I have met dozens of young adults (20-35 years old) over the last several years who grew up in the churches of Christ but no longer attend one. I’ve met dozens of others who still attend a church of Christ, at least somewhat regularly, who feel that such a church is no longer the ideal place for them but know of nowhere else to go. I am primarily concerned in this essay with the latter though I will make some reference to the former. These still-attending-but-uncomfortable CoCers are uncomfortable in the churches of their youth for a variety of reasons, the most common of which are:
1. A rejection of the teaching that the only Christians can be found in “the one true Church,” namely the churches of Christ. These young adults, either through their own theological reflection or interaction with Christians not in the CoC, have come to discern that God’s work and people is much bigger than the few million people who attend CoCs around the world. Thus, hearing sermons and attending Bible studies where their friends, who often display the spirit of Christ in ways they haven’t experienced in their own church, are condemned to hell are moments that scream to them “you and those like you aren’t welcome here.”
2. A rejection of what they interpret as an overbearing legalism in the CoC. For example, they find the arguments about the use of instruments in worship, or more recently “praise teams,” to be narrow-minded and intended to exclude people from God’s church more than to be faithful to God’s will.
3. A dissatisfaction with the teaching and ministries in many CoCs. These young adults feel that church curriculum is either geared toward youth, married couples with children, or the elderly, and that they are, therefore, implicitly excluded from the work of the church. In addition, they find the focus of CoC ministries so overwhelmingly centered around Bible study that they feel the CoC is all “talk” and no “walk.” They often yearn to find a CoC with thriving service and justice ministries that engage their community in an intimate and helpful way.
4. A discomfort or rejection of the ways that many CoCs are explicitly or implicitly aligned with the conservative political movement in the United States. These young adults are either politically progressive or liberal or are simply uncomfortable with the political zealousness of the leaders in many congregations. They don’t recognize an easy alliance between the Christian faith and conservative politics (or any political parties/ideologies at all). If they don’t identify as conservative but believe the ethos of the church is one where faithfulness = conservativeness they intuit that they are unwelcome.
5. A desire for racial and cultural diversity that is sorely lacking in the CoCs they know. CoCs tend to be rather homogenous and segregated. Young adults today, especially those who grew up in/live in metro areas, experience diversity at school, work, and at play. They simply don’t understand how the church can still be so segregated and, quite frankly, feel uncomfortable about it and feel that it is a sign that something must be wrong.
However, these young adults also love the CoC. No, they really do. They appreciate the ways they were taught the Bible as a child (and know it much better than their friends who grew up in a different church tradition). They have fond memories of church potlucks, retreats, and camps (especially in youth group). They actually prefer acappella worship to singing with a praise band. They love the relationships they have forged with fellow CoC members. These young adults are CoC through-and-through and don’t want to be any other way.
Except they feel as if they have no other choice, but they don’t know which choice of other church to make. And so they remain. Uncomfortable. Unfulfilled. And gradually losing the vitality of their faith.
Often young adults who feel this way make their way to an American evangelical-type church. This makes sense for a lot of reasons. The main ones being their congregational nature and their emphasis on individual reading of scripture, without the same ethos of exclusion and legalism. (There’s also the distance from the rest of the Christian tradition that CoCs and evangelicals share.) Such young adults often make their way to some local megachurch or community church and feel like they’ve found a place familiar enough to be comfortable but different enough to have made a real change.
“Homeless” young adults haven’t made such a drastic move, or are uncomfortable with having done so, and still feel some sense of loyalty to the CoC. However, they often know that if they don’t live in a select few major cities (Atlanta, Austin, Dallas, etc.) or near a flagship CoC university (Pepperdine, ACU, Lipscomb) they won’t ever find a CoC in which they can feel comfortable.
And so they float from church to church never making a deep commitment to a place. Clearly, this is problematic for a number of reasons. As much as Americans want to think otherwise, the vast majority people cannot have a thriving and healthy spiritual life outside the regular fellowship with and deep commitment to a community of believers.
Some of these young adults are lost to the CoC; our churches failed them. They found another home. However, many are still “homeless.” And if you, ________ Church of Christ, hope to keep them off the spiritual streets you must address the concerns listed above or a significant portion of an entire generation will be lost to you. You must move beyond exclusion, legalism, the religious right, and the cultural homogeneity of your congregational life.
And to the homeless CoC young adults I’ve been writing about, I encourage you not to give up on those people who loved you, formed you, and introduced you to Christ (at least not with haste). No, they are not perfect, but neither is any other church. And please think long and hard before becoming an evangelical. Believe it or not, they can be just as legalistic and exclusionary; they have often acquiesced even more to the not-so-laudable aspects of American culture than the American-bred CoCs you know; they are just as committed to right-wing politics; and they can be just as racially and culturally homogenous. On top of that, they have often abandoned those things the CoC got right; namely, a love of and commitment to baptism and the Lord’s Supper, a desire to read scripture as more than just a feel-good devotional book, and a robust commitment to and theology of “the Church.” If you have made the decision to “go evangelical” I do not begrudge you, but if you haven’t yet and are considering it I encourage you to do so only with deep discernment. [And believe it or not (and I know we were taught not to), going to one of the "denominations" rather than an evangelical church might feel more like home (once you get used to the liturgy). Most of them do practice baptism and the Lord's Supper, after all.]
