Here is a poem offered during my clergy support group. I think it says what I'm trying to say, with many fewer words, and more poetically.
Compassion is resistance.
Kindness is resistance.
Connection is resistance.
Community is resistance.
Solidarity is resistance.
Generosity is resistance.
Education is resistance.
Truth telling is resistance.
Hope is resistance.
Joy is resistance.
Laughter is resistance.
Peace is resistance.
Above all, love is resistance.
-Nicole Kontra

Get Angry, Maybe. 1 of 3.
If you aren't angry you aren't paying attention! I wrote an earlier blog post on this idea, but it is on my mind again. Jesus got angry, they say, and it makes sense for us to get angry too.
​To which I say: Maybe.
Angry Jesus shows up in the temple market. In Mark he drives out the sales people and turns over the tables. In Luke (19:45-47) and Matthew (21:12-13) the focus is on the space being a house of prayer for all. Mark (11:15-18) adds that it should not be a den of thieves. He turns tables in some, and drives out the vendors in others.
Lets look at the John's version:

John 2:14-16 In the temple Jesus found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves and the money changers seated at their tables. 15 Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, with the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. 16 He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!”

The whip, only found in John, is in all the pictures in the children's books. Jesus looks really angry. The synoptics allow us to spiritualize this story, with the emphasis on the Temple as a house of prayer, but we must not forget that the Temple is where people paid their tax to the local government, and where records of their debts are held. Jesus' anger in John's version is about the marketplace, but the purpose of that market was not to get dinner, but to get your offering converted to a form acceptable to the religious leaders. And the religious leaders were the local government. This was a protest at the statehouse.

We hear nothing of the consequences of this action; well nothing except the decision of the authorities to stop Jesus. (We shouldn’t downplay that as bad. He got publicity for his action and that made people think.) I still wonder were any debts relieved? Were taxes more honestly levied? Did the government become more focused on meeting the needs of the poor? Did readers of this text use it as motivation to care for money in just ways?

And yet here we are two thousand (or so) years later imagining Jesus making whips out of cords and flipping over tables. We use it as our permission to get angry, and to act on that anger to engage in violence overthrow of injustice.

It does set some criteria for acting in anger. Most important the violence is against things and not against people. And even there, the marketers product is not destroyed, only removed. The tables are flipped, making a mess, but not smashed to smithereens. And the sales people themselves are not whipped, they are lectured on the importance of the space.

Jesus never presumes that bad actors cannot change. He always offers words--often cryptic words--for them to mull over in the days and weeks and months to come. In the big picture of the gospels we come away with the idea that Jesus hopes that they will understand that “the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” (Mark 1:15).


INTERESTING LINK
Nadia Bolz-Weber is starting a Red State Revival and would love to come to a location near you. She says:
"Because first and foremost, this is not the moment to concede the Christian faith to nationalists. Nor is it the moment to double down on things that don’t work."

Share with Each Other
There are a fair number of negative commentaries about the earliest church gatherings. They are disdainful of the Christian practice of caring for each other. The biggest rebuke is that it would be so easy for someone to cheat them--to join the church to take advantage of the shared wealth, rather than joining out of faith. 

In the early church, all of the wealth of the members was shared in common. We don't know exactly how that worked, but we know that it happened, not only from the witness of Acts (2:42-47), but because of the writings making fun of the practice. Sharing prayers, studying scripture, and eating in homes may have been the primary sharing. They gathered their resources, purchased what was needed for dinner,  cooked, and cleaned together.  Perhaps there was a more complicated plan.

What kind of plan would we need in our churches today to replicate this practice? We are likely to face times in the near future where food prices go up, unemployment goes up, and government benefits go down. We should fight that, and we'll talk about those strategies later, but in the immediate context, we will have people in our churches, our neighbors, the family of God, who will need material help to get by. And isn't that what we do best--care for one another?

The thing that helps households the most when facing financial difficulty is cash. Giving people money to spend as they choose is what gives the greatest support.  It feels counter-cultural just to say that out loud! How do we just give people money? 

We could encourage people to give or take from the offering plate as it is passed, although in my churches there is little there to take (most give by check or online.) We could hand out $50 bills to those who come to worship, encouraging those with plenty to give it away, and those with little to keep it. If you prefer a more organized structure, people with excess in their budgets can create a fund that is distributed (once a month?) among those who don't have enough. 

I can hear all of your worries as you read this, because I have them too. How will we make sure that only people who need money are receiving it? Like the first century Romans, I can't help but worry about cheaters. But also how will we make sure that those who need money will choose to take advantage of the program? Should we figure out a line for what constitutes need? What if someone uses the money for alcohol or for illegal drugs? Although many pantries and other give-away programs have strategies for the receivers to qualify for the goods, those are in most cases not actually required. We are allowed to give what we have to whoever we want to. Sara Miles corrects a volunteer in her book Take this Bread: they can't steal from us, because we are offering it for free. 

