The Christian Movement's Wrong Turn

In the year 312 C.E, the Christian movement made a wrong turn from which it has never recovered. In that year the Emperor Constantine was crossing the Milvian Bridge over the Tiber River into Rome in a battle that would lead to his becoming the emperor of the Roman Empire. While on the bridge Constantine reported seeing a cross in the sky beneath the Latin words “In Hoc Signo Vinces” which meant “In this sign, conquer.” Constantine took this sign as a vision from God and ordered all his soldiers to put crosses on their shields, and they ended up decisively winning the battle. Until that time, the Christian movement had been a small struggling sect separate but related to Judaism and  held no prominent place in Roman society. However, after Constantine’s vision and conversion, Christianity became the religion of the empire, and this struggling sect inhabited and embraced the seat of power.

This story is poignantly recorded in James Carroll’s Constantine’s Sword: The Church and the Jews. Part history, part autobiography, this book recounts how this shift in social position led to the Christian church’s degradation, persecution and oppression of the Jewish people for 1700 years culminating in the horror known as the Holocaust, Adolph Hitler’s “final solution” to eradicate the Jewish faith and Jewish people from the face of the earth. While Carroll does not contend that the Church caused the Holocaust, he makes a compelling case for showing how the Church, particularly the Roman Catholic Church, taught beliefs and values, and carried out actions over many centuries that set the stage for Hitler’s atrocity to occur. While Carroll focuses his attention primarily on the Catholic Church, many of the same accusations could be made of Protestants as well.

Not only did Constantine’s conversion lead to the persecution of the Jews, but that mindset of a triumphalist Christian mindset over the centuries has led to Crusades, inquisitions, wars, pogroms, genocide and a view of religion that is arrogant, controlling and divorced from the teachings of love, faith and justice it supposedly promotes. Most troubling for me is that fact that the cross, the symbol of ultimate self-sacrifice and love, has become for many non-Christian people, especially Jews and Moslems, a sign of violence, persecution and war.

Given that history, one wonders how any self-respecting person could choose to be a Christian. One understands why devout atheists like Christopher Hitchens and Sam Harris call for the abolition of religion. As I read Carroll’s book, I wondered how he could still affirm his Roman Catholicism, even as he admitted that given what he now knows his Christian conscience “can never be a peace.”

While I am a product and indirect beneficiary of this history, like Carroll I find it sickening and repulsive. And like Carroll, I want to say that my faith in Christ stands against power as defined by politics, economics, and military might. My faith cannot affirm a church structure and polity built on hierarchy and a lack of respect for the dignity of people be they Jewish or African, a woman or a gay person. My view of faith cannot abide a triumphalist Christianity professed in hymns that have words like “Onward Christian soldiers marching as to war, with the cross of Jesus going on before.”

The faith I profess, and the view of Jesus I see in the New Testament is of a man who grew up among an oppressed people and proclaimed a God who stood with those considered marginal, oppressed and less than human. The faith I profess lies in a God who calls his followers  to be those “who come not to be served, but to serve and give [one’s] life for many.” The faith I profess seeks justice for the oppressed, equity for the powerless, and dignity for all regardless of their race or creed.

I don’t know who or what Constantine heard or saw on the Milvian Bridge, but I do know that the wholesale acceptance of that “affirmation” of Christianity by the most powerful person in the world at the time led the Christian movement away from the core values and beliefs that had shaped the movement for the previous 300 years. Christian leaders at that time made a huge blunder thinking that the emperors blessing was somehow God’s will. We have been paying the price ever since.

This is not to say that nothing good has come out of the church since 312, but it is to say that in many ways we lost our compass as a people, that we sold our soul for worldly power, and that we have drifted from our core values ever since. This does also does not mean we avoid engaging the pressing issues of our day, but rather that we do so from a prophetic, critical stance, willing always to ask the hard and difficult questions, regardless of the cost. We don’t seek “failure” or martyrdom, but our calling is to frame issues from the perspective of the Reign of God, which in no way can be equated with reign of Constantine or the Tea Party or Obama or Wall Street or Microsoft.

In 312 we took a wrong turn, and we need to find our way back home.

Not Learning from History: American Attitudes Toward Islam

For the past several weeks, the news has been filled with the debate over whether a proposed Islamic Cultural Center (inaccurately referred repeatedly to as a mosque) should be built near Ground Zero in New York. On top of that this week Pastor Terry Jones from Gainesville, Florida has planned a well publicized “Koran-burning Ceremony” to mark the 9^th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. Moreover there have been other protests around the country in Tennessee and California also protesting the building of mosques. What is so troubling in these reports is the way in which grief, fear and ignorance have been exploited for personal and political gain.