Finally, if you are “homeless” and can’t find a home in a CoC don’t give up on church altogether. Go somewhere else. God will meet you there even if those you love in the CoC of your youth won’t. And it may be home.
Over the last year several colleagues and I have worked diligently on putting together the fifth issue of Practical Matters. My fellow ethics student here at Emory, Joseph Wiinikka-Lydon, and I have served as the editors of the issue. For those who are unfamiliar with the journal, Practical Matters is an online multimedia journal that focuses on the intersection between the study of religious practices and practical theology. We are convinced at the journal that there is much potential for mutual learning across these disciplines and have found our work enriched through this intentional interdisciplinary work. For instance, our third issue was one of the first comprehensive academic collections that focused on the emerging use of ethnography in theology, and our fourth issue focused on the intersection of religion and theology with health and healing. In addition to exploring this growing area of interdisciplinary scholarly study, the journal also takes pride in the fact that it is open-access (no burdensome subscription fees here!), seeks to integrate new and multimedia forms of scholarship that move beyond traditional academic articles, and publishes works from religious practitioners as well as scholars of religion and theology to encourage conversation between the academy and the “real world.”
In that spirit, we as editors were intentional about including as much multimedia work and practitioner contributions as possible alongside the highest quality scholarly work on the field(s) of religion, violence, and/or peacebuilding. In the end, we are quite happy with the result.
As far as the scholarly contributions go, alongside our three peer-reviewed pieces (including PM’s first peer-reviewed video ethnography), we have included two state of the field essays from scholars at Notre Dame’s Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies on religion and violence and religion and peacebuilding. The first essay, “Religious Violence: The Strong, the Weak, and the Pathological,” is written by a leading voice in the field, R. Scott Appleby. The second essay, “Religious Peacebuilding: The Exotic, the Good, and the Theatrical,” is written by Atalia Omer. In addition, three scholars from different fields (sociology, ethics, and history) have written responses to the essays. These essays and their responses are intended to give readers a sense of the past, present, and potential future shape of the field of religion, violence, and peace, and we believe they serve that purpose quite well. Along these same lines, Joe and I have included a 30+ page annotated bibliography of significant works in the field. Finally, along with these works we have included a syllabus from a team-taught course taught across multiple universities through the Boston Theological Institute along with a reflection from some of the professors, authored primarily by M. Christian Green, on the experience of teaching such a course in an impressively interdisciplinary manner. The combination of these resources, we hope, should serve as a helpful resource for those putting together a syllabus for a course on religion, violence, and peace, or as a helpful jumpstart for those who are unfamiliar with the field but would like to begin working in it.
There are many more excellent contributions to the issue, including peer-reviewed articles and a wonderful selection of book reviews, that are not included in this blog post. Please see the introduction to the issue for a more in-depth account of all that is included within its pages. However, I hope this has piqued your interest enough to go and check out this new (and free!) contribution to the study of religious practices and practical theologies of peace and violence.
This is a question that would have seemed weird to me not too long ago. However, now I see it as one loaded with (potential) theological significance. I have been told since my teenage years about the virtues of daily Bible reading. To encourage this habit, I have also been encouraged to do this reading/reflection at the same time and in the same place to help reinforce the habit. For various reasons this is a good and practical suggestion.
Of course, anyone who has embarked on regularly scheduled spiritual practices can attest to the fact that they can often become rote, boring, and stale. Something I never considered as a contributing factor to this phenomenon was the staleness of reading location this suggestion breeds.
One of my favorite blog “mini-series” going right now is Richard Beck‘s reflections on biblical passages he teaches in a prison. In these posts he highlights the ways that reading scripture in a prison, and with prisoners, has opened his eyes to new ways of understanding scripture. (For example, check out this post. Seriously, read it.) I’ve written before about how reading Jesus’s story of the rich man and Lazarus in a Nairobi slum forever transformed the way I read that passage. Well, I’ve finally connected the dots and would like to recommend to you an idea to revitalize your devotional life and open your eyes to fresh readings of scripture: read the Bible in new, and uncomfortable, places.
It’s really that simple. Pick up your Bible. Go somewhere you don’t normally associate with reading scripture. Sit down. And read. Read the Bible in the midst of new sights, sounds, smells, and people. Read it in quiet places and read it in the hustle and bustle of the city. Read it on the bus or subway. Read it in a park. Read it outside of a Tiffany’s jewelry store. Read it on a street corner. Read it in a nursing home. Read it in a garden. Go somewhere new and read the scriptures anew.
