Biff Weidman, a pastor at the Fellowship of Hope Mennonite church in Elkhart. Years ago, Fellowship of Hope used to be a common purse intentional community like Reba Place, and a few of the Reba interns grew up here. The house I'm in was formerly the home of a big communal household. Now it's used for hospitality. There are pictures from the Catholic Worker and quotes by Thomas Merton and Charles deFoucauld on the walls, so I feel very comfortable here. This morning, I prayed with Biff and a few other women, then we had breakfast together and a good discussion.

Perusing the bookshelves, I found this passage in Take Nothing For Your Journey, by Mary Fritz (a commentary on Lk 9.1-6):

"Take nothing for your journey" means detachment; not to possess or be possessed... the condition for preaching the Kingdom and healing.

The truth is, nothing and no one belongs to me. If I am gifted with some thing or some person, the only truthful posture is gratitude, reverence, the open hand, awe. As soon as I grab on to, clutch, cling, chain down or pull apart, I sin against the truth. I destroy the givenness of reality. I become lost in an illusion.

The nakedness with which I came from the womb and the nakedness with which I will be returned to the earth, the empty hands and helplessness of birth and death, describe the parameters of the non-possessive life, i.e., TOTAL.

The only thing I will have to call mine... the only thing I will have to bring back to the Father, will be my "heart," that is, the real self, where truths contemplated have made a difference... where loves have become communions and not conquests.

When I read "...the open hand..." I was immediately reminded of something Heather once wrote.


(And, lest we take this non-possessiveness in a merely "spiritual" sense, it's good to recall Jacques Ellul's words:

It is much too easy when we are rich in money to talk as if we were poor, to speak of spiritual detachment, and so forth. The Bible expressly condemns this attitude...

For more, see this previous journal entry.)