Funston’s Firefighting and Christian Conflagrations: A Parallel?

Gen. Frederick Funston

Thirteenth Avenue in San Francisco does not exist. At least, there is no street by that name. Between Twelfth and Fourteenth you will find Funston Avenue where the unluckiest number is replaced with a name that some consider to be far unluckier.

During the cataclysmic fire that followed the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake, in order to extinguish the blaze, the commander of the U.S. Army post at the Presidio sought to rob the advancing flames of combustibles in their path. General Frederick Funston’s orders to use explosives to create a firebreak resulted in smoldering and flaming materials being scattered ahead of the fire lines, igniting still more fires. While Funston was initially hailed a hero for his decisive actions (in addition to his questionable firefighting techniques, other unforeseen side-effects allegedly included the deaths of innocent residents when “shoot-on-sight” orders were issued to prevent looting), later evaluations were not so charitable. Thus, renaming Thirteenth Avenue has been seen as either signifying an improvement or irony, largely depending upon which view one takes of General Funston.

This all came to mind as I was reading a post by Paul Louis Metzger that describes a variety of firefighting techniques, building an analogy to conflict resolution and its myriad strategies and tactics. Dr. Metzger compiles them into three categories when he writes, “some situations call for starting conflicts, some call for containing conflicts, while others call for putting out conflicts.” (His post can be found here.)

Some who follow my blog know of the conflicts that continue to smolder at my alma mater and former employer. Those embers that have long been smoldering, occasionally erupted, and have at times explosively removed those whose passions were seen as fuel to be eliminated, or whose talents and contributions were seen as expendable, or both.

How can it be easier to unite under this banner...

Among those overheated exchanges, several attempts at conflict resolution and relational reconciliation failed to rally cooperation due to disagreements over the purposes and priorities of those who sought to establish what the outcome would be, before seeking to engage in the dialogue that would lead to it. Dr. Metzger writes, “The purpose of generating such unease and conflict should always be redemptive.” But the priority of removing those who fail to fall into line with the dominant narrative seems to contradict any claims to resolution and reconciliation.

It is not just at the rarified altitudes of academics and administrators where these conflicts are so decisively ended. At this writing, two more church buildings in my area stand vacant. Both on the main highway that connects Redding to the northeastern California town of Alturas. Both were victims of conflicts that were certainly brought to someone’s conclusion, though not to a resulting cooperation and collaboration.

...than under this one?

Where Dr. Metzger’s point is to encourage “inter-religious or inter-faith dialogue,” he offers the example of a beloved friend who saw the conflicting values and beliefs, “but probed them critically and charitably to cultivate understanding to reduce conflict wherever possible and build trust as neighbors and friends.” It was my privilege to meet Dr. Metzger’s friend on two occasions. First, during an inter-faith gathering of students from Multnomah Biblical Seminary, George Fox University, and our hosts for the event—The Dharma Rain Zen Buddhist Center. The second event was the dedication of their new facilities just over a year later. Abbot Kyogen Carlson, a Zen Buddhist priest, fostered dialogue and sought to resolve conflicts, just as Dr. Metzger does. But where they have sought to do so, and have done so successfully among very different groups of adherents, the means to such ends seem to be beyond the grasp of those who, theoretically, serve the same Christ within similar Christian traditions, or even, as is the case with Simpson University, within the same faculty, staff, and administration who assent to the same doctrinal statement of the same denomination.

I do not mean to downplay the severity of the conflicts that some of us have endured. But I do mean to question how it is that those who share an allegiance to Christ can so easily disregard our allegiance to one another, especially when some who hold mutually-exclusive beliefs find ways to resolve conflict, reconcile relationships, and actively cooperate and collaborate toward mutually-beneficial ends.

Perhaps the first step for us as Christians, toward bringing our conflicts into clearer resolution and reconciling our relationships with one another, might be to swear-off General Funston’s strategies.

Stop blowing things up; and stop shooting anyone who’s not in our uniform.

“A Rose by Any Other Name?” Yes. But calling one a tulip doesn’t make the thorns go away – Why I think we’ve cornered the market on Forgiveness.

"This is about 'forgiveness?' So what's my picture doing here?"