This insight, if you’re like me, is not something totally unfamiliar. Many of us know the power of reading the creation story or the psalms when in the middle of nature’s beauty. Those who have been on mission trips know that being in an unfamiliar culture can open one’s eyes up to fresh readings of scripture. We know this, but we don’t often intentionally practice it. At least not in our day-to-day lives.
What finally made this insight click for me was teaching this preaching course. My co-teacher, who learned this trick from Anna Carter Florence, mentioned how he has had students in his preaching courses do this in preparation for a sermon and that it has often had remarkable results. He literally has them go catch public transportation or sit in Buckhead (Atlanta’s most posh neighborhood) and read the scripture they will preach on (often out loud) and see what insights they gain by the simple act of physically relocating.
It really is amazing how much such a simple thing, moving into a new or uncomfortable space, allows God to open our eyes to new and uncomfortable insights from scripture. So, go ahead and give it a try. You might never want to read scripture in the same place again.
I grew up in and remain a member of the churches of Christ. This means many things, but one thing it surely means is that I have participated in the commemoration of the Lord’s Supper many more weekends than not. And nearly every single commemoration of the Lord’s Supper I’ve been a part of has included a scriptural exhortation prior to taking the bread and “fruit of the vine.”
Well, there’s only a few passages in scripture that address the “how-to” of the Lord’s Supper, so I’ve heard each of those passages more times than I can count. One of those passages is found in 1 Corinthians 11. Technically, verses 17 – 34 deal with the practice of the Lord’s Supper, but more often than not exhorters begin their reading at verse 23. Below is the full quote from the New Revised Standard Version:
17 Now in the following instructions I do not commend you, because when you come together it is not for the better but for the worse. 18 For, to begin with, when you come together as a church, I hear that there are divisions among you; and to some extent I believe it. 19 Indeed, there have to be factions among you, for only so will it become clear who among you are genuine. 20When you come together, it is not really to eat the Lord’s supper.21 For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk. 22 What! Do you not have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What should I say to you? Should I commend you? In this matter I do not commend you!
23 For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, 24 and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” 25 In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” 26 For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.
27 Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. 28 Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. 29 For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves. 30 For this reason many of you are weak and ill, and some have died. 31 But if we judged ourselves, we would not be judged. 32 But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world.
33 So then, my brothers and sisters, when you come together to eat, wait for one another. 34 If you are hungry, eat at home, so that when you come together, it will not be for your condemnation. About the other things I will give instructions when I come.
Usually, I have been extolled to examine my personal life over the last week before partaking of the Lord’s Supper so that I don’t “eat and drink judgment” upon myself. I have understood this to mean saying a quick prayer of confession and a plea for forgiveness. In addition, I have been encouraged to reflect on Jesus hanging on the cross so that I “discern the body.” It’s for this reason that if you walk into nearly any Church of Christ on any Sunday you’ll find a bunch of people with heads bowed quietly reflecting before taking a small piece of cracker and a thimbleful of grape juice. The way that we practice the Lord’s Supper is, in my opinion, indicative of some overwhelmingly Evangelical tendencies that have crept into the liturgical life of churches of Christ. Namely, we have embraced wholeheartedly the Evangelical emphases of a strong individualism most aptly summed up in the phrase “a personal relationship with Jesus,” and an overwhelming emphasis on the physical suffering of Jesus on the cross as the means of salvation to the detriment of several other important elements of the Passion story.
Now, I don’t think that these things are necessarily bad things to do. In fact, I have found them meaningful spiritual practices in the past. However, this is decidedly not the message of Paul in 1 Corinthians 11.
Remember, Paul began his comments to the Corinthian church on the topic of the Lord’s Supper by giving them a harsh scolding. Paul is quite upset about how they practice the Lord’s Supper. First, the church is divided, apparently by class. For it appears that during the Lord’s Supper – which was a part of an actual meal, sometimes referred to as a “Love Feast,” in the earliest church – some were getting more food and wine than others. In fact, some were drinking so much wine that they were getting drunk! And others were leaving a “church potluck” hungry! And, based on Paul’s statement that “each of you goes ahead with your own supper,” it may be that the more well-off folks were keeping the food they brought to themselves and thus excluding those who had less to bring from having enough to eat.
This is the context in which Paul warned against taking the Lord’s Supper in an “unworthy manner.” It appears that taking the Lord’s Supper in an unworthy manner is to take it in such a way as to divide a church based upon people’s material means. In addition, to take the Lord’s Supper “without discerning the body” doesn’t mean to take it without reflecting on Jesus hanging on a cross. Rather, it’s to reflect on the body of Christ. In other words, the church and the bread and wine, which Paul reminds us is “the body and blood of Christ,” to be distributed to that church. (Remember, the very next chapter, is where Paul describes the Church as “the body of Christ.” Why would he be talking about the physical body of Christ here and the church as the body only a few verses later?) Putting these things together we can surmise that, to eat “without discerning the body of Christ” is to eat without reflecting upon the distribution of food and other such things within a specific congregation.