Recently, the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life released a report on American attitudes regarding Islam as a religion and Muslims in general.  Some of the insights from the report are revealing in their political implications, and what they suggest about US citizens in general. Overall the study revealed that Americans are divided on their favorable or unfavorable views of Islam (30% favorable, 38% unfavorable, 32% don’t know). However, that is only the tip of the iceberg. Consider these other findings

-          While 51% believe that the New York mosque should not be built in its proposed location (compared to 34% who say it should be allowed to be built), 62% of those polled believed that Muslims should have the same rights to build houses of worship in local communities. [Does anyone else see a contradiction in these numbers?]

-          54% of Republicans have an unfavorable view of Islam, compared to 27% of Democrats.

-          The older a person is the more unfavorable that person is toward Islam.

-          The less formal education a person has the more likely he is to have an unfavorable view of Islam.

While in no case do a majority of Democrats, college educated people or young adults have a favorable perspective on Islam, it is clearly evident that older, more conservative and less educated people tend to have the most unfavorable views of Islam. Additionally as the first bullet (above) indicates we profess freedom of religious expression, but don’t extend that freedom to Muslims.

However, the most telling chart came near the end of the report, where people were asked about how much they knew about Islam as a religion. Pew has asked this question several times over last decade, so the chart helped reveal how much Americans have chosen to learn over the last decade. In 2010 approximately 55% of Americans said they either knew little or nothing at all about Islam.  What is striking is that in 2001 after the 9/11 attacks 61% of Americans said they knew little or nothing at all about Islam – only 5% difference.

What this tells me is that despite having been attacked by “Islamic extremists” nine years ago, we Americans have done little to understand the religion of those who attacked us. Moreover, we have not sought to understand the difference between a militant Muslim and a peace-loving adherent of the Islamic faith. To turn it around, it would be akin to not trying to understand the differences within Christianity between a Jim Jones or David Koresh on the one hand, and the Mennonites or Presbyterians on the other. I would not want my faith to be judged on the basis of militant extremists, but in fact that is exactly what we have done toward Muslims both in the US and abroad. What the Pew report makes clear is that a majority of people are reacting out of ignorance and fear, rather than understanding and a willingness to learn.

In part responsibility for this maladjustment needs to be placed at the feet of the media and certain politicians. Today I listened to an interview with Pastor Jones and wondered:  Why are they even giving this whack job a hearing? Why treat him as if he is an appropriate representative of America or Christianity? Why not denounce him for the self-righteous hate-mongerer that he is? Politicians like Newt Gingrich and Sarah Palin, and newscasters like Glen Beck and Shawn Hannity (FOX News) have used the NYC mosque debate as another way to slam Democrats and President Obama. I give credit to people like New York City Mayor Bloomberg and others for speaking out in favor of the mosque building going ahead as planned, but there are too few leaders willing to take a strong stand on principles that all Americans take for granted. This includes religious leaders.

As a Christian and an American, I am embarrassed and saddened by the current attitudes toward Muslims revealed in the report and in the news. This current scape-goating of Muslims is yet another example of the pattern of US history where Americans have repeatedly singled out certain groups of people to vent their fear and guilt in place of seeking understanding. US History is filled with examples of historical scapegoats from African slaves to Native Americans to Irish and East European Catholics to Latino farm workers to Chinese railroad workers to Japanese Americans to Jews to undocumented immigrants. What is equally sad is that some members of these previously denigrated groups now point the finger as Muslims.

Just as with slavery, the treatment of Native Americans, and the internment of Japanese- American during World War II, one day we will as a nation look back and shake our heads at our shameful behavior toward our fellow citizens who happen to practice Islam. One would hope we could learn from history, but as more than one sage has reflected, if we do not learn from the mistakes of history, we are doomed to repeat them; and so it seems we are repeating them once again.

Where Were All The Christians (& Other People of Faith)?

Last week (June 3-7) I attended the annual conference of Pedagogy and Theater of the Oppressed (PTO) at the University of Texas in Austin. This gathering brings together students, educators and practitioners working for healing and social justice in communities and schools across the world. The organization takes its name from the two seminal thinkers and activists who developed the Pedagogy of the Oppressed (Paulo Freire) and the Theater of the Oppressed (Augusto Boal). Both men have passed away, but this conference brings together folks who continue to work in solidarity with those most ignored and injured by the policies, structures and practices of our society. About two-thirds of the participants were practitioners of Theater of the Oppressed (TO) and one third were educators such as myself seeking to practice the pedagogy of the oppressed (PO) within and beyond the formal classroom.