In response to a post by Paul Louis Metzger which included a discussion of some Buddhists’ quest for “emancipation” and its bearing on Christ’s sacrifice and forgiveness (Dr. Metzger’s post is here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2014/08/imagine-a-world-without-forgiveness/), my friend and colleague, Chaplain Chris Haughee wrote, “Metzger’s post is entitled ‘Imagine a world without forgiveness,’ and I have one small problem with it…it seems to presuppose that the concept of forgiveness is unique to Christianity, or at least to the person of Jesus Christ.” (Chaplain Haughee’s post is here: http://fullhousewithaces.com/2014/08/27/who-owns-forgiveness/) Here is my reply.

"Forgiveness? MY boys?! Sorry, no. But penance, well..."

I would agree that Dr. Metzger portrays a forgiveness that is unique to Christianity, not necessarily that “the concept of forgiveness” is as unique. Everyone wants to talk about forgiveness, it seems. But the question that comes to this chaplain’s mind is this: Is what you are seeing elsewhere really forgiveness? Sadly, though, I cannot deny that it is too-seldom seen among followers of Jesus Christ. But there seem to be some important distinctions to be made. 

Even where we seek to practice theology-in-community, I’m hopeful that we realize, as you note, that we cannot “simply distill all religious traditions down to their philosophical ideal” without taking into account the “imperfect permutations” we will always encounter. Just as you rightly emphasize regarding Buddhist “denominationalism,” some of Christ’s most visible adherents routinely neglect to pursue justice, mercy, and humility in their interactions with one another, not to mention with the “large number of families that have come to groups of Jesus’ followers looking for grace, understanding, and compassion, and…have been sent away wanting.”

Forgiveness and compassion are too frequently lacking among many followers of Jesus. But in my experience and education, I find that other religious and non-religious groups provide for something labeled as, but only resembling forgiveness. Again, allowing for limitations in my education and experience, I find others prescribing a mutual disengagement of the issues, a patronizing condescension of another’s “errors,” or a patient trust that one may simply wait to see that “what goes around comes around” (i.e., “Karma’s going to get you eventually”).

The foundational principles on which interpersonal conflict results in either conciliation or separation may qualify only as a “philosophical ideal.” But if we are not clear about the reasons and resources for actual forgiveness, we end up “making do” with something else, which is always something less and, I would reiterate, something different than the forgiveness made available to us, and possible through us, by the sacrifices of Jesus Christ.

Not roses. Don't call them that.

In a few similar conversations, others have expressed their preference for other traditions’ approach to conflict. Some have advocated silent avoidance (“Let’s just agree to disagree.”), sullen minimalization (“No, it’s not really that important.”), or Solomonic arbitration (“Can we just split the difference?”) But I have not found elsewhere an approach such as Jesus recommends (in Matthew 18:15-18), much less that which He admonishes (in Matthew 6:14-15), warns (in Matthew 18:21-35), and commands (Luke 17:1-4) regarding a forgiveness based in emulating His sacrifices.

The sacrifices necessary to consistently show mercy require a desperate reliance on the protection and provision promised by Christ. Otherwise, even where some friends are seeking to entirely eradicate their self (see my post at http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/08/unity-in-and-among-diversity-level-two.html), the human tendency to self-preservation, at the very least, requires us to place limitations on the exercise of anything remotely resembling Christ’s completion of and our calling to forgiveness.

From my perspective, then, only in a cruciform, sacrificial servanthood (II Corinthians 4:5, Philippians 2:17, Colossians 1:24, etc.), which is possible only through the Christ-conforming influence of the Holy Spirit, is there any foundation and, therefore, any potential for true forgiveness.

As my friend noted, “This, certainly, is a topic that has been and will be hotly debated.” And it may require some forgiveness, too. But I hope that you will comment in either confirmation, contradiction, or both—depending upon the particular areas that interest you.

Thought I should leave you with a dozen roses.

Unity in and among Diversity – Level Two: Compassion – The voluntary and intentional acceptance of our responsibility to engage others

Another excellent wordless book.

In my previous post on Sympathy, I sought to make two vital truths clear.

