Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Aron Guest of Manna House: Presente!

“When all the congregation saw that Aaron had died, all the house of Israel wept for Aaron thirty days” (Numbers 20:29).
We received word today that Aron died. He was a very quiet man with a shy smile. He never said much, though he did offer once that he was from Memphis. He wasn’t a daily guest at Manna House, but he came often enough that those of us who volunteer every day or most days, came to know him.
Aron pushed a shopping cart in which he carried both his possessions and his various finds. To earn a few bucks, Aron would take what he had found either to the recycling center or to the pawnshop.
Aron walked with a significant limp, with one foot curled in so far that it almost dragged. I’m not sure what had happened. He mentioned an accident, but he wasn’t too clear about it.
The first time he came to Manna House he was looking for some shoes. His old shoes were so completely worn down that he had gone through the outer sole and even the next layer of cushioning. The shoe for his curled in foot rolled decidedly to the outside, and its side was scraped up by the way Aron walked. We got him a new pair of shoes. His pattern became that about every three months or so, he would come by for a replacement pair.
This was done outside of “regular channels” because Aron usually arrived too late to get on either the shower list or the “socks and hygiene” list which are the usual ways to get shoes. In fact, I don’t think Aron ever came for a shower at Manna House, and he rarely got on the “socks and hygiene” list. Other than the occasional pair of shoes, his typical request was simply for a pair of socks. In the winter he might ask for a hat or a pair of gloves.
Since we have a Moses at Manna House, I liked to kid Aron that his brother Moses was had already arrived. Whenever I’d say this, Aron would flash his smile and chuckle softly.
Aron never hung around much. After getting his socks, he’d be on his way, pushing his cart. I looked for a picture of Aron but couldn’t find one. This just deepens my grief over Aron’s death.
I don’t want his death to go unmarked. In the hustle and bustle of Manna House today, a woman I did not recognize shared with me the news of Aron’s passing. At first I thought she had said “A-Rod” and I wasn’t sure who she was talking about. She did promise to return with news of the funeral arrangements. We prayed briefly and I shared my sorrow with her about his death. We loved you Aron and you will be missed.

Friday, June 13, 2014

A Toothache and More

You ever had a toothache? Not just a little one, but a throbbing, pulsating, make-all–of-life-miserable toothache? One of our guests did this week. I was standing in the living room of Manna House and noticed Leroy looking quite glum. He’s never been the most happy-go-lucky person, but his face this day said, “I’m suffering.”
“How you doing Leroy?”
“Awful. I have a really bad toothache. They gave me a prescription but I’m not going to be able to afford it.”
“Where’d you go for help?”
“The Med.”
The Med, of course, is the Regional Medical Center (which today is trying to rebrand itself as “Regional One Health"). Folks around here know it is the massive public hospital, which along with Methodist Hospital a few blocks away, takes care of most of the poor people in Shelby County and north Mississippi and far eastern Arkansas. Dr. King died there. So did Elvis.
“Can I see your prescription? Maybe Manna House can help.”
“Sure.”
The prescription was for two different kinds of antibiotics. And thankfully, we weren’t that busy right then at Manna House. So if I slipped out for a few minutes it wouldn’t create a problem for getting the work of the house done. Ashley said things would be fine.
“Leroy, let’s go get this filled.”
So we hopped in my car and made the short trip to the Med.
Of course, nothing is as simple as you’d think it might be when you enter the land of the poor. Leroy had turned in his prescription to get it filled before he came to Manna House. It had been a couple of hours. But after we waited and waited and waited, when it was finally his turn, he found out that the prescription had not been filled. He still needed to be cleared of allergic reactions.
“Nobody told me that when I turned in my prescription.”
“Sir, you need to take another number and see the folks over there. Once they see you about possible allergies it will be about 45 minutes before we’ll get back to you.”
What choice did we have? We waited. Eventually Leroy saw the allergic folks, and then we settled in to wait some more. We talked. First about his tooth. He needs to get it pulled, and he’s hoping to get that done tomorrow. He knows a place. Then he got more reflective.
“I’m suffering so much these days, and I’ve been suffering so long,” Leroy told me, “I just want to die. But then I’d have to face God and that would probably mean more suffering.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m not doing well in my life. I’ve never done well. I just can’t get myself together.”
Then Leroy told me some about his family. There was horrible suffering, a sibling who was murdered, illnesses, the struggles to keep jobs, and the struggles to keep a place to live. Leroy’s been homeless a long time. He carries so much grief.
“God loves you Leroy, more that you will ever know. God's not out to punish you. And when you do die, God will welcome you with better hospitality than any place you’ve ever been.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. You’re one of God’s children, and God loves each of God’s children more powerfully than we can imagine.”
Leroy’s name was called. The prescription was filled and paid for, and we headed out into the labyrinth of hallways at the Med. We went by the old “John Gaston Hospital” sign preserved in one of the halls. John Gaston was the segregated city hospital.
“That’s where I was born,” Leroy said, “Most of it was set aside for blacks.”

