My last few posts sought to
define a sufficient practical theology whose locus is the greatest two
commandments. I examined a few classical, or orthodox ideas of Reformed
Theology rooted in a Greek philosophical worldview that are often used as clubs against new ideas in order to show these are
cultural, if not artificial barriers to practicing a living, compassionate
Christian theology among God’s children. (Denominations themselves are cultural
creations, not God’s creation.)
The only theology worth
practicing is the one that you work out for yourself and practice “on the
street.” For this idea, I owe thanks to the insights of John Cobb, though his
process theology has always caused me difficulty.
I want to explore in this post what
it means to me to practice and therefore live your theology “on the street.” If you
read the first seven posts of this blog you will get an idea.
I suggest to you that
self-seduction is one of our greatest sins, ranking up there (down there?) with
pride, the quintessential sin. When you reduce your compassion to the things you think about and own,
it is all too easy to misunderstand or worse, to be blind to the pathos of the human condition and the
nature of God’s self example of love.
When these two commandments drive your activity, they sharpen your focus on providing to the person
the compassion you yourself desires. You end up not only understanding the
crisis and chaos in the life of another person, but also actually take part
of it as your own. This is why I tell every volunteer in this ministry, “Once
you begin a ministry with people guided by these two commandments, your life
will never be the same.” You will never go back to the old way.
I think that is why so few
actually take the first step. Fear of losing control.
That spiritually ensnaring
nature of intimate personal ministry is both a good thing and a bad thing. It
is good because you learn more about the difficulties of life faced by people
and value them over your own complaints. It is bad because you begin to see how
so many of the difficulties people face are human-derived and you find cynicism
is a very uncomfortable, undesired but tempting companion. Cynicism can become the opiate to deaden you against action.
For example, our ministry worked
for over two years at Second Presbyterian Church until December 31. We worked
with homeless men in their shelter, discussing their stumbles and weaknesses
and strengths as they developed skills for self-reliance and a commitment to Christian vocation as a path out of homelessness and unemployment. How many
of the hundred or so made it? If only one did it was all worth it, but we have many who are standing on their own two feet, yet the
congregation could not find funds to continue the ministry.
It is hard to count how many made it because many left striking out on their own to another town or job that
prevents their attending our sessions, or have jobs that conflict with our meeting times. I am blessed to get a phone call once a
year or so from the successful ones who left with an update and it is a call that fills me
with joy. I was in the hospital recently and three of the men called or visited me.
That joy balances the grief a
little over the sad state of the homeless shelter from which I have drawn many of these men. In the last three months in my work with homeless unemployed persons I
have seen the shelter almost constantly empty due to mismanagement even though social services
agencies continually tell me they have prospective clients.
The non-profit that
manages this shelter unceremoniously and for seemingly arbitrary reason evicted a critically
ill diabetic with only a few days notice. I received a call from staff person
in another agency asking me to retrieve and hold his belongings as he has a
diabetes-related infection on his leg and cannot carry all his belongings on
foot for any appreciable distance. He has had two hospitalizations because he
has such difficulty managing his insulin living on the street. Neither the
contracting agency or the congregational leaders was disposed to remedy the
situation.
Three weeks ago a woman approached
me at the building of the congregation where I used to work (that has many
loving, caring members) with a
request for help with utilities in a dire situation. She is the sister of a congregant. She was facing immediate
cut-off of electrical service. She clearly has some significant emotional
issues, was not very aware of what services available to her and needs guidance
towards finding stability. We managed to put enough finds together using my ministry funds ands some of the
pastor’s discretionary funds to keep her electricity on by partly paying down
the bill.
This week, a few days after
Christmas she called me again because the remainder of the bill needs to be
paid or her service is terminated. I no longer have a budget or employment at
the congregation and have already spent so much money out of pocket I am
feeling the pain, but shouldn't I help when no one else will? No one else helped.
On the same day, while I’m thinking
about what to do about her, I received a phone call from another young man who
also is a diabetic. He has a serious non-healing wound on his leg, lives
hand-to-mouth with funds from his aunt who is pressed for money herself. He was
abandoned as a youth to foster care and eventually lived with his grandmother
until she died. I helped him three weeks ago by matching some contributions
from his relatives so he could pay off his rent. Now, he needs more money
because his landlord applied a late payment penalty to last month’s rent. I'm in the same boat, do I reach in my pocket since the congregation no longer wishes to fund the ministry, or say, "I'm sorry I can't help now."
