Luke 24:50-53: Where do we go from here?

This is part 6 of a 6 part series of posts on the Amahoro Theological Intensive, held at Bethany Retreat Centre in Entebbe Uganda, in July 2010.

How does one live as an inhabitant of the kingdom of heaven in the context of an Africa which does not have the image of being very heavenly? One can only do this by resolving the identity issue. Being truly sure of who we are and being able to face the many insecurities that threaten our self-image, especially as the African other to the Western norm.

Luke ends his gospel with the ascension happening in the village of Bethany. It is, of course, not the end, because Luke’s version of the story continues in the Acts of the Apostles. But it is the telos of the story of Jesus’ time on earth.

The narrative structure of Luke is continually moving towards Jerusalem. In the last chapters everything is accomplished in Jerusalem, but from there it is unleashed on the world, to be sent out as the good news to all people, to the ends of the earth. The gospel is the gift that is sent out:

“Repentance and forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem.”

Repetance (metanoia: transformation of the mind, death of the old and resurrection of the new) and the forgiveness of sin (liberation from the patterns and systems of this world and return home to the village, the garden) is the gift that is to be shared to all people.

This sharing (proclamation, preaching) is something that will happen, not something you, alone, must do. “You are witnesses of these things.” This proclamation, in Acts, happens not always because of, but often despite, the apostles. Emmanuel’s point is that we are the witnesses, not the manufacturers, of the proclamation of the gospel.

God’s mission, like a revolution, is something that sweeps you up and carries you away. You participate in it, but it is not yours.

The disciples return to Jerusalem to await the Pentecost of the Spirit, and they do so with great joy, praising God in the temple.

In joining this mission, this movement, we do not need to be desperate. The full consumation of the story will happen with the parousia, so in the meantime it is often a quiet revolution. Therefore, there is no need to be anxious or desperate for numbers, success or prosperity.

The way this proclamation happens is in conversations, over meals, disciple to disciple, telling each other of their experiences. It spreads through the everyday, the ordinary, household to household. Village life and shady tree theology help us regain and retain the ordinary-ness and everyday-ness of the living out and the transforming of God’s quiet revolution in Africa. Not the spectacular, the “miraculous”, the big and the bold (the city way), but the slow, the familial, the relational, and the organic (the village way).

John 11:1-45: The Raising of Lazarus

This is part 5 of a 6 part series of posts on the Amahoro Theological Intensive, held at Bethany Retreat Centre in Entebbe Uganda, in July 2010.

What does it mean to craft resurrection in the context of the village of Bethany? (And therefore in Africa.) What are the conditions for the possibility of resurrection?

The ministry of crafting resurrection is a skill and an art that takes time to learn.

In John’s gospel this is the seventh and final “sign” (miracle) before the arrest and crucifixion of Jesus. It is the “nail in the coffin”. In leadership, the ministry of resurrection is also the climax and the final seal and sign of our calling.

Emmanuel shared 7 themes / reflections on the text:

1. Bethany is a place of hospitality, of intimacy (eating), of interruption, and here we see it is also a place that knows the experience of illness and death, and now of resurrection. These themes make it a good lens on Christian ministry.

2. The message of Africa is “the one you love is sick”. Our first task of leadership is therefore to name the sickness. What is the sickness of Africa? What is the diagnosis? Why are things the way they are? Why is there so much violence in a continent of hospitality and community? Why is there so much exclusion in a place of Ubuntu? Why is there so much hunger and poverty in a land of fertility and abundant resources? We need to move beyond the superficial stories and give thick descriptions.

3. Lazarus dies. Why does Jesus stay where he is for two days and let Lazarus, the one he loves, die? There can be no resurrection without death. It is a symbol of the necessity of passing through death first before new life can be birthed. The second task of Christian leadership is to name what must die (in oneself, in the community, in the country, in the continent) so that it can be resurrected without carrying over and transferring the rot and corruption of the old, sick self. See, for example, the novel Ways of Dying by Zacks Mdala: in Africa there are ways of living that have become so familiar with dying that ways of living have become ways of dying, and these ways of living themselves have to die.