In participating in the Lord’s Supper we are embodying, for one brief moment, God’s Kingdom where all have enough and people are not treated differently based on class or status. We are embodying, imperfectly as it may be, the Kingdom in which first is last, least is greatest, and all are servants of all. To be a church divided, in this most important part of a Sunday worship service, based upon earthly distinctions is to “eat the bread and drink the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner.”
We know there were other early churches divided by class. For instance, James condemns another church for how people sit during worship (James 2:1-7):
1 My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? 2 For if a person with gold rings and in fine comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, 3 and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, “Have a seat here, please,” while to the one who is poor you say, “Stand there,” or, “Sit at my feet,” 4 have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? 5 Listen, my beloved brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him? 6 But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who oppress you? Is it not they who drag you into court? 7 Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you?
Clearly, this was an issue in the early church. Jesus inaugurated God’s Kingdom – a kingdom where all have a place at the table, but the earliest Christians began arguing over the best seats or even excluding people from their place at that table. For Paul, this was to violate the sanctity of a sacred ritual.
It is important for contemporary Christians to remember this. The Lord’s Supper, otherwise known as Communion, is primarily a communal practice that imparts grace and is intended to embody, in the here and now, God’s coming kingdom. If we don’t do that – if we don’t embody the Kingdom – we take the Lord’s Supper in an unworthy manner.
Now, since most churches don’t have a weekly meal within which time is set aside for the Lord’s Supper most churches don’t have a problem with some getting more cracker or juice than others. So, what’s the lesson for us?
Well, there are many ways this can be applied, but I’d like to raise one in this post. Namely, many churches don’t even have enough of a mix of rich and poor (or black, white, brown, and yellow, or old and young, etc.) to even have this become a theoretical problem. However, I am proposing that for a church to exist without this very mix of people is to partake of the Lord’s Supper in an unworthy manner.
At least the Corinthian church had a representative mix of the Kingdom walking through its doors. If a church doesn’t even make it there the issue of proper representation doesn’t even get raised. So, again, to exist as a homogeneous church, without any effort at being otherwise, is to partake, every week, of the Lord’s Supper in an unworthy manner.
1 “Shout it aloud, do not hold back.
Raise your voice like a trumpet.
Declare to my people their rebellion
and to the descendants of Jacob their sins.
2 For day after day they seek me out;
they seem eager to know my ways,
as if they were a nation that does what is right
and has not forsaken the commands of its God.
They ask me for just decisions
and seem eager for God to come near them. 3 ‘Why have we fasted,’ they say,
‘and you have not seen it?
Why have we humbled ourselves,
and you have not noticed?’ “Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please
and exploit all your workers.
4 Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife,
and in striking each other with wicked fists.
You cannot fast as you do today
and expect your voice to be heard on high. 5 Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
only a day for people to humble themselves?
Is it only for bowing one’s head like a reed
and for lying in sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast,
a day acceptable to the LORD?
6 “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness[a] will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.
9 Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday… – Isaiah 58:1-10
A couple of weeks ago I announced a fast being undertaken by the Coalition of Immokalee Workers as a form of protest to gain justice for tomato farmers in Florida from Publix. I, along with several others across the United States, have committed to fasting in solidarity with CIW. The specific shape of my fast includes fasting from after dinner last night until I break my fast with dinner tonight. This fast will be a roughly 24-hour fast. I will spend my time today, when I would usually be eating breakfast and lunch, praying for the success of CIW’s campaign and for justice to reach all of our farmworkers, especially Florida’s tomato workers. In addition, I will contact Publix and let them know of my support of CIW and how their unjust policies affect my shopping patterns at Publix.
Please consider joining me, along with several colleagues, students, and friends, in this fast today or another day between now and March 10. If you do so, please leave a note in the comments as CIW has read these blogs and personally informed me of the spiritual strength such support gives them.
May God grant you and all those responsible for bringing food to your table grace, peace, and justice.
*Note: You can keep up with the fast at #fairfoodfast.
Fasting has been a tactic of CIW since its early years and is a method of protest and social action made famous by Gandhi. It is a spiritual practice with deep roots in many religious traditions, especially Abrahamic ones. So, in response to and solidarity with Doña Carmen (featured at the end of the above video) and all the other workers struggling for justice I will be fasting, praying, and contacting Publix on Monday, March 5 along with the workers in Florida. I’ve also asked the students in my class “Preaching Justice in an Age of Globalization” to join with me in this fast.
And now I’m asking you. Will you please join me in fasting, prayer, and contacting Publix on March 5 to support the work of CIW to bring justice, safety, and end slavery in Florida’s farms? We are all implicated in the injustice faced by those who are responsible for putting the food on our tables. We owe these workers a more just system and a more livable wage. They have asked for your help. What will your answer be?
Please leave a comment if you will be joining with me and others who are already committed to making this simple, but potentially transformative, action. You can learn more about CIW and its work in the videos below.