Monday, June 9, 2014

The Day After Pentecost

When the day after Pentecost had come, they were gathered all together in one place at Manna House.  And suddenly from down the street there came a sound like the rush of a might big semi-truck flying down Jefferson Avenue, and it filled the entire front porch and house where they were sitting drinking coffee.  Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them.  All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.
            Now there were devout folks from all over the place living in the neighborhood of Claybrook and Jefferson.  And at this sound, the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each.  Amazed and astonished they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Memphians?  And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native tongue?  Mississippians, Arkansans, East Tennesseans, and residents of Iowa, Nebraska, Missouri, Georgians, Alabamians, people from Bucksnort and Nashville, and Chattanooga, and visitors from the Catholic Heart Work Camp—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.”
            All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?”  But others sneered and said, “They are filled with beer.”
            But Moses, standing with those on the porch, raised his voice, and addressed them.  And it was a long speech and I don’t remember it all, but the gist of it was, “These folks are not drunk.  It’s only 8:30am.  No, the prophecies have been fulfilled and the Spirit has come.  Death has been overcome.  Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”
            O, yes, it was quite a day at Manna House!  Awe came upon everyone.  All who believed were together and shared things, distributing goods to all, as any had need.  Twenty men showered and got a change of clothes.  Another fifty-one (plus a few extras) got “socks and hygiene.”  And everyone who showed up got coffee or water, as they wished.  All that morning they spent much time together, telling stories and jokes, sharing news and views, enjoying each other’s company. 

            

Friday, June 6, 2014

A Theological Education at Manna House

A Theological Education at Manna House 

A seminary is one place to get a theological education, and as a professor at Memphis Theological Seminary, I think it is a pretty good place for such an education. But theological education can also happen elsewhere, and it is one of our convictions at Manna House that our guests are excellent teachers of theology. This should come as no surprise since Jesus himself has endorsed our guests as bringing his presence into our midst, “Whatever you do to the least of these you do unto me” (Matthew 25:40).
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a fine German theologian who was executed by the Nazis for his resistance to their regime, also endorsed the education we can receive from our guests when he wrote, “There remains an experience of incomparable value. We have for once learned to see the great events of world history from below, from the perspective of the outcasts, the suspects, the maltreated — in short, from the perspective of those who suffer.” Do you want to learn how our society works? Spend time with those for whom our society is not working.
On Thursday morning I learned about the resurrection from Phil, a man who recently lost his son, and in the past year has lost three additional family members. Phil himself has been told by doctors that he is a “ticking time bomb.” His heart is not good and “I’m likely to be dead in a year or two.”
In light of these realities, Phil told me, “I’m ready to die. I believe in the resurrection. I love this life, don’t get me wrong, but I’m ready for the more life of resurrection.” And then sounding a lot like St. Paul (see 1 Corinthians 15:12-19), Phil continued, “If Jesus wasn’t raised from the dead, then I’m a fool. But I ain’t no fool. I believe he did rise, and I believe we’ll rise too. There’s another better life for me and you. Yup, I’m ready.”
Earlier in the week, on Tuesday, Phil taught me about lamentation and the necessity of honesty in a life of faith. He had just learned of his son’s death. “God must really hate me,” he said, “I don’t know if I can make it through this.”
Or as the Psalmist put it, “How long O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long?” (Psalm 13:1-2).
“I don’t understand,” Phil continued, “but somehow God’s in this here. I ain’t giving up. I had to come here today. I knew you all would understand.”
Earlier in the day, Robert asked me to write him a “letter of homelessness” to an agency that required proof of his being homeless before he could receive their services. While I wrote the letter I asked him how long we had been on the streets.
“Two years now.”
Then he explained how he’s struggling under a debt that he incurred many years ago. “I keep trying to get free of it, but I can’t. It’s too much. I can never get it paid off. The interest just keeps piling up. The late fees keeping adding to what I owe.”
Robert’s plight intersected with the “word for the day” which was from Luke’s Gospel 4:18-19. Jesus begins his revolutionary work for the Kingdom of God with an announcement. Robert and I talked about this good news that Jesus read from Isaiah.
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovering of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty those who are oppressed,
to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.”
That last part, setting at liberty those who are oppressed and proclaiming the acceptable year of the Lord, draws upon the biblical tradition of Jubilee. In Jubilee, slaves were freed and debts were forgiven (Leviticus 25:8-13).
“That’s the day I’m talking about,” said Robert, “that’s some for sure good news. I need me some of that kind of Jesus.”
“Me too,” I said to Robert, “me too.”