4. The resurrection. Martha and Mary’s reaction to Jesus’ late arrival is the accusation that if he had arrived in time Lazarus would not have died. Jesus answers, “I am the resurrection and the life” – it is not something that is restricted to the afterlife, the resurrection God provides is now, in this time and place; a second chance to live fully now. The third task of Christian leaders is to tell the stories of resurrection, to point to signs of new life here and now (not just a promise for the hereafter). It is a fundamental part of the ministry of the church. The emphasis must be on resurrection now and the flourishing of people and communities in the present. Of course Lazarus will die again, but he will die as a resurrected, new man.

5. “Where have you laid him?” Who are the people that have been buried and entombed, that are out of sight? Those who have been prematurely laid in a tomb which we don’t want to open because of the stench. Who and where are the invisible ones? The ones for whom we believe there is no hope.

6. Jesus stands at the tomb:

  • Jesus weeps. The grief work must be done for that which has died, even though it had to die and will be resurrected. Ministry is compassionate lament with those who have prematurely died.
  • Jesus says, “Take away the stone.” Remove the stones (obstacles) that have shut away and hidden the premature dead. But it is smelly!
  • Jesus prays and gives thanks.
  • Jesus commands Lazarus to come out. He shouts, because resurrection cannot be whispered! One needs to shout at the forces of death that hold back the dead. (The ministry of advocacy.)
  • Jesus says, “Unbind him.” Liberate him, set him free to live fully. What do the walking dead need to be unbound from?

7. Although for John the text plays a central role in pointing to the climax of the cross, it also provides an allegorical pattern for the ministry of resurrection.

Matthew 26:6-13: The Politics and Economics of Anointing

This is part 4 of a 6 part series of posts on the Amahoro Theological Intensive, held at Bethany Retreat Centre in Entebbe Uganda, in July 2010.

The events in Matthew 26:6-13 take place in the house of Simon the leper (in Bethany, the place of misery) and, once again, they are having dinner (eating together, mundane things, hospitality – material and intimate).

The challenge of intimacy, Bethany as village, is that it becomes too comfortable and closed, concerning itself only with the immediate circle. So the question is who do I eat with? Only with those who are of the inner circle (tribal, denominational, racial…)? In Matthew’s version of the story it is simply “a woman” who crashes the dinner – interrupting the cosy circle (Luke suggests it is a prostitute).

The gift of a stranger interrupts our self-assured “identity” as exclusive group.

This anointing happened shortly before the Passover when Jesus is betrayed by Judas and he is crucified (anointing his body for burial). Judas also represents the sensible economics of stewardship – the “right” away to account for and spend the common purse – but Judas, the sensible treasurer, is ultimately exposed as greedy and corrupt. (Any implicit reference to how many churches and pastors [mis]spend the money they are given is entirely intentional.)

The details of the interruption introduce a new politics and a new economics: she pours the entire jar of perfume over his head – economically wasteful. It is an interruption of excess and abundance. The manner in which she uses her hair to wash his feet is also excessive and sensual (Luke’s version).

The new economics of the church is to include the stranger and to welcome the interruption. It also does not necessarily make conventional economic sense. It is extravagant and wasteful. “The whole house was filled with the aroma of the perfume.”

But this anointing and new economy of abundance does not mean prosperity gospel! It is for the poor, who are with us! Bethany is God’s house for the poor. The poor are not people out there that we give to but keep at arms length, but are part of the new, inclusive household.

Luke 10:38-42: Martha & Mary

This is part 3 of a 6 part series of posts on the Amahoro Theological Intensive, held at Bethany Retreat Centre in Entebbe Uganda, in July 2010.

This passage tells the well-known story of Jesus’ visit to Martha and Mary’s house in the village of Bethany. The two sisters have very different ways of welcoming and relating to Jesus, and there are, of course, many ways the meaning of the story has been interpreted. Emmanuel Katongole does so within his larger scheme of reading the Bethany stories through the lens of Africa, and specifically village life.