May God grant you and all of humanity grace, love, peace, AND JUSTICE.
My article “When the State is Evil: Biblical Civil (Dis)Obedience in South Africa”, co-written with Joel A. Nichols, has been published in St. John’s Law Review, issue 85, number 2. This article is a piece of historical theology of sorts that traces the use of the Bible in arguments about the (in)justice of civil disobedience to the apartheid government in South Africa. We focus on the arguments made by the Kairos theologians, Beyers Naude, and Desmond Tutu. Drawing on this historical sketch, as well as a brief biblical analysis, we make an argument that Christian scripture does not make one unified statement on the proper relation of Christians/the Church to oppressive and dictatorial governments. Rather, we argue that such a decision requires communal discernment and reflection, and that scripture provides much warrant for civil disobedience as a faithful act of obedience to God and as an appropriate Christian tool of social change.
You can find a .pdf version of the article, as well as the rest of the issue, here. I’d love to hear your feedback if you get a chance to read it.
Ten years ago I was in my car driving to work at Puget Sound Naval Shipyard in the early hours of the morning when I heard on the radio that planes had crashed into the World Trade Center. I arrived at the shipyard to extra security and a workday in which we watched the news for hours as we tried to make sense of what had happened. I was eighteen years old, a recent high school graduate. I had not pursued college and was a painting/sandblasting apprentice learning how to maintain the coatings on naval submarines and ships. This began what has become quite a long journey and a dramatic transformation in my life.
I am the child of a United States soldier and a Korean immigrant. My father is from a small town in middle Tennesse and my mother from the southern part of South Korea. My dad raised me on John Wayne movies, professional wrestling, SEC football, and Bible Belt-Church of Christ Christianity. My mother raised me on Korean food and immigrant dreams. As a youth I fell in love with hip hop music, my Korean-American identity, and the Church. I grew up imitating the Fresh Prince and idolizing Tupac Shakur. This was my existence. I came from a working class, immigrant family in a neighborhood where I could pretend I was Tupac when I wanted and still grow up in the safety of a loving church. This was my experience.
Part of that experience meant I was consistently conflicted: my conservative Christianity taught me a certain form of theology (and politics) that emphasized the individual, Puritan morality, and a romanticized American history; but my minority position in America and deep connection to the African-American community (through friends and culture) taught me a radical politics that exposed the contradictions and hypocrisies of my country and, sometimes, my faith. The result of being raised by a soldier who loved John Wayne movies and my deep love of hip hop music was that I embraced a deep belief in what Walter Wink has called “redemptive violence.” I firmly believed in an “eye for an eye” approach to the world.
Then two things happened: 9/11 and, a few months later, a call from God to enter the ministry. At this point my entire life and world began to change. I questioned the response to 9/11 I saw from my political and religious leaders. I heard questionable uses of Christian scripture and theology in the rhetoric of politicians and preachers. As I studied and meditated on the Bible to discern my call to the ministry I began to experience some cognitive dissonance with what I had always accepted as “just the way things are.” As we prepared for war I wondered if I could, as a Christian, participate in the preparation of weapons of war and remain faithful. As I went through my parents divorce and other hard times with family, the emptiness I felt making more money than I needed, and God’s constant pull on my heart I spent entire nights in prayer exploring what my future should be.
I eventually wound up at Pepperdine University where I studied Religion and went through a true faith transformation. I met some of the best friends I’ve ever had (they are truly my family) and studied with professors who challenged and transformed my faith. I studied scripture, theology, and history in a way that transformed my faith. I spent summers in slums in India and East Africa and was a minister at a church in inner-city Los Angeles. I learned about God’s special concern for the poor, the place of justice in Christian theology, and the call of God for Christians to be peacemakers. I studied the lives of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Mohandas Gandhi and became an ardent advocate of nonviolence and steadily grew to reject the conservative politics I grew up accepting as “appropriate” for Christians even though they didn’t mesh with my experience. My time at Pepperdine opened up a new understanding of Christian theology and ministry that also transformed my politics.
From there I married my best friend; a woman who has seen me through many hard times and been a faithful representation of God’s grace and love for me throughout the years. We are quite the funny little couple: she is Black, Puerto Rican, and German, and I am White and Korean. We both grew up in the churches of Christ (we can make Baptists look liberal!) and as multi-racial people in a world that doesn’t know what to do with us. She grew up in a home with a loving marriage and went to private school her whole life. I grew up in a home where the marriage eventually imploded and went to public schools with, um, “reputations.” She never watched Fat Albert and I never watched The Princess Bride. But we make it do what it do and we love doing it together.
