“Visible and Invisible” Christianity – Part Two: An Introduction Is Not a Relationship – Why it is essential to reconcile our views of an “invisible” Christianity with our “visible” relationship to Christ and others

Ralph Ellison, author of Invisible Man

In my previous post (found here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/09/visible-and-invisible-christianity-part.html), I explored the imaginations some hold (going back at least to Augustine’s theology) that there is an “invisible” church of ideal purity, imperfectly and vaguely expressed in a “visible” church that comprises both believers and non-believers congregating together. This most often results in the clergy, or the corporately-structured institution, being identified as the “real” church (presumably, but wrongly, on the basis of the clergy and denominational officials being pure and faithful in greater proportion than the “average” Christian). In this view, the tangible church is excused from living up to that ideal. This is, as I noted, a false dichotomy. There is only one church, and its “invisible” relationship to God through Christ is, scripturally, “visible” in the effects of that relationship. Rather than “living-up” to an ideal, the church is the body through which Christ is “living-out” His continued ministry.

Some will ask, “What does this mean to me as an individual Christian?” So, here’s why it matters.

In a recent post, Paul Louis Metzger appears to extend the false dichotomy of the visible and invisible church into questions of a person’s relationship with God through Christ. (His post on the topic can be found here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2014/09/gated-communities-and-the-visibleinvisible-church/) Dr. Metzger refers to Christians who have experienced an “invisible transformation.” In my experience this involves presumably receiving salvation from Jesus Christ as the result of a specific event. It is often emphasized in our consumer-oriented culture as what I would consider a “transaction” in which we exchange our “sinner’s prayer” or baptism or other symbolic testimony in return for a contractually-based salvation to heaven, Christ’s promissory note of a future relationship with Him being payable upon our death.

H.G. Wells, author of The Invisible Man

For clarity’s sake, I would prefer to reserve the term “transformation” to refer to the actual effects of having chosen to follow Christ. These effects are variously described as the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23), fruit in keeping with repentance (regarding John’s baptism in Matthew 3:8; reiterated regarding Paul’s preaching in Acts 26:19-20), the fruit of the light (Ephesians 5:9-10), and in other ways in other passages. In contrast, the concept of salvation through a singular event (which I hold to be essential to entering into the transformation process) would better be termed a “transaction.”

But Dr. Metzger is making an important point, even if he fails to confront, at least as directly as I would prefer, the presumptuous nature of anyone’s conversion that assumes a “transaction” without resulting in  “transformation.” His concern is that where there can be only one church, even if it is made up of both those whose transformation is invisible and those who, in my view, have become actually engaged in a relationship with Christ (where the transaction and transformation, or the introduction and ongoing relationship are both evident). As for any question about Dr. Metzger’s view of the vague and uncertain nature of congregating believers and non-believers together as an expression of some pure, ideal, and invisible church? He writes, “Jesus sets an open table, not in some invisible fashion, but in a very visible way.”

Claude Rains, in The Invisible Man

The “open table” is a regular theme of Dr. Metzger’s. By it, he demands an inclusivity of the local church beyond our nebulous, invisible, claims that “all are welcome.” These claims are, of course, betrayed by the corporately-structured, territorially-defensive, and mutually-competitive congregations that continue to proliferate like paramecia throughout urban, suburban, and rural communities. (Why “paramecia?” Because to “breed like bunnies” they would have to have some tangible interaction with at least one other congregation, and that is more and more rarely an occurrence.) Our tendency to segregate congregations from one another, and to splinter more and more dissatisfied sub-groups from within the local body of Christ is, however tragic, not the worst of the damage.

When we claim to be open and accepting of “whosoever will may come,” and yet allow our subtle, even subconscious stereotypes and prejudices to exclude others from fellowship with us, we sin just as egregiously as if we were to hang signs on our doors, “No ________ allowed.” (You can fill in the blank with whatever categories you choose. They’re usually identified best by remembering who you’ve seen visit your church, about whom you’ve thought, “They’re not going to fit in here.” “I’ll bet they’d be happier at some other church.” Or “I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do about them being here.”)

Another invisibility I want to change.

But you may be one of the “invisible” Christians, who presume that you have completed a business transaction for salvation, but are not part of a local congregation. Or you may be absolutely certain of your ongoing relationship of loving devotion to Jesus, except for the part about you having to hang-out with a bunch of His other friends as well. It may be that the one about whom you say, “They’re not going to fit in,” is you. You may have good reasons. You may have been hurt by fellow Christians. You may not know the words to some of the songs. You may find that the available service times interfere with your regularly-scheduled programming. Or you may have any number of other excuses, beyond a good-sized handful of relatively justifiable reasons. Go anyway. Connect anyway. Be Christian anyway. Because in your refusal to congregate with other Christians (or even your decision to segregate into more comfortably convenient sub-groups within the local body of Christ), your “relationship with Jesus” is invisible, because it’s non-existent. Get real. Get to church. (And to the “professional ministers” who read this: get the church back together again.)