An image of a typical village homestead I took out of the car window while travelling from Rwanda to Burundi in 2008.

Martha welcomes Jesus hospitably, providing sustenance (Africa receives the gospel with hospitality). Jesus receives Martha and Mary into his life and story, even though it is their house. He is inviting them into his household, the household of the poor. Mary sits at his feet and listens to his story and receives it – this is the one thing that is of true value and Jesus is the host.

As we receive the gospel we are being received into the household of God, into Bethany; received, not as strangers, but as children. We are not foreigners or second class citizens in this household, it is our home too, and we can run and play in this house. In the context of Africa it means that African Christianity is not a guest or second class citizen, but is fully received. This gives security and confidence. African theology is not contextual or missional theology. It is theology, full stop. The invitation to Christian leadership is an invitation to global Christian leadership based on an identity as children and heirs of God.

Mary sits and listens to Jesus. What was he saying? She wants to know what he has been up to. He starts telling her about his adventures, his story. It is an ordinary conversation; it is his life, not a lecture or sermon. But his mundane message of what he has been up to points to the greater story of what God is doing, how the kingdom is coming – the quiet revolution.

Being invited into Bethany is an invitation into an ordinary conversation. How are you doing? What have you been up to? What is going on in the village? The big story and the small story read each other and interpenetrate. The big is symbolized in the small. “God became human and dwelt among us.”

Luke 10:38-42: Bethany: God’s House for the Poor

This is part 2 of a 6 part series of posts on the Amahoro Theological Intensive, held at Bethany Retreat Centre in Entebbe Uganda, in July 2010.

The idea of using Bethany was inspired by Emmanuel’s personal calling and journey, and the village of Bethany has become the lens through which he understands the gifts and challenges of Christianity in Africa.

The themes of restlessness and gift as boundaries of Christian life and leadership are something that he has experience personally and have intersected with his reading of the stories and events that happened in the village of Bethany, two miles from Jerusalem.

Emmanuel’s own story is one of existing at the intersection of various identities and stories and never fully fitting into any category; hence a persistent sense of restlessness and never fully belonging, but at the same time experiencing this not fitting as a gift.

His parents migrated from Rwanda; his mother was Hutu and his father Tutsi. Growing up in Uganda he was never sure what he was. Social forces try to force you into one category, but reality, especially African reality, doesn’t work like that. Emmanuel is now living in the US, but will never be truly American, and yet is no longer truly African. He is a professor of theology, but was trained in philosophy, so not truly a theologian! He is a Catholic priest, but teaching at a Methodist University with protestant, Evangelical students. Hence the sense of restlessness because there is no one home, and the gift is trying to cultivate life at the intersections.

He has often been inspired by the story of Abraham; a man who goes on endless journeys, never arriving. But in the journey, having left homeland and going through strange territory, Abram becomes Abraham, living into the covenant.

For Emmanuel Africa is still home: one can’t get Africa out of the African; one can’t shake the dust of Africa off one’s feet; one can’t polish Africa and something rough and unpolished remains within.

So Emmanuel started ‘Pilgrimages of Pain and Hope’, bringing Westerners to feel the dust of Africa (literally taking off their shoes and walking in the dust). Making a virtue out of his exile in the US, he sought to bring together different categories and create a new “we”.

He needed a place for this process and started Bethany House, a place of rest and learning. The name came to him one night chasing a mosquito around the room. He couldn’t sleep, so he read the story of the woman anointing Jesus’ feet at Bethany. He followed up other events that happened at Bethany and this village became a central symbol of his ministry: restlessness and gift.

Christian life is not a burden, it is a gift: scandalous and ambitious; more than we can ask for or imagine. In the African context, it means saying no the minimization of Africa. This is what happens in Bethany: the infinitely more than one can imagine.

