Tolstoy's Got Nothing On Me!

Can I toot my own horn (isn’t that the purpose of a blog after all)? I recently finished reading

War

And Peace

This is no small accomplishment. It is not the same as writing a dissertation, but it is something that I am proud of. I now can join the elite group of people who have actually read this classic tome.

I’m not an expert in Russian Literature, so any thought or analysis that I can offer will be lacking that snobby nuance that I usually like to have when I reflect on theology. So instead of speaking to the subtle aspects of Tolstoy’s writing and cultural critique, I’ll paint broad strokes.

War is bad, kinda. In times of war the amount of chaos, destruction, death, and human fallenness is almost unimaginable. Yet there are also moments of people rising about their own failings, their own faults, and even thinking about others. War forces many to let go of the little distractions and to focus on the major aspects of life. Case in point: Pierre, one of the main characters, was constantly trying to find meaning in his life and it wasn’t until he was a prisoner of the French, when he knew that he could be killed any day that he began to truly see a way to live without attachment and still with joy. So war is bad, sorta.

Peace is good, kinda. In times of peace less people are being overtly massacred, crops grow, society flourishes, etc. Yet in times of peace people are sucked into the minutia of the absurd. Who is flirting with whom, who is trying to get political favor, and someone doing or saying things that are seen as uncouth becomes the fore of conversation. Gossip reigns and many of the worst of human behavior rise and flourishes in times of peace. So peace is good, sorta.

Like I said, I’m not a scholar of Russian Literature, so I am sure I am missing a lot. It is a really well written work with engaging stories, and I strongly recommend it to others. As to the big picture ideas that I find: humans are good and bad regardless of the time and the political context. Different context bring out different aspects of humanity, but overall I would say that humans are good and bad. Maybe Tolstoy should have titled the book “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.” That would make a very catchy movie title.

Formally Known As...

The Southern Baptists are thinking about changing their name! Wow, I guess I have seen everything. For some reason they think the part of the name, “Southern” is a liability. Hmm.

Apparently the popular name that is being passed around is “The Great Commission”

Great Commission Baptists. Does that mean the rest of us do not embrace the Great Commission (Matthew 28)?

Baptists have a gift of splitting and starting new groups and normally the new group would embrace a name that truly described what kind of Baptists they were. For example:

Northern Baptists

Progressive Baptists

Regular Baptists (they eat a lot of prunes)

General Association of Regular Baptists (they eat prunes and fiber cereal)

Landmark Baptists (they are pro state and federal parks)

7^th Day Baptists (as opposed to those darn 8 Day Baptists)

6 Principle Baptists

Two Seed in the Spirit Predestinarian  Baptists (big into farming)

These were names that said something about who they were and what they stood for. Now there is a break-off region from the American Baptists that is called “Growing Healthy Churches,” and the SBC is thinking about going to “Great Commission Baptists” These are not good names.

Again, what does “Great Commission Baptists” mean? Are they now going to take seriously the idea of spreading the gospel to the ends of the earth and plant churches in the Artic and Antarctica? Are they suggesting that all the other Baptists do not believe in the Great Commission? Or… is this an act of panic and desperation because churches are diminishing and members are dropping?

Why doesn’t anyone just adopt the name, “Baptist”?

“What are you?”

“I’m a Baptist!”

“What kind of Baptist?”

“The Baptist kind of Baptist.”

Wouldn’t that be fun?

Really, the name shouldn’t matter in the small scope. People choose churches by community, members, and to a degree their denominational/theological affiliations. In fact, we shouldn’t pick our names/titles at all, but let others do it. Wouldn’t it be interesting if people in the community named the churches in the community?

“That is the white church. That is the Pancake Supper church. That is the big pipe organ church. That is the dying church (wouldn’t that describe them all?).”