So, can we see our Christianity? The Apostle John seemed to think so.

“We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brethren. He who does not love abides in death. Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer; and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him. We know love by this, that He laid down His life for us; and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. But whoever has the world’s goods, and sees his brother in need and closes his heart against him, how does the love of God abide in him? Little children, let us not love with word or with tongue, but in deed and truth.” (I John 3:14-18, NASB)

As persons, we can choose to become interrelated to others, proactively engaging in conversation and other activities in order to establish and deepen relationships that give visible expression to our too-frequently-invisible claims. Or, we can depersonalize others, and ourselves, by talking more about how we are mystically, metaphysically, invisibly related to Christ, without becoming vitally connected within the congregation and community to which He has called us.

One practice expresses the life we have been given so freely, generously, and graciously. The other is a damnable heresy that is crippling the church and disrupting her mission. Be a visible Christian, or stop lying about being a Christian at all.

It seems that things may be looking up for the invisible man.

“Visible and Invisible” Christianity – Part One: A Theological Concept Is Not a Tangible Congregation – Why it is essential to reconcile our views of an “invisible” Christianity with its “visible” existence in the local body of Christ

People, visible people, make the church.

I have been reading recently about a better church. No, I don’t mean the other congregations in your area and mine that promise your church’s members an enhanced worship experience, a more interesting curriculum, or the benefits of relegating ministry to their programs and staff while you watch from the bleachers. (Well, in fairness, cushy seats are as essential to new church plants as are their clip-on nametags). I’ve read plenty about those better churches in the past. I’ve even planted and served some of them.

More recently, though, the better church I’ve been reading about is called The Invisible Church.

The Invisible Church is described as such an attractive place that I wish I could see it somewhere. In that church there is perfect unity among all believers, drawn together as they are by their mutual love for Christ and others. If any theological controversies, personality conflicts, or “concerns” over structures, styles, or sermons could result, they would be quickly and amicably resolved. Of course, those controversies, conflicts, and concerns never do arise in The Invisible Church, because no one ever actually meets…well, there, if there was a "there" there.

Now, to be fair and accurate, theological discussions about the invisible church center on two categories. The first category comprises those who are vitally connected with God through Christ: the invisible church. The second category, portrayed as a larger group of which the invisible church is a smaller sub-set, involves the physical expression, corporate activities, and tangible ministries of the visible church—parts of which may not be, in fact, engaged in a relationship with God through Christ.

Just because it's visible, it's not necessarily a church.

My delight, though, in splitting theological hairs over the nature and character of each of these churches is dimmed by thirty years of practical theology as a pastor. There are a number of detrimental effects of imagining some nebulous, metaphysical construct as the real or ideal church (and that is what The Invisible Church would be, even to those who don’t use the terms “real” and “ideal” as the philosopher Plato did, in contrast to the concrete representations that actually occur in the world in which we live). Most difficult among them is the license such distinctions grant for believers to imagine themselves “real” Christians, whether they drift from congregation to congregation, or choose to absent themselves from vital connection in a local fellowship at all.

To be clear: the invisible church, if it can be said to exist at all (and I dispute that it is a legitimate distinction), can exist only within the visible, actual, living-breathing-loving-rejoicing-weeping-congregating of Christians in vital connection with one another.

In his book, The Promise of Trinitarian Theology, British theologian Colin Gunton rightly warns against the Platonic dualism of imagining both an invisible and a visible church, one spiritual and the other a recognizable (and, after the time of Constantine, “Official”) human institution. He notes two results of such a distinction. In the first, the “real” church becomes seen as the institutional, corporately-structured organization, rather than “the congregating of the faithful—because not all the faithful are faithful!” Sadly, the establishment of such a distinction furthers the problem, seeking to build membership in the human-centered religious organization, and disregarding the interrelationship of the members of Christ’s body.

What, then, is the invisible church in this view? Again, Gunton sees a second result of distinguishing the church as an organization rather than an organism. The invisible church becomes equated with the presumed purity of the clergy. I accept that not all the faithful are faithful. But my experience is that faithfulness is a rare commodity among clergy as well. The hierarchy Gunton observes in the institutional, corporately-structured, concretely headquartered “invisible church” (and Gunton does note the irony), in my experience, tends to attract, develop, and promote “ministers” who are pursuing a career in religion, not a calling to shepherd their sub-flock in a local congregation of believers (and others: not-yet-believers).

No parking lot, since no road, because no congregation = Ideal Church.

As a Trinitarian, Gunton is seeing the “congregating of the faithful,” and their interaction with one another, as essential to demonstrating the relational nature of the “one God, eternally existing in three persons.” The false dichotomy of an “ideal” church and our experience of some shadowy, mostly mistaken expression of it probably lead to many more misadventures than the two the Gunton addresses. Some might ask, though, whether the nature and character of “the church” really matters so much, especially in the common view of one’s Christianity as a personal (meaning owned by us as individuals) relationship, rather than necessitating any congregating with the faithful at all. But that very question relies on a similar dualism between being “a real Christian” as an ideal, and allowing our actual walk with Christ to become some shadowy, mostly mistaken expression of it.