I also went to seminary and ran a homeless shelter in southern California, and I am now a doctoral student in social ethics and theology at Emory University. My commitment to nonviolence has become more nuanced, and I am no longer in traditional ministry. However, God has taken me on a journey that is more than I could have ever imagined on that day ten years ago:
1. My understanding of ministry has become more holistic. I believe I have remained faithful to God’s call on my life in my ministries at churches, in American and international slums, in my nonprofit work, and in my scholarship and teaching. In all that I do I still understand myself as one called by God to do ministry, but it doesn’t always have to look like I once thought it did.
2. My commitment to racial justice has become even stronger than it was as a youth. I’ve never been fooled by the “post-racial” rhetoric. As a child of an immigrant I know first hand what it means to encounter blatant and not-so-blatant racism. I’ve been called “gook” and seen the ways in which society dehumanizes those whose skin is not so light as mine. Fortunately, my theological journey has opened up even more resources for me to challenge such structures, in both society and church.
3. I now have a “theology of justice.” The personal evangelical theology of my youth has been replaced with a robust social theology that emphasizes justice-seeking. Coming to understand the biblical call for justice was a conversion experience for me. It changed my understanding of God’s will in the world, Christian ministry, and politics. In many ways this was a response to the theology of my youth that failed to help me make sense of the blatant injustice and suffering I saw in the places God let me to.
4. I also now have a “theology of peacemaking.” This was a direct response to 9/11 and those Christian leaders I saw who had no ability to question America’s militaristic response to 9/11. I heard sermons that told us the Christian thing to do was to be patriotic and support American wars without any question. This didn’t sit well with me for some reason and I now know why: it wasn’t Christian. The examples of Jesus and MLK have forever changed my life. While the world has continued its violent ways since 9/11, I have tried very hard to live my life as a peacemaker. I have succeeded at this in some instances and have failed miserably in others, but I am working towards this every day.
5. I like to tell people I once said, “Two things I’ll never do: go to college and be in ministry.” God has since led me through college and two graduate schools, and has taken me all over the world doing ministry. My experiences in third world slums and America’s ghettoes have forever changed me. I’ve encountered many people and done many things I never imagined I could, let alone would, growing up in the home of an at one time unemployed soldier and a fast food service worker. I now find myself among the world’s elite talking about things I used to care nothing for. I’m just a cat from Tacoma, WA. I graduated from Spanaway Lake High School. My mother is a janitor and waitress. My father is a career soldier. I’m not supposed to be here. But this is where God has taken me. I’m excited to see where the next ten years will lead.
Jay-Z and Kanye West have come under quite a bit of scrutiny lately about their, ahem, “religious” and social beliefs and activities. Are they members of the Illuminati? Does Jay-Z really believe he’s God? Is it idolatrous/blasphemous for him to have J-Hova (as in Jehovah, since he’s the “god of rap”) as a nickname? Is Kanye a Christian? Should he have been nominated for a Christian music award for his song “Jesus Walks”? Isn’t he racist against white people? Doesn’t he only date white women now? Aren’t they both uber-capitalists who are now spokesman for the system? Where did their counter-cultural/black power messages go? And etcetera and etcetera…
I don’t want to get into those questions too much (though I find the capitalism question quite intriguing and multidimensional), but, instead, look at one of the most popular songs off of their new joint album Watch the Throne. The song is titled “No Church in the Wild” and it was a trending topic on twitter the day the album was released. It seemed everyone was listening to it. It is, in fact, quite an intriguing little piece of music. Let’s break it down…
[Hook: Frank Ocean] Human beings in a mob
What’s a mob to a king? What’s a king to a God?
What’s a God to a non-believer who don’t believe in anything?
Each of these couplets are examples of one being/entity being proved insignificant by its comparison to another being/entity. One human in a mob of people? Insignificant. The masses to a king? Insignificant. A king compared to God? Just another piece of dust. Now, here’s the interesting part: God to a non-believer who views religion and/or the divine as a human construction or superstition? Absolutely nothing. In the hierarchy of the universe presented in the hook the one who sheds belief in a (specific) god is the most powerful being in that universe. Whoa.
Will he make it out alive, alright, alright, no church in the wild
However, there’s no guarantee that the most powerful being in the universe, the non-believer, can survive in this universe. “Will he make it out alive?” There’s no way to tell because there’s “no church in the wild.” Two things: “no church” and “the wild.” There is no set of believers that has a monopoly on truth (another instance of Jay saying he’s not part of the Illuminati?). There is no specially selected group of people with special access to the divine will (buh bye Calvinism). There is no divinely ordered structure to human society (so long Hinduism, Confucianism, and several traditional African religions). We live in “the wild.” Is Jay a “state of nature” theorist? This seems rather Hobbesian, if not Nietzschian. Jay seems to believe that there is some sense of “survival of the fittest” (does any street hustler NOT believe this?). You either win or you lose. You live or you die. In a world like this, is there room for a god? Probably not.