Let’s talk language for a bit. Meaning is ascribed to words by the community (however you understand the notion of community). Southern Baptist has taken on a certain meaning by many people. Changing the name does not negate the meaning, but instead confuses the language itself. If you are worried that people may have a negative sense of part or all of your name, then work to change the impression, not the name. I am not a positivist. I do not believe that words have set meanings which cannot be changed. Instead the meanings of words can change as the use and understanding changes. Try to be good Christians, good Baptists, good churches and don’t worry about your name.

Besides, it will cost a bundle to change all of the web sites, stationary, and everything else.

I just got a tattoo stating: Not Southern Baptist and Proud

I really don’t want to remove it.

La Romana 2012 - The Gripping Conclusion!

I’m now back in the States, trying to readjust to the privileged and “normal” life that I left for those seven or eight days (who knows?). I have returned to showering with my mouth open, drinking the water, and throwing my toilet paper into the toilet. Ahh the good life.

I know I am supposed to make one great, final post drawing some kind of reflective conclusion to the whole trip. The strings will begin to play, and you will hear my voice-over as a montage of the trip shows on the video screen. Can you picture it?

“I have been told again and again how lucky I am to be an American, but it isn’t until you leave the country that you…” (sound of record scratching)

I’m not going to do that. It is too happy and neat.

I don’t think there is a happy conclusion. There are still thousands of struggling Haitians in the Dominican Republic living in abject poverty, slavery conditions in the bateyes. There is still a tremendous amount of work to do on the hospital – many, many more piles of sand to move and cement blocks to stack.

 As a side note, the last day I helped to sweep and clear out a lot of rubble from the third floor putting it into a very big rubble pile. To the group that has to clean out that pile – the solitary banana peel is mine. Sorry.

So there still is a lot of work to do – we are not done.

On top of that, one trip does not make me a better, more profound Christian. It does not assure me entrance into heaven (nothin’ but the grace of Jesus). I need to continue to work on finding God in moments of frustration as well as moments of grace. I need to continue to trust that the work I do is a part of something bigger even if I do not see the results. I need to continue to pray, read scripture, and try to make some sense out of my place in the mess we call the world.

There is a lot of work to do – I am not done.

So there will not be a neat voice-over conclusion with strings and a sappy montage. Instead I hope to leave my avid followers somewhat unsettled. We all have work to do. Get up off your lazy a** and get back to work!

Me, I am going to go and stand in a hot shower with my mouth open, drinking in the “safe” water and returning to my “safe” life.

Thanks for following me on this journey and keep coming back. Sometimes I write other posts that are interesting without me traveling out of the country. Remember, go to the La Romana blog to see other reflections, much more serious than mine.

La Romana 2012 - Day 5? - Pretty Churches

Yesterday we went out for dinner, which cut into my blogging time. I had to enjoy time with the other folks in my team, eat pizza (a Dominican delicacy), and have a splendid, splendid evening. So I hope all of my avid readers (all three of you?) can forgive my writing absence for one evening.

Our team went to a batey to do some construction yesterday. We started very excited, told that we would be working on toilets. Remember, there is not any indoor plumbing in the bateyes, so a toilet is a big hole in the ground with a shack over the hole. In laymen’s terms, it is a “pit toilet.” We were excited and ready to dig, dig, and dig.

When we got there we realized that we were not in for the rock-star work that we hoped to have. The holes were already dug. The shacks were already built. All that was needed was four doors, some paint, and some finishing touches of cement. So the glorious work of ditch digging was a dream that never became a reality. The day was spent standing around, moving something, standing around, mixing some cement, standing around, painting, standing around, driving screws into a door, standing around, standing around, and standing around. There was a lot of standing around. This is a part of the wonderful, sacrificial work we do for the sake of Jesus Christ.

Some of the additional work (read: busy work) we did included painting the front of the local church and putting sod around the church. We were making the church look beautiful. It was very obvious in this batey that the church was the nicest building in the community. The homes (if you want to call them homes) were dilapidated and practically falling to pieces, the yards were without any grass or fauna, but the church was beautiful. The church stood out from the other structures like a shining beacon on a hill, a light shining for the world to see. Isn’t that scriptural or something?