While I have only recently begun to learn about the life and thinking of Boal, I have studied and sought to put into practice the teaching philosophy of Freire for several years. In that study, I have come to recognize that Freire was a revolutionary thinker and educator who sought to use teaching and learning as a tool for helping the oppressed change the dehumanizing systems that hold them down; I have also learned that he was a deeply spiritual man who referred to himself as a “friend of Christ.” In Freire’s native Brazil the overwhelming majority of people are affiliated with the Roman Catholic Church. Freire himself had great tensions with the Church because of its complicity with the military junta and wealthy elites that exiled him from his country. Nonetheless one can not read his writings without coming across references to Christ, Easter, conversion, and love. While he did not write extensively about his beliefs, it is clear that his spirituality and faith in God shaped and undergirded his work and writings. Furthermore, his thought was shaped and helped shape the writings of the Latin American liberation theologians who taught that Jesus preached a “preferential option for the poor” and stood on the side of the poor and oppressed

As a result it has always baffled me that only a handful of scholars have written about Freire’s spiritual beliefs, and usually only in the context of liberation theology or religious education, and rarely in relationship to his philosophies of teaching and social change. Many authors make mention of his relationship to liberation theology and his use of Marxism, but few make mention of his connection to Christ. Moreover, it surprises that so many folks who claim to be shaped by his perspective on teaching & learning, and the process of social change don’t make the connection to the spirituality that undergirds his work. This is a project I have taken up and am attempting to present and publish in when I have the opportunity.

It also surprises me at gatherings such as the PTO conference that spirituality is rarely if ever discussed. In one workshop I attended we were discussing what a society free of oppression would look like. After several substantive suggestions were made, I offered that this new society also ought to have a spiritual dimension in that (a) Freire himself was a deeply spiritual man and that (b) almost all the world’s major religions have a vision of a preferred future that can inform our thinking on peace, equity and social justice. Well that comment dropped like a stone and the conversation quickly moved to something else. Afterwards a woman who worked at a church came up to me and shared a similar experience from another workshop where she also had felt alienated when she dared to bring up a spiritual topic.

So it left me thinking: where were all the Christians and other people of faith who see their faith tied to issues of social justice? Where are people whose work for justice and peace is fueled by a deep spirituality? Where are people like Freire, like Martin Luther King, like Gandhi, like Mother Teresa, who are willing to bring their religious faith and spiritual beliefs into the public sphere? What confounds me is how often in circles where we discuss issues of social justice the names of people like Dr. King and Gandhi are invoked, and yet how seldom the focus goes to the spiritual vision that energized them to do and speak as they did.

Have we as justice seeking Christians become so intimidated by the religious right that we are unable or unwilling to associate with so called political radicals? I know that’s not entirely true because I have many friends actively involved in politically progressive efforts who do so as an outgrowth of their faith; yet are there not other thinking people of faith who see that connection? Likewise, I have to believe that there are many political activists who in the quiet of their own offices or homes are nurtured by spiritual practices such as prayer, meditation, worship or devotional reading be it Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Zen or otherwise. Where are these spiritually oriented folks when it comes to these conversations among political progressives? For the past three years I have been attending conferences such as these, both politically oriented, as well professional academic settings, and I have experienced the same void when it comes to discussing spirituality. Next week when I attend the US Social Forum in Detroit, I expect to find the same hesitation. While this hesitation confuses me, it also troubles me because it suggests that issues of faith and spirituality have been pushed out of serious public conversation to the private and personal sphere, the implication being that spirituality has nothing substantive to offer.

During the years I was a Baptist pastor I often got in trouble with my congregations when in their words I “mixed religion and politics.” Most of those folks would have been considered political conservatives. The ironic thing is that people on the left of the political spectrum seemed to have the same hesitation.

Ironically, at the conference the most extensive conversation I had about spirituality and Freire’s work was with a Brazilian born linguistics professor who was a professed atheist. He said to me “Even though I am an atheist, I recognize that Freire was a dedicated Christian.” He too was surprised that spirituality was not more of an item of conversation at the conference. So here I sit in what my colleague Nathan Corbitt calls the “muddled middle” wishing to find more people of faith willing to make the connections between our spiritual practice and our work for social justice.