Tragically, we are replicating in ourselves the same false dichotomy many would apply to the church as a whole. The presumably “visible” and “invisible” nature and character of simply being a Christian will be explored in my next post. Stay tuned.

How “Praying for One Another” Can Damage Unity in the Body of Christ

by Albrecht Durer, ca. 1508

My friend and colleague, Jody Bormuth, recently posted about her wonderful experience of the support and encouragement, as well as prayer support, her family received through “the stronger and deeper family of God made visible” through responses to her requests for prayer (and one in particular) on Facebook. Her post can be found here: http://godluvdjody.wordpress.com/2014/09/16/the-stronger-and-deeper-family-of-god-made-visible/. Below are my thoughts in response to hers.

Thank you, Jody, for your thoughtful post and the inspiration to take more seriously my communications with my Christian brothers and sisters, even on Facebook. From your post and some prayerful consideration, the following thoughts emerged.

Like many others, I often struggle with the communication styles and sometimes shallow platitudes offered in response to authentic and heart-felt status updates. Still, Facebook prayer requests have yet to catch up with two of the more difficult realities of other means of gathering prayer support (prayer chains and open-forum prayer in Christian gatherings), and a third problem with prayer requests would seem to be almost impossible on Facebook as well.

"You need prayer? How could you have let that happen?!"

One of the advantages to Facebook is that it limits the tendency found elsewhere to turn “prayer requests” into “gossip sessions.” Because the comments are attached directly to the posting of the request, it is far less likely that, instead of praying for the need presented, one might suggest that the person posting make changes to their lifestyle, decision-making skills, or other “causes” of their need. While these do sometimes occur on Facebook, my experience is that they are not so common as they are within Christian gatherings. Score one for Facebook.

Don't ask this guy for prayer.

The other advantage is related to the first. But rather than offering how one might have avoided their need through “better Christian living,” prayer requests often provoke far many more offers of remedies to the need presented. Instead of “Here’s how that person should have prevented their own need,” this approach at least focuses more directly toward the person making the request: “Here’s how you should go about addressing and alleviating your own need.” Again, in the context of the status update on Facebook, it would seem more awkward there to tell someone to answer their own prayer. This does happen, though, and more frequently than the gossip noted above. But it still counts as a second point for Facebook.

The third factor favoring Facebook is the almost total absence of “The Telephone Game.” Most are familiar with the party game in which a phrase is whispered from one to another until it reaches the last of the guests, with the result that the statement becomes significantly altered, and sometimes incomprehensible. This phenomenon, warping and morphing the request into something far different than what was initially requested, is endemic among prayer chains of my acquaintance.

For example, I recently received a call asking whether one of our older members was being treated at our local, small, and reasonably-competent, but limited-in-services hospital, or at the state-of-the-art regional medical facility seventy or so miles away. When I hung up the phone, my wife expressed her confusion about the nature of the call. She’d heard who I had mentioned, and that the question concerned the two hospitals. It didn’t make any sense, given what else we knew about the patient. My explanation: “You need to remember that they heard about it through the prayer-chain. By the time it got to them, (our friend and parishioner) may not have been having a quadruple-bypass. They may have heard that she was having quadruplets.”

Of course, on Facebook, when similar miscommunications occur, it’s not necessary to blame any of the humans along the chain for misstating what they’ve heard, adding their more-detailed assumptions, or otherwise embellishing the facts of the matter. No, on Facebook, when something is miscommunicated, we can simply blame spell-check. I would, however, be surprised if Facebook doesn’t eventually catch up in all three areas, especially among those of us who let our devices read posts aloud to us, and then compose our responses by speaking them into text.

So, even on Facebook, three rules for prayer requests might be helpful:

• First, when a person asks for prayer, don’t blame them for having the need for prayer. Just pray.
• Second, when a person asks for prayer, don’t offer remedies for the need about which they’ve asked you to pray. Just pray.
• And third, when a person asks for prayer, do feel free to clarify anything you don’t understand about how they’d like you to pray. But then, leave it at that, and just pray.

The alternative, sadly, is to leave many of us in need of prayer, but questioning whether we’re willing to endure the gossip, the advice, and the blame. For the sake of an authentic, transparent, and vulnerable fellowship in Christ: Just pray.

My advice: Drive over the signpost itself. Then, just pray.

Seeking Universal Human Bonding through Original Sin

Day One: Light - Good.

We humans find an amazing breadth of topics, issues, and causes over which to differentiate, dispute, divide, and damage one another. The practice is so common one might imagine that we could establish a foundation for illimitable unity among all human beings simply by accepting the existence and effects of Original Sin. Even better, as a common foe against which we could battle, Original Sin is unlikely to be eradicated, thus providing a nearly eternal focus for our common efforts.