Then, I received a call from
another one of our homeless clients who had been discharged from our shelter.
I’ve worked with him for over a year trying to build self-reliance out of a life in shambles. He was severely
assaulted at a bus stop and was in the hospital ER with a fractured facial bone, a
number of broken and dislodged teeth and a serious hematoma in his thorax. When
I got to the ER he was laying on a gurney writhing in pain and highly aroused.
(He is on psych meds and had missed at least two doses because of this
situation.) One of the police officers shooed me away from his bed, the officer
was more interested in tagging him for being drunk or on drugs than taking his
statement. (This fellow relies on me to intercede as a second set of ears as he
often cannot understand what people are asking him or telling him.) At 2AM, the ER was going to discharge him
after the preliminary treatment but I was able to talk the ER physician to
keeping him until morning since he had no place to go where someone could watch
him for complications (and keep an eye on the pain medication).
At the same time, as I walked
into the ER I discovered one of my stalwart clients who helps me with worship
services and group discussions. He had had a heart attack a day before and had
a stent replaced, but now he is suffering complications at the site where they
entered his arterial system. He was more interested in giving the assaulted
friend comfort and pastoral care two beds down than in his own condition.
They finally discharged my
stalwart friend not able to find a reason for the complications related to the stent insertion about the same
time the assault victim was being admitted for the night. I gave him a ride
home and climbed into bed about 3:30AM knowing I’d be back in the early morning
to pick up the assault victim.
Then the next morning, New
Year’s Eve, I get a text from my diabetic young man who was trying to keep from
being evicted from the motel. He had encountered one of our former residents
from over a year ago who has gotten his life on track moving through three jobs
to the one he desires. He makes barely more that minimum wage but he gave our
diabetic the money he needed to stave off eviction.
All these circumstances happened
in the season of Christmas where most of us are preoccupied with gift giving,
parties and worship, while this mass of destitute humanity moves on the streets
in dire need. You cannot truly appreciate the rest of the world unless you are
out in it. My worldview has been forever disrupted by these experiences.
To protect my own sanity and economic stability, I can give only so much of my
own in this emotionally and financially demanding work. Especially since many people I had depended
on have turned their back to these crises and walked away. The ministry has no
home and I’m searching hard for one (There is a home, Carson Brisson always said in our Hebrew class, bless his soul). It is very hard to keep that second
commandment in mind and continue to give grace and love to the folks who turn
aside and abandon the ministry this way, but I try.
The upshot is this. If you are
seriously a radical Christian, you have to try. You are called to give love to folks even when it seems unrequited. It forces you into
a position where you must choose to be humble or angry. When things go right as
they did in two instances yesterday, I am able to find a path, even resentfully
sometimes, to humility.
I am grateful for that. I am
grateful for the whole experience of living in a world with folks who desperately
need what we can give them and what we need ourselves, a hand up; but at the
same time I am sorely grieved by poverty in the land of plenty so full of cynicism.
This is the true core of
practical theology.
There is no room for arguing about arcane concepts like
immutability, what the Trinity means, or what ideas consist of pantheism, transcendence, immanence or arguing
about political posturing. When you lend a hand you find that charity
transforms you from teacher to pupil, from helper to helped by the very folks
you came to help.
I am grateful because it puts so
much of the petty annoyances of daily life in perspective. I grateful because
it has profoundly changed the way I look at people in the world. I do not look
away when a homeless person approaches on the sidewalk thinking they may
panhandle me; rather, I greet them with eye contact and a “Hello” that tells
them they are persons of value just like I am. I can’t get angry with my
fellows who have strained and to me distorted ideas about Christianity.
I am grateful because the
experience of unconditional helping redefines what “activism” and “advocacy”
means. It is not necessarily painted signs and the shouts of people marching on
the streets (though it can be that). It is not only loving God’s children, but
actually physically lending a hand to help them stand on their own two feet.
I am grateful even though it took years for me to get here, “the least of these” have changed my life permanently. I
entreat you to join me. Do not be a goat. It is not too late. Your life will never
be the same once you begin practicing “practical theology.”
Ben Harper captures this practical
theology so well in his nice song, “With my own two hands.” (On the album
“Diamonds on The Inside.”) Look it up sometime.
Being a part of a ministry that
led one former homeless guy to value finding money to help a homeless diabetic
keep a roof over his head, and another to put concern for the wounded above his
own state makes all the pain worthwhile.
God is good.
Grace and Peace,
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