[Verse 1: Jay-Z] Tears on the mausoleum floor, blood stains the Colosseum doors
Lies on the lips of priests, Thanksgiving disguised as a feast
First, Toure has already done a good job breaking down Jay’s verse from a purely lyrical perspective. Go check that out. I’ll do some of that, but I’m more interested in the theological argument of the verse. Having said that, what a grand way to start a verse! Do you have the image in your head? Tears on the floor of a mausoleum? That grand testament to the greatness of a single human being sullied by tears of sadness? Mausoleums are supposed to be testaments to greatness and inspire reverence and awe, not tears. Are they the tears of family members who miss their loved one now claimed by the masses? Are they the tears of the poor upon whose backs it may have been constructed? Are they the tears of the dead king who wanted to live forever so bad he had a mausoleum built in his honor but still lies decaying underneath it? Who knows, but wow. Blood on Colosseum doors! The blood of gladiators spilled for human entertainment? This great testament to human accomplishment is sullied, from its construction to its destruction, with the blood covering its doors. These two testaments to human ingenuity and greatness proven irrelevant by the everyday human fluids of tears and blood. And then the verse gets going!
The lips of priests – those entrusted with telling the truth of God’s message to the people – are covered in lies. In today’s world we can’t help but equate this with the lies of Catholic priests who molest children for their own sexual satisfaction and sense of feeling powerful. Whoa. America’s key holiday, Thanksgiving (along with Independence Day), is the day we are supposed to remember God’s wonderful provision for our nation and the sacrifice of our ancestors to create this country from nothing. Except, oh yeah, it was done on the backs of the genocide of America’s native population. This is no event for Thanksgiving, it is an event for mourning. For lament. For repentance. But anything except Thanksgiving.
These four “beautiful” things are not so beautiful because they are tainted by tears, blood, lies, and murderous theft. This is the world we live in: even those things that we consider most beautiful are examples of the “wild” nature of human existence. And our neatly constructed world begins to shatter…
Rolling in Rolls Royce Corniche
Only the doctors got this, I’m hiding from police
Cocaine seats, all white like I got the whole thing bleached
Drug dealer chic, I’m wondering if a thug’s prayers reach
Ok, from a lyrical perspective this is simply nice wordplay. Jay drives a car that only well-paid medical professionals usually drive, so he’s “hiding from police” because they wouldn’t expect to find him driving in it. Why not? Oh, because he’s a drug dealer, but still dressed rather “chic.” He tells us this by describing the color of the interior of the car. In the rap world he has just bragged about his wealth, flaunted his street cred, made a nice wordplay with “cocaine seats,” talked about his fashion game, and made a reference to Tupac. In other words, these four bars cover everything you’re supposed to do in a whole verse!
The Tupac reference? ‘Pac is famous for lines like “wondering if a thug’s prayers reach.” He made a song called “I Wonder if Heaven Got a Ghetto” and often wondered in his songs if God cared about urban youths, gang members, and prostitutes. In fact, he even claimed God would overlook their sins because of the lot they were dealt in life (ala Luke 16:19-31). In the context of this verse, there is that connotation, but one also has to ask whether a thugs prayers can reach a God who doesn’t exist.
Is Pious pious cause God loves pious?
Socrates asked whose bias do y’all seek?
All for Plato, screech, I’m out here balling, I know yall hear my sneaks
Jay paraphrases “The Euthyphro Dilemma”: Do the gods love pious (holy) things because they are pious, or are those things that are pious made pious because the gods love them? Put another way, does God command those things that are just because they are just, or are the things God commands just simply because it is God who commands them? This is a question that goes back to Socrates and has been a starting point for philosophers and theologians ever since. While Jay’s interpretation of Socrates answer isn’t totally on point (Socrates rejects the second option), Jay says it’s a matter of opinion. In a world like this (with sullied mausoleums, priests lips covered in lies, and drug dealers driving around like doctors) is there a point to this question? Your answer depends on your bias. In other words, the pious, holy, and just are human creations that don’t necessarily fit with what we see in the world. Jay answers Socrates’s timeless metaphysical question with a modern sociological answer: it depends on who’s answering the question and what they already have been shaped to believe about the world. There is no “final” answer to this important philosophical-theological question. We just can’t know.
Also, there have been twelve popes throughout history named “Pius,” so this line also functions as a jab at established religion, especially Roman Catholicism. Did “God” choose these men because they were pious (history says probably not – for example, Pius XII was pope during WWII and his record towards Nazism is sketchy at best), or do we declare them pious because God selected them? If the latter, bad God; if the former, blind God.
Not gonna do much w/ the Plato-screech-sneaks line other than to say that the last part is quite a nice piece of double imagery.
Jesus was a carpenter, Yeezy he laid beats
Hova flow the Holy Ghost, get the hell up out your seats, preach
Here he goes again equating himself with God. I really like the “Jesus was a carpenter, Yeezy laid beats” line because it humanizes Jesus and shows that musicians create things just like manual laborers do. Also, in constructing this new Trinity Jay still leaves the question of “God the Father” unanswered. The classic Christian formulation is that God is three persons in one: Father, Son, Holy Ghost/Spirit. According to Jay, in music ‘Ye is the Son and he’s the Spirit but we don’t know who the Father is. At the end of his verse we still don’t know if there is a god, and if so who that god might be. Drawing on a certain form of the theodicy question Jay tells us that if there is a god there’s no way to know, but looking at the world it’s pretty hard to believe there is one. so, “get the hell up out your seats” and try and survive in “the wild.”