Sadly, though, there are significantly splintered positions on what to do about Original Sin, whether it truly exists at all, and whether we would be better advised to leave it well enough alone. Beyond that, some have built their entire enterprises on the flourishing of Original Sin. (The profit margins are staggering.)

A simplified (and, admittedly, simplistic) understanding of the original sin and its effects

Any discussion of Original Sin (note the capitalization) needs to account for “the” original sin. The details in the first two and one-half chapters of Genesis are clear enough, but let me synopsize the narrative.

Day Two: Heaven - Good.

God created everything. He announces this to Moses over a period of days, expressing that the elements of creation described in the first five days were all “good.” The capstone of creation, human beings, appear to be the reason for designating the product described on the sixth day as “very good.”

Following this, there is interaction in a veritable multitude of relationships. There is one God, eternally existing (and interrelated) in three persons. He interacts with humans, initially existing in two persons. But there is also the rest of creation, in which the two persons find their relationship with each other, and with God, deepened by a mutual focus outside themselves as stewards of all else in creation. This mutual relationship is further deepened through obedience to the command to be fruitful and multiply, and the subsequently more intimate tasks of raising the product of their intimate relationship: children.

All is well in paradise. God has created everything. It is all “very good.” And he gives it to us to care for. But eventually, despite having everything, we want to see what else there is. When you have everything, the only option for experiencing something else comes through breaking some of the everything you already have. We did.

Day Three: Land & Sea, Vegetation - Good.

And so, we now had most of everything, plus some of the everything now broken. And we saw that it was not “very good.” And we recognized that we were not “very good.” And so we turned the effects of “the” original sin into what can be called Original Sin. We hid from God.

There’s more to the story, of course. But our focus is on Original Sin for now.

The reasonableness of sin in a broken world

The reality of Original Sin is best seen in its effects, which some would differentiate as “sins,” rather than the more palatably vague metaphysical concept of Sin. So, to be clear, let me use a different term to identify the behavior that you and I regularly engage in: Sinning. Sinning is nearly as universal as some presume Original Sin to be. In fact, Sinning is the only reasonable response to our accurate perception of the world in its current state.

We were created with an expectation, not just a longing, for wholeness. Recognizing the brokenness of the world around us, the threats and dangers in that world demand that we find some means of provision and protection. The coping mechanisms we develop are many and varied, but they have two particular traits in common. First, we realize that others are either a resource or a threat to our own provision and protection. Second, we realize that we are viewed as either a resource or a threat to the provision and protection of others. In a whole and balanced creation, both of these factors would seem destined to create community, in which mutual responsibility promotes mutual respect and relationship among persons created to bear the image and likeness of one God eternally existing in three persons.

Day Four: Sun, Moon, & Stars - Good.

We do not live in a whole and balanced creation. Even when we attempt to establish equitable relationships based on mutual respect of our other humans, we are susceptible to the fear, greed, guilt, pride, lust, and loneliness that evaluates “me” against “you.” Therefore, I am regularly Sinning against you, even if only in my imagination. You most likely have something I think I might need. Granted, you may also have needs for which I could provide resources. But I would advise you, instead, to protect yourself from me, because I will tend to act in a way that takes what I need from you, while retaining the equitably balanced value of the resources you might have expected in return.

The motivations to manipulate, exploit, and oppress are as perfectly reasonable as the means of implementing them are widely variable. In short, there is no end to the means by which we damage one another. Sinning against you, in order to secure my provision, is a more reasonable course than waiting for you to come Sinning against me, thus having to waste any of my precious resources on protection.

Day Five: Creatures of Sea & Sky - Good.

The remedy for Sinning through a restoration to wholeness

Note, though, I wrote above that “Sin is the only reasonable response,” given the current state of this broken world. My intention is to emphasize that, while I believe that faith can be rationally justified, it is unreasonable. For all the factual and logical support that encourages the conclusion that one must exercise faith, that exercise itself goes against the rational conclusions we make about the brokenness of the world, and other humans, around us.

Our focus here is on the damage, though, not its remedy. But as a brief respite from the despairing conditions we are discussing, a quick read through Matthew 5-7, in which Jesus promises provision and protection, thus allowing us to do something as incomprehensively dangerous as loving our neighbors as ourselves, might be a good idea.

Influence and Causality differs from Imputation and Culpability

If the ongoing results of the original sin, in contrast to the doctrine of Original Sin, result in universally Sinning against one another, why do we fail to agree, much less unify, on the basis of this understanding.

For some, acknowledging the clear and pervasive effects of sin, Sin, and Sinning would require them to also acknowledge the source of our story. And for some, any position that allows scripture a status as even legendary or fabulous (i.e., demonstrating the nature of a fable or morality play) risks legitimizing religions against which they feel they must protect themselves. Again, this is reasonable, given the history of humans Sinning against one another while using their religions as not just a justification but a means of exploitation and oppression.

Day Six: Creatures of the Earth & Humans - Very Good.