Incarnational Discipleship and Resistance to White Supremacy

At Manna House, most of our friends who are experiencing homelessness, and most of the poor who also come each morning that we are open are African American.  Memphis is a majority African American city, and Memphis also has one of the highest poverty rates among U.S. cities.  Homelessness and poverty disproportionately affects African Americans, and so do imprisonment and the death penalty.  In all major indicators of health and wellbeing, African Americans continue to fall below that of whites in U.S. society.   
I just finished reading Charles Marsh’s biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Strange Glory: A Life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer.  The moral failure of churches, both Protestant and Catholic, to resist the rise of Adolf Hitler and the Nazis, along with the Holocaust, is damning.  I have also just finished reading two others books, both about the ongoing power of racism in American life.  The first is specific to Memphis, Laurie B. Green’s Battling the Plantation Mentality: Memphis and the Black Freedom Struggle.  The second is more broadly focused, though primarily about the South, Douglas A. Blackmon’s Slavery By Another Name: The Re-Enslavement of Black Americans from the Civil War to World War II.  I also just completed Ta-Nehisi Coates’ article in the May issue of The Atlantic Magazine, “The Case for Reparations.” 
These three readings in conjunction with Marsh’s book on Bonhoeffer, leads me to this question:  Is the moral failure of white churches in the United States with regard to slavery and the neo-slavery that followed the equivalent of the moral failure of churches in Germany with regard to the Nazis and the Holocaust?  And a second question, are there theological parallels to be drawn between the churches in the United States and those in Germany?  I believe that the answer to both questions is “yes.”
            Glen Stassen in his last book before he died, A Thicker Jesus: Incarnational Discipleship in a Secular Age, urged that “we scrutinize historical times for which almost all of us are now clear about who was faithful and who was unfaithful” (13).  He describes Bonhoeffer in his resistance as one of the faithful.  He also identifies the U.S. Civil Rights Movement as another time of testing, and he points to Clarence Jordan and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (among others), as two examples of those who were faithful.
Stassen does not engage in a detailed analysis or comparison of the challenges Bonhoeffer faced with those faced in the Civil Rights Movement.  He also does not examine the era of slavery and the era of neo-slavery after the Civil War.  However, an examination of those times, plus the Civil Rights Movement era, easily reveals that few white Christians, and few white churches resisted slavery and neo-slavery, and that this failure continued throughout most of the Civil Rights Movement. 
I would go further and say that today few white Christians and churches are actively engaged in active resistance to ongoing White Supremacy, also known as racism.  Dr. King’s assessment of the church hour on Sunday being one of the most segregated times of the week continues to be accurate today.  Further, the pealing back of gains made during the Civil Rights Movement has gone largely uncontested by white churches with many white Christians actively supporting this reversal.
            What kind of Christianity is needed that would provide resources for resistance to White Male Supremacy and other injustices in U.S. society?  Stassen identifies three dimensions of what he calls “Incarnational Discipelship” that were shared by Bonhoeffer, King, Jordan, and others that he identifies as faithful in times of testing. 
First, they all had “a thick, historically embodied, realistic understanding of Jesus Christ as revealing God’s character.”  This stood in contrast to the unfaithful who reduced Christ to an abstract principle or high ideal.  This “thin Jesus” was open to “ideological manipulations” such as the Aryan Jesus of the Nazis and the “white Jesus” compatible with slavery, neo-slavery, and racism. 
Second, they all had “a holistic understanding of the Lordship of Jesus Christ or sovereignty of God throughout all of life and all of creation.”  This stood in contrast to dualisms which privatize Christian life, reducing it to individual concern for salvation of the soul, while abandoning the public spheres of politics and economics.  In both Nazi Germany and racist America there has been a gospel of individual salvation and personal orderliness and status quo. The cross (and life) of Christ has nothing to do with social/political movements or realities beyond the church; it is a matter of individual salvation.  The emphasis is upon “Jesus died for me.”
Third, they all expressed and enacted “a strong call for repentance from captivity to ideologies such as nationalism, racism, and greed.”  It was, of course, those ideologies that dominated the public sphere in both Nazi Germany and the United States of slavery, neo-slavery, and today’s White Supremacy. 