First, that the only alternative to sympathy is to actively establish and reinforce our antipathy toward those we choose to exclude from consideration as our fellow human beings. Otherwise, we would be forced to acknowledge even a minimal identification with their experience, and “feel for them,” perhaps even expressing that sentiment before returning to our own personal concerns.

Second, that allowing ourselves to experience sympathy for any other person almost invariably leads us to do more than merely express our acknowledgement of another’s circumstance and its consequences. When we truly recognize the realities of another’s experience, it becomes difficult to ignore the correlation between their needs and “our” resources. For all our more exacting definitions of “ministry,” the simple fulfillment of loving our neighbors as ourselves is this: Applying the resources God provides to the needs He shows us.

The Foundations of Compassion

What is that causes us not only to recognize, but to feel compelled to do something about another’s condition? We may not be able to entirely ameliorate their circumstances (as I noted in the “sympathy” post—ameliorate = to improve or restore another from having incurred damage). Perhaps we may merely mitigate the consequences (i.e., lessen the severity of damage to another from their condition). And sometimes, we will find that we can only imperfectly palliate what they are experiencing (i.e., diminish the pain they feel amidst the damage being done). The frustrations are very real. There is often less we can do than we would like to do. But the need to step forward in compassion is a very real motivator resulting from a foundational impulse built into us as human beings.

Do you hear it? Something's out there.

The reality of our interdependence upon other human beings is undeniable. But rather than begrudging the necessity of interpersonal interaction, most of us choose to form relationships with others. In fact, we often choose to live with at least a few others in authentic, transparent, and vulnerable intimacy. Even if we were guaranteed protection from others’ damaged condition resulting in damage to us (As one has phrased it, “Hurt people hurt people.”), the simple fact of recognizing others’ needs and meeting them from with “our” resources recommends against such actions. So why do we engage others at all? Much less in even casual relationships? Not to mention the handful of close, personal bonds that sometimes magnify the pain of unmet expectations, coupled with the inevitable loss that will eventually occur?

Why do we do it?!

Because that’s the way we are built. For all the other imaginations of what it means to be “created to bear the image and likeness of God,” it is clearest to me when I remember that I am called to serve “one God, eternally existing in three persons.” The interrelatedness of human beings is merely a reflection of the interrelatedness of the Creator who formed each of us, and built into us the same impulse to vital connection that exists among the persons of that one God. There’s much more to say about the Trinity, of course. But I don’t want to leave our discussion of unity in and among diversity, and especially the requirements that must be met for compassion to be fulfilled, not frustrated.

The Essential Condition of Compassion

There are alternatives, of course. Paul Louis Metzger recently wrote regarding the perception of some Amida Buddhist friends that our goal should be emancipation from anything external to ourselves. Quoting Buddhism’s “Heart Sutra,” Dr. Metzger points out that some Buddhists see John Lennon’s “Imagine” as synopsizing their ultimate goal of withdrawal from anything of meaning, anything that would cause passion, or even a response to the physical world in which we live. Success in eliminating one’s own personhood would seem to overcome any interpersonal conflicts. But in a world where our minds and hearts are inexorably intertwined with a body that cannot help but interact with the surrounding world, the necessity of interpersonal relationships is indisputable. The inherently impersonal eradication of self is an impossibility, since it would be the self that must will and act to eradicate its self.

It's not difficult to enforce solitude...temporarily.

Our interpersonal interactions will necessarily entail the recognition of one another’s needs. We are designed to respond in sympathy to one another, and to act on that sympathy in compassion. As Buddhists rightly observe, this leads to conflict. Even when I choose to share “my” resources with another, there is the potential for them to see my actions as patronizing, or even demeaning toward them. And, whether gratitude is shown or not, I may imagine that my role is more essential to them than theirs is to me. I may proudly take on the role of benefactor, forgetting that they possess important resources for my needs, even as I deliver assistance to them.

Is the solution, then, to these inevitable interpersonal conflicts the Buddhist’s eradication of self? If that were possible, if withdrawal into impersonal isolation comes within reach, from where comes this continued longing for “emancipation” that Dr. Metzger’s sources describe? In that context, it would seem that our greatest emancipation must surely be a secure asylum from the “hell” that is “other people?” (That’s existentialist Jean Paul Sartre’s estimation, by the way, not mine.)