But this disunity persists even among those who hold the highest views of scripture as a divinely dictated document preserved in its integrity through the intimate intervention of the Holy Spirit. The most rabid inerranticists (among whom I number myself: holding not only a high view of the doctrine of inspiration—that the original manuscripts are an authentic transmission of God’s message through the biblical writers—but a high view of the doctrine of illumination as well—that the Holy Spirit ensures the authentic transmission of God’s message to, in, and through us as well) may still disagree on the existence and effects of what most theologians mean by Original Sin.

At issue is the question whether the original sin affects all mankind through influence and causality (that Sinning against others results in their choice to self-protect and self-provide through Sinning against still others), or whether the singular actions of the first two human beings, Original Sin, results in penalties toward all subsequent human beings, imputing that act to us (i.e., as though we committed the sin ourselves) and making us culpable for its effects (i.e., as though we are responsible for the damage initiated by others).

The consequences of these positions may not be immediately apparent. But especially in considering the nature of the Atonement (the means by which Jesus Christ provided for reconciliation in our relationship with God) and the extent of its necessity to all human beings (in that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God), there is an elegant simplicity in the argument for imputation and culpability. If all human beings, from conception through death, are inexorably intertwined with the first human beings, responsible for their sinful actions and their consequences, then the Apostle Paul’s expression (all have sinned) needs no qualification. Unborn children, along with all who die in infancy and as toddlers, are rightly consigned to perdition (according to this view) since they are culpable for the sins committed by the original pair of human beings, and have not received redemption by actively choosing to put their trust in Christ alone for salvation. As distasteful as many find this position, it causes no theological difficulty to most determinists. Through God’s foreknowledge and/or predestination, we may (they would argue) safely presume that if a child were to have been among the Elect, then they would have survived to an age at which they could exercise faith for salvation. (Hopefully, I have made myself clear that this is not my position.)

Day Seven: The Sabbath-Rest of God.

In support of an alternative view of the effects of the original sin, I would point out the original sin’s influence and causality. In other words, the brokenness of the world that was produced by Sinning has provoked subsequent generations into Sinning as a result of damages initiated by the Sinning of the original pair of human beings. What about the unborn, infants, and toddlers, then? Ironically, while Romans 5:12 is often quoted as supporting a view that all humans are culpable due to the imputation of Original Sin, even that half of the sentence says something entirely different. “Therefore, just as through one man sin entered into the world, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men, because all sinned—“ is what Romans 5:12 reads in the New American Standard translation. But the Apostle’s sentence continues, “for until the Law sin was in the world, but sin is not imputed when there is no law.” This phrase (Romans 5:13) is among several that seem to suggest what has been called “the age of accountability.” In short, one’s culpability for Sinning is subsequent to understanding the nature of that Sinning, not simply to the expression of a developmentally immature human being’s instincts for self-protection and self-provision, even at the expense of others. (e.g., Ask my mother about my acquisitive approach to building blocks in nursery school.)

A Hopeful Conclusion

Volume upon volume has been written on the subject of the original sin and Original Sin, as well as sin, sins, Sinning, and more. In any systematic theology you will find a section on “Hamartiology.” Most Bible dictionaries will give an adequate discussion that is, in all likelihood, far briefer than the one I offer here.

But in belaboring the points I have, I hope that I have established a foundation on which the absolutely astonishing response to the original sin can be upheld in its glorious beauty.

Consider this: the Bible does not end after two and one-half chapters in Genesis. That seems self-evident…until you consider how the story could easily be expected to end.

Remember the story so far? I’ve included my own version of the ending here: “And so, God had given the humans everything. And when they wanted something else, they broke some of the ‘very good’ everything God had given them. And they knew it. And they themselves felt that brokenness, too. So, they sewed together fig leaves so as to hide from each other. And then they hid themselves from God, too. AND GOD NEVER. CAME. BACK. AGAIN.”

I have no idea why the story doesn’t end that way. But I’m very thankful that it doesn’t.

In your life and mine: Let there be light.

Despite the fact that I do not trust you, simply on the basis that you are a human being who would rightly be expected to self-protect and self-provide at my expense (after all, I’d do the same to you), I long for authenticity and  transparency, even at the risk of vulnerability. I want an intimate, open relationship with others, even when I know that such a relationship will eventually hurt one or the other of us (except in the very rare occurrence where we both live happily ever after, and then die simultaneously).

And so, these words haunt me with their hope: “Then the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, ‘Where are you?’”

God did not suddenly lose His omniscience. He knew where Adam and Eve were. They were not hidden from His sight. Why, then, does He ask, “Where are you?” I believe it is because that original pair of human beings needed to know where they were.

They had been placed in a paradise where everything was theirs, and it was all, until a short time ago, “very good.” Now it was not. And yet God still sought for them.

The broken relationship, the broken world, the broken people…it could not but get worse. And yet God still sought for them.

They would sin further, and the effects of those sins would teach others the art, and indeed the necessity, of Sinning as the only reasonable means of coping in such a damaged world. And yet God still sought for them.

We cannot build unity on the universal conditions resulting from the original sin. But we can have unity among those for whom God still seeks—at least among those who stop hiding from Him and one another.