Thoughts on Proposition 8

Christian singer/songwriter Darrell Adams once introduced a song he had written poking fun at popular religious practices by saying, “There is something in this song to upset everyone.” I feel somewhat the same way about what I want to say in regards to California’s Proposition 8. Some will feel I have crossed over some sort of line, while others will be angry I have not gone far enough. So be it.

Last week the historic election of Barack Obama to the presidency was accompanied by a rising hope of a more open and inclusive spirit in U.S. society and culture. So it was with sadness that I learned of the passage of Proposition 8 in California, which overturned a California State Supreme Court decision allowing same sex couples to become legally married. In May the court had decided that the state discriminated against same sex couples when it did not allow them to marry. Since June nearly 18,000 couples received marriage licenses. Though Proposition 8 does not nullify those marriages, it does amend the California State Constitution to read “Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid and recognized in California.” So henceforth, same sex couples can not get legally married in California.

Reflecting on that result I find myself in an ambiguous position of agreeing with one side of the debate, yet fully understanding the other side. As the brother of three siblings in same sex relationships, I feel like they have been unduly denied a simple right that I and all other heterosexuals have. While part of me wonders why gays and lesbians would want to seek marriage, given the abysmal divorce rate (nearly 1 in 2) of heterosexual couples, I also recognize that the passage of such a law normalizes and legitimizes relationships that heretofore have been considered immoral by some, abnormal by others, and simply “different” by others.

Fifteen years ago I espoused the view that homosexuality was not normative in God’s eyes. I based that position on a reading of the Bible that noted that anywhere homosexuality was mentioned in Scripture it was either criticized or condemned. Over the previous 15 years I had attended numerous debates and read countless books on the topic, even writing a paper on the topic when I was in seminary. However, over time I became convinced that whatever the Bible had to say about homosexuality, it was not talking about a committed relationship akin to marriage. In some cases the Bible’s position was based on ancient views of human sexuality no longer held even by the most devout Christian. In other cases, the homosexuality mentioned was connected with pagan religions. However, the major obstacle for me was while I could discount or explain away the few passages that did mention homosexuality, I could find no statement positively affirming same sex relationships. The pro-gay Biblical argument was an argument from the absence of condemnation, not the presence of affirmation. At the same time I saw the committed relationships of my siblings and others, some of whom were dedicated Christians, and I could not accept that God would categorically condemn someone for loving someone of their own gender. I changed my position not so much on the basis of new view of Scripture, but rather the compelling evidence of the commitment and love of same sex couples I knew personally. I decided I would leave the theological debates up to God, and choose to err on the side of grace rather than judgment.

Yet even in the days when I opposed homosexuality on moral and Biblical grounds, I never believed that meant that gay/lesbian couples should be denied basic human rights. Laws discriminating against gays/lesbians in the areas of employment or housing did not seem fair. The same goes for gay/lesbian marriage. When I was a pastor, I might not have performed a ceremony for a gay or lesbian couple, but I did not feel I had the right to impose my view on society as a whole given the vigorous debate on the issue.

Today, I have changed my attitude toward homosexuality overall, and support the right of same-sex couples to marry. Nonetheless, I work for a Christian college that does not allow or support same sex romantic relationships. While I generally affirm the overall mission and culture of my school, this is one area where I personally disagree with my school’s position. At the same time a few years ago I was quite proud when Eastern University was one of only a handful of Christian schools that welcomed members of Equality Ride to dialogue at their campus. Equality Ride is program modeled after the Freedom Rides of the Civil Rights movement, where young people go to Christian schools and military academies challenging schools to reconsider their policies regarding gay and lesbian relationships. Most schools banned the Equality Riders from coming on their campuses. By contrast Eastern invited the students to come for two days, set up opportunities for dialogue and generally allowed students and faculty to interact with the guests and each other on the place of gays and lesbians in the church and in society in general.

Like the Equality Riders, many supporters of gay rights liken their movement to the Civil Rights movement of the 1950’s and 1960’s. This approach does not hold much appeal to African Americans who see their struggle for equality in quite a different light than gays and lesbians. In fact polls indicated that a majority African-Americans and Latinos in California supported Proposition 8. Tactically, I think the gay rights movement needs to come up with a different metaphor for their cause. For many people who support bills like Proposition 8 the issue is not so much about rights as it is about morality. While I may not agree with their view, I recognize that to talk about rights when people are thinking morality is to talk past one another. In that sense it becomes like the abortion debate where people are talking at each other, while not really hearing one another because they in essence are speaking a different language.