But it might be good to hear others' opinions, too.

So, what alternative remains? Our interpersonal impulses are undeniable, and conflict, therefore, is inevitable. On what basis, then, can we fulfill our desires to engage one another in compassion? Rather than withdrawing into isolation, how do we still avoid escalating the conflict until it is the other’s person we eradicate?

Compassion can continue, despite the conflicts our interpersonal relationship create between those in need and those with resources (even when we recognize that those in need have resources that are needed by those with certain resources for the other’s need). Because, in addition to being built with an impulse to interpersonal relationships, we are also built with an innate recognition of our own contributions to interpersonal conflicts. As much, and often more, than I need to forgive others for their roles in conflict, I need the forgiveness of others for my own roles in creating, ignoring, patronizing, or simply failing to ameliorate, mitigate, or palliate wherever I have opportunity.

Dr. Metzger’s conclusion, that “we can break out of the perpetual cycle of hostility and extend forgiveness to others” by pursuing “a way that produces actions of love rather than those of indifference and hate.” That way leads to, into, and through a relationship with the One who has sought to establish the foundations of our compassion by showing, in the most extraordinary terms, His compassion in providing for our forgiveness.

On a practical note: What if there’s nothing I can do?

Compassion’s calling on our lives can be all too clear when another needs financial support, an extra hand for an occasional project, a ride to the doctor’s office, or even a shoulder to cry on…temporarily. But there if often a nagging sense that we should do something about needs that are not so clear, and especially about needs that are clearly beyond our ability to ameliorate, mitigate, or even palliate. (I hope it’s clear that I think you should learn these vocabulary words.)

You never know when you'll need someone to reciprocate.

In the most extreme circumstances, it may seem like we have nothing whatsoever to share, simply because we cannot imagine that anyone has anything to share that could help in any way. For example, regarding the frustrations of those who desperately wish to make a more tangible difference in the brief remaining lives of the imminently dying, a couple of quotes frequently come to mind.

I remember it being Jackson Rainer who said, at an American Academy of Bereavement training, “To exist with them at the moment of their crisis is to be significant in the life of another.” Dr. Chris Camarata, former medical director for Mayers Memorial Hopsital/Intermountain Hospice, frequently commented, “Don’t underestimate the impact of being willing to sit with them, even if all we can do is to bear silent witness to their pain.” I have been in many situation as a chaplain, pastor, friend, and/or family member where there was nothing I could change about the circumstances others were facing. But that doesn’t mean I had nothing to do. It took great effort, in fact. But in those times and places, I stayed.

Sometimes, our greatest compassion is shown by fighting the urge to flee from what we cannot fix.

Even if what needs fixed is my self.

Where We Disagree: How Christian-Muslim Dialogue Might Teach Us To Pursue Christian Unity

Dr. Paul Louis Metzger wrote on Monday regarding the issues central to the mutual exclusivity of Islam and Christianity (i.e., You can be one or the other, but despite a Muslim leader’s claim that one who converts from Christianity to Islam “does not lose Jesus, but gains Muhammad,” you cannot do both. The “Jesus” that could be accommodated in Islam is something other than the historical/Biblical Jesus). My thoughts below were prompted by his post found here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2013/11/is-the-cross-the-crux-of-the-divide-between-christianity-and-islam/

I have recently been blessed by a couple of conversations with a Buddhist acquaintance in which we were able to clearly identify the crucial (pun intended) point of departure in our spiritual lives as being the nature of God and specifically the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. So, it resonated strongly with me when Dr. Paul Louis Metzger wrote regarding the primary point of departure between Muslims and Christians, “We need to be clear on what we mean by Jesus, Christian, and Muslim.”

