Tag: Exclusion

Postmodern Tribalism [Where to from Here?]

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The zeitgeist of our current age eschews any kind of classicism or racism or elitism. In many ways, this is a good thing. Even 35 years ago a wise author noted that even the president of the United States carries his own baggage.* We are as self-reliant as we are radically individualistic. The 21st century world, at least in the West, has also become pluralistic to the point of postmodern tribalism. To cite an example of this, consider the new working definition of fame that has carefully crept into our now-digital consciousness: it’s someone who has a “following.” Maybe it’s Instagram or Twitter followers and the accompanying re-tweets and likes. Maybe it’s hits on YouTube. However fame is measured, it has certainly changed from its older definition once familiar to a culture in which Walter Cronkite was the primary teller of “facts.” Now, fame is distributed in smaller doses but to greater numbers of people. 

Alongside this monumental change in our perception of fame comes the distinct recasting of how success is perceived. Success has been redefined and reshaped in light of the new meaning of fame. Because of our communication platforms, everything is accessible all the time. And this has forced us out of the realm of absolutes and deeply into the realm of the relative: postmodern tribalism.

What I mean by the postmodern tribalism is that society is trending toward a thundering change in human existence: all ethics are essentially relative to our tribe. If our tribe happens to support freedom in gun ownership, we put that particular bumper sticker on our SUV and vote accordingly. If it’s concern for LGBT rights, we find our support and identity there. If it’s violent fundamentalist religious practice, there are organizations that are ready to radicalize and to equip toward acts of violence conditioned by particularized beliefs. If it’s Pokémon or Call of Duty that is so greatly adored, there is a supportive community to be found, whether locally or online. In our city there is a group of moms who only use baby carriers; no strollers allowed. It seems they’re feeling united.

http://www.thehappyhippiehomemaker.com

For the record, I’m a big fan of carrying babies; it seems to really help them see the world.

Anyway, as I consider the various tribes that interact in my corner of the world, West Michigan in the Midwestern United States, I observe how we interact with tribes in other cities, not to mention tribes around the world. What or who could possibly unite such diverse tribes as the ones we see around us?

Our society cannot agree on a working definition of marriage, even if it’s worked into our law codes. We cannot determine who deserves health care and how to effectively establish economic justice. Each tribe, progressive or conservative, homo or hetero, guns or no-guns, seems to possess answers for everything.

Though I may have concerns regarding all these examples, these associations are not the places where I find my primary identity. For me, the tribe with which I most closely associate is the tribe of Jesus followers. We are Christians: Catholics and Protestants, Presbyterians and Quakers, each of us nuance slightly differently our understanding of God’s work. And what is his work? It’s sending Jesus, the Son of God, in the power of the Holy Spirit, to redeem humanity. But we’re all one big tribe, held together by the union that we all share in Jesus the Christ.** We’re all called out of darkness and into the light of Christ.***

For members of the Christian tribe, our help is in the name of the Lord, both immediately and ultimately. And this message goes out to all who do not yet associate in any way with the Jesus of Scripture. Members of the Christian tribe insist that God invites all people to know him through Jesus, and, in so doing, to be transformed. Members of the Christian tribe insist that we have all strayed from God’s goals from us and, to use the appropriate word, we have sinned. Members of the Christian tribe insist that God has sought to forgive us from our sin through the ministry of Jesus, and that being forgiven leads us to greater acts of forgiveness.****

In an age when nearly every tribe’s message can be so overwhelmingly different, this is a message to which I will cling. For me, it’s in many ways an interior journey, but the interior journey is made concrete in relationships and in the way I treat the poor and in how I use money and in my family’s priorities: in all these areas, we’re going to follow Jesus.

*Cornelius Plantinga, A Place to Stand, 1979.

**Bible, New Testament, Eph. 3:14-19

***Bible, New Testament, 1 John 2

****For an example, click here.

A Problem of Our Own Making: Exclusion Through the Centuries

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Humanity has always been characterized by a toxic proclivity to exclude. Certainly it is nation versus nation; the ravages of war and genocide blare from the streets and alleys and televisions and radios of the globe. Exclusion in capitalist countries materializes as a war between economic classes. Within families and small communities, exclusion damages or destroys interpersonal relationships.

And we live in light of a host of others who witnessed exclusion before we did. The people of Israel experienced it when they sought refuge in Egypt from the famine that was destroying their land [Gen. 46-47]. In time, Joseph died and the Egyptians turned their Hebrew refugee neighbors into slaves [Exodus 1:8-14]. Later, God would bring them out through his servant Moses, but God taught them a lesson during those difficult years in an oppressive foreign land. In Leviticus 19, Moses outlines laws that tenderly protected impoverished families and sojourners, insisting in verses 9-10 that farmers leave the edges of their fields unharvested so that poor passers-by could gather the excess grain. Next, Moses connects these love-your-neighbor commands explicitly to the experience of, first, xenophobia, then slavery in Egypt: “When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God” [Lev. 19:33-34].

Though they had experienced exclusion, God’s people were not to treat others vengefully. Rather, God taught them to treat foreigners with dignity, and even to give up resources on their behalf. They were to love strangers as themselves. God’s answer to exclusion was not self-preservation; it was hospitality. And though this word may conjure up images of sweet tea on a front porch, hospitality reaches much further. It impacts how we understand our time and resources, beckoning us to understand the stranger in a new way.

Even though we no longer live in an agrarian society, and few of us have literal fields to leave only partially harvested, the practice of hospitality continues. In Matthew 25:31-46, Jesus tells the parable often referred to as the sheep and the goats. The sheep are affirmed for having offered their hospitality- their food, their resources, their time; they sought every opportunity to extend compassion. And yet, they wondered when they had done this for the king in particular. The King, who is Jesus, responds and tells them that every time they extended compassion to “the least of these” they were doing it unto him. What followers of Jesus are shocked to discover is that he himself is the recipient of our hospitality. What we do for the “least of these” is done unto Jesus himself.   

But in the age of the suburb, American culture stratifies people groups via income. In Grand Rapids, Michigan, where I live, certain streets delineate between classes. And institutions, including so many churches, fortify the social stratification process by keeping people from similar demographics packed together. So how exactly can we offer hospitality to the needy and the lost? It may start with something as drastic as an intentional geographic move to a poorer neighborhood. But it may begin with something simpler, such as a dinner invitation to an exchange student, single mom, or busy family. Hospitality can take many forms.

I lived with a group of guys for several years before getting married in 2013. As Christians, we wanted to do our best to practice Christian hospitality. Through God’s grace and his challenge in our lives, we felt led to host a weekly hospitality meal in our home. The six of us would share costs, and one of us would invite a few folks over. They were always invited to stay for prayer after the meal, and many did. We hosted families, couples, people in need, people with much to offer. At each meal, God blessed our conversation. We asked questions and listened, attentive to how God was working through the lives of these dear people. Throughout, we discovered how each meal mirrored, in ever so subtle ways, the hope of God’s people. With every meal, there was sacrifice and sharing; there was honesty and trust; there was hope and imagination. With every meal, we continued an ancient story of people practicing lavish hospitality. God has already provided resources abundant; we simply respond to his quiet call to open our hearts. And just as he opens his heart to us, so do we open our hearts to the hurting and hopeless around us. And we do so knowing that as we serve, we serve our risen Savior, Jesus Christ.