            I would add two additional dimensions for Incarnational Discipleship, which I think are also evident in those who were faithful.  So, a fourth dimension is solidarity with persons on the margins rooted in a preferential option for the poor and oppressed.  Bonhoeffer wrote, “There remains an experience of incomparable value. We have for once learned to see the great events of world history from below, from the perspective of the outcasts, the suspects, the maltreated — in short, from the perspective of those who suffer.”  Bonhoeffer began his solidarity with the Jews while he was in the U.S.  Through his experiences in Harlem and the Abyssinian Baptist Church and in his travels in the American South, he came to see the parallels between the treatment of Blacks in the U.S. and the treatment of Jews in Germany.  Those who were not faithful in Germany went along with the dehumanizing characterization of Jews, while those who were not faithful in the U.S. have gone along with the dehumanizing characterizations of African Americans.  Theologically, in both cases, Jews and Blacks were regarded as brutes, sub-human, and therefore, dispensable.
            A fifth dimension of Incarnational Discipleship is the Cross, the recognition of and acceptance of the reality of persecution for those who will resist the powers.   The cross is envisioned in two ways.  First, the way of Jesus calls those of us who are complicit in White Supremacy (which includes more than whites) to self-giving for the sake of love of and justice.  This self-giving requires the renunciation of one’s own privileged position and power, as Jesus himself rejected the temptations of Satan for political, economic, and religious power over others.  Second, this way of Jesus engages one not only in renunciation, but also in costly struggle for justice as those in power will use every means available to them to maintain their power.  The cross here reveals God’s confrontation with injustice.  As Miguel De La Torre writes, “God does not stand aloof…  God understands the plight of today’s crucified people, who hang on crosses dedicated to the idols of race, class, and gender superiority…” (Ethics from the Margins, 36).
            Bonhoeffer wrote extensively of Christianity without the cross, a “cheap grace” which saves without moral transformation or commitment.  Dr. King wrote often of “redemptive suffering” by which persons expose and confront injustice as they put their lives on the line to witness for justice.  Christianity without the cross, without realism about sin and the cost of confronting sin in one’s own life and in institutional sin, simply goes along with the ruling ideologies of the day.  The Nazis harped upon the regaining of the glory of Germany; in the U.S. we are regularly engaged in an American exceptionalism and triumphalism, “We’re number one!”  Both affirm an innocence which rejects responsibility for the suffering of others.
            Approximately six million Jews died in the Holocaust.  Approximately half a million Africans were brought to the U.S. as part of the slave trade (many more went to South America, up to 10 million).  The numbers that died on their way to slavery is disputed and range from one million to five million.  Deaths due to slavery itself through its approximately 250 year history in the Americas are even harder to calculate, though approximately half of all children born to slaves died in infancy.   
It is also difficult to put a hard and fast number on the economic benefit to the U.S. economy from slavery and neo-slavery.  However, we need to face facts such as the following from Ta-Nehisi Coates’ article “The Case for Reparations” that point to the extensive economic importance to African American slavery: in the seven cotton states, one-third of all white income was derived from slavery; by 1840 cotton produced by slave labor constituted 59 percent of the country’s exports; in 1860, slaves as an asset were worth more than all of America’s manufacturing, all of the railroads, all of the productive capacity of the United States put together, and slaves were the single largest, by far, financial asset of property in the entire American economy.
            Beyond the slave economy, neo-slavery and White Supremacy have continued the economic exploitation of African Americans in wages and housing, which adds to the wealth created by African Americans and taken by whites in the dominant economic and political structures of the U.S.
            So where does this leave the churches and Christianity today?  What would it mean to be faithful in our current context along the lines of Bonhoeffer, King, and others identifiable as practicing an Incarnational Discipleship in relation to White Supremacy?  Advocacy for reparations as part of the struggle for racial justice would be a good place to start.  Support for policies in education and the economy such as affirmative action are also necessary.  Changes in the criminal justice system which Michelle Alexander has deemed “the new Jim Crow” are also required, along with the elimination of the legalized lynching called the death penalty.  The “Moral Monday” movement in North Carolina provides an important contemporary example of what Christian involvement in these and other issues look like.