Unity in and among Diversity – Level Four: Solidarity – The commitment to mutual needs, resources, and relationships

“That’s not how friendships work,” she said. It wasn’t the most profound thing I’d learned from her. And it was only the second most moving thing I’d heard her say. But in King Solomon’s words, as an apple of gold in a setting of silver, it was a word fitly spoken. Right time. Right place. And the right person to hear it from.

In considering sympathy, compassion, and even empathy, I’ve been describing attitudes and actions that allow me to maintain my superior position in a relationship. That’s not necessarily the case with everyone who expresses sympathy, acts compassionately, or elicits empathy. In fact, I remind myself and others regularly that we are merely conduits between God’s resources (even if we’ve stored some “our” accounts) and the needs we see around us.

What I practice about that preaching, however, can be very different. I like being liked. I like being proof of the claim that “generosity never costs us anything.” I like seeing gratitude and, even in its absence, the effects in others’ lives of needs alleviated, dysfunctions fixed, and relationships reconciled.

But my friend said no.

At issue was a charge account balance with a local merchant. She wanted to keep the account open, not quite paying it off. There were the usual difficulties of opening it in the first place, and so long as there was a balance, she could avoid reopening another when she inevitably needed them to extend her credit again. That made sense to me. But because there would be no doubt about who would have made a payment to the account, I confessed my intentions and asked how much of a balance I should leave.

That’s how I found out that we were friends. Not mentor and protégé. Not benefactor and reclamation project. Not conduit of God’s resources and recipient of His generosity through me. Friends.

Solidarity in Christ: Not optional. No volunteers need apply.

Which brings me to the fourth level of unity within diversity: Solidarity. I’ve previously defined Sympathy as “to feel for others,” only briefly and verbally expressing our identification with their circumstances before returning to our own personal concerns. The second level, Compassion, is “to feel toward others,” engaging their experience, but still in a brief, limited manner, but with some tangible action toward their needs. Empathy, “to feel with others” requires some similar experience, and is best elicited from another, rather than proactively shared in hopes of assuring them that “I know how you feel.” (This is not a sentence you should ever utter.)

Solidarity involves a decision “to feel as others,” not as an exercise in imagining their circumstances, but by choosing to experience their circumstances alongside them. It is rarely expressed, largely because we lack the time and resources, but also because we cannot be in two places, or in solidarity with all groups and individuals simultaneously. Therefore, in response to this quandary, we choose to engage at other, lesser levels (if at all).

Toward solidarity, specifically across racial and other divisions, John M. Perkins famously advises three R’s: Reconciliation, Redistribution, and Relocation. I agree with all three. But I also recognize that if I relocate to one community, I am not only leaving another, but choosing not to relocate into other communities. Our uniquely individual calling may not entirely impinge upon our efforts to be “all things to all people.” But it does prevent us from being with all people all the time.

"I'll come over. But only to take someone back with me."

Still, we often excuse ourselves from solidarity that might require relocation. For me, that would have prevented me from enjoying life in The Book Cliffs of central eastern Utah; the logging and ranching communities in The Scott Valley of Northern California; the Front Range communities in Colorado; and now, the wide range of challenges and celebrations experienced by the people of The Intermountain Area. What would my life have been like if I had remained where I was comfortable, where my career track was more secure, and where the creature-comforts that I still miss on occasion were far more accessible? (Add to that the futility of searching elsewhere for some of them. The Symphony, Opera, and Ballet occasionally take road-trips, even to Redding, California. But there are only two other places on the planet that compare to San Francisco Bay when it comes to sailboat racing!)

I don’t know what life would have been like had I remained on that conveniently familiar path. But I can recount the significant costs of choosing solidarity with a persecuted minority within an already oppressed and exploited community. I have experienced the awkward mixture of shame and gratitude that comes in receiving a food box from the rescue mission. I know the similarly conflicted feelings of facing creditors’ calls, repossession, bankruptcy and impending homelessness in addition to losing a child because we weren’t “the right kind of people” to receive health care in the community we chose to serve.

You don' t like your comrades? Consider the alternatives.

And yet I witness the inexpressible joy of overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles in order to progress from homelessness to houseguest to high-school graduate (well, GED, but I think that counts) to holding down a job while training for what might be a life-long career in healthcare, all while raising a beautiful child (who does let me buy them things…or at least doesn’t scold me afterward).

Solidarity means entering into a mutual and equitable relationship. There may be times when my supply may complement another’s lack. But then there are the times when it is my lack that needs supplied by the careful admonition of a friend.

When it comes to sympathy, compassion, and empathy, I still believe that generosity never costs us anything. But among those with whom we have chosen to live in solidarity, generosity can cost us an important reminder: our needs, together, are most often met by simply being, together.

Common Core Haters: You Won't Like This Post (Even if you agree, you'll wish I took a more conciliatory tone. Tough.)

Quick. No pencil. No paper. No fingers. No Calculator. Not even an abacus.