[Hook]
[Bridge: The-Dream] I live by you, desire
I stand by you, walk through the fire
Your love is my scripture
Let me into your encryption
With the bridge Kanye goes a different direction with “the wild” metaphor than Jay did. Whereas Jay equates “the wild” with a type of “state of nature” where in the competition of life bad things happen, ‘Ye equates it with a type of hedonism, the pursuit of pleasure.
[Verse 2: Kanye West] Coke on her black skin
Make a stripe like a zebra, I call that jungle fever
You will not control the threesome
Just roll the weed up until I get me some
Ok, funny image, but ‘Ye does a couple things here: uses “jungle” imagery to set up his version of “the wild” the same way Jay used mausoleum/Colosseum imagery to set up his version of the wild in the first verse. Except ‘Ye’s version includes two types of drugs and two women in some sort of psychedelic sexual orgy. Okay.
We formed a new religion
No sins as long as there’s permission
And deception is the only felony
So never fuck nobody without telling me
Aha! The new religion is one that places the highest value on honest sexual pleasure and exploration. ‘Ye has long been an advocate of open relationships and here he makes it plain. For him, it is a religious value. As long as sexual partners are open and not hiding their trysts it is ok to go outside one’s primary relationship for sex. No need for monogamy because we “live by you, desire.”
Sunglasses and Advil, last night was mad real
Sun coming up, 5 a.m., I wonder if they got cabs still?
Thinking ’bout the girl in all leopard
Who was rubbing the wood like Kiki Shepherd
Ok, ‘Ye had a crazy night with zebra girl, coke, and weed. He’s mad confused and reminiscing on leopard girl. So, he had zebra girl and leopard girl in his threesome. Sounds like “the wild” to me! Seriously, the last bar is pretty good. Kiki Shepherd hosts Showtime at the Apollo, the place where she and guests rub a piece of wood for good luck. Nice!
Two tattoos one read “No Apologies”
The other said “Love is Cursed by Monogamy”
It’s something that the pastor don’t preach
It’s something that a teacher can’t teach
Here it is: “Love is cursed by monogamy.” There we have it. Love is the highest virtue of this new religion, and monogamy kills it. So, preachers and teachers are actually hurting love by pushing monogamy on us. This is clearly a jab at established religion. Also, it makes one wonder what ‘Ye’s definition/understanding of love is. It seems to be deeply tied to sexual expression, but I’m not sure if it means more than that. The point, however, is that rigid rules hinder a life of love more than it helps it.
When we die the money we can’t keep
But we probably spend it all cause the pain ain’t cheap, preach
One of the things I like about Kanye’s music is its trasparency, honesty, and contradiction. I believe he does this better than anyone since ‘Pac. One of the things that defines ‘Ye’s music is a deep contradiction between the life he lives and his highest values. He often makes light of or defends is hedonistic lifestyle defined by fashion, sexual pleasure, parties, and good music. But there are other times, even on this album, where he recognizes the transient nature of this lifestyle and its shallowness. He ends this verse, a defense of open relationships and a hedonistic approach to life, with a recognition that material things are unimportant at one’s funeral. He says we can’t keep our money, and seems to imply we should therefore spend it all on coke and sex, but it’s not totally clear. Is his recognition that we don’t keep money when we die a recognition that we can’t take our sexual partners with us when we die too? It’s hard to tell…
[Hook]
So, what’s the theology of “No Church in the Wild”? It seems to me the main message is that organized religion is unable to make sense of life in our world that is so “wild.” There may be a god but the god we see in organized religion is probably not that god. God, if there is one (or many), is probably more like a guiding spirit than anything else. To survive (Jay’s verse) and enjoy (Kanye’s verse) our life on earth we have to pursue our own way outside of established religion, even to the point of creating our own religion as ‘Ye does. There is no guarantee that we will do it right (“does God hear a thugs prayer;” “we can’t take it with us when we go”), but we know organized religion probably doesn’t do it right either. So, like the writer of Ecclesiastes would say, the best we can do is enjoy our work, eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we will die.
This is clearly something those committed to organized religion don’t like to hear, but it raises questions we must answer: What does your religion have to say to a world defined by so much meaningless suffering and injustice? How does your religion respond to the culture of sex today? Is your religion doing more harm or help in the world and in people’s relationships? At least, these are the questions Jay and ‘Ye have not found adequate answers to from the religion they’ve encountered.
So, what is the theology of “No Church in the Wild?” I’d say it’s some blend of an agnostic surivival of the fittest ethic with hedonism and a longing for something more without knowing anyway to discover it.