What is needed is a new kind of dialogue built on respect and listening. David Black, the president of Eastern, took a great deal of heat from the Board of Trustees for allowing the Equality Riders to come on Eastern’s campus, but I applaud him for the willingness to allow people of different perspective to engage in meaningful conversation. While in the end Eastern did not change its policies as a result of the visit, it sponsored a respectful and open dialogue conducted in a way that seems like a model that others could follow.

I am sure the supporters of Proposition 8 feel like they achieved some sort of moral victory last Tuesday, and certainly the opponents feel like a terrible injustice was institutionalized. Regardless of what the outcome had been, one referendum or even 100 referendums can not alter the fact that we can no more will away the debate over same sex relationships than we can alter the path of the Earth around the Sun. Deeply personal issues like the right of same sex couples to marry can not be solved in a court room or ballot box, but rather across a table of respect and openness. As Barack Obama embodies a new day in inter-racial dialogue in this county, my hope is that we can look at other areas such as gay rights where we as a nation disagree, and find ways to dialogue meaningfully and respectfully with the goal of finding common ground and living together constructively despite our differences.

What and How I Believe

Recently, I read two chapters from Marcus Borg's book, Jesus and was particularly interested in his discussion of the two paradigms of contemporary Christianity: the belief-centered and the emerging paradigms. I don’t read Marcus Borg often but when I do I find that I often agree with his analysis, but when it comes to interpretation/application he and I go off in different directions. When I begin to think that I might be becoming a theological liberal, Borg reminds me I really am not. However, I was also struck by the absence of a third, much more compelling, paradigm.

Borg first talks about what he calls the belief centered paradigm of Christianity. In that context he discusses the effect the Enlightenment had on the Christian understanding of belief. Prior to the Enlightenment belief or faith was synonymous with trust in and loyalty to God. The Enlightenment challenged the factual basis of Christian faith with its scientific worldview and critical stance toward anything that was not able to be grasped by the five senses. Thus, he says in Christian circles there was a shift from "belief in" to "belief that." In other words the trust/loyalty view of faith gave way to an affirmation of certain “truths’ and doctrines. I think that is a helpful discussion, and today it is true that for many churchgoers a "belief that" approach to faith is all that seems to matter. Many churchgoing folks seem to think that as long as they believe certain truths, that is all there is to being a Christian.

However, for most evangelicals this is a false dichotomy because the "belief that" leads to and supports the "belief in." So for instance, my belief that Jesus is a savior, leads me to entrust my life to Jesus; belief in a doctrine leads me to seek a relationship with God thru Jesus Christ. Borg rightly stresses the trust/loyalty dimension of faith as most important, but for many theologically conservative Christians, they are two sides of the same coin. Borg believes one can have a belief in God without a belief that certain things are true about God. I find it is sort of like building a house without a framework; one hangs on the other.

However, I was reminded recently at how middle class, educated and white this whole discussion is. Quite by accident I came across an article called "The Christian Revolution" (someone left it on the copier at work) from a book by Philip Jenkins called The Next Christendom: The Coming of Global Christianity. Jenkins points out that the plurality of Christians has shifted from Europe and North America to Africa, Latin America and increasingly Asia. He points out "beyond the simple demographic transition, there are countless implications for theology and practice." For instance, a major implication is that moving into the future the vast majority of Christians are and will be relatively impoverished and live life on the edge of material sustenance. As a result, their world and worldview is much closer that of the first century Christians. They know what Howard Thurman means in Jesus and the Disinherited when he says that the message of Jesus was a "survival strategy" for the oppressed. Writing as an oppressed person Jesus speaks out of and into their situation much more readily. Jenkins says that for the vast majority of Christians in the world, this is a truth that literally sustains them day to day. He calls those of us in North America to take notice that our way of thinking is not the only game in town and isn’t even the biggest or most important game. He calls us to reconsider our Enlightenment-based arrogance and blindness to the reality of the supernatural.

Jenkins points out that for most of the world’s Christians belief in the supernatural and the possibility of miracles, healings and other examples of God breaking into the natural order are not a troubling intellectual dilemma, but a life-affirming and life-saving strategy. Their testimony is that God is at work in the world in these ways. I see this same mindset in some of my students, who come from the underside of U.S. society. God's movement in their lives is real in a way that as an educated, white, middle class intellectual I find hard to accept. Even so I find their testimony compelling.