Solve the following:

Did you? And more importantly, how did you?

You may have seen the chart below, or some of the multitude of similarly presented discouragements to the nation’s public educational professionals. As you probably know, that’s a group of which I am enamored, proud and, when necessary, defensive. This is one of the times when I think a defense is necessary. You’ll note that the creator of this little ditty made the mistake of closing with a question. As I’m fond of telling anyone who’ll listen: “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” My answer follows the chart. Enjoy.

I'm so glad you asked.

Actually, the "new way" really is one of “the old ways” that most of us actually do math in our heads. Those who use pencil and paper...well, that's not always handy, is it? And as for the calculator crowd, as with the Google gaggle...well, let's go back to talking about people who are willing to think at all.

For the sake of this example, my processing of the problem works this way:

293 is 7 less than three hundred. So, subtract 300 hundred from 568 and add the 7 to get 275. On paper, that probably looks like a mess. In my head, Apple Hill is 275 feet higher than Banana Hill. (Of course, I would have to confirm that there is an Apple Hill and/or Banana Hill by Googling them. And I would then find links to follow, and I would, that would explain to me the relative merits of growing apples on taller hills than those on which bananas should be produced. But that’s the kind of thing I do when I’m either procrastinating or trying to entirely avoid thinking about something else. So it can wait while I endeavor to make us think about this.)

What I’m seeing in Common Core is about teaching people to think (i.e., to process mentally—without paper, pencil, calculator, computer, smart-phone, a smart-enough-friend, or even enough fingers and toes to avoid searching for an abacus). More importantly, it’s about teaching people to think more quickly, more creatively, and at a younger age. One important side-effect will be a greater appreciation among those students for the varying ways in which different individuals and groups approach and solve problems. This is a good thing, and is likely to decrease bullying behavior by lowering the number of children who imagine that someone who shouts loudly, threatens others, and occasionally backs up their threats through physical violence must be...if not "right" about a particular issue, then at least...placated. So, we may be promoting a culture in which "thinking people" not only don't "engage in bullying behavior" quite so much, but may even speak up in opposition to those who do. And these changes may result because they appreciate that someone may think and act differently from them and still be deserving of air, warmth, water, and food. As I said, this is a good thing...that many oppose by shouting loudly and threatening others, if not resorting to physical violence (that I know of, yet).

Thus, the critics of common core, generally speaking, seem to have some other set of priorities. Foremost among them seems to be that children should not be trained to think better than the vast majority of their elders. At least that's the tone I perceive in the critiques I keep seeing.

So, to close, let’s consider “The Old Way” that all of us, apparently, found so intuitively logical during our own mathematical novitiate.

So, starting from right to left, which is, of course,  how we were taught to do everything else in life prior to third grade (NOT):

•  Step One: Starting on the right side, because we were told to, three is less than eight, so we can simply subtract and that leaves us five in the ones column, which is, of course, the third column, not the first column (which one might expect since it was called the ones column, but that hardly needs explained to brilliant children like we once were). But remember, we’re starting from right to left, even though that's just like…well, nothing else in our educational career has prepared us to do.
• Step Two: Despite the fact that two is less than five and we should be able to simply subtract, leaving us three in the hundreds column (which is the first column, since there clearly aren’t a hundred columns, and the other two are the tens and the ones—but you already knew that going into second grade math, didn’t you?), we’re working from right to left, so the center column—“the tens column” as anyone should be able to intuitively deduce—is next. But nine is more than six, and while it would seem simpler to subtract six from nine, the nine is under the six, so we’re subtracting that instead. By a later grade we would know that this would leave us negative three, and our subsequent answer would be 3(3)5, since we all knew to put negative numbers in brackets. But let’s imagine that there was a developmental process to our education, and force ourselves—as the teacher would have—to go back and try again.
• Step Three: Since Step Two failed to meet with the teacher’s approval, we’re going to subtract nine from six in the tens column despite the apparent impossibility of doing so. Thankfully, there are hundreds that we can take from the first column (which is the third column we’re dealing with, but you’re already starting to think that either Hebrew or Mandarin will be your next language class, so we’re all good with that, right?). Now, we take one of the hundreds from the five, making sure to cross out the five and write in a four, then adding the one to the six. This does not make seven, however. The one that we added to the six is a one from the hundreds place. And, before you ask, “No, it’s not one-hundred-and-six, either.” (Remember, you’re much smarter than today’s public school teachers. So don’t you dare fall behind at this point!) The one that we took from the five in the hundreds place is added to the six we already have in the tens place, which means we have one hundred and sixty, from which we will subtract—not nine, but ninety—leaving us with seven(ty).
• Step Four: Assuming we remembered to cross out the five in the hundreds place and write-in the four instead, we’re now faced with the simple task of subtracting two from four and getting two. But I will mention here that even though we memorized “two plus two is four,” unless we engage some level of critical thinking, number sense, and logical reasoning, we’ll have to wait until we memorize “four minus two is two.” In either case, though, I think we might be excused for understanding that the meaning of any of the following is not so immediately evident, nor even so intuitively deducible as proponents of “the old ways” have suggested. 

