october 2009 newsletter...
October's most memorable moment came during a quiet conversation after school about two weeks ago. A student came for help with writing. Hesitantly, as he gathered his papers to leave, he turned and said, "Can I ask you a serious question?" Of course. "Why are you so Christian? I don't get it. I mean, at first I thought it was just your background, but now I think you really believe it. How? Why? You seem like you think about things, so how can you actually believe this stuff?"
The questions began tumbling over themselves in the effort to make it out of his mind and heart. I sat for a minute, waiting for a response to formulate in my brain. I took a deep breath and told him that this couldn't be a short conversation, that if he wanted the answer to why I'm so Christian, he'd have to hear a little of my story, and a little of who Jesus is. We ended up sharing a beautiful couple of hours in which we could deeply discuss the reason for the hope that is in me. I prayed that I was speaking with gentleness and respect.
October brought several conversations like this, and I marvel at the way God is beginning to open up doors that seemed impossible to budge when I first arrived. Students that seemed irredeemably jaded now question their earlier assumptions and I am humbled once again at how God performs these miracles, even in the face of our unbelief.
The biggest questions that keep arising from students are questions about organized religion. Almost universally, they harbor profound suspicion of any religious community. I, in turn, suspect that they are not alone in this. Personal faith seems to be legitimate to most, if not all, of us. The bigger question for our time is how we can preserve our faith in the Church when we see so many abuses around us and in us. How can we hold on to the kind of community we are commanded to cultivate as Christians? How can we avoid the myriad pits into which every human organization seems to fall? How do we avoid turning church into business? How do we avoid marketing God? How do we transform our entire lives into an act of worship, instead of reserving worship for Sunday mornings?
I just returned from a week in South India, visiting Chennai and the old French colony, Pondicherry, with a group of fifteen students. The week's itinerary took us to St. Thomas's Basilica in Chennai, where the apostle Thomas is said to be buried. I expected to be moved by seeing his tomb and contemplating his journey all the way from Judea to India. Instead, I was handed a brochure on the way in, suggesting that I get a St Thomas Basilica credit card. Or perhaps a St Thomas calendar? A model of the lance that stabbed him? Would I like to pay to pray in front of a sliver of his bone? No, thank you. Instead, I would like to learn how to explain this version of Christianity to my students.
The next day, we walked through an enormous temple to Shiva, the Kapaleeswarar Temple. Non-Hindus are not permitted in the sanctum sanctorum, but they are definitely encouraged to donate to its upkeep. A guide offered to explain all the potential religious blessings I could receive (that no guide book would tell me about). In return, I could pay him whatever matched the degree of my satisfaction. And give him a pen, please. Would I like a red tikka mark on my forehead to cover my third eye and protect me from hypnotism? For a small fee. Would I like to circle the nine statues of the nine planets nine times, to solve my "planet troubles?" For a small fee. Would I like to tie a thread around a tree to pray for a husband? For a small fee. No, thank you. Instead, I would like to stop and take care of the elderly beggars stumbling around in front of the temple. Their lack of hope was palpable.
Perhaps the most striking disillusionment with organized religion came for all our students when we visited Auroville, a commune outside Pondicherry. The community loudly trumpets its internal rejection of any form of personal possessions or any kind of monetary exchange. However, attached to its welcome center are several gift shops run by the commune, filled with local handicrafts sold at ten or twenty times their usual price. Auroville will happily take the personal possessions and money of visitors. All visitors must watch a five-minute video on the construction of the "golden ball" that sits at the center of their community. According to the video, "The golden ball wants to be the center of the universe, of human wholeness. The golden ball wants to reject all religious symbols." Except, of course, itself. Would I like to buy organic incense made by members of the Auroville community? Would I perhaps like to buy organic cotton grown and harvested by members of the Auroville community? Or maybe some organic hemp slippers? Or just a donation? No, thank you. Instead, as one of my students pointed out, I would love to see the money that went into the construction of the golden ball invested in much-needed schools and hospitals for this rural area.
How then shall we live? How can I be so Christian? Why do I still believe in the Church? Or, as a student put it, what's the point of communal worship? How can it possibly be legitimate? First, I find myself planted firmly in the ground of the Reformation. Without Scripture tightly binding the activities of the church and its leaders, we will utterly fail. Second, by definition, a Christian faith is not merely personal: we speak of a testimony, a witness, a confession. Our faith exists in its public, communal proclamation. Finally, from all I read, one of the primary purposes of the church body is to encourage one another to love and good works. This is why we gather: to confess our faith and to encourage. The writer of Hebrews says, "Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near...for you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised."
We are fallen. This is both why we need community, and why community and organization will always come with trouble. But I still believe in the Church, as long as we confess our faith together and work to encourage one another to love. I am realizing that life in the Church is no sprint. It's a grueling marathon of steep inclines in inclement weather. Maybe this is what Paul means when he speaks of working out our salvation in fear and trembling. Will we endure?
We have hope. We have reason for the hope that is in us. "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?...No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us."
Please pray that God will continue to give me grace, love, and open doors with students. Please also pray that I will endure in my commitment to joining my confession of faith with the Church, and that I will continue to encourage believers around me to love. I pray the same for you.
Your fellow pilgrim,
Amy