In the end Jenkins causes me to reconsider my framework --- have I so bought into Enlightenment thinking that I have become blind to what Jesus and the people of his day saw as a natural part of reality, and which people in the developing world have come to see is their lifeline to God? It is a question I can not shake.

A Faith Like Mother Theresa

In late August the Vatican released copies of letters that revealed that Mother Theresa, the diminutive nun who founded the Sisters of Charity, had spent much of her adult life feeling distant and alienated from God. These letters, written by Mother Theresa to priests and friends who served as her confidants and confessors, were never intended to be made public. However, as part of the Roman Catholic canonization process these documents are being reviewed and for unspecified reasons have now been made public. When the news outlets first announced the story, they presented it with a mixture of surprise and sadness. How could this woman who had served the poorest of the poor in Calcutta, had inspired thousands to pursue a life of service, and had challenged millions with her example and her message,… how could SHE feel distant from God? As David Van Biema stated in a Time magazine (9/3/07) article on the announcement, her “remarkable deeds seemed inextricably connected to her closeness to God,” yet she confessed at many times “the silence and emptiness is so great.” Mother Theresa, whom many had put on a spiritual pedestal, turned out to be a struggling and spiritual barren human being who for nearly 50 years went through life feeling the absence and distance of God, rather than God’s intimacy. How could such a person be considered for sainthood?

I must admit that even though I too was surprised, I found great comfort when I heard the reports. Like many evangelical Protestant Christians, I was taught to believe that God “had a wonderful plan for my life” and that I could have “a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.” I believed that if I read my Bible regularly, prayed daily, worshipped faithfully, and sought to live out the principles of my faith, I would have a clear sense of God’s presence in my life. As a Baptist pastor I regularly repeated such sentiments in my preaching and teaching. Certainly there might be some periods of spiritual dryness, but over time I would grow in my sense of intimacy with God. That was how Christian faith was supposed to work, or so I thought.

However, when I left the pastorate, stepped back and looked at my spiritual life, I began to question the veracity and validity of that perspective. I began to wonder if I had simply participated in a sophisticated self-delusion, and if in fact I could even call myself a Christian. I never lost my fascination and deep respect for Jesus of Nazareth, but I felt increasingly alienated from the tradition that sprang from him. Like Mother Theresa, when I meditated and prayed, the only thing I heard was my own hollow inner voice.

That emptiness has continued for 10 years with two exceptions. First, when I attend worship at the West Philadelphia Mennonite Fellowship where I am a member, I regularly come away thinking that maybe this God and Jesus stuff could be true. This reminder is not prompted by anything in the worship per se (i.e. the music, the sermon, the prayers, communion, etc), but rather simply in the gathering of like-minded people on a similar hungry quest. At WPMF we talk openly about our questions and doubts while recommitting ourselves to continue to live according the dictates of our faith. Somehow being surrounded by folks on a similar journey keeps me from feeling so spiritually alienated.

The second place where the sense of isolation lifts is when I find myself in service with and to other people. In a way I can’t fully comprehend, I often sense something of Jesus in other people. As a college professor, I am fortunate to have regular opportunities to interact with adults and young people who are seeking to expand their minds and deepen their understanding of life. My work regularly brings me in contact with folks old and young, educated and functionally illiterate, who are seeking to serve others in the midst of their own struggle and brokenness. I also volunteer as a tutor helping a young woman learn how to read, and am in awe of her desire to master the written word. In these folks I see the life and truth and Jesus.

I believe it was Mother Theresa who said that we see meet Jesus in the lives of the poor. While she may not have heard the voice or sensed the presence of God in her inner life, by her own testimony she met Jesus daily in her service to the broken beggars of Calcutta. I have come to accept that I will never have a deep sense of inner intimacy with God in my life. Yet, Mother Theresa’s example encourages me to believe that as I seek to become more of a servant to others, I have the hope of touching the Transcendent through the lives of people I meet.

Atheists like Christopher Hitchens (author of God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything, and The Missionary Position: Mother Theresa in Theory and Practice) will venture that this faith business is all a dangerous and socially destructive self-delusion. He draws this conclusion based on the the wealth of examples of religion gone bad from Pat Robertson to Jim Jones to Osama Bin Laden. However, for me faith is validated in the quiet lives of faithfulness of people who despite their faults live according to their deeply held values. No doubt we Christians get it wrong much, if not most, of the time. However we get it right when our actions demonstrate our faith, even when our faith, like Mother Theresa’s, limps along with doubts and questions. As we serve, Jesus can and does surprise us in the lives of the people we encounter.