Here's what we ended up with:

So, why isn't this a better answer?

(I have some aspirin for you here in my drawer.)

Unity in and among Diversity – Level Three: Empathy – The voluntary and intentional application of an impossible necessity in fulfilling our responsibility toward engaging others in need

Learn to live in the shadow of the questions.

If we decide to drop our constant efforts at reinforcing our antipathy toward “them,” we cannot help but feel sympathy, feeling for others, even when our identification with their experience is limited, and expressed only briefly before returning to our own personal concerns. Our avoidance of sympathy, though, is understandable, given the tendency to reach beyond verbal expressions that acknowledge that another has feeling. In most cases, any sympathy for anyone whose need we may be capable of meeting (even in the most miniscule segment) will lead us to feel toward them, engaging—even if still in a brief and limited manner—with tangible action toward their needs. But the decision to engage more fully, to feel with others as persons who experience circumstances similar to our own, leads us further into providing practical assistance that has proven helpful to us in our prior circumstances. But this empathy requires some caution, a great deal of trust, and a willingness to listen carefully to others. Perhaps it is only an “impossible necessity.” But it will, at times, seems like it requires a major miracle to be implemented effectively.

Keep going until you find the question.

When faced with the pain of the bereaved, for example, those seeking to be helpful are often tempted to say, “I know how you feel.” Sadly, they continue on to recount their own experiences that are, often, entirely unrelated to the current circumstances of the person they presumably are seeking to help—the person having experienced a significant loss. As much as we are tempted to express our sense of empathy, don’t. The uniqueness of each individual, the circumstances of a particular loss, the element of grief currently being experienced, and thousands of other factors make each moment in each of our lives absolutely unique.

Still, my purpose in writing this is to encourage you to embrace and express empathy for your family, friends, neighbors, strangers, and anyone else you may find who is experiencing any kind of affliction. But the means by which you can effectively engage another empathetically has nothing to do with sharing your own experiences, and not even the life lessons, coping skills, or self-medicating palliation you’ve found helpful. (There’s one of those vocabulary words again: “Palliate.” As a reminder, the other two are “Ameliorate” and “Mitigate.”)

If you wait patiently, a question will come along.

What I would encourage you to share, however, is what the Apostle Paul addresses in II Corinthians 1:3-5. “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ.”

In order to effectively share with others in affliction the comfort we have received from God, two things must be true. First, we must recognize that while each of our experiences are unique, there is a commonality of affliction among all human beings. We live in the midst of a world that has been deviated from its original course, damaged by our mismanagement, and therefore dysfunctional in such a variety of ways as to make it seem entirely devoid of reference to the perfection and holiness of its Creator.

Feel free to add a question mark to another's statement,

Second, though, we must also recognize the comfort we have received from God in the midst of our own affliction. If we are not confident of the comfort we have received, we face temptation to share commiseration, instead of comfort. Even when we realize how unhelpful such pessimism can be, we will seek to provide something else to those in need of comfort. (See above regarding the life lessons, coping skills, and self-medication too often prescribed with little regard for the unique circumstances and personalities of those we seek to help.

How, then, do we “comfort those who are in any affliction?” Not by passing along what God has done for us, but by connecting those in need with the “God of all comfort.” Effective comfort is not second-hand. It must be received from the primary source. Therefore, our efforts are not based in sharing with others what we ourselves possess. And yet offering prescriptively what we presume God should do for the other in need will usually result in something other than empathy, too.

So, what can we say? There is no safe answer. And that’s why I recommend questions instead.

As a chaplain/counselor in professional situations, there is an expectation that I am there for a reason. Therefore, I am able to ask a more direct question like “What should I know about your circumstances in order to be of best help to you?” Others, though, do better in asking the bereaved, especially, “What do you find yourself thinking about most?” For those facing other needs, “If you could change one thing right now, what would it be?” And simplest of all, “How can I help?”

Any question gets inside the bubble.

Understand, though, that the purpose of these questions is not to explain to others what basis there is for empathy in your life. Instead, my hope is that others will recognize the willingness to share in their circumstances, emotions, thought-processes, and resources (personal, familial, community, or other) toward (here they come again) ameliorating, mitigating, and/or palliating their circumstances.

My hope for you is that you will recognize the empathy that already exists in the lives of those you are called to serve, rather than trying to establish some point of connection in your own life with those in need. “I know how you feel” is never true. “I know that you feel” is, hopefully, the result God can build into your life when you carefully listen to the answers those in need already have. That is where empathy is possible, in engaging others at the point of their own need, and recognizing that we, together, have need of a source of comfort, peace, sustenance, security, and life itself from somewhere beyond our own energies and talents.

And yet, there is still one level deeper I would ask you to go. We’ll discuss that shortly. And, as before, that post’s title will begin with “Unity in and among Diversity.” I hope you’ll join me there as well.