            Attention to the five dimensions of Incarnational Discipleship can have an important role in inspiring these types of engagement in U.S. culture, economics, and politics.  It is past time to acknowledge that the dominant form of Christianity in the U.S., primarily present within white churches, needs to be not simply critiqued but rejected as false, due to its failure to resist the exploitation and deaths of millions of people of African Americans.  A similar statement can be made regarding Latinos and Native Americans.  Both have histories that point to the central role of White Supremacy in their exploitation and death.  This further underlines the importance of the theological and practical work to critique and reject faithless White Supremacy Christianity.  And within that critique and rejection to also construct a faithful Christianity that witnesses to an inclusive and just Beloved Community, a concrete alternative to White Supremacy.

Monday, June 2, 2014

A Mostly Ordinary Morning

A Mostly Ordinary Morning

Some mornings at Manna House are mostly ordinary.  I arrive at 6:40a.m., and Montrell is there waiting at the front gate to greet me.  He’s always there earlier than me and he always jokes that I’m late.  After I get the gate open and get into the house, there is more routine:  plug in the coffee pots, unlock all the interior doors, open a few shut windows, open blinds, check laundry, sit and read, reflect and pray until 7:30a.m., fill sugar containers, set out other items for serving coffee, start to let early arriving volunteers into the house, and then, at 7:45a.m., take the list for showers and “socks and hygiene.”
            Once we do job assignments with volunteers, we pray, then we open the gate to the backyard at 8:00a.m., pray with our guests, and the morning begins:  serving coffee, offering showers with a change of clothes, offering “socks and hygiene.”  Hospitality isn’t that complicated, at least on a mostly ordinary day.
            There are a few “special requests” to be addressed.  One guest needs a pair of shoes, another needs a Bible, yet another is seeking a “letter of homelessness” for a rehabilitation program.  There is nothing really that special about those requests, except that they don’t happen every day.
            I don’t mind mostly ordinary mornings at Manna House.  Hospitality moves along with a kind of organized chaos.  There are no serious conflicts or fights.  There is instead a lot of laughter as stories and jokes get shared.  There’s a lot of sugar and creamer served with the coffee.  There’s a lot of laundry to be done.  There’s a lot of sorting of donations to get through.
            In the midst of this mostly ordinary morning, though, we learn that a guest has lost his twenty two year old son to a drug overdose.  The guest is weeping in the backyard.  Some of us long term volunteers take turns listening, consoling, just sitting with him.  His heart is broken.  He’s lost three other family members in the past year.  He’s a man of many sorrows.
            Meanwhile, in the house, a new guest arrives.  He looks lost and he is lost.  “I’m from Atlanta.  I don’t know where to go or what to do.”  Byron takes him aside to fill him in on what’s available at Manna House and in Memphis.
Still, the ordinary steadily goes on.  A few guests share hopes about job prospects.  Another guest shares a hope about getting into some housing.  There’s a chess game that is played with friendly intensity. As the morning draws to a close, floors get swept and mopped.  Toilets and showers get cleaned.  Coffee pots and sugar dispensers get washed.  Laundry gets started.
            At reflection time, after we’ve closed and are done cleaning up, we have a few moments to share thoughts from the morning. The Germantown United Methodist Youth Group has returned to volunteer every Monday, as they have done for many past summers.  One of the youth in the group asks about Sarah.  “She wasn’t here today.  I remember her from last summer.  Does she still come?”  I have to let this young person know that Sarah died this past December.
            Hospitality isn’t that complicated on a mostly ordinary day.  There is joy and there is sorrow.  There’s sharing of our lives in ways that keep us going, guests and volunteers alike. 

I guess in some ways hospitality is like a sacrament, at least if we go with the definition from the Baltimore Catechism that I’m old enough to remember: “A sacrament is an outward sign instituted by Christ to give grace.”  Jesus instituted hospitality for his disciples by telling them a story about the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and imprisoned, and then telling them, “Whatever you do unto the least of these you do unto me” (Mt 25:40).  The grace comes in sharing hospitality; it is mostly the ordinary grace of sharing a welcome, some time together, and a few other goods.  And ordinary or not, this grace changes our hearts and our lives, and brings us a little closer to God’s Beloved Community.