I’ve been in other places where I have seen a beautiful church surrounded by poverty and despair and have thought, “gee, wouldn’t it have better if all of that money was used for the poor around the church.” It looked like the message sent was that the church was important, the façade of the church was important, and screw the poor. In this batey, I could easily reach this skeptical and cynical conclusion.

Here is what I realized. For many of the people living in that batey and many of the bateys we encountered, the church was the center of hope. The church building itself represented a different and better life. The church building represented a mystery of a world out there that can be different than the squalor that people faced again and again in their lives. All they knew was despair and the very presence of the church offered hope. Some of the workers, who did not live in the bateyes, but had a “decent” life commented that they make the church look as good as possible because it shows a better way to live to the people in the bateyes. Others said that we make the church look better because it shows the people that their community is not considered worthless. People have made a commitment to their presence, enough of a commitment to spend time, energy, and money on a building that represented hope.

I know that the church is just a building. I know that the stones and mortar do not capture the presence of God and that God can be experienced everywhere. But yesterday I realized that the church is more than a building. If the church was dilapidated, falling apart, in disrepair, that would be a powerful, negative message for the people. It could easily be seen as a message that God does not care. Christians do not care.

A beautiful building offers a beautiful hope. The grass around the building, the tile inside the building offers to the people a place where, for a moment, they can step out of their batey and enter into something different, something better. In a very real way, the church is the Kingdom of God right there and then.

A powerful image, symbol, and sacrament for a people living without any hope.

Is there any way our churches in the United States could be such a symbol?

La Romana 2012 day 4 - Grrrr....

Imagine someone putting their hand on your shoulder, looking you in the eye, and saying in a firm, assuring voice, “It’s gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok.”

Do you feel better?

I went on a bit of a rant yesterday. Not a big one, but a rant nonetheless. What I was expressing was a level of frustration. I wasn’t smart enough to know that was what I was doing at the time, but after some group process and reflection, I have been enlightened (AHHHHH) and now know the truth.

Tonight during our group process and reflection I asked people to share their frustrations. One person from the medical team shared her frustration that people from the team are eating well and there are children and adults all around in the batey who complain they are hungry and we have nothing to offer them. What is so frustrating is that we have the food and we could bring sandwiches if we wanted to.  Why can’t we do more?

Someone from the construction team shared the frustration that sometimes it feels like we are doing very menial work while the people on the medical team are doing amazing things with individuals; they are reaching people and construction folks are moving buckets of sand. Similar to my rant yesterday, that person is frustrated.

These frustrations were voiced during our reflection time and immediately people started to offer solutions. “All we need to do is get some bread, some peanut butter, and we can make the sandwiches.” Or, “You just need to remember that you are a part of a bigger project, of something big.”

“It’s gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok.”

Do you feel better?

Actually, no. Take your platitudes, put them back in your I’m-gonna-fix-it pocket. Don’t try to make things better; don’t cover up our frustrations or our anger. Let us just be mad. Let us just be upset and make a mess.

Think of it this way. If you walk into a room and see me sitting among a pile of broken eggs, bags of flour everywhere, cans dented, etc., etc., there are a couple of things you can do. You could say, “How long until breakfast?” You could say, “You need to clean this up!” Or… you could get into the mess and make it with me, smash more eggs with me, and be angry with me. Then, when everything is done and when we are both sitting on the floor covered with flour and eggs and everything else, we can start to make pancakes. Mmmm, pancakes.

Your advice is fine, nice, and sometimes helpful, but let us wallow in our mess. Let us be frustrated. Then we can all can hold hands and sing “We shall overcome” together knowing that our work is not in vain and that we are making great strides. Yes, someday all workers at hospitals and schools and other places will know that each block they lift is a block of oppression being lifted from the dregs of society. Yes, someday we will have so many peanut butter sandwiches so each child will only have one desire… for jelly.

Until then, lets look to the immortal image of a younger HenryRollins (from his Black Flag days), and get angry, stay angry, and find God in that mess.