Stories structure lives and many are hidden. We do not see them, but we live them. They are like air, and therefore have a greater hold on our lives than if we could touch them. There are many African stories that make us think small: aim low, don’t be ambitious, just try and get by. Part of Christian leadership in Africa is to identify and name those stories, to expose them and to liberate us from those diminishing stories.

Bethany names an alternative, Christian story.

Entebbe was the centre of the colonial administration of Uganda, so the location of Bethany House is embedded in the hidden story of that colonial heritage. The trajectory of modern Uganda is still driven by the history of the colonial story. Backward Africa, can anything good come out of it? The colonial story is about extraction; taking from Africa what is useful elsewhere. The themes of grabbing and extracting still dominate postcolonial political systems, because it is driven by the hidden colonial story.

There is great irony in Africa being the poor continent, as it is the most resource rich continent on earth. But the resources are extracted and the lies of the colonial story still determine Africans’ self-understanding and identity. Africa must be liberated from the negativity and helplessness of this self-diminishing story.

The name Bethany literally means the house of poverty or misery. In Mark 14 the story of the anointing happens at the house of Simon the leper. Lazarus dies in Bethany. It could therefore be seen as a place of illness and death. It is not the glittering Jerusalem with its palace and temple, but the forgotten and backward village outside the city walls.

But the name can also be translated as God’s house for the poor. So there is a choice when we apply the analogy to Africa: confirm that Africa is the house of poverty and misery and death, or one can define it subversively as God’s house for the poor and suffering. Contrast that to the temple at the centre of the city; a house of perfection and extravagance, or the medieval cathedrals with their imposing grandeur. God’s dwelling place is associated with the most ambitious and extravagant of human constructions. So how can we infuse God’s house for the poor with this ambition, excess, abundance – not as a kind of prosperity gospel, but as God’s excess and abundance? It is not for us (as Christian leaders) but it is for the poor.

Bethany is a village. Africa is one big village, but the village in Africa is also the most abandoned place. Africans want to leave the village behind and go to the city. The village and village life must be discarded to become developed and modern. Bethany exemplifies a calling back to the village. It is village hermeneutics, seeing the village as God’s house. Theology then becomes rooted in the everyday life of the village, the rearing of goats and planting of millet, “shady tree” theology that happens as the labourers rest in the shade after a hard morning’s work. It is a quiet revolution that emerges from daily life, rather than the drama of the intelligentsia’s fomenting in the city.

Protect the poor and support the stranger

It appears archeologists have found the oldest example of Hebrew writing and while it is not word for word from Scripture as we have it today, what it says is most certainly scriptural. A good summary of the discovery is given here.

What makes this significant is that the fragment is dated to the 10th century BCE, and the conclusion of Prof. Gershon Galil of the University of Haifa, who deciphered the fragment, is that, “it indicates that the Kingdom of Israel already existed in the 10th century BCE and that at least some of the biblical texts were written hundreds of years before the dates presented in current research.”

I have never been particularly bothered by dating and authorship and all that kind of thing, not being a biblical scholar myself, but what struck me about this, the earliest fragment of proto-Scripture, was the content. It was written during the reign of King David, a time of consolidation for the new Kingdom of Israel, and one would have thought that the religious preocupation would be things like nationalism and proving that Yahweh could waste the other gods of the ancient near east. Instead, the fragment reads:

1′ you shall not do [it], but worship the [Lord].
2′ Judge the sla[ve] and the wid[ow] / Judge the orph[an]
3′ [and] the stranger. [Pl]ead for the infant / plead for the po[or and]
4′ the widow. Rehabilitate [the poor] at the hands of the king.
5′ Protect the po[or and] the slave / [supp]ort the stranger.

Is it just conincidence, or does it indicate that the beginnings, and the heart, of religion and worship is care for the vulnerable? This fragment tells us even more about the Kingdom of God than it does about the old Kingdom of Israel, and as a practical theologian it makes my heart warm to see that 3000 years ago the scribes spent their time scratching advise about pastoral care on pieces of pottery. It also confirms that there is indeed nothing new under the sun and that with all our sophistication and technology we are still failing at the most basic tasks of being truly human.