The last couple episodes have left me thinking that Lost might have more to say about our current War on Terrorism than about the western vs eastern philosophy. Of course the problem is about the differences between western and (middle) eastern philosophies, but regardless, these thoughts still apply. If you don’t watch the show, this won’t make any sense to you. Turn off the computer and go rent the first season. It’s the only show that I watch.
The show has recently been challenging the idea of what the “Others” are. Sure, we still don’t know much about them. We still don’t know where all the kids they kidnapped went. We don’t know why they do what they do. However, it is becoming harder and harder to think of them as “other.” We’re beginning to see glimpses of their pasts, how they got to the island. While we still don’t understand everything that’s going on inside their heads, we realize now that they are not that different from those on the shore. Even with betrayal as a recurring possibility, Others now have names.
Is this the solution for the animosity that currently exists between our world and the Islamic world? I propose that among the “Islamic extremists,” there are fathers, sons, and brothers, with wives, mothers, and sisters. I do not claim to know everything that goes on inside their heads; in fact, I can’t begin to understand how they think. Although I see many problems with the United States, I still wish they wouldn’t have flown planes into our buildings. I don’t understand how a religion that is based on a peaceful guy can be twisted into what it now seems to be.
Wait, nope, I do understand that. Or, at least, I’ve seen it happen: right here in America with Jesus instead of Mohammed. Many of our religious leaders regularly inform us of God’s plan of destruction for other nations, while ignoring our very own Babylon. While the early church required converted soldiers to seek new vocation, we happily combine faith and the destruction of a terrorist, though he is another Imago Dei.
Don’t buy that? What about our nationalism, our pseudo-religion around a flag and a cross? We have convinced ourselves that we are somehow holier than all other nations, because our churches have tax shelter and our government-sponsored soup kitchens can have crosses on them. In a case of ethnocentrism comparable to the events detailed in Hotel Rwanda, we want the world to become like us and we’ll kill them until they submit. Ahh… it seems that “they” are not so Other after all. Our violence is as cyclical as theirs. Our “religion” is as twisted as theirs. They go about it in different ways, but they are still willing to lay down their lives for a goal that should never be realized.
And it continues, as long as the Others remain nameless and faceless and, well… other.
First, a video that profiles three of the ministries that happen because of Highland’s Community Ministry. Lots of my kids featured in the second half.
Second, today I was looking around Joe’s office for some keys, and I discovered that Joe is a big Henri Nouwen fan, and has many of his books. So I’ve started to work my way through them. Started today on Life of the Beloved. Conversational in style, he asserts that all of the great temptations, success, popularity and power (closely mirrors Foster’s money, sex and power, IMHO) all boil down to self-rejection. From Chapter 1:
When we have come to believe in the voices that call us worthless and unlovable, then success, popularity and power are easily perceived as attractive solutions…. I am constantly surprised at how quickly I give in to this temptation. As soon as someone accuses me or criticizes me, as soon as I am rejected, left alone or abandoned, I find myself thinking: “Well, that proves once again that I am a nobody.” Instead of taking a critical look at the circumstances or trying to understand my own and others’ limitations, I tend to blame myself - not just for what I did, but for who I am. My dark side says, “I am no good….I deserve to be pushed aside, forgotten, rejected and abandoned.”
I forgot how hard it is to read Henri Nouwen. He matter-of-factly cuts to the heart of the inner monologue, the self-talk we give ourselves everyday. But instead of letting it be purely self-centered, he does it from the perspective of trying to make ourselves more prepared for ministry - which he defines as speaking to hearts the truth about who they are: “You are the Beloved.”
It was a rainy afternoon.
“I thought you were leaving,” I said. This was not the first time I’d asked him to leave the after-school program at Freedom Fellowship. He is one of the toughest children to attend, but he’s also stubborn, and doesn’t deal with authority well. 20 minutes after he stormed out the door, while showing me an inappropriate finger, I found him hiding in the baptistry.
Yep, in the baptistry. Somehow, when I think of the song, “You Are My Hiding Place,” that’s not what I normally have in mind.
“I can’t go home!” he yelled, as tears welled up in his eyes. “I don’t have anywhere to go!”
“Oh, so you have to stay here?”
“Yeah.”
“Then we need to talk,” I said, as I stepped into my office. He followed me in, letting me have it all the way.
“It’s not my fault both my parents have to work, okay? Was I supposed to just sit outside in the rain until y’all got done?!” He plopped himself in a chair. “Not everybody can go home right after school, you know. You’re in college; I thought you would have figured that out by now, unless you’re retarded.”
We stared at each other. His face was flushed with emotion, waiting to see how I would react.” Are you done?” I asked.
“I don’t know, yet.”
“Well, give me a chance.” I took a deep breath, wondering what could possibly be the right thing to say to him. “Hey, do you think the home I grew up in was perfect?” He nodded - and compared to his, I wonder sometimes. “Well, you’re wrong. It wasn’t. And what you said about not being able to go home - that’s why I’m here, you know. I did figure that out. There are some kids here who have someone at home waiting for them, and I’m glad they’re here. But this is not for them - this is for you! They don’t need this, it’s just fun. But you and kids like you are the reason that this is here - that I’m here! I just want to make this a place for you to go.”
He looked at me, understanding taking the place of anger. “So, do you think we can have an agreement: You can chill here, but you have to follow the rules that everybody else does?” He nodded. He was the last to leave that day.
Love is a hard business, and not always pleasant. It takes more sacrifice than I’d like. How do you convince someone that they are wanted? In the case of most of the kids who show up everyday, it’s kites, chalk, music, basketball and football. In the case of a homeless guy this weekend, it was some soup, a movie, a beer, some cigarettes and a warm place to sleep. In the case of this child that day, it meant identifying with him and providing an alternative to the current situation.
In any case, it definitely takes a healthy dose of endurance.