But sadly, what also resonated is Dr. Metzger’s quote of the excellently clear and concise statement by Daniel W. Brown regarding this primary point of departure between Islam and Christianity: “whether the character of God is most clearly revealed in a perfect life culminating in redemptive death or in a perfect book giving rise to a perfect life.” What saddens me about such inspiring clarity? It is that this also describes the point of departure in the murky dissection of Christ’s body as cessationism is currently being championed so divisively. (“Cessationism” is the theological stance behind Dr. John McArthur’s recent attacks on fellow-Christians of the Charismatic persuasion)

 

As we engage those of other religions and cultures, perhaps we might learn better how to seek dialogue with the divisive in our own camps. To borrow from Dr. Metzger’s phrasing: “We need to be clear on what we mean by Jesus Christ, our Heavenly Father, and the Holy Spirit, as well as our own perfect book as His means of guiding us into becoming and being Christian.”

Could it be that patterns developed in multi-cultural engagement may best inform our engagement with one another as we seek to bring into clearer resolution our conflicts, and reconcile our relationships within the Church? Again, taking some liberties to quote Dr. Metzger again, this effort to discern the core issues of our disagreement is certainly “Easier said than done.” But it might be a worthy enterprise.

Standing in the Intersection: Ambassadors in the Traffic

At the risk of oversimplification: ambassadors are defined by a two-fold responsibility. First, they must develop and maintain relationships among those to whom they are sent. Second, they must also hold unswervingly to the values and message entrusted to them by those from whom they are sent. As one called to be a Christian ambassador (II Corinthians 5:20), this is complicated by the absence of diplomatic relations between the kingdom that sends me (I Peter 2:9-10) and the overarching government under which any other allegiances are organized (“the whole world” as explained in I John 5:19-21). We often express this as the challenge of being in the world, while not becoming of the world.

This past Saturday, privileged to observe the groundbreaking of the Dharma Rain Zen Center’s new facilities in Portland, Oregon, I stood somewhere in the intersection of those two responsibilities. My vantage point was not from the curb of the corner, but amidst the traffic flowing in several directions simultaneously.

On the one hand, I was anxious over the potential for inadvertently offending my hosts, especially since I was there as a guest of a guest (Dr. Paul Louis Metzger, head of the Cultural Engagement track in Multnomah’s DMin program was one of the featured dignitaries). On the other, however, I was anxious over the potential for participating in some portion of the festivities that might inadvertently communicate an adherence or agreement to the philosophy and spirituality of Zen Buddhism. One particular episode may illustrate that sufficiently for you:

After watching the rituals and listening to the mantras, hearing a few of the explanations offered (outdoor sound system difficulties are among the experiences Christians and Buddhists share, apparently), members of Dharma Rain moved throughout the assembled crowd, distributing paper cups. Recognizing that this would be a part of the ceremony, and having no idea what it may symbolize, I declined. And then another asked, and I declined again. Having watched me say, “No, thank you” three times, the fourth in our area offered again, saying, “But it’s just birdseed.” I have some ideas about what it means to throw birdseed, or rice, or confetti (though at our church, amidst fields of wild rice and vegan cattle, it would only be organic, biodegradable confetti). But the risk of offending my hosts collided with my allegiance to a pure message of my Lord—because there wasn’t time to merge, or swerve, or diplomatically inquire as to what was intended as the significance of birdseed throwing in this context. Thankfully, she seemed only puzzled and there was no diplomacy-breaching incident. But I feel strongly the need to learn from even this brief and otherwise inconsequential experience.

I want to commend to you and myself the value of standing in the intersection, fully recognizing both elements of our responsibility in being ambassadors for Christ: authenticity in representing my Sovereign, and as much accommodation of my hosts as is possible. In doing this, I believe there may be two outcomes, eventually, of this continuing endeavor. It may be, as one outcome, that I may become acclimated to the pace of the traffic and better equipped to respond more quickly in determining what it means to honor the relationships I am to build and the relationship I am called to represent. The other outcome, however, may be naïvely ambitious. But if I learn how to stand in the intersection well enough, I may slow the traffic, or at least be better prepared to turn some portions of that world toward the King who sends me into it.

Because no matter how accommodating I am to those under that other, oppressive umbrella comprising their subsidiary allegiances, my Sovereign-assigned mission is to seek their reconciliation with Him. There won’t always be time to sort through the data, to draw upon resources for cultural literacy, or even to simply ask for clarification. And so, when they conflict, the authenticity of representing my Sovereign must take precedence over my accommodation of my hosts.