And remember that we are talking about caring for members. We'll get to how to create a wider circle in a later conversation. Here I am wondering about just taking care of people that we know. Can we find a way to provide for Marla who sits on the back left; or Harold who sings in the choir, or Juan who comes once a month with his grandson? 

We have small ways of doing this now. We have the pastor's discretionary fund, which I hate, where someone comes in private to beg as carefully as they can, and the pastor decides who is worthy, and of how much they are worthy for. Our positive intent is to maintain confidentiality and allow the possibility of deeper care, but the impact is that only people who have the nerve to ask, to plea, for help have access to that fund. How much risk would we be taking if there is no explanation required--members of the congregation who need money are handed money. Is that over the top wild?

We are incredibly concerned that it won't be fair. That someone who needs more won't get it or that someone will get more than they need. That someone will feel guilty for not giving, or embarrassed to receive. Perhaps, like the Romans, we are afraid that hundreds of poor people will join our church just to get their share of the wealth. Certainly that fear gives me pause. Don't we want more people to join, so they can help, and pledge, and hear the good news? (Wait, is that the right order?) We aren't really afraid too many poor people will join us, are we?

The good news in the first century was that Kingdom of God was really, right then, at hand. I find it hard to feel that way right now. But if we could create small communities where everyones  financial needs are cared for, wouldn't that be a miracle? Wouldn't that be good news? 

Another leadership meeting. Our pizza place is closed for the summer, so we've been meeting picnic style on the common. It's not optimum, some people are uncomfortable on the ground, if we meet on the park chairs we are in a row not a circle, so discussion is hard.

So we set up a couple blankets out and walked around and told those hanging out on the benches that our discussion would taking place on the blankets and they are welcome to join us.

One older gentleman came almost 20 minutes early to talk, so we visited with him until 4pm. Another regular from worship arrived right on time and we began with prayer and Bible Study. We are looking at Psalm 133: "how wonderful it is when people live together in unity".

Pizza (from another store) arrived at 4:30 and we talked about how important eating is to creating community. We also discussed how to drink soda without cups! Six or so people from the surrounding seats came over to join us.
​
Debbie, a young African American woman who had been at worship for the first time this morning, accepted her pizza but would not sit down. "I don't want to be rude" she said "but how is this church helping the homeless any more than anyone else?"

Yes. How are we helping? I offered something about how we know we aren't providing housing or food, or the things people need the most. She offered other examples of things we don't do. I agreed.

I went on to share that we are distinctive--that we are outside, so people can drink or walk around, or take a break. That we remind people that God loves them before they get sober. That we welcome all people, including those that are Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual or Transgender. I was at a loss of what else to say.

Diane spoke up "I'm an alcoholic, and today was the first time I felt like I could stay in church, because I was drunk when I came."
Dave said "I've been sober a long time, but I need to move around. I always come late."
James said "And you guys really listen to us."

Debbie pulled up some blanket and sat down. We continued with a discussion about what makes "unity" and what makes "community."

Then we moved on to the business of the meeting. We have $600 in our budget from the offering. How shall we spend that money?
Bus tokens, or bus passes.

What should we do for a donation? Abbey's house, Jeremiah's Inn, Rachel's Kitchen. No, someone hollers, I want us to do bus passes.
"Bus passes are for us. What do we want to do for other people?"

This description of our meeting sounds so organized. Can you tell that all this is happening at once? At the same time a guy rode up on a bike, hollered for one our participants, and was told to get out of here. Two people went off to smoke, one volunteered followed, and for a few minutes we had two discussion circles 12 feet apart. Someone complained that this can't be bible study if we don't have bibles, and another handed him the printout of Psalm 133 and said "this is about community". Someone else complained that Abbey's house and Jeremiah's Inn get government money, so we shouldn't help them.

Debbie called us all to attention. "I have an idea. How about we use the $60 that we give away to buy food for Abbey's House. Then we can meet a church in the area and make dinner for the women there. You know they have to get together and cook dinner for themselves every night."

"Why $60?"
"It's 10% of $600."
"I want bus passes."
"We can do that, too."
"Shall we do dinner for Abbey's House?"
"Yeah!"
"All in favor say 'aye'."

We passed the proposal just as lightening ran across the sky. "Someone pray us out." I said, "quickly!"

Brian prayed for the homeless everywhere, and for the women at Abbey's house. We handed out the last of the pizza and raced to our various places for shelter just as the